"On n'est pas dans le futurisme, mais dans un drame bourgeois ou un thriller atmosphérique"
For humans, everything that has being has 'brilliance'. There is therefore a possible hierarchisation of powers of sideration, one that is not subordinate to any criterion other than that of their (relative) capacity to dazzle. Perhaps one of the major operations of the visual arts, but equally of poetry, involves bringing about, in practice, such a hierarchisation, until recognition becomes possible.
Placing 'being before itself', abandoning it to itself so as to allow it to gauge via its own forces the potentialities of its diverse zonings, may also, therefore, be to let it construct / deconstruct itself before the court of its brilliances, its powers, its forces - beyond all judgement of an heteronomous (moral, technical, political, religious, etc.) nature.
The moment of modernity appears to have lost, in art, the liking for 'perfections' shut up within their principle, ending up in a work apart. It could even seem that value is given to certain 'defects', lauded for their power of scandalous revelation of some feature of being left 'before itself', uncircumscribed ahead of time, unmastered, ever to be exorcised : and thus still dangerous.
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