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“Everyone seeks their look. Since it is no longer possible to base any claim on one's own existence, there is nothing for it but to perform an appearing act without concerning oneself with being - or even with being seen. So it is not: I exist, I am here! but rather: I am visible, I am an image -look! look! This is not even narcissism, merely an extraversion without depth, a sort of self-promoting ingenuousness whereby everyone becomes the manager of their own appearance.”
― The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
― The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
“Silence is banished from our screens; it has no place in communication. Media images (and media texts resemble media images in every way) never fall silent: images and messages must follow one upon the other without interruption. But silence is exactly that - a blip in the circuitry, that minor catastrophe, that slip which, on television for instance, becomes
highly meaningful - a break laden now with anxiety, now with jubilation, which confirms the fact that all this communication is basically nothing but a rigid script, an uninterrupted fiction designed to free us not only from the void of the television screen but equally from the void of our own mental screen, whose images we wait on with the same fascination.”
― The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
highly meaningful - a break laden now with anxiety, now with jubilation, which confirms the fact that all this communication is basically nothing but a rigid script, an uninterrupted fiction designed to free us not only from the void of the television screen but equally from the void of our own mental screen, whose images we wait on with the same fascination.”
― The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
“For everything that has not successfully transcended itself can only fall prey to revivals without end.”
― The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
― The Transparency of Evil: Essays in Extreme Phenomena
“Strange people. The kind that leave the merest blur behind them, soon vanished. Hutte and I often used to talk about these traceless beings. They spring up out of nothing one fine day and return there, having sparkled a little. Beauty queens. Gigolos. Butterflies. Most of them, even when alive, had no more substance than steam which will never condense.”
― Missing Person
― Missing Person
“The letters dance before my eyes. Who am I?”
― Rue des boutiques obscures
― Rue des boutiques obscures
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