Deleuze and Film A Feminist

Introduction 1st Edition Teresa Rizzo

Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://textbookfull.com/product/deleuze-and-film-a-feminist-introduction-1st-edition-te
resa-rizzo/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Feminist Thought A More Comprehensive Introduction

Rosemarie Putnam Tong

https://textbookfull.com/product/feminist-thought-a-more-
comprehensive-introduction-rosemarie-putnam-tong/

Digital Platforms and Feminist Film Discourse: Women’s

Cinema 2.0 1st Edition Rosanna Maule (Auth.)

https://textbookfull.com/product/digital-platforms-and-feminist-
film-discourse-womens-cinema-2-0-1st-edition-rosanna-maule-auth/

Film Studies second edition An Introduction Film and

Culture Series Sikov

https://textbookfull.com/product/film-studies-second-edition-an-
introduction-film-and-culture-series-sikov/

Philosophy After Deleuze Deleuze and the Genesis of

Representation II 1st Edition Joe Hughes

https://textbookfull.com/product/philosophy-after-deleuze-
deleuze-and-the-genesis-of-representation-ii-1st-edition-joe-
hughes/
Deleuze and the diagram aesthetic threads in visual
organization Deleuze

https://textbookfull.com/product/deleuze-and-the-diagram-
aesthetic-threads-in-visual-organization-deleuze/

Film Studies An Introduction Teach Yourself 1st

Edition Warren Buckland

https://textbookfull.com/product/film-studies-an-introduction-
teach-yourself-1st-edition-warren-buckland/

Deleuze and the history of mathematics in defence of

the new Deleuze

https://textbookfull.com/product/deleuze-and-the-history-of-
mathematics-in-defence-of-the-new-deleuze/

Film history an introduction Fourth Edition David

Bordwell

https://textbookfull.com/product/film-history-an-introduction-
fourth-edition-david-bordwell/

Feminist Science Fiction and Feminist Epistemology:

Four Modes 1st Edition Ritch Calvin (Auth.)

https://textbookfull.com/product/feminist-science-fiction-and-
feminist-epistemology-four-modes-1st-edition-ritch-calvin-auth/
Deleuze and Film
 Also available from Continuum

Cinema After Deleuze, Richard Rushton

Cinema I, Gilles Deleuze
Cinema II, Gilles Deleuze
Deleuze and the Schizoanalysis of Cinema, Edited by Patricia MacCormack
and Ian Buchanan
Deleuze and World Cinemas, David Martin-Jones
Deleuze and Film
A feminist introduction

Teresa Rizzo
 Continuum International Publishing Group
The Tower Building 80 Maiden Lane
11 York Road Suite 704
London New York
SE1 7NX NY 10038

www.continuumbooks.com

© Teresa Rizzo 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or
any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the
publishers.
Teresa Rizzo has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to
be identified as Author of this work.

British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: HB: 978-1-4411-7928-9

e-ISBN: 978-14411-5562-7

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Rizzo, Teresa.
Deleuze and film : a feminist introduction/Teresa Rizzo.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index.
ISBN 978-1-4411-1340-5 (pbk.) – ISBN 978-1-4411-7928-9 (hardcover)
1. Feminism and m
­ otion pictures. 2. Feminist film criticism. 3. Deleuze, Gilles, 1925–1995.
4. Motion pictures–Philosophy. I. Title.
PN1995.9.W6R4955 2011
791.43’6522–dc23
2011038241

Typeset by Deanta Global Publishing Services, Chennai, India

 Contents

Acknowledgements vii

Introduction 1
1 The cinematic apparatus and the transcendental subject 15
2 Re-thinking representation: New lines
of thought in feminist philosophy 37
3 Cinematic assemblages: An ethological
approach to film viewing 57
4 The slasher film: A Deleuzian feminist analysis 81
5 The Alien series: Alien-becomings, human-becomings. 107
6 The molecular poetics of the assemblage: Before Night Falls 133
Conclusion: A feminist cinematic assemblage 155

Notes 163
Bibliography 183
Index 191
vi
 Acknowledgements

T he support of many colleagues, friends and family over the years has made
it possible for me to complete this book. I want to first and foremost thank
Steven Maras who fits into all of these categories. As a colleague and media
scholar he has generously given his time to discuss my ideas on Deleuze
and feminist film theory. As a friend and partner he has given me invaluable
emotional and practical support. I want to thank Jodi Brooks who has also
given me an exceptional amount of support over the years. First as my PhD
supervisor, second by encouraging me in my research more generally and
finally as a friend.
An earlier and highly condensed version of Chapter 5 titled The Alien Series:
A Deleuzian Perspective was published in Women a Cultural Review 15.3
(2004/5). An earlier and shorter version of Chapter 6 appeared in Rhizomes:
Cultural Studies in Emerging Knowledge 11/12 (2005/2006).
My sincere thanks to the editorial team at Continuum Publishing, in
particular Sarah Campbell for supporting this project and making the process
smooth and stress free. I would like to thank Ian Buchanan for introducing
me to Continuum Publishing and encouraging me to pursue this project.
I would also like to thank Richard Smith, Colin Chua, Chris Danta and John
Golder who generously took the time to read different chapters and offered
invaluable suggestions. Finally, I want to thank my good friends Linda Soo,
Lesley Bluett and Cathie Payne for their emotional and practical support over
the years. Without their help writing would have been a much more difficult
task as they were always there when I needed babysitting, a walking buddy
and encouragement to keep going.
I dedicate this book to my beautiful son Luc-Xuhao Maras who has brought
joy and light into my life.
viii
 Introduction

O ne of the central motifs of the work of Gilles Deleuze is a refusal to make

any rigid separation of subject and object, in either form or content. For
instance, in his interviews with Claire Parnet, the distinction between subject
and object, questioner and respondent, is problematized in such a way that
the separation between interviewer as subject and interviewee becomes
blurred.1 This aspect of Deleuze’s philosophy presents a challenge for anyone
writing an introduction to his work, since it is the function of an introductory
text to establish a relationship between the commentary and the object. This
relationship is often one of subservience, situating the master text in a position
of authority. Introductory texts typically interpret, comment on and explicate
the master text. However, as well as inviting dissection and commentary,
Deleuze’s work, more so than that of many philosophers, calls for an active
and inventive approach to both content and form. Deleuze and Film: A Feminist
Introduction responds to this by imagining the relationship between Deleuze,
film and feminist perspectives – not along the lines of subject and object,
but along the lines of an assemblage that fosters connections in multiple
directions. An assemblage for Deleuze and Félix Guattari is made up of various
connections. However, it is not a fixed entity, since the relationship between
these connections – indeed, the connections themselves – are constantly
changing. This means that the assemblage has the potential to produce
new kinds of interactions between terms, ideas, discourses, institutions and
bodies.
Deleuze’s work is expansive, covering a wide range of concepts, topics,
philosophies and theories. It has also been taken up, interpreted and deployed
in a vast number of ways by philosophers, anthropologists, architects, femi-
nists, scientists, sociologists, artists, media theorists and gender theorists.
As a result we might say that there are a number of Deleuzes. So, which one
does the present book address? It focuses primarily on three Deleuzes. The
first is the cinematic Deleuze that emerges from a meeting of philosophy
and film in Cinema 1: The Movement-Image and Cinema 2: The Time-Image
(hereafter Cinema 1 and Cinema 2, or the Cinema books).2 What is remarkable
about this work is that in it we find an eminent philosopher examining cinema
seriously as a conceptual practice. What is special about cinema for Deleuze
is that it is intrinsically tied to thought and modes of thinking. He states, ‘[T]
he essence of cinema . . . has thought as its higher purpose, nothing but
2 Deleuze and Film

thought and its functioning’.3 As a form of art based on automated movement,

rather than still or frozen pictures, cinema has the potential to provoke us into
thinking in inventive modes. It jolts us into thinking in a manner we are unac-
customed to and that challenges pre-established ways of ordering the world:
‘It is as if cinema were telling us: with me, with the movement-image, you
can’t escape the shock which arouses the thinker in you’.4 By provoking new
modes of thinking cinema has the potential to challenge traditional Western
binary thinking that orders sexual difference according to a binary logic. For
feminist film theory, this is an invitation to explore those aspects of cinema
that encourage thought beyond reductive binary structures and that give us
new ways of thinking about sexual difference.
The second Deleuze this book deals with is the one that arises from his
collaborative work with Félix Guattari. While Deleuze’s Cinema books are
significant reference points, the present volume will attach as much, if not
more, importance to Deleuze’s philosophical collaborations with Guattari – in
particular, their rethinking of the body, identity and subjectivity through the
concepts of affect, becoming and assemblages in A Thousand Plateaus: Capi-
talism and Schizophrenia.5 This is not without precedence, as much of the work
that addresses issues important to feminist film theory privileges Deleuze’s
philosophical work over his Cinema books. For example, books by Patricia Pis-
ters (2003),6 Barbara Kennedy (2000),7 Patricia MacCormack (2008),8 Elena del
Rio (2009)9 and to a lesser extent Anna Powell (2007),10 all draw on Deleuze’s
philosophical work rather than on his Cinema books. This is not surprising, as
Deleuze and Guattari’s concepts of the body, affect and becoming, in conjunc-
tion with Deleuze’s rethinking of the concept of difference, easily lend them-
selves to feminist appropriations. As Elizabeth Grosz writes:

[T]here seems to be an evident allegiance between Deleuze and Guattari’s

notions of political struggle, decentered, molecular, multiple struggles,
diversified, non-aligned, or aligned in only provisional or temporary
networks, in non-hierarchical, rhizomatic connections, taking place at those
sites where repression or antiproduction is most intense—and feminist
conceptions of, and practices surrounding political struggle.11

That said, there has been some reluctance to appropriate the Cinema books
for feminist film theory – perhaps because they do not address issues to do
with sexual difference or spectating positions. Vivian Sobchack argues that in
these books Deleuze ‘ignores the embodied situation of the spectator and of
the film’,12 a point echoed by David N. Rodowick, for whom Deleuze,

[a]lhough . . . the most sophisticated twentieth-century philosopher of

difference, . . . seems to have little to offer on the problem of difference in
 Introduction 3

spectatorship. Despite some powerful pages on cinemas of decolonialization,

he has little to say specifically on questions of sexual, racial, and class
differences.13

If feminist film theory has been slow to take up Deleuze’s Cinema books, it
is precisely because they lack any serious engagement with spectatorship,
which is the very foundation of psychoanalytic feminist film theory. Certainly
there is a sense in which the books imply a viewer, not only through the differ-
ent models of perception that Deleuze identifies in relation to the movement-
image and the time-image, but also through the way these produce different
images of thought. Nonetheless, neither volume addresses spectatorship
directly.
The third and final Deleuze to be found in these pages will be the one that
emerges from feminist readings of his work. This book will place particular
emphasis on the way in which feminist philosophy has engaged with his work
on representation, difference and the body. No serious attempt at a Deleuzian
approach to feminism and spectatorship can afford to ignore this important
deployment of the philosopher’s work. Just as psychoanalytic feminist film
theorists drew not only on the work of Sigmund Freud and Jacques Lacan, but
also on feminist philosophers and critics such as Julia Kristeva, Luce Irigaray,
Juliett Mitchell and Jacqueline Rose, Deleuze and Film: A Feminist Introduc-
tion draws on important feminist appropriations of Deleuze’s work by contem-
porary feminist thinkers such as Elizabeth Grosz, Claire Colebrook, Dorothea
Olkowski, Rosi Braidotti and, in particular, Moira Gatens, who have mobilized
Deleuze’s work on difference and the body in order to think about sexual differ-
ence in new ways. What is exciting about the work of these feminist scholars
is that it goes beyond questions of representation in order to explore the ways
in which sexuality, the body, identity and subjectivity are decomposed and
recomposed with different encounters and according to different kinds of con-
nections.14 According to Colebrook, by refuting the existence of a body prior
to representation, third-generation feminist philosophers have moved beyond
questions of women’s essential sameness or difference, and in so doing, they
foreground the way the body is continually changing according to the different
connections it forms with other bodies, institutions and discourses.15
This third Deleuze is also present in the emerging area of a Deleuzian
feminist film theory, one that draws on both Deleuze’s ideas and also femi-
nist philosophy’s reworking of his concepts. This book builds on this work,
which includes Pisters’ application of Deleuze’s concepts of assemblages,
affect, forces and rhizomatic images of thought, and Powell’s Deleuzian analy-
sis of the horror genre as an embodied event. Kennedy challenges the lin-
guistic and psychoanalytic model of film theory in favour of film as an art
form that engages the senses. MacCormack turns to Deleuze to develop
4 Deleuze and Film

her ­understanding of spectatorship as a queer engagement that undoes the

­binaries of ­heterosexuality and homosexuality. Finally, Elena del Rio focuses
on the affective aspects of film images. Del Rio’s theorization of the seductive
powers of film images highlights the porousness of the border between the
film and the viewer.
These intersections between Deleuze and film form the first two aspects of
this book assemblage. The third aspect is indicated by the subtitle ‘A feminist
introduction’. Deleuze’s questioning of identity, difference, representation and
categories presents a real challenge to any ‘feminist’ introduction, as it calls
into question the concepts of ‘the feminine’, ‘the female spectator’, ‘female
spectating positions’, as well as the very category of ‘Woman’. Is it even pos-
sible to construct a feminist film theory if these categories are undermined?
This book’s response to the challenge is to go along with Deleuze’s disruption
of categories in order to see what else emerges. One of the central problems
with theories of female spectatorship is that they tend to understand ‘Woman’
and the ‘female spectator’ as universal categories that do not recognize differ-
ence. This means that not only is the difference between women ignored in
the dynamics of spectatorship, but so is the way the concept of woman is not
fixed but in a process of becoming. The concept of woman changes over time
as well as in relation to the different assemblages it comes into contact with.
By shifting the focus from universal categories and the denial of difference to
an exploration of the positive potential of difference, Deleuze offers a way of
overcoming the problems historically associated with the essentializing of the
concept of the female spectator. Contemporary feminist philosophers have
made it their central aim to redefine difference as change and transformation.
According to Braidotti, we need to radically rethink the concept of difference
outside a dualistic dynamic in order to reveal its positive potential:

One of the aims of feminist practice is to overthrow the pejorative, oppressive

connotations that are built not only into the notion of difference, but also
into the dialectics of Self and Other. This transmutation of values could lead
to a re-assertion of the positivity of difference by enabling a collective re-
appraisal of the singularity of each subject in their complexity.16

For Braidotti, one of the tasks of feminist thinkers is to theorize new radi-
cal forms of difference that are enabling rather than restrictive. A feminist
introduction to Deleuze and film begins with a rethinking of the dynamics of
spectatorship, moving away from universal concepts and fixed categories to
an exploration of the potential of difference.
A Deleuzian approach is not necessarily anxious to dismiss or to supersede
psychoanalytic feminist film theory. Rather it is an attempt to take up where
psychoanalytic feminist film theory left off. This book is a genuine attempt
 Introduction 5

at creating a dialogue with psychoanalytic feminist film theory. It returns to

one of the central preoccupations of feminist film theory – spectatorship and
sexual difference. As I will discuss in more detail, during the 1980s and 1990s
feminist film theory was dominated by theories of spectatorship. This raised
interesting questions to do with sexual difference as well as with the con-
cept of difference itself. However, instead of producing new ways of think-
ing about sexual difference, the dominant psychoanalytic approach to these
questions reinforced traditional binary ways of thinking that privileged phal-
locentric constructions of sexual difference. While psychoanalytic approaches
have exhausted themselves, questions to do with sexual difference, images
and film viewing are as pertinent today as they were then. Deleuze and Film:
A Feminist Introduction returns to some of the key debates around film spec-
tatorship and sexual difference that have been central to feminist film theory
and provides fresh insights by addressing them through a Deleuzian frame-
work.

From Lacan to lacuna

This book offers a feminist perspective on Deleuze and film theory, but at
the same time it is also about two moments in the history of film theory. The
1970s, 1980s and early 1990s saw the publication of an extraordinary amount
of scholarship on feminist film theory and spectatorship, work that sought to
make sexual difference, female representation and spectatorship crucial issues
in film theory. What is interesting is that this work, far from being marginal to
psychoanalytic film theory, was central to an emerging discipline. It is difficult
today to look back and imagine the impact that these feminist debates had on
the structure of undergraduate courses in film. Not only did courses in film
and screen studies unashamedly address psychoanalytic feminist film theory
head on, but there were also entire courses dedicated to feminist debates
around theories of spectatorship. The prescribed readings for a film course in
the 1990s could hardly have failed to include essays by the likes of Constance
Penley, Mary Ann Doane, Claire Johnston, Annette Kuhn or, of course, Laura
Mulvey. By contrast, however, the last decade has seen feminist approaches
to film theory disappear from the programme: a week or two at most might
suffice to deal with feminist issues. And today one looks in vain for new work
published in the area of spectatorship and feminist film theory. The psycho-
analytic approaches to these debates, having worn themselves out, seem to
have left a vacuum in their wake.
This book returns to the central preoccupations of the feminist project in
order to examine the problems with the model of sexual difference adopted
6 Deleuze and Film

by psychoanalytic feminist film theory. It is not my intention, in focusing on

these problems, to denigrate earlier conceptual work, but rather to look for a
way out of the impasse. In his analysis of the way sexual difference has been
constructed in psychoanalytic feminist film theory, Rodowick suggests that
questions of sexual difference and spectatorship have reached an impasse
caused by the influence of a binary structure.17 According to Doane, feminist
film theory inherited this binary logic through its deployment of the concept
of the cinematic apparatus.18 What becomes clear in Doane’s analysis of the
cinematic apparatus is that it is a binary machine. The problem with binary
structures is that they produce an impoverished and limited understanding of
difference, in which one side invariably dominates or negates the other. For
feminist film theory this has meant that the strategy of asserting a female
spectator has had the unfortunate effect of situating the female spectator on
the subordinate and negative side of the binary. An additional problem is that
‘[t]he binary machine always pretends to totality and universality’.19 Because
the two opposites of the binary express the division of a prior unity or total-
ity, true differences are eliminated. This binary model of sexual difference has
proved exhaustive for a feminist intervention into spectatorship.
A critique of binaries has long been associated with Deleuze’s work, begin-
ning with Difference and Repetition in 1968. Deleuze’s long-term project of
re-conceptualizing difference as change and transformation rather than in rela-
tion to a primary idea produces a means of thinking about difference beyond a
binary system. Understood as a process of change, difference expresses the
way in which bodies, identities or subjectivities are always becoming different
from themselves rather than in opposition to another term. What this offers
feminist film theory is an avenue for thinking about sexual difference outside a
binary logic, where woman is no longer positioned as the opposite of man or
as an aspect of man. Deleuze and Film: A Feminist Introduction will examine
Deleuze’s writings with a view to rethinking a feminist approach to spectator-
ship beyond a binary logic. In so doing it aims to construct a dialogue between
psychoanalytic feminist approaches to spectatorship on the one hand, and
Deleuze’s work, and feminist appropriations of that work, on the other hand.
While the problems of a binary model of sexual difference have been taken
up by several feminist film theorists and may seem well-worn, this book will
look at the problem from an entirely fresh perspective. In order to shed new
light on the problem of binary thought, it will deploy Deleuze’s critique of the
concept of difference within a system of representation and feminist appro-
priations of this work.
Plagued by so many problems, the term ‘spectator’ is now seriously com-
promised; to use it in a productive way is virtually impossible. Therefore, to
develop a theory of film viewing free of these associations, I propose to
abandon the terms ‘spectator’ and ‘spectatorship’ at the end of Chapter 1
 Introduction 7

and replace them with ‘film viewing’, ‘film–viewer’ and ‘body of the viewer’.
I do so in the hope of suggesting an understanding of the film-viewer as
fully embodied.20 Dispensing with the term ‘spectator’ also means no longer
understanding the film viewing experience as primarily about processes of
identification. Not that issues of identification are abandoned entirely; rather
they are re-approached through an idea of affective connections between
the film and the viewer. In this sense, this book approaches questions of
film viewing by investigating and arguing for the place of affect in various
film-viewer relations. I argue that, while some films produce a coherent sub-
ject position with which to identify, others – or particular moments in others –
privilege bodily affects and sensations that disrupt any sense of wholeness
and unity. For this reason, this book does not retread the well-trodden ground
of modes of cinematic address and spectator positioning in terms of subjec-
tivity and identity. Rather it will look to explore the ways in which affective con-
nections between the film and the viewer might have the potential to undo
subjectivity and identity. In addition, rather than focus on cinematic vision or
forms of looking, I focus on perception. Psychoanalytic film theory’s focus on
the look and the gaze seemed to miss the embodied experience of watching
films. The concept of perception offers a more holistic means of thinking about
film viewing as it not only takes into account the body and all the senses but
also relates to ways of understanding and modes of thinking.

From the cinematic apparatus

to cinematic assemblages
In its exploration of affective connections between the film and the viewer,
this book will concern itself first and foremost with Deleuze and Guattari’s
concept of the assemblage. In order to understand how the concept of the
assemblage relates to film viewing, it is useful to first turn to their related con-
cept of machines. In Anti-Oedipus (1972), Deleuze and Guattari discuss differ-
ent kinds of connections between bodies, institutions and discourses through
the concept of machines.21 In A Thousand Plateaus they refine their concept
of machines through the concept of the assemblage. If we understand cin-
ema to be a kind of machine that is made up of different kinds of connections,
we can begin to account for the way it may be seen as a machine that takes
the form of a cinematic apparatus; one that produces a cinematic subject with
which to identify. However, it can also be a machine that produces certain
kinds of affective and intensive connections that destabilize subjectivity and
identity, and that disrupt a binary construction of sexual difference. In addi-
tion, numerous other types of cinematic machines are possible (for example,
8 Deleuze and Film

celebrity machines, merchandizing machines and ‘machines of the visible’22).

My focus in these pages, however, will be on the affective dimensions of film
viewing. As Deleuze and Guattari argue in A Thousand Plateaus, although the
assemblage is a system, it is an open system that is made up of connections
between different bodies, discourses and institutions, not only in the present
but also across time. An assemblage is never fixed because a change in the
relationship between any of these bodies, discourses or institutions reverber-
ates throughout the whole assemblage, and in so doing changes the nature of
that assemblage. Paul Patton, for whom the assemblage is the central concept
in A Thousand Plateaus, notes that, far from being stable and homogenous,
the concept of assemblages undergoes continual transformation through-
out the book. Patton observes that not only is A Thousand Plateaus itself an
assemblage but that:

successive plateaus [chapters] describe a variety of assemblages in relation

to different fields of content: machinic assemblages of desire, collective
assemblages of enunciation, nomadic assemblages and apparatuses of
capture, ideational, pictorial and musical assemblages. A Thousand Plateaus
might be described as a reiterated theory of assemblages in which the
concept of assemblages provides formal continuity across the analyses of
very different contents in each plateau. At the same time, those analyses
transform and deform the concept of assemblage in such a manner that it
exemplifies the continuous variation which Deleuze and Guattari ascribe to
philosophical concepts.23

This ‘continuous variation’ manifests itself in different articulations of the

assemblage. Deleuze refers to the assemblage as a ‘multiplicity’.24 Elsewhere,
Deleuze and Guattari discuss the assemblage as ‘complexes of lines’ that
interact (molar, molecular and the line of flight).25 Some of these lines territori-
alize the assemblage, over-coding it, while others open it up and deterritorial-
ize it, producing becomings and reterritorializations that undo its codification.26
Deleuze and Guattari also develop the concept in the context of the machinic
phylum: ‘We will call an assemblage every constellation of singularities and
traits deducted from the flow—selected, organized, stratified—in such a way
as to converge (consistency) artificially and naturally; an assemblage, in this
sense, is a veritable invention’.27 These different understandings of the assem-
blage are not identical to one another.
An especially prominent construction of the assemblage is in terms of a
tetravalent or quadripartite structure. As Deleuze and Guattari explain:

On a first, horizontal axis, an assemblage comprises two segments, one

of content, the other of expression. On the one hand it is a machinic
 Introduction 9

assemblage of bodies, of actions and passions, an intermingling of bodies

reacting to one another; on the other hand it is a collective assemblage
of enunciation, of acts and statements, of incorporeal transformations
attributed to bodies. Then on a vertical axis, the assemblage has both
territorial sides, or reterritorialized sides, which stabilise it, and cutting
edges of deterritorialization, which carry it away.28

It is possible to produce an account of cinema using the tetravalent model of

the assemblage; Pisters, for example, applies it to analyze the action on the
screen rather than the film-viewer relationship. Her analyses focus on how the
different lines of the assemblage are represented on screen through character
actions, plot and narrative. There are, however, two problems with the tetrava-
lent model of the assemblage that make it difficult to apply to the film viewing
situation without some modification. First, Deleuze and Guattari link expres-
sion to a collective assemblage of enunciation. By means of order-words, and
particular kinds of speech acts, the assemblage produces incorporeal transfor-
mations. But cinema is not clearly a set of statements. In Cinema 2, Deleuze
objects to the imposition upon cinema of linguistic models by theorists of the
cinematic apparatus such as Christian Metz: ‘The root of the difficulty is the
assimilation of the cinematic image to an utterance’.29 Thus, while the Cinema
books explore the way in which cinema functions as a unique and complex
regime of signs, or semiotic, Deleuze problematizes the idea of cinema as a
system of enunciation. The second problem with the tetravalent model of the
assemblage in this context is that, while it is a highly codified understanding
of the assemblage that may be appropriate for linguistics, it cannot account
for either the temporal aspect of cinema, or the constant embodied and affec-
tive interactions between the film and the viewer. This has implications for
applying notions of content and expression to cinema. Deleuze and Guattari
write:

Even though there is a real distinction between them, content and

expression are relative terms . . .. Even though it is capable of invariance,
expression is just as much a variable as content. Content and expression
are two variables of a function of stratification. They not only vary from one
stratum to another, but intermingle, and within the same stratum multiply
and divide ad infinitum.30

In other words, the distinction between different forms of content and differ-
ent forms of expression operates within particular signifying regimes. Against
the tendency to fix and codify the distinction between content and expres-
sion, however, Deleuze and Guattari highlight the inseparability of forms of
content, expression and deterritorialization.31
10 Deleuze and Film

This ‘continuous variation’ of the assemblage produces certain methodo-

logical difficulties for anyone who wants to appropriate the concept. If the
assemblage can be used in a variety of ways, then it is a question of knowing
which version is the most appropriate to a particular context: film viewing,
for example. In addition, it would appear that to remain true to Deleuze and
Guattari’s application of the assemblage, it would be necessary to apply their
practice of continually reinventing the concept for particular contexts. Further-
more, to fix the concept in a single form would go against a key feature of the
assemblage, that of mutation and metamorphosis. The understanding of the
assemblage constructed within this book is indebted to different aspects of
Deleuze and Guattari’s deployment of the concept. The assemblage will be
considered as a complex of lines, but will also draw on Deleuze and Guat-
tari’s understanding of the machinic assemblage as an arrangement of bodies,
actions and passions and the intermingling of bodies reacting to one another.
This has special application in the context of film-viewer relations, the affec-
tive interaction between the film body and the viewing body. Throughout the
book, the concept of the assemblage will be closely linked to that of becom-
ing. The film-viewer assemblage thus becomes the site for processes of ter-
ritorialization, deterritorialization and reterritorialization, molar orderings and
molecular metamorphoses. In relation to the distinction between content and
expression, this book affirms the inseparability of forms of content, expres-
sion and deterritorialization by examining the ways in which film style and film
technique produce affective qualities and transformations.

Towards a feminist approach

to the film–viewer assemblage
Feminist thinkers such as Gatens, Grosz, Olkowski and Colebrook have
focused on this latter aspect of their work,32 as have contemporary female
film theorists who address feminist concerns such as Pisters, Kennedy, Mac-
Cormack, del Rio, Powell, Amy Herzog and Felicity Coleman. The understand-
ing of the assemblage developed in this book is informed by these feminist
appropriations, in particular by Gatens’ deployment of Deleuze and Guattari’s
understanding of an ethological body.33 My aim is not to define a new
object of analysis or textual system but rather to approach the film text and
film–viewer relationship through a new framework or logic. While the concept
of the assemblage could be applied to many aspects of a film, or many kinds
of cinematic assemblages – for example, the way in which a film connects
with other media events, or even the ‘apparatus’ of the projector and of the
 Introduction 11

cinema space – my focus will be solely on the film–viewer assemblage. This is

because, within film theory, the film–viewer relationship has been central to
the way cinema has been understood as an ideological institution that ­produces
gendered subjects. Moreover, it is the way this system has constructed the
production of gendered subjects that has resulted in a binary construction of
sexual difference. It is for this reason that my work returns to familiar debates
in film theory – such as spectatorship in mainstream Hollywood films – as
a way of highlighting points in earlier understandings of spectatorship that
resonate with Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of the assemblage. For exam-
ple, Carol Clover’s views on spectatorship, while steeped in psychoanalytic
theory, nonetheless resonate with aspects of Deleuze and Guattari’s work.34
By revealing how the modern horror genre privileges a masochistic male gaze,
Clover challenges the idea that cinema is dominated by a sadistic voyeuristic
male gaze. In addition, her understanding of the masochistic male gaze fore-
grounds affect and the body.
What is most important about the film–viewer assemblage for the present
project is the way in which particular experiences of film viewing highlight the
processual nature of the body. In this respect, the type of feminist interven-
tion attempted here is not based on the assertion of identity politics, nor does
it argue for female subjectivity. It is a form of feminist intervention that is inter-
ested in the possibility of a non-binary understanding of sexual difference,
where sexual difference is always in a process of becoming, and is therefore
molecular. With this aim in mind it explores the possibility that certain kinds
of films produce affects that encourage a form of difference that does not rely
on negation.

The films
In Deleuze and Film: A Feminist Introduction, films are not treated as texts to
be analyzed for a hidden meaning or for their signification. Nor are they simply
used to illustrate Deleuzian concepts. Their two-fold aim is to investigate, first,
how affective connections between the film and the viewer produce becom-
ings that challenge fixed notions of the subject, identity and the body, and,
second, how certain film practices connect to particular Deleuzian concepts.
This requires a close analysis of scenes that exemplify these practices, includ-
ing the uses to which editing, framing, sound and mise en scène, for exam-
ple, are put. The film analyses are a genuine attempt to locate what is useful
for a feminist project through the concepts they articulate and the affective
­embodied connections they produce.
12 Deleuze and Film

This book is divided into six chapters, the first three of which are
philosophically oriented and deal with questions of difference, ­representation,
theories of the cinematic apparatus among others. However, they do entail
some discussion of films such as La Signora di Tutti (Max Ophüls, 1934),
­Elephant (Gus Van Sant, 2003), I’m Not There (Todd Haynes, 2007), and they
serve as a bridge between earlier psychoanalytic feminist film theory and
­philosophy and my own Deleuzian approach. As well as putting the ­Deleuzian
approach, film and feminist film theory into a complex assemblage as described,
the first three chapters set the conceptual scene for the analysis of specific
films in Chapters 4 to 6.
Many kinds of films could be considered in terms of the theory of cin-
ematic assemblage, so why choose these? My response is that the films
and genres I have chosen lend themselves to a feminist reading, while at
the same time connecting with particular Deleuzoguattarian concepts that
play a key part in their theorization of the assemblage. They are, in the main,
contemporary Hollywood films, such as the slasher films of the 1970s and
1980s (a sub-genre of the modern B-grade horror film), and the Alien series,
both of which have received extensive treatment in feminist film studies.
I shall also discuss Julian Schnabel’s film about Cuban poet Reinaldo Arenas,
Before Night Falls (2002), which, although an art-house film and screened in
art-house cinemas, was nominated for an Academy award – so it cannot be
said to fall too far outside the mainstream. In addressing these films I shall be
returning to some of the genres and films that have been central to psycho-
analytic feminist film theory, and, unavoidably, revisiting some of the debates
that they engendered. The slasher genre, discussed in Chapter 4, connects
with Deleuze’s concept of duration, which is crucial to an understanding of dif-
ference as change and alteration. Chapter 5 examines the Alien series’ articu-
lation of Deleuze and Guattari’s concept of becoming. Not only are the films
replete with images of non-human and monstrous becomings, but the affects
and sensations they produce encourage non-human becomings in the viewer.
Finally, the focus of Chapter 6, Before Night Falls, is a perfect expression of
Deleuze and Guattari’s understanding of ‘life’ as a series of connections and
relations of speed.
Chapter 1 revisits theories of the cinematic apparatus and psychoanalytic
feminist film theory in order to examine how sexual difference has been under-
stood and constructed by these two related fields. It does so because, in order
to cast issues of sexual difference and film viewing in a new light, it is first nec-
essary to understand the problems and blocks that have emerged from the way
sexual difference has been previously theorized. It also examines the problems
to do with the privileged place held by the transcendental subject – an ahistorical
and atemporal cinematic subject – within theories of the cinematic apparatus.
Finally, Chapter 1 considers Deleuze’s concept of ­cinematic consciousness,
 Introduction 13

particularly in relation to perception, as an a­lternative to the transcendental sub-

ject of cinema.
Chapter 2 engages with Deleuze’s critique of difference within representa-
tional thought, as well as feminist appropriations of this critique. It does so in
order to consider the impact of these critiques for theories of the cinematic
apparatus and psychoanalytic feminist film theory. It also draws on Gatens’
ethological understanding of the body as something that continually changes
with every encounter. The chapter deploys this understanding of the body by
considering film viewing as one of the many encounters that affects the body.
The analysis of difference in Chapter 2 acts as the basis for a rethinking of
sexual difference and film viewing throughout the rest of the book.
Chapter 3 lays down the foundation of a theory of cinematic assemblages
and its usefulness for a feminist project. It defines Deleuze and Guattari’s con-
cept of assemblages and related concepts such as the body, affect, difference
as duration, the molar and molecular planes and becoming. It turns to the Cin-
ema books as a way of further developing the concept of a cinematic assem-
blage based on affective connections between the film and the viewer.
The detailed analysis of several horror films in Chapter 4 marks a shift away
from a philosophical engagement with Deleuze’s work towards a more con-
crete engagement with the film–viewer relationship. This chapter, in which
Clover’s work on horror films and Henri Bergson’s theory of intuition both
feature centrally, explores the means by which the modern horror genre pro-
duces an affective perception that connects with a notion of difference as
transformation or difference in itself. The importance of the horror genre for
feminist film theory cannot be overstated. It has been an extensively debated
genre in which female characters have been analyzed as both victims and
active agents. The horror genre provides an excellent illustration of some of
the basic ideas of a cinematic assemblage and the embodied dimensions of
film viewing.
The films in the Alien series are some of the most discussed films in femi-
nist film theory – yet these discussions tend to focus on the bodies on screen
and ignore the body of the viewer. In revisiting these films Chapter 5 further
explores the proposition that certain modes of film viewing operate as molec-
ular assemblages that encourage a non-binary understanding of sexual dif-
ference. These films undermine any idea of subjectivity and identity as fixed,
by showing the body to be in a constant state of mutation, hybridization and
becoming that blurs the boundary between human and non-human, and pro-
motes an existence in the in-between of categories.
In Chapter 6 an examination of the means by which Before Night Falls
engages the body of the viewer through spatio-temporal relations brings to
an end my discussion of the cinematic assemblage and affective embodied
viewing. My analysis explores the ability of these connections to create an
14 Deleuze and Film

attunement between the film and the viewer whereby the film’s energies and
rhythms are felt throughout the body. The spatio-temporal connection is par-
ticularly interesting in relation to Before Night Falls, because the film’s poetic
style, a febrile energy generated by the camera work, editing, sound and col-
ours, contrives to express an idea of ‘life’ as something made up of relations
of movements and intensive affects.
 1

The cinematic
apparatus and the
transcendental
subject

P sychoanalytic feminist film theory offers a detailed examination of film

spectatorship and of its implication for sexual difference. The concept
of the cinematic apparatus has been central to this work. However, this
has brought with it certain difficulties. Mary Ann Doane speaks of an
‘exhaustion’ and ‘impasse’ for psychoanalytic film theory, closely linked to
‘its activation of the metaphor of the apparatus or dispositif’.1 The reasons
why the concept of the cinematic apparatus might have caused an impasse
are complex and they will be addressed presently. First, however, the main
problems need to be briefly outlined. The manner in which film theorists such
as Christian Metz and Jean-Louis Baudry theorized the cinematic apparatus
as a spatial structure based on monocular perspective and the topography
of Plato’s cave has been one of the primary causes of the impasse. By doing
so they were able to argue that the cinematic apparatus is based on an
identification with an all-seeing transcendental subject. The problem with
this kind of identification is that the transcendental subject is ahistorical,
atemporal and disembodied – causing cinema’s temporal qualities to
be overlooked. Moreover, by privileging space over time, the cinematic
apparatus produces only one mode of viewing, because the movement that
is so central to cinema is ignored in favour of an identification with a point in
16 Deleuze and Film

space. Without movement and without temporality the cinematic apparatus

not only produces the same mode of viewing but also the same kind of
spectating position over and over.
Gilles Deleuze’s approach to cinema provides useful tools with which to
explore previously under-examined dimensions of this apparatus. In contrast
to the cinematic apparatus, Deleuze’s distinction between the movement-
image and the time-image offers the potential to distinguish different kinds
of viewing arrangements, not simply between the movement-image and the
time-image, but also in relation to the many possibilities that emerge from his
large taxonomy of images within the movement-image and the time-image.
Interestingly, although his books on cinema were written at a time when theo-
ries of the cinematic apparatus were extremely influential in film theory gener-
ally, Deleuze makes no reference to them. In fact, the Cinema books say very
little about spectatorship and the role of the spectator.
Nonetheless, although not addressed directly, forms of spectatorship are
implied and Deleuze certainly discusses a cinematic subject. The perception-
image, for example, produces a cinematographic consciousness that is able
to articulate a subjective and objective perception simultaneously. For Deleuze
this introduces the viewer to a non-human, specifically cinematographic,
form of perception. While this is not a spectating position, as psychoanalytic
film theory understands it, it is certainly a means of engaging the viewer. In
addition, some of the types of images, such as the affection-image and the
time-image, can readily be examined in terms of how they engage viewers.
The final section of the chapter will examine in detail how Deleuze’s camera
consciousness challenges some of the fundamental aspects of the cinematic
apparatus and connects with the viewer in new ways.
Deleuze’s focus on cinema’s qualities of movement and temporality also
offers a very different idea of transcendence and the transcendental subject
from that proposed by theorists of the cinematic apparatus. His notion of
transcendental empiricism is based on experimentation, on change, and is
open to the new. It takes into account sensations and the materiality of life.
A transcendental field, he writes, is ‘a pure stream of a-subjective conscious-
ness, a pre-reflexive impersonal consciousness without a self’.2 Transcenden-
tal empiricism is beyond the conventional understanding of a straightforward
sensation or ‘simple empiricism’, because it relates to the passage from one
sensation to another. Through affective engagements cinema continually pro-
duces passages of sensations or becomings.
Furthermore, according to John Rachman, ‘[t]ranscendental empiricism
may then be said to be the experimental relation we have to that element in
sensation that precedes the self as well as any “we”, through which is attained,
in the materiality of living, the powers of “a life”’.3 The ‘we’ and the type of
 The cinematic apparatus and the transcendental subject 17

‘life’ Deleuze invokes are not ego-centred, but impersonal. Life is unique not
because an ego-centred self experiences it, but because it relates to the
moment of becoming or the moment different connections produce some-
thing new and singular. Cinema articulates Deleuze’s notion of transcendental
empiricism because, unlike the cinematic apparatus, it is based on movement
and temporality.
Re-thinking the cinematic experience through movement and temporality
represents an important project for Deleuzian film theory. However, it also
represents a crucial project for feminist film theory to get beyond the impasse
created by the deployment of the cinematic apparatus. A critique of the cin-
ematic apparatus and the means by which it produces a transcendental sub-
ject is a crucial step in this process. In order to work through some of the
problems that have led to the decline in feminist engagement with spectator-
ship theory, the first section of this chapter undertakes a detailed analysis of
the cinematic apparatus and feminist responses. The second section outlines
the problems with the transcendental cinematic subject as understood
by theories of the cinematic apparatus. This analysis is followed by a discussion
of Deleuze’s concept of the perception-image as a means of confronting the
problems inherent in the transcendental cinematic subject, in particular in
relation to difference.

Section 1: The cinematic apparatus

Within theories of cinematic apparatus and psychoanalytic feminist film theory,
an understanding of how cinematic identification operates varies from theo-
rist to theorist, as well as within the work of the same theorist in different peri-
ods. For example, as Doane has pointed out, 4 there is a significant difference
between Baudry’s theorization of looking, identification and spectatorship in
his first essay on the cinematic apparatus, published in 1970,5 and his second,
published a few years later.6 This shifting ground shows how dangerous it can
be to generalize when discussing the problems inherited from theories of the
cinematic apparatus. For all that, one thing remains constant: the difficulty
these processes pose for difference. Theories of the cinematic apparatus tend
to produce a generalized, universal subject, be it male or female. In order to
understand why this occurs, we need to outline the main theoretical compo-
nents that make up the framework of the cinematic apparatus.
The concept of the cinematic apparatus takes into account various mecha-
nisms and processes that constitute the cinematic experience, including the
narrative structure, the ideological nature of the apparatus, the technology
18 Deleuze and Film

involved, as well as the psychological aspects of the process. Theories of the

cinematic apparatus do not see these various aspects as separate, but are
interested in how they work together. Central to this argument is a process of
identification that is activated by a system of looking, one that brings together
the various components of the cinematic apparatus to produce both meaning
and a cinematic subject. The link between looking and cinematic identifica-
tion is a complex one, comprising a variety of theories and discourses: Sig-
mund Freud’s work on the development of the ego and his theory of voyeur-
ism; Jacques Lacan’s theory of subject formation (in particular, his theory of
the mirror stage); Louis Althusser’s theory of ideology, a powerful analogy
between the cinema and the allegory of Plato’s cave; and, finally, the concept
of monocular perspective, a geometrical arrangement of space inherited from
Renaissance perspective.
Theorists of the cinematic apparatus argue that a film requires the uncon-
scious work of the spectator in order to be able to generate meaning, and
furthermore, that this unconscious work also produces a cinematic subject.
Robert Stam, Robert Burgonyne and Sandy Flitterman-Lewis argue that a
psychoanalytic approach understands film viewing and subject formation
as reciprocal processes: that ‘something about our unconscious identity as
subjects is reinforced in film viewing, and film viewing is effective because
of our unconscious participation’.7 Crucial to this process is Lacan’s proposi-
tion that the subject exists in language.8 Lacan emphasizes the importance
of certain structures of language in subject formation and meaning mak-
ing. He argues that language is structured around certain subject positions
that are waiting to be filled. By taking up these positions, an individual is
constituted as a subject. More specifically, the personal pronouns ‘I’ and
‘you’ already exist in language and when an individual makes use of these
pre-existing positions s/he is constituted as a subject. It is through the act
of saying ‘I’ that one becomes a subject. Furthermore, language also posi-
tions us as ‘“he” or “she”; it constructs us even as we assert ourselves as
subjects within it’.9
David N. Rodowick observes that Lacan’s work on subject formation was
taken up primarily from Althusser’s ideological application of it. For Althusser,
institutions contain similar structures of subject formation to those found in
language. They contain pre-existing subject positions for individuals to take up,
and, in the process of taking up these positions, individuals become subjects.
By becoming subjects of the institution, however, they also become imbri-
cated in its ideology. Althusser argues that ‘all ideology hails or interpellates
concrete individuals as concrete subjects’.10 While Althusser’s work on subject
formation may be useful in understanding cinema’s potential for producing
ideological positions with which to identify, it does not explain exactly how
the scopic system found in cinema participates in this process. For this pur-
 The cinematic apparatus and the transcendental subject 19

pose apparatus theorists deploy another aspect of Lacan’s theories of ­subject

­formation – the mirror stage.
For Lacan, while subjectivity is the result of language acquisition or entry
into the Symbolic, the process of subject formation actually begins at a previ-
ous stage, which is dominated by the visual and which he calls the Imaginary.
A central mechanism of the Imaginary is the mirror stage.11 It is a process that
occurs in children between the ages of 6 and 18 months. The infant recog-
nizes its image in the mirror and identifies with it. It also becomes aware of
its separateness from the adult holding it and therefore also its separateness
from all other people. This recognition of the self as a distinct entity marks the
beginning of the formation of the ego. However, this process is complicated
in two ways. First, the image of itself in the mirror, with which the child identi-
fies, is an idealized image. This is because, at this stage of their development,
the child’s visual capacities are far more developed than their motor capacities.
While the infant still feels itself to be fragmented and uncoordinated, it per-
ceives the image of itself in the mirror as more coordinated and unified. Lacan
says of the image of the self in the mirror, ‘in relation to the still very profound
lack of co-ordination of his own motility, it represents an ideal unity, a salutary
imago’.12 Identification therefore is not based solely on recognition, but also on
misrecognition. In addition, identification with the image in the mirror is also
identification with the self as other, or with the self as elsewhere.13 As a result,
the self that emerges from this process of recognition is split and alienated.
If the emergence of a separate and unified identity is dependent on another,
then the self also has the potential to be its own other.
For theorists of the cinematic apparatus such as Baudry and Metz, Lacan’s
mirror stage forms the basis for a theory of cinematic identification. The cin-
ema screen is likened to the mirror, except for one striking difference: as Metz
has observed, unlike a mirror the film does not reflect back our own image
for us to identify with.14 Who or what do we then identify with? According to
Baudry and Metz, while we may identify with certain characters on the screen,
this identification is only secondary. Our primary identification occurs with the
camera and the act of looking itself. This is because the other on the screen
cannot see us, yet, because the camera has looked and recorded for us, we
are positioned in a way that invites us to look. Metz suggests that at ‘the cin-
ema, it is always the other who is on the screen; as for me, I am there to look
at him. I take no part in the perceived, on the contrary, I am all-perceiving’.15
This implies that there is a significant difference between the operation of
identification in Lacan’s mirror phase and in Metz’s cinematic primary identi-
fication. In Lacan’s mirror phase a sense of a unified and separate identity is
dependent on the other in the mirror, whereas for Metz a unified identity is
the result of an identification with the camera and therefore with the act of
seeing. It appears then that theorists of the cinematic apparatus ignore the
20 Deleuze and Film

role of the other in the mirror phase. Metz’s transition, from an identification
with the self as other in the mirror to an identification with the self as pure per-
ception, is quite radical. It is the view of both Doane and Joan Copjec that he
achieves this by melding Lacan’s theory of the mirror stage with Renaissance
monocular perspective, and in so doing distorts and misrepresents Lacan’s
theory of the gaze. 16 This shift is central to cinematic identification’s creation
of a transcendental subject that is both ahistorical and unchanging.
Metz also endows looking with mastery and control by connecting cin-
ematic looking to Freud’s concept of scopophilia – the drive to look and the
pleasures derived from it. He distinguishes between two kinds of look associ-
ated with scopophilia – active voyeurism and narcissistic identification. Active
voyeurism coincides with primary identification, that is, with the camera and
with the self as all-perceiving and associated with mastery. Narcissistic identi-
fication coincides with secondary identification, and as such with an identifica-
tion with the protagonist as a more perfect self. According to Metz, this form
of identification parallels the dynamic found in Lacan’s mirror stage, in which,
by means of a process of misrecognition, the infant identifies with a more
unified and perfect self.17
Metz argues that one of the major sources of cinematic pleasure is pro-
duced because the spectator is positioned at a distance from the images
on the screen in two ways. First, s/he is physically distant. More impor-
tantly, however, s/he is temporally distant, as the events on the screen were
recorded elsewhere and at an earlier time. Because of this double distancing,
the spectator is able to indulge in the act of looking without fear of reprisal.
According to Freud, scopophilia, the compulsion to look, relates to libidinal
drives that operate through an oscillation of pleasure and unpleasure. This
dynamic relies on a distancing or an absence of the desired object in order to
produce pleasure. Annette Kuhn, for whom this is the key to understanding
the pleasure we derive from film viewing, writes, ‘Given that in cinema the
object of the spectator’s look is indeed both distant and absent – “primordial
elsewhere,” as Metz says – the filmic state must be particularly prone to
evoking the pleasurable aspects of looking’.18 Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window
(1945) is an excellent example of a film that encourages pleasure through
identification with the main character Jeff (James Stewart). Confined to his
apartment because of a broken leg, Jeff spends his days compulsively looking
out his window into the apartments of his neighbours. His pleasure from look-
ing is fundamentally tied up with distance and anonymity. This is particularly
the case when he sees his girlfriend in the apartment of one of his neigh-
bours, a man whom he suspects is a murderer. As he watches her escape
from danger, he might be watching a character in a film; his desire for her is
activated by distance and absence.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Kaksitoista
kuukautta
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where
you are located before using this eBook.

Title: Kaksitoista kuukautta

Author: Ellen Wester

Release date: September 10, 2023 [eBook #71606]

Language: Finnish

Original publication: Helsinki: Emil Vainio, 1908

Credits: Tuula Temonen

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK

KAKSITOISTA KUUKAUTTA ***
KAKSITOISTA KUUKAUTTA

Kirj.

Ellen Wester

Suomennos

Helsingissä, Emil Vainio, 1908.

Etsin avarasta maailmasta ystävää, joka tahtoisi minua kuulla, kun

kerron miksi tulin tähän suureen kaupunkiin ja kuinka langat elämäni
kankaassa punoutuivat yhteen täällä.

Tammikuu.

Huoneeni ikkunasta näen pitkän kadun.

 Kapeana ja tummana jatkuu se kauas äärettömyyteen. Iltasin
säteilee valoa rivissä olevista heikoista kaasuliekeistä pitkältä
eteenpäin, ja lähimmän ristikadun kulmassa olevaa
viheriänharmaata taloa vastaan näen kiirehtiviä haamuja vilahtavan
sivu. — Useimmiten kiiruhtavat ne arvatenkin kotiinsa, lämpöön ja
valoon; toisinaan kävelevät he vitkaan. Minä tuumin silloin lienevätkö
ne kaksi rakastunutta, jotka eivät huomaa pakkasta, vai raukkoja,
joilla ei kotona ole sen lämpimämpää kuin kadullakaan.

Kuukauden olen ollut tässä suuressa kaupungissa. Täytyyhän sitä

jossakin olla. Olen yksin — isä ja äiti ovat menneet tuntemattomaan
maailmaan. Ainoa veljeni on ottanut itselleen vaimon eikä tarvitse
minua lietensä ääressä eikä maailmassa.

En ole nuori — kohta kolmenkymmenen vuotias, enkä ole kaunis.

Minussa ei ole koskaan ollut tarpeeksi tarmoa hommatakseni
itselleni niin kutsuttua elämän päämäärää, joka kyllä olisi tärkeä ja
tarpeellinen itselleni, mutta yhdentekevä kaikille muille. Taloudellinen
asemani on sellainen, ettei minun ole pakko tehdä ansiotyötä. Tulin
suurkaupunkiin nähdäkseni voisiko siellä elää paremmin elämänsä
loppuun. — Minulle oli sanottu, että naisilla siellä olisi niinkutsutuita
harrastuksia.

Asun pienen, hienon mummon luona, jolla on päivänpaisteinen

luonne. Hänellä onkin reseedakukkia ikkunoilla ja vaaleat verhot
Vanhoja mahonkipuisia huonekaluja peittämässä. Vanhanpuoleinen
hän on, hiukan ränstynyt, voidakseen enää muuttua — se johtuu
ijästä mutta hyväsydäminen. Me vietämme hiljaista elämää,
kumpikin hoitaen omia asioitaan.

Hiljaisuuteen olen tottunut — koko elämäni olen viettänyt

pienimmässä, unohtuneimmassa pikkukaupungissa, ja asianhaarat
ovat sen tehneet että nuoruusilo tansseineen, juhlineen ja
perhosleikkeineen pojan ja tytön, nuorukaisen ja neidon kesken, on
jäänyt kauaksi minusta.

Siitä asti kun tänne tulin, on ilma kylmennyt kylmenemistään. Jää

ei muodosta vain hienoja kirjauksia raitiovaunujen ja etehisien
ikkunoihin, vaan vankkoja lehtiä ja oksia korkokuvien tapaan. Minä
kaipaan skoonelaista sumuani, joka hiipii kaikkialle nurkkiin ja
soppiin: tahtoisin kuulla raskaitten pisaroin tippumista tai nähdä niitä
tihein helmeilevin rivein puitten alastomina oksilla.

Tuntuu niin tyhjältä ja ikävältä, eikä ainoastaan tyhjältä rakkaitten

vanhusten jälkeen, jotka ovat lepoon menneet.

Yksinäisyys ja vapaus kodin velvollisuuksista ja toimista on

herättänyt tarpeen, joka ennen on ollut syrjäytetty. Minä vaadin, minä
vaadin itselleni jonkun, jota voisin rakastaa ja joka minua rakastaisi.
Tämä on kaiketi sitä, jota jokapäiväisessä puheessa kutsutaan
naimahaluksi ja joka tehdään pilkanalaiseksi.

»Jumala, anna minulle kärsivällisyyden ihana lahja», rukoilin minä

ensi iltana tänne tultuani, kun seisoin ikkunani ääressä ja katselin
alas kadun sumuisen himmeään äärettömyyteen, ja ajattelin, että
aivan tuon näköisenä oli tulevaisuus edessäni. »Jumala, anna
minulle kärsivällisyyden ihana lahja.»

Helmikuu.
 Huoneessani riippuu rokokoopeili, kullatussa, kaareilevassa
kehyksessä, ja peilin alla kullatulla hyllyllä seisoo pieni porsliininen
pari, puuteroittuine irtonaishiuksineen ja rintaröyhelyksineen. Heillä
on sirosti teeskentelevä ryhti — tyttö ottaa povestaan kirjeen ja
ojentaa sitä pojalle ja tämä kumartaa, käsi sydämellään, ja näyttää
vakuuttavan pettämätöntä jumaloimistansa kylliksen ihanuudelle ja
sulolle. Tuo pieni, huolettomasti hymyilevä pari johtaa ajatukset
menneisiin aikoihin jolloin ihmiset — niin kuvittelemille — kulkivat
tanssien elämänsä läpi.

Oliko se kevytmielisyyden vai filosofisen uskalluksen huippu, joka

loi rokokoon hymyilyt ja eriskummaiset koristeet?

Minä haluan heittää luotani kaikki mietiskelyt ja selitysten

etsimiset, tahdon kuin keveästi heittää yltäni talvitamineet: ne
painavat harteita ja käyristävät selän. Niin tekee myöskin mietiskelyn
viitta.

Maailmassa on talvi. Koskahan tulee uusi kevät päivänpaisteineen

lämmittämään nuoria taimia? Tai uusi kesä kultaisille
paratiisiomenoineen, joita ei ole kielletty syömästä?

»Minä uskon Herraamme, mutta hän ei tee enää mitään

ihmetöitä», sanoo emäntäni. Siihen päätelmään on hänen
elämänfilosofiansa kiteytynyt.

Uskon minäkin Herraamme, mutta tahtoisin lisäksi uskoa, että hän

vielä joskus tekisi ihmetyön. Yhden ainoan pienen ihmetyön
ilahuttaakseen köyhää sieluparkaa!

Sinä päivänä en enää mietiskellyt, vaan lähdin etsimään ystäviä ja

sukulaisia.
 Toinen ystävättäristäni on naimisissa, on varakas ja onnellinen,
tavallisen onnellisuuskäsitteen mukaan. Hänen miehensä on
virkamies. Ollen toimessaan koko aamupäivän on hän parhaimmissa
tapauksissa kotosalla jonakuna iltana, muulloin vain päivällistä
syödessään — niin, ja öisin ja tietysti sunnuntaisin! Hänellä on
sitäpaitsi pieni tyttö, joka on terve ja reipas. Mitä ihminen enempää
pyytää voi?

Tapaahan sitä näin onnellista perhe-elämää joka päivä ja joka

kadulla.
Mitä varten siis ihmetöitä? Tulee olla tyytyväinen.

Toinen ystävättäreni on naimaton, niinkuin minä. Mutta hänen

täytyy tehdä työtä elatuksensa takia ja olla iloinen, niinkauan kuin
tämä työ tuottaa hänelle jokapäiväisen leivän ja viisikymmenisen
säästöön vuodessa. Ja kun hän ei voi enää työskennellä? Kuinka
sitten käy? En tiedä. En tiedä mihin vanhat naimattomat naiset
joutuvat. Sanomalehdissä näkee heidän kuolonilmoituksiaan, mutta
missä olivat he eläissään. Olen varma siitä, että me kaikki olemme
tunteneet jonkun vanhan, työstä kuluneen naisen, joka niin tyyten on
maailman silmistä kadonnut, että kuolemanilmoitus vaan herättää
ajatuksen: »Kas, vieläkö hän eli?» Ja sitten kadutaan lyhyellä ja
nopeasti haihtuvalla katumuksella, ettei olla mitään hänen
hyväkseen tehty, tuon huonosilmäisen, kumaraisen vanhan naisen.

Etsin siis ystäviä ja sukulaisia.

Alapuolella olevassa huoneustossa soitettiin tottumattomin,

harjoittelevin sormin Punaista sarafaania, tuota vanhaa kulunutta,
äärettömän surumielistä säveltä. Se sopi minulle, joka yksinäisenä ja
hämilläni odottelin oven avautumista.
 Herrasväki oli kotona ja minut vietiin saliin. Se oli suuri ja siinä oli
uusia huonekaluja, jotka näyttivät käyttämättömiltä. Kauniin,
valkohapsisen ukon kuva, puettuna vuosisadan alkupuolella
käytettyyn pukuun — tunsin hänet hyvin, olihan hän meidän yhteinen
isoisämme — antoi huonolle arvokkuutta.

Kului kotvanen, ennenkuin kukaan tuli, ja minulla oli hyvää aikaa

ihmetellä, mitä minulla siellä oikeastaan oli tekemistä. Olikohan
tarpeellista, että tunkeuduin perheeseen sentähden, että meillä oli
yhteinen isoisän isä? Nyt olisi heidän pakko teeskennellä minua
kohtaan harrastusta, jota he tietenkään eivät voineet tuntea, ja
vastavuoroksi olisi heillä oikeus kysellä minulta aikeitani, ja
arvostella niitä pois lähdettyäni. Sitten he ehkä katsoisivat
velvollisuudekseen kutsua minut useimmin kotiinsa; tai jolleivät sitä
tekisi, tuntisin minä katkeruutta mielessäni.

Talon rouva tuli, rakastettavana ja armollisena, täsmälleen

parahultasen kylmänä. Ettei hänellä ollut aavistustakaan minusta ja
hommistani, sen soin hänelle anteeksi; vaikkapa hän olikin
naimisissa isäni serkun kanssa.

Hänen miehensä herätti minussa suurempaa harrastusta; häntä

pidetään lahjakkaana ja hän on noussut korkeaan asemaan. Minua
huvitti koettaa keksiä, oliko hän todellakin älykkäämpi kuin useat
muut, vai oliko sattuma tyrkännyt hänet ylöspäin. Mitä ihmiset
sanovat, siitä vähin välitän.

Pidän suurimpana, eittämättömänä oikeutenani, huolimatta siitä,

miten yleinen mielipide arvostelee henkilöitä ja asioita, itse tutkia ja
tuomita, niinkuin parhaaksi näen. Kuitenkin oikeutta noudattamalla ja
jos suinkin mahdollista, pakottamatta käsityskantaani muille. —
Tämä viimeksimainittu on vaikeata.
 Maaliskuu.

Olen nyt tottunut elämääni täällä; tunnen joka kukan huoneeni

seinäpaperissa, ja verkkokalvooni on näköala huoneestani painunut
niin, että saatan nähdä sen, kun ummistan silmäni — pitkän, julman
pitkän kadun, joka päättyy usvanharmaaseen etäisyyteen, ja lähinnä
minua poikkikatu ja siinä vanha harmaanvihreä talo oikealla, sama,
jonka ohi kiirehtivät varjot hiipivät iltaisin; ja vasemmalla unohduksiin
jäänyt puutalo, ikkuna päädyssä. Samoin kuin minun ikkunani,
avautuu sekin pieneen ahtaaseen tarhaan päin, jossa valkeat
sireenit kukkivat juhannuksen aikaan, sanoo emäntäni jolla on lupa
käydä siellä.

Minä lueskelen ja mietin ja koetan olla joksikin huviksi niille

muutamille ihmisille, joiden kanssa tulen tekemisiin.

Ensiksi emännälleni ja hänen ystävättärilleen, kolmelle vanhalle

naiselle, jotka ovat vähän kuuroja, vähän kankeita jäseniltään ja
kovin kursailevaisia. Kerran viikossa tulevat he whistiä pelaamaan ja
toisinaan olen minäkin mukana pääasiassa sentähden, jotta en
kangistuisi liian suureen itsekkyyteen ja etten kokonaan unohtaisi
kodin pieniä itsensä uhrautumista kysyviä velvollisuuksia.

Mutta olen myöskin ollut suurilla, uudenaikaisilla päivällisillä

muiden ystävätärteni luona.

Siellä oli naisia silkissä ja hepenissä, herroja kunniamerkeissä, ja

tunnustettu kaunotar, joka piti hovia ja oli seuran keskipisteenä.

Ennen oli minulla tapana uneksia olevani kohteliaiden miesten

kunnioituksen esineenä nyt en sitä enää tee. Pöytäkumppanini
osoittikin aivan selvästi, ettei minulla ollut mitään siinä suhteessa
odotettavissa. Hän puhui niin vähän kuin suinkin ja kiinnitti
huomionsa muuten ahkerasti ruokaan.

Toisella puolella istui nuori lääkäri, joka ei myöskään puhunut

monta sanaa kanssani. Mutta minä pidin hänen ulkomuodostaan,
hänen leveästä kaarevasta otsastaan ja terävistä ilottomista
silmistään. Ja kun hän puhui pöytänaisensa kanssa, oli hänen
kielensä niin hienosti sivistynyttä, lausetapansa niin täsmällistä, että
se ilahutti herkkää korvaani. Herkkää sentähden, että olen enemmän
lukenut kuin kuullut puhuttavan.

Vielä herätti eräs henkilö pöydässä harrastustani: vanha tyttö, joka

aivan hiljattain oli mennyt naimisiin korkean virkamiehen kanssa.
Tämä oli punakka, kömpelö, saamaton ja puheli vaan virka-
asioistaan: vaimo näytti kalpealta, lempeältä ja älykkäältä ja
katseessa oli jotain odotuksen tapaista.

Minua huvittaa nähdä hänet toiste ja silloin tarkata, onko hänen

toivonsa pettynyt vai täyttynyt.

Kotimatkalla tulin jutelleeksi pöytänaapurini, lääkärin kanssa.

Tulimme yhtaikaa portaita alas ja meillä oli sama matka, joten hän ei
voinut olla sanomatta jotakin.

Ilmassa oli kevään aavistus, vaikkakin muureilla, kivillä ja pensailla

kimalteli miljoonittain säteileviä pieniä kuurakristalleja, ja me
kävelimme hitaasti eteenpäin yhdessä, sillä hän asui kumma kyllä
ikkunani alla olevan kadun varrella.

Puhuimme hänen tieteestään ja hän arveli, että yksi ainoa

eittämättömästi toteennäytetty tosiasia voitti kymmenet nerokkaasti
keksityt, mutta todistamattomasti tehdyt hypoteesit. Hänen
mielipiteensä ovat ehkä oikeat, mutta siitä huolimatta uskalsin
mainita Michel Servet'in, jonka nero arvasi yhden elintoiminnan
salaisuuksista. Ehkäpä se johtui turhamaisuudesta, että ilmaisin
hänelle tietoni Servet'istä, mutta siinä tapauksessa sain kyllä
rangaistukseni, kun seuralaiseni antoi asiallisen ja käytännöllisen
vastauksensa:

»Eihän häntä oikeastaan voida lukea lääkäreihin.»

Kuinka tämä kuului kuivalta!

Hetkistä ennen olisi minulla ollut tuhansia sanoja valmiina, nyt en

keksinyt muuta kuin tämän:

»Mutta hän oli älykäs ja onneton.»

»Täytyykö olla onneton, jotta saisi teidän myötätuntonne

osaksensa?» vastasi hän, ja niin olimme portillani.

Kun laskin ikkunaverhoni alas, välähti pääni läpi ajatus, että nyt
tunnen ainakin yhden, jonka jokapäiväinen tie käypi pitkää, pimeätä
katua pitkin.

Huhtikuu.

Muistelen usein etelämpänä olevaa kotiani, joka sijaitsee

ylenevällä merenrannalla.
 Kaukana maalla on multa jo ammoin peittänyt keltaisen sannan,
metsää kasvaa sen päällä tai peittyy se saraheinän sinivihreäin
korsien alle. Mutta kumpujen ylenevät ja alenevat piirteet panevat
aavistamaan, että aallot ennen vanhaan ovat täällä vyöryneet.
Näkinkengän kuoret ja kanervan alla löytyvät hienoksi murentunut
santa todistaa, että meri on muodostanut niin matalat harjut kuin
liikkuvat särkätkin ulkona rannikolla sekä veden partaalla olevat
uurteiset kohokkeet, jossa märkien levien alle kätkeytyy eläviä
mereneläviä ja täyttyneitä simpukoita.

Kuvittelen, että tämä on sitä, mitä ylipäänsä nimitetään

kehityskuluksi.

Minä ajattelen ja uneksin aikojen merta. Se lainehtii ja liikkuu

alituiseen: se on kirkas, mutta kumminkin läpinäkymätön, sillä
mikään ihmisellinen silmä ei ole sen syvyyttä mitannut. Mutta niin
kauvan kuin se on aaltoillut, on se kohottanut pinnalle ja mukanaan
pyöritellyt elämän atoomeja, äärettömän pieniä olijoita, joista toisia
nimitetään ihmisiksi. Nousuveden pitkä aalto nostaa heidät
olemassaolon rannalle, ja he pysähtyvät siihen ja edistävät
voimansa ja tahtonsa tomuhiukkasilla sitä rakennustyötä joka aina
on käynnissä.

Silloin tällöin on varmaan löytynyt joku suurempi luja keskuspiste,

jonka ympärille tartuntavoiman lait heidät on koonnut. Toisinaan ovat
he myöskin jääneet siihen, mihin ovat pysähtyneet vaan sentähden,
ettei heissä ole ollut kylliksi tarmoa vyöryä eteenpäin. Siis kiinteät
kummut, rajamerkit suvun historiassa, ovat näin muodostuneet;
niitten santajyvästen mielestä, jotka vasta ovat rannalle
huuhtoutuneet, tuntuvat kumpujen rivit ylitsenäkemättömiltä.
 Etäämpänä kasvaa suuria, kuihtuneita puita, elottomia sankareita
ajatusten maailmassa, ja toisia, jotka vain ylimmässä latvassaan
säilyttävät vihertävää oksaa — ajatusta, joka on elänyt halki aikojen,
lähempänä rantaa näkyy kutistuneita, ryhmyisiä runkoja, joiden
kasvua myrskyn vihurit ovat estäneet, ja joiden latvat ovat
kehittyneet yksipuolisesti, niin että ne kaikki viittovat samaan
suuntaan; mutta monilla lähempänä olevilla kummuilla ei idä mitään
muuta, kuin kuivaa rantaolkea ja teräviä korsia.

Kaikilla on kuitenkin samainen alkulähde: pienten santajyvästen

väsymätön työ on luonut ja muodostanut ne kaikki.

Mitä varten ja miksi tätä väsymätöntä työtä vuosituhansien halki?

Taivaaseen asti eivät santajyväset vielä ole päässeet, mutta ne
haluavat varmaankin nousta sinne asti.

Mitä hyödyttää mietiskely? Mitä varten ja miksi? Koskaan en

päässyt pitemmälle.

Ajatuksiltani väsyneenä menin kuukauden viimeisenä päivänä alas

puutarhaan.

Ilma oli lauha ja maa oli niin kostea, että vesi pursui esiin siitä,
mihin jalka vaan tallasi. Pensaitten silmikot paisuivat suurina;
sopessa pilkisteli krookuspäitä esiin, ja nurkassa, minne
etelänaurinko paistoi, kukkivat lumipisarat vihertävän valkeina ja
täyteläisinä.

Olin poiminut niitä ja aijoin jälleen palata sisälle, kun ikkuna

lähelläni avautui ja tervehtivä ääni lausui:
 »Hyvää iltaa, neiti, teittepä viisaasti, kun tulitte hengittämään
vähän kevätilmaa ahkeran päivätyönne jälkeen.»

Käännyin; siinä oli nuori lääkäri, naapurini ystävättäreni

päivällisiltä. Hän asui siis tuossa unohtuneessa puutalossa, ja hänen
ikkunansa avautui puutarhaan päin. Yhdellä ainoalla askeleella olisi
hän voinut astua ikkunalaudan ylitse ulos.

Kun hän nyt puhutteli minua, tunsin hämmästyksen ohessa

kiitollisuutta, että hän oli viitsinyt huomata minut. Koko pitkän päivän
olin istunut ikkunani ääressä ommellen ja tuumiskellen ja joku oli siis
huomannut minut, oli arvellut, mitä siinä tein ja ehkäpä mitä
ajattelinkin. En osannut mitään vastata, mutta astuin nopeasti pari
askelta ja laskin lumipisareeni hänen ikkunalaudalleen.

»Ovatko nämä kaikki minulle?» kysyi hän, ja äänessä oli

hämmästynyt sointu. »Tuhannet kiitokset. Saanko tulla ulos
tarkastamaan valtakuntaanne?»

Ja ennenkuin ennätin muuta kuin vilahdukselta katsoa häneen

huoneseensa, oli hän hypännyt ulos ja seisoi vierelläni. Näin vaan,
että kaikkialla oli kirjoja, kaikilla pöydillä ja tuoleilla.

»Kuinka paljon teillä on kirjoja!» sanoin minä.

»Niin», vastasi hän. »Ne ovat nyt kerta kaikkiaan minun

intohimoni!
Mutta se on kallista — olen varmaankin maksanut enemmän, kuin
olisi
pitänyt tyydyttääkseni sitä! Jonakin päivänä saan varmaankin katua!
Intohimoistaan saa aina maksaa!»
 Hänen katseensa oli vakava, vaikkakin hän hymyili. Hetkisen
kuluttua jatkoi hän:

»Mitä kiirettä teillä on tänään ollut?»

»Ei mitään», ääntelin minä ja punastuin. — Kuinka olisin voinut

kertoa, että neuloin koruompelua veljenityttären hameeseen? Eikö
se hänestä tuntuisi mitättömältä työltä?

»Ei mitään! — Kuinka naisellinen vastaus», sanoi hän, kohottaen

olkapäitään.

Jos hän vielä olisi kysynyt, niin olisi hän mielellään saanut tietää,
mitä olin ommellut ja mitä sen ohella olin ajatellut, mutta hän alkoikin
puhua puutarhasta, keväästä ja ilmasta ja sitten elämästäni.

»Teillä on varmaankin ikävä?» sanoi hän, mutta silloin minä vain

hymyilin. —

Ikävä! Olinhan elänyt niitten runoilijoitten mukana, joiden teoksia

olin lukenut. Sellaisessa seurassa ei ole ikävätä. — Olin kaipaillut
sielua, joka olisi omani: mutta yksinäisyyttäni ja sydämeni surua
kuvaamaan olivat sanat liian pieniä ja köyhiä.

Hämärä laskeusi harmaana harsona talojen välille, kun erosimme,

ja hän lausui toivomuksenaan, että useimmin kohtaisimme
toisemme. Oliko se vaan lauseparsi? Korviini ei se siltä tuntunut.

Nyt tiedän, kenen lamppu se on, joka palaa niin myöhään illalla.
Katu ei enää ole tyhjä ja autio — mutta pimeys tuolla puolen
valonsäteen on niin musta.
 Toukokuu.

Suloinen keväinen kuukausi on takanani; olen saanut puhua ja

olen kuullut eläviä sanoja.

Sen jälkeen, kun tapasimme toisemme puutarhassa, iltana, jolloin

lumipisareet kukkivat, olemme kohdanneet useasti toisemme —
tuskin saatan sanoa, kuinka usein, sillä olen mennyt sinne, kun tiesin
hänen siellä olevan.

Joka päivä en sinne mennyt. Vanhat tarut naisellisuuden

velvoituksista pidättivät minua toisinaan, ja usein esti menoani
epäilys viehättämiskyvystäni. Sellaisina iltoina laskin ikkunaverhot
alas ja sytytin lampun, lukeakseni sanoja, joilla ei ollut mitään
merkitystä minulle. Taikka seisoin kätkössä ikkunani luona
odottamassa, avautuisiko vastapäinen ikkuna ja joku katsoisi, enkö
minä jo tulisi. Aina se ei tapahtunut, mutta kun niin kävi, ilostuin kuin
olisin saanut lahjan, jonka ehkä olin toivonut saavani, mutta jota
minulla ei ollut oikeutta odottaa.

Usein olemme kuitenkin tavanneet ja ennättäneet puhella

monenmoisista, jotta nyt katson häntä ystäväkseni — ja
enemmäksikin.

Hän ajattelee selvästi ja terävästi, mutta kylmästi ja hänellä on

kova kohta sydämessään, skeptisismin aiheuttama jäätynyt paikka,
joka synnyttää kylmyyttä ja epäilyä. — Hän lukee, lukee aina; ei
saadakseen tietää, vaan unohtaakseen, tuntuu minusta toisinaan. —
Mitä voi hänellä olla unohtamista? Nuoruuden hullutuksiako? Ei, hän
tuntuu eläneen yksin, lukujenpa hommissa vaan. Jonakuna päivänä
saan tietää, mikä häntä painostaa; toisinaan tuntuu, kuin pyörisi se
hänen huulillaan. Silloin vaikenee hän pitkiksi ajoiksi ja kävelee
edestakaisin käytävällä, siksi kunnes aijon kysyä, mitä se on — enkä
ymmärrä, miks'en kuitenkaan tee sitä.

Se tekee minut kumminkin vähän levottomaksi, vai lieneekö siihen

syynä kevään kuohuva, kuumentava ilma?

Ostin eilen kokonaisen maljakon kalpeita primuloita. — Voipiko

löytyä parempaa, kuin sellainen kukkaisaarre on? En halua niitä
yksitellen, säästeliäissä ja niukoissa annoksissa, kuin pohjolan
kesäpäiviä. — Ei, en huoli ollenkaan tai sitten tahdon tuhlaavan
yltäkylläisesti yhtaikaa. — Kuihtukoot ne sitten ja jääkööt
korvaamattomiksi.

»Onnellisempaa on, kun voi tyytyä vähempään», vastasi hän, kun

mainitsin jotain tähän suuntaan, laskiessani maljakon hänen
ikkunallensa.

Olin silloin juuri heittänyt luotani kevään levottomuuden ja vastasin

hänelle ylimielisen iloisesti. —

»Niinpä niin, onhan viisaampaa jakaa kultaa annoksittain, kun

kerran varasto on niin pieni; mutta tahdonpa kerran maljakon täyteen
primuloita ne kuihtuvat, sen kyllä tiedän — mutta minä olen ne
omistanut ja jääköön niiden tuoksu elämäni suloisimmaksi
tuoksuksi.»

»On parempi tyytyä vähempään», toisti hän ja katsoi minuun, ei,

vaan ohitseni, kulmat kurtussa ja katse synkkänä.

Sitä katsetta minä en siedä; se nostaa muurin välillemme, se

painaa minut mitättömäksi. Sillä vaikka hetkistä ennen olen tuntenut
olevani lähellä häntä, niin kutistuu sydämeni silloin tuskaisesti sen
edessä, jota en tunne, ja kevätilta muuttuu kylmäksi ja pimeäksi,
siksi kunnes hän jälleen pehmiää ja puhuu.

Mutta kun me sinä iltana erosimme — kun tähdet harvakseen

taivaalla tuikkivat ja kostea maa tuoksui — sanoi hän hiljaa — ilta oli
niin juhlallisen kaunis, että me koko viime hetken olimme puhelleet
hiljaisin äänin:

»Kiitos, että tulette tänne alas; te olette hyvä», ja sitten suuteli hän
kättäni, jota omassaan piteli.

Ja kun pääsin huoneeseeni, täytyi minun hetkisen itkeä, osaksi

ilosta, osaksi säälistä omaa itseäni kohtaan, kun saatoin uskoa, että
hänen suutelonsa tarkoitti muuta kuin hyvän miehen kunnioittavaa
kiitollisuutta naisen ystävällisyydestä.

Primulat tuoksuivat; tähdet tuikkivat ja välkkyivät rauhattomina, uni

ei ollut koskaan tulla.

Kesäkuu

On riemuitsevan ihanaa kesäisessä kuussa, kun sireenit tuoksuvat

ja ilma on lauha ja aurinko viipyy viipymistään eikä halua sammua ja
uinua.

On riemuitsevan ihanaa, kun koko maailma on laskeutunut

usvaisten, loistavien pilvien joukkoon, niin että vain pieni kolkka
maastamme kohoaa siitä esiin — jos vaan löytyy kaksi ihmistä, jotka
pitävät toisistaan niin täysin, etteivät välitä menneisyyden