Margiela Artisanal Collection 2024: Pubic Hair and Porcelain Faces

Maison Margiela Artisanal Collection 2024 [1]

 

 

I was pleased to see that John Galliano decided to experiment with an older ideal of female beauty in his latest collection for Maison Margiela; one with tiny waists, wide hips, and (at least the illusion of) hairy genitalia.

 

For I've long been interested in the question of female body hair and its removal; particularly from the pubic area due to a porno-aesthetic convention shaping our idea of what constitutes desirability. As I wrote in a post published back in January 2013:  

"I am slightly troubled by this trend. For whilst I understand the appeal of the hairless pussy on grounds that range from the practical to the perverse, still I can't help regretting the universal Brazilianization of women as I recall the words of Henry Miller: 'It doesn't look like a cunt anymore; it's like a dead clam or something. It's the hair that makes it mysterious.' [2]  

 

So, well done to Galliano for his use of couture merkins, fashioned from real human hair and visible beneath the sheer dresses worn by models. Perhaps this will start a new trend and maybe even encourage some women to go easy with the wax or refrain from relentlessly shaving every single hair [3].

 

 

II.

 

Of course, Galliano isn't really interested in reviving a more natural model of femininity. As he once admitted long ago, he hates female breasts for ruining the line of his designs.

 

And as the hyper-shiny complexion of his models indicates [4], his queer and slightly uncanny fantasy is to make a real woman resemble a porcelain doll; or perhaps bring the latter to life, fitting her out with all the secondary sexual characteristics of genuine womanhood, and then having her walk down the catwalk looking like a lurid Edwardian prostitute.  

To quote D. H. Lawrence: "It's just weird. And for its very weirdness women like living up to it." [5] But they might do well to remember, however, that the moment they take on that artificial china doll face, the fashion will change and the demand will be for something else.  

 

Having said that, Galliano does have a certain decadent genius and I can't help admiring his latest collection - just as my own perverse interest in the (related) topics of pygmalionism, agalmatophilia, and dollification make it hard for me not to adore the perfect porcelain features of the model pictured above. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The Maison Margiela Artisanal Collection 2024 by John Galliano was shown underneath the arches of what for many is most beautiful - certainly the most ornate - bridge in all Paris, the Pont Alexandre III. Click here to watch the show - inspired in part by Brassï’s dimly lit, over exposed nighttime photos taken in Montmarte in the 1920s and '30s - on YouTube.  

 

[2] See the post entitled 'Epilation' (8 Jan 2013) from where I quote this passage.

 

[3] Perhaps. But probably not. I suspect that all the body positive and natural beauty stuff will make little difference within a pornified culture. Some readers might recall that the visual merchandising team at American Apparel tried something similar to Galliano at their East Houston Street store in NYC ten years ago to little effect. See the post 'On Mannequins With Merkins' (21 Jan 2014).

 

[4] The astonishing glass skin make-up worn by the models was created by Pat McGrath; a long time collaborator of Galliano's - from his days at Dior until now at Maison Margiela, where he was appointed creative director in 2014. 

[5] D. H. Lawrence, 'Give Her a Pattern', in Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 163. 

Three French Suicides: In Memory of Olga Georges-Picot, Christine Pascal, and Gilles Deleuze

Christine Pascal, Gilles Deleuze & Olga Georges-Picot

 

 

I.

 

Last night, on TV, they were showing one of my favourite films: the British psychological thriller written and directed by Basil Dearden and starring Roger Moore; The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970) [1]. 

 

There are many reasons to love this film, not least of all because it allows one to get a glimpse of the French actress Olga-Georges Picot in a very fetching black bra. She's luscious. She's ravishing. And there are some men who would happily give up red meat to be afforded an opportunity to perv [2] on this Franco-Russian beauty [3] - including Woody Allen, who cast her as Countess Alexandrovna in his 1975 film Love and Death.  

   

Whilst biographical information on her life and career seems to be limited and incomplete, we do know that she commited suicide in June 1997 by jumping from her 5th floor apartment overlooking the river Seine.

 

 

II. 

 

Olga Georges-Picot's death came less than a year after the death - also by suicide and also by jumping out of a window - of the brilliant French actress, writer and director Christine Pascal ... 

 

Interestingly, this multi-talented woman had often reflected philosophically on the question of suicide, and the first film she directed - Félicité (1979) [4] - opens with a suicide scene. Several years later, when asked by an interviewer how she would like to die, she replied: En me suicidant, le moment venu.

 

Well, that time came in August 1996, whilst receiving treatment at a psychiatric hospital in the Paris suburb of Garches [5]. Whether her suicide is best interpreted as a mad act by a mentally ill woman or a voluntary death by an unconventional woman with a penchant for transgressive behaviour is something I'll allow readers to decide [6].    

 

III.

Finally, let us remember Gilles Deleuze ... 

 

Deleuze was a philosopher very much admired by Pascal and one who, like her - and like Georges-Picot - also topped himself by jumping out of a window, when the respiratory conditions that he had long suffered from became increasingly severe [7].     

I remember the excitement news of this event generated in the Philosophy Dept. at Warwick, where I was doing my Ph.D at the time and had just started to read Deleuze's work seriously. Everyone wanted to know if his death came from within or without and pondered the question of whether it marked a loss of desire on his part, or whether the decision to terminate one's own individual existence as a way of affirming life indicates a final resurgence of vitality.  

 

In other words, was his suicide a logical way for Deleuze to show fidelity to his own philosophy, rather than merely a wish to end his suffering?

 

It remains an interesting question, I think ...       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I have written about this in relation to Daphne du Maurier's 1957 novel The Scapegoat in a post entitled 'Never Give a Doppelgänger the Keys to Your Car ...' (17 June 2020): click here. 

[2] I'm paraphrasing George Costanza interviewing for a secretary in the season six episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Secretary', (dir. D. Owen Trainor, 1998): click here.  

[3] Olga was was the daughter of Guillaume Georges-Picot, the French Ambassador to China, and a Russian mother, Anastasia Mironovich. She was born in Shanghai, in Japanese-occupied China, in January 1940. 

 

[4] Christine Pascal was born in Lyon in November 1953. She was given a starring role, aged twenty-one, in Michel Mitrani's Les Guichets du Louvre (1974). 

      The film portrays the infamous Vel' d'Hiv' Roundup in 1942, when French police assisted Nazi soldiers in the arrest of over 13,000 Jewish inhabitants of Paris and held them under inhumane conditions prior to their deportation to Auschwitz, where virtually all were murdered. Pascal played a young Jewish woman named Jeanne.

 

[5] Félicité was not only written and directed by Pascal, but she played the lead role too. It was a film that shocked many (even in France) with its explicit sexual content and provocative indecency and cemented her reputation as the mauvaise fille of French cinema.   

 

[6] Somewhat unfairly, I think, the psychiatrist who was caring for Pascal was sentenced in 2003 to twelve months in prison for failing to take appropriate action to prevent her suicide. 

 

[7] Deleuze, who had problems with his breathing even as a youngster, developed tuberculosis in 1968 and underwent surgery to remove a lung. In the final years of his life even writing became increasingly difficult and so, on 4 November 1995, aged seventy, he jumped to his death from the window of his Paris apartment.

 

Satanism is Not a Humanism

thesatanictemple.com

 

 

I. 

 

Just to be clear: I'm no great fan of Anton LaVey and I'm not a member or supporter of his Church of Satan [1]. However, if placed between the devil and the deep blue sea and forced to choose between LaVey and the Church of Satan or Lucien Greaves and his Satanic Temple, I'd probably go with the former. 

 

And that's because Satanism as a form of showbiz and ritual theatre appeals more than Satanism as a form of social activism and progressive politics and I think I prefer those who are faux wicked like LaVey to those who are sincerely woke like Greaves. 

 

 

II.

 

The Satanic Temple, co-founded by Greaves and Malcolm Jarry in 2012 and based in Salem, Massachusetts, declares in a mission statement on its website that it has several goals based upon Seven Tenets, including the encouragement of benevolence and empathy among all people; opposition to injustice; and the promotion of practical common sense.

 

None of these things sound particularly immoral to me - and it's no surprise to discover that, actually, Greaves and his associates in The Satanic Temple not only refuse to worship his Satanic Majesty, but deny his existence and believe that religion should be stripped of all supernatural elements, becoming, in effect, just another form of secular humanism [2] promoting reason and liberal values. 

 

Far from affirming an active form of evil, The Satanic Temple wish to reduce human suffering in the name of Love and - as a Nietzschean - I obviously can't go along with that on philosophical grounds [3]. 

 

For me, the altruistic values that Greaves holds dear - born as they are of impotence and ressentiment - are essentially the problem and it is not only absurd to persist with such ideals, but harmful to our present wellbeing and future becoming [4].   

Does Greaves not understand that it is only those with claws who are capable of showing compassion and that it is the strong who grant and guarantee the very rights with which he is so concerned? 

 

Apparently not ... Which is a bit of a shame, because - to give the devil his due - Greaves is undoubtedly an intelligent and courageous provocateur, it's just unfortunate that, ultimately, he's merely another social justice warrior peddling the same leftist ideology one might hear from Owen Jones or Billy Bragg.      

  

 

Notes

 

[1] Anton LaVey (1930-1997) was an American author, musician, and Satanist. A colourful and charismatic figure - once described as a natural born showman - he was the founder of the Church of Satan in 1966. Readers who are interested might like the post published on 24 Feb 2018 in which I discuss LaVey's relationship with Jayne Mansfield: click here. 

[2] Greaves tries to differentiate his model of Satanism from humanism by emphasising its rejection of tyrannical authority and adherence to a principle of individual sovereignty (including that of the outsider), but I can't imagine any secular-liberal humanist would find that problematic.    

[3] One of the things that Lucien Greaves dislikes about LaVey's model of Satanism is the fact that it was informed by a reading - admittedly a crude reading - of Nietzsche's philosophy. Click here to read a fairly lengthy refutation of LaVey's doctrines on The Satanic Temple website.  

 

[4] I discuss all this in chapter 4 of Outside the Gate, (Blind Cupid Press, 2010), pp. 89-99.

Forest Bathing

A Walk in the Woods by Frosted Moonlight 

 (SA/2024)

 

 

Having taken an early morning stroll in the woods by the light of a frosted moon, I'm sympathetic to the claim made by many dendrophiles that being in the company of trees is beneficial to one's physical and mental wellbeing. 

 

That even a short walk in the woods - depressing  as this can be when one sees all the litter and fly-tipped items including paint pots, pushchairs and printers - can help lower blood pressure, keep sugar levels balanced, boost immune systems and even improve cognitive function.     

 

Of course, the Japanese living in a land that is still two-thirds covered with a vast number and diversity of trees, have known this for many years and have even coined a (relatively recent) term [1] for finding oneself by losing oneself amongst them: shinrin-yoku - known in English as forest bathing. 

 

But the Japanese are not unique in recognising the health benefits of this practice; the Roman author Pliny the Elder, for example, argued that the scent of a pine forest was extremely beneficial to those suffering with respiratory problems or recuperating from a long illness. 

 

And I've written on several occasions about D. H. Lawrence's great fascination with trees: click here, for example. 

 

Like Lawrence, I'm conscious of the fact that you can never really know a tree - something which is so much bigger and stronger in life than we are - but only "sit among the roots and nestle against its strong trunk" [2], in silent contemplation [3]. But that's good enough for me. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] The term shinrin-yoku was coined in 1982 by Tomohide Akiyama - Director of the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries - who, worried by increasing urbanisation, hoped to inspire the Japanese public to reconnect with nature and protect their forests by reminding them of the free health benefits that the latter afforded them.   

 

[2] D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 86. 

[3] Having said that, Rupert Birkin does rather more than sit in silence with his favourite young sapling; see chapter VIII of Lawrence's novel Women in Love (1920). I discuss dendrophilia in its erotic (and daimonic) aspect in a post published here on 3 October 2020: click here.  

Warmongering

Image based on the famous recruitment poster 

feat. Lord Kitchener, by Alfred Leete (1914)

 

 

I. 

 

I trust that readers recognise that I am neither a pacifist nor a conscientious objector to war. I even wrote a long post in praise of fighters a few years back: click here. 

But, having said that, I'm increasingly irritated by the belligerent new spirit that seems to have gripped the imagination not just of politicians, military commanders and arms manufacturers here in the UK, but even left-leaning journalists like Gaby Hinsliff [1] who, all of a sudden, seem keen to warmonger in the name of keeping the peace and defending our way of life.

 

Hers may be a slightly posher, better-read, more respectable form of warmongering, but warmongering is still what it is. Scratch away the moral idealism and Hinsliff is revealed as simply a more articulate (thus more persuasive, more dangerous) version of an old-fashioned jingoist, exploiting the same fears that the enemy are at the gates.

 

 

II.

 

In an opinion piece in today's Guardian, Hinsliff writes in support of army chief Gen. Sir Patrick Sanders' suggestion that those of military age in the UK should be regarded as a prewar generation and that British society should essentially be placed on a war footing.  

 

This comes after the Dutch head of NATO's military committee, Admiral Rob Bauer, warned of the possibility of a wide-scale conflict with Russia within the next 20 years - whether we like it or not - only for Germany's defence minister, Boris Pistorius, to say that, actually, war might break out far sooner: maybe even within the next five years.

 

I suppose we should be thankful that Sanders stopped short of calling for the reintroduction of conscription, although he made it clear that, in his view, civilians would be expected to volunteer for the frontline should Putin's forces invade a NATO country. 

 

 

III.

 

I don't know how seriously we should take all this. 

 

And I don't know how effective it would be to issue a military call up based on an appeal to patriotism; would young people be as ready and willing to fight and die for king and country in 2024 as they were in 1914?

 

I have my doubts, but, on the other hand, I was astonished at the level of conformity and compliance during the Covid period ... Maybe they'd regard World War III as the opportunity to live again ...?

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Gaby Hinsliff is an English journalist and columnist for The Guardian. Her piece I'm referring to here is entitled 'For generations Britain has taken peace for granted. But a belligerent Putin could change all that' and was published today (26 Jan 2024): click here to read online. 

      I have had issues with Hinsliff before: see the post 'Gaby Hinsliff Versus Douglas Murray: You Pays Your Money and You Takes Your Choice' (9 May 2017): click here.   

Petrophilia: A Brief Note on the Geochemical Origin of Life and the Religious Worship of Rocks

Der Nietzsche-Stein [1]

 

 

I. 

 

According to Deleuze and Guattari, not only do plants and animals sing and express themselves, so too do rocks [2]. I don't quite know what they mean by this, but as a petrophile, it's always been an idea that resonated with me. 

 

Of course, I know that rocks are not alive. But I also know that biochemistry rests upon geochemistry and that researchers have shown how rocks and minerals play a crucial role in almost every phase of life's emergence; catalysing, for example, the synthesis of biomolecules, and kick-starting metabolism [3]. 

 

In fact, according to the British organic chemist and molecular biologist Graham Cairns-Smith, the very earliest form of life was possibly a type of clay mineral able to carry genetic information and evolve. This is a provocative and controversial claim, but one that has been taken seriously by philosophers interested in the question of what does and does not constitute life [4].

 

We usually think of the latter as being carbon-based and involving cells containing DNA. But Cairns-Smith obliges us to ask if that was always the case - and must it always be the same on distant alien planets? 

 

 

II. 

 

When feeling in a slightly less scientific and more religious frame of mind, I'm also tempted to agree with D. H. Lawrence that from the smallest stone to the greatest rock we find God made manifest [5]. 

 

It seems that those ancient pagans who practiced their pantheism in material (non-abstract) terms were profoundly right to do so; for "everything that has being has being in the flesh" [6].

 

Interestingly, we might note in closing how even some modern Christians celebrate Jesus as the Rock of Ages, i.e., an unfailing and seemingly everlasting presence in their lives [7].  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] According to Nietzsche, the central idea of Thus Spoke Zarathustra - i.e., the idea of eternal recurrence - came to him when he encountered this large rock on the shores of Lake Silvaplana (Switzerland).

 

[2] See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi, (University of Minnesota Press, 1987), p. 44.

 

[3] See Robert M. Hazen (ed.), 'Genesis: Rocks, Minerals, and the Geochemical Origin of Life', Elements Vol. 1 (June 2005), pp. 135-137.

 

[4] See Alexander Graham Cairns-Smith, Seven Clues to the Origin of Life, (Cambridge University Press, 1985).

      This book popularized the clay hypothesis, which promoted the idea that self-replication of clay crystals in solution might provide a simple intermediate step between biologically inert matter and organic life.

 

[5] See D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation, ed. Mara Kalnins, (Cambridge University Press, 1980), p. 95.

 

[6] D. H. Lawrence, 'Bodiless God', in The Poems, Vol. I, ed. Christopher Pollnitz, (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 605. See also the poem 'The Body of God' on the same page of the above.

 

[7] This well-known Christian hymn written by Reformed Anglican minister Augustus Toplady was first published (in full and with a revised first verse) in The Gospel Magazine in March 1776. 

On Painting 1946 and the Magic of Art: The Malcolm McLaren Birthday Post (2024)

 

Francis Bacon: Painting 1946 (1946)

Oil on linen (78 x 52 in)

I. 

 

On this day, in 1946, Malcolm McLaren was born and I'd like to mark the event by reproducing above a typically brutal and disturbing work painted by Francis Bacon in this year, when the horrors of the Second World War were evidently still haunting his unconscious. 

 

 

II. 

 

McLaren was an admirer of Bacon's and I know they met on at least one occasion, when, having previously been introduced by the London art dealer Robert Fraser [1], they viewed the Manet exhibition together at the National Gallery in 1983. 

 

According to Malcolm, Bacon helped him understand that truly great artists are more than mere painters; they are also alchemists, who can transform ordinary objects and base materials into something magical [2]. 

 

 

III.

 

Painting 1946 was initially sold to the dealer and gallerist Erica Brausen in the autumn of that year, for £200 (Bacon used the proceeds to escape London for Monte Carlo). Two years later, Alfred Barr purchased the work on behalf of the Museum of Modern Art in New York. It has remained there ever since and is now too fragile to be exhibited elsewhere.

 

It's a great picture; one which even Bacon - who could be highly critical of his own work - was always proud. 

 

And, if only for the date of its composition, I think it makes a suitable image by which to remember McLaren on what would have been his 78th birthday [3].      

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Robert Fraser - aka Groovy Bob - was a key figure on the London cultural scene in the Swinging Sixties and his Duke Street gallery became a focal point for contemporary art in the UK, helping to promote the work of many exciting new British and American artists, including Peter Blake, Bridget Riley, Richard Hamilton, and Gilbert & George. Many beautiful people - including writers, actors, and musicians - frequented Fraser's gallery and partied at his flat in Mayfair and, as a young art student, McLaren also visited exhibitions staged by Fraser, whom he later described as a major icon. 

      In 1983, Fraser opened a new gallery and was influential in promoting the work of Jean-Michel Basquiat and Keith Haring. Sadly, however, he died from AIDS-related illnesses in January 1986. Those readers interested in knowing more should see Harriet Vyner's biography; Groovy Bob: The Life and Times of Robert Fraser (HENI Publishing, 2016); originally published by Faber & Faber (1999).   

 

[2] See Paul Gorman's The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren, p. 480, where he mentions Mclaren's recollection of this visit to the National Gallery accompanied by Francis Bacon.

 

[3] McLaren died on 8 April, 2010, having beeen diagnosed with peritoneal mesothelioma in October 2009. 

Here We Are Nowhere (Bienvenue à l'Hôtel Non-Lieu)

The Overlook Hotel (The Shining, 1980) 

 

 

For a long time, I have dreamed of one day living in a hotel. Not staying for a short break or even a prolonged period, but living there full-time (and, indeed, dying beyond my means in a hotel just like Oscar Wilde) [1].

 

It isn't the amenities or services that attract per se, so much as the notion of anonymity and the fact that it provides an escape from domesticity and all the horrors of home, sweet home. The idea of not actually owning property also appeals. 

 

Since this is essentially a fantasy, concerns about the cost or feasibility - I know that many hotels have rules governing maximum duration of stay - haven't really entered my thinking. 

 

Nor have I worried about the fact that hotels can provide only a transient and somewhat artificial sense of community. In fact, that's part of the attraction; not belonging anywhere or having to establish long-lasting relationships with neighbours seems a plus to me and I imagine it would be far more fun interacting with a rotating cast of staff members, ghosts, and fellow guests. 

 

However, recently, I've begun to have my doubts and I'm not so sure that life in what the French anthropologist Marc Augé termed a non-place [2] is really such a great idea ... 

 

It's not that I fear being unable to sustain my identity, or that I might feel alienated and alone. Rather, my concern is that, ultimately, living in a hotel - no matter how fabulous - might begin to feel as if one were in limbo, neither here nor there, and once you tire of nowhere there is, of course, nowhere left to go [3] ... 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Oscar Wilde died on 30 November 1900 at L'Hôtel, 13 Rue des Beaux Arts, 75006 Paris, France, where, famously, he disliked the wallpaper. Readers interested in staying in what is now termed the Oscar Wilde Suite will find all they need to know by clicking here.    

 

[2] See Marc Augé, Non-Lieux: Introduction à une anthropologie de la surmodernité (Éditions du Seuil, 1992); recently republished as Non-Places: An Introduction to Supermodernity, trans. John Howe, (Verso, 2023). 

      Augé coined the phrase non-place to refer to those spaces where traditional notions of history, identity, and human relations, are, if not erased exactly, then suspended. Examples of a non-place include a hotel room, an airport lounge, or a shopping mall. When you enter, you might immediately feel a sense of familiarity and yet they incite no sense of belonging. 

      Readers who would like to read the Introduction to the second edition of Non-Places can find it on the Verso blog page: click here.   

[3] I'm recalling here the line from the Stiff Little Fingers song 'Here We Are Nowhere', written by guitarist Henry Cluney, which can be found on their debut album Inflammable Material (Rough Trade, 1979) and listened to on YouTube by clicking here - 59 seconds of punk genius. 

Lady Godiva Rides Again (In Memory of Pauline Stroud)

Lady Godiva Rides Again (dir. Frank Launder, 1951)

 

 

I. 

 

There are many reasons to value this 1951 British comedy about an unsophisticated and impressionable young waitress who enters the slightly seedy and somewhat sinister world of showbiz after appearing as Lady Godiva - the Anglo-Saxon noblewoman who became legendary for riding naked through the streets of Coventry - in her home town's annual pageant and then winning the Miss Fascination Soap beauty contest (first prize: a cheque for £1000; a mink coat; and a film contract).

For one thing, the sexual politics of the period fascinate and appal in equal measure and remind us why raising awareness around issues to do with the sexual harassment, abuse, and exploitation of women in the entertainment industry (and, indeed, wider world of work) is something that we should all be sympathetic towards. 

 

For another thing, it has a fabulous cast in both lead and supporting roles, including George Cole, Sid James, and Britain's very own blonde bombshell Diana Dors as Dolores August [1]. Further, there are a number of amusing cameo appearances by the likes of Alastair Sim and Dora Bryan. 

 

The film also allows 18-year-old Joan Collins to make her (uncredited) screen debut as a beauty contestant, alongside the nightclub hostess Ruth Ellis, also playing a nameless beauty contestant, who - as I'm sure readers will know - was hanged for the murder of her lover, the racing driver David Blakely, in 1955.     

 

 

II. 

 

Finally, I would like to give a particular mention to the star of the film, 21-year-old Pauline Stroud - the very lovely English actress who, sadly, died, aged 92, a couple of years ago. 

 

She lights up the film and the casting directors made an excellent decision in giving her the role of Marjorie Clark ahead of the hundreds of other young women who chased the part; including Miss Dors and Miss Collins, and, somewhat surprisingly, Audrey Hepburn [2]. 

 

According to her friend Olive Simpson, writing in an obituary for The Guardian: 

 

"Lady Godiva should have been the first film in a five-year contract but, by the time it was released, Pauline had become engaged to Peter Lemos, member of a wealthy Greek ship-owning family, and he did not wish to share her with the cinema-going public. She ended the engagement, but not before the contract was broken and her career prospects damaged." [3] 

 

Arguably, Pauline's engagement to Peter Lemos mirrors Marjorie's marriage in the film to a wealthy Australian businessman (Larry Burns, played by John McCallum). 

 

Like Lemos, Burns also puts the kibosh on a young woman's wish to forge an independent life as an actress. After rescuing Marjorie from appearing nude on stage as part of a French revue, he whisks her off Down Under and, before you know it, she's a wife and mother [4].

 

Notes

 

[1] I can't say I'm a huge fan of Miss Dors - she always frightened me as a child - but she's excellent in Lady Godiva Rides Again (as she is as Mrs. Rix in one of my favourite episodes of The Sweeney, 'Messenger of the Gods', (dir. Terry Green, 1978)). Interestingly, the film was released in the US with its original title in 1953, but then re-released as Bikini Baby with Miss Dors given star billing. 

 

[2] Miss Hepburn, a West End chorus girl at the time, screen tested for the role, but it was thought her figure was too slim. 

 

[3] Olive Simpson, 'Pauline Stroud obituary', The Guardian (4 Sept 2022): click here.

 

[4] In contrast, Miss Stroud never married and toured in rep and had a number of film and television roles until the 1970s. She then worked for many years as an extra in numerous opera and ballet productions in Covent Garden, a real trouper until the end. 

 

 

To watch an amusing opening scene from Lady Godiva Rides Again (1951), click here. 

Reflections on Vita Contemplativa by Byung-Chul Han (Part Three)

Cover of the Portuguese edition 

(Relógio D'Água, 2022) [a]

 

 

I.

The ethics of inactivity rests, according to Byung-Chul Han, on timidity. For it is timidity which increases our attentiveness (our ability to listen) to others and to the world. 

 

I'm not sure about this, however, and wonder if the German word Scheu might better have been translated as shy. For shyness, it seems to me, is not quite the same as timidity; it lacks the nervousness or fearful aspect of the latter and is more about instinctive reserve [b].

 

But maybe I'm mistaken: I'll leave it to any passing etymologists to decide the matter ...  

 

 

II.

 

"The root of the current crisis is the disintegration of everything that gives life meaning and orientation. Life is no longer borne by anything that supports it, and that we can support." [48]

 

In other words - words first uttered by a madman 150 years ago - God is dead. One might have hoped that we'd moved on from here and realised that nihilism needn't be dressed in the gloomy dark colours of the late 19th-century. Personally, the last thing I want to do is give life meaning and point it in the right direction. 

 

Nor am I interested in ideas of immortality and the imperishable - when Han uses these words I think of D. H. Lawrence mocking those who desire to witness the unfading flowers of heaven [c]. 

 

I'm sorry, but I like the impermanence of things and the fact that all things pass. What Han calls temporal structures - annual rituals and festivals - may provide the passage of time with a certain architecture or narrative, but they don't, thankfully, make time stand still. I'm all for preserving the rhythym of life and allowing being to linger, but that doesn't mean stopping the clocks.    

 

Nor do I want incontrovertible truths - even if they are said to make happy (there's more to life than happiness and there's also more than one type of happiness). And I'm sick of being weighed down by powerful symbols. 

 

The latter may very well influence our behaviour and thinking "at the pre-reflexive, emotional, aesthetic level" [50] - and symbols may be excellent at creating the shared experience that enables the formation of a socially cohesive community - but that doesn't always result in compassion, does it? Just ask those who lived under the swastika, or hammer and sickle.      

 

"A community is a symbolically mediated totality." [51] That's Han. But it could be Heidegger. Or might be Hitler. And if my failure to long for a "wholesome, healing totality" [51] makes me a splinter or fragment lacking in being, that's fine. Liberal society has many downsides - it isolates the individual and forces them to compete - but living in some kind of people's community that promises fullness of being and salvation is not something I desire.  

 

Although, having said that, I do understand the attraction of what Lawrence terms a democracy of touch [d] and I suspect that's the sort of community Han is thinking of when he talks about creating ties between people invested with libidinal energy (though I'm not sure that Eros is the answer to everything).  

 

 

III.

 

Having got roughly half way into (and thus also half way out of) Han's book, let us remind ourselves of his central argument: "the highest happiness is owed to contemplation" [53] - not action. It's an argument we can trace all the way back to the pre-Socratic philosophers. 

 

Ultimately, we act in the world so that we might one day be afforded the time to sit and wonder at the world. Being free to gaze in silence and stillness is the reward for all our efforts. If, as Heidegger says, Denken ist Danken, then to gaze in awe with eyes opened by love is also to express gratitude - and, more, to give praise:   

 

"The ultimate purpose of language is praise. Praise gives language a festive radiance. Praise restores being; it sings about and invokes the fullness of being." [55]  

 

To which we can only add: Hallelujah! - and quickly turn the page ...

 

What Han basically wants is to have at least one day of holy inactivity per week: to reinstate the idea of the Sabbath in which time is suspended and man is released "from the transient world into the world to come" [60]. 

 

I've no objection to that (even if I remember keenly the boredom I felt as a child each and every Sunday). But I do tire of his religious language (as I do when listening to Jordan Peterson, for example).

 

 

IV.

 

Han spends a good deal of time in the chapter entitled 'The Pathos of Action' critiquing Hannah Arendt's political thinking. But that wasn't what interested me. Rather, it was the material on Socrates and his daimon that caught my attention ...

 

It seems that the latter does not encourage Socrates to speak, rather it prevents him from acting, as he makes clear in this passage from the Apology:

   

"Perhaps it may seem strange that I go about and interfere in other people's affairs [...] but do not venture to come before your assembly and advise the state. But the reason for this [...] is that something divine and spiritual comes to me [...] a sort of voice [...] and when it comes it always holds me back from what I am thinking of doing, but never urges me forward." [e]

 

This strikes a chord with me because I also have a daimon of non-commitment holding me back in this manner; one who persuades me to turn away from every door that is opened and decline to accept any opportunity offered. People think it's perversity on my part - or a lack of self-confidence combined with a lack of ambition - but it's not; it's this mysterious demon which Han terms the genius of inactivity.  

 

According to the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben - quoted here by Han - this demon is both what is closest to us and what is most impersonal about us; that which is beyond ego and individual consciousness; that which shatters the conceit that we are fully in control and free-willing; that which "'prevents us from enclosing ourselves within a substantial identity'" [79][f].  

 

Han follows this up with the following fascinating passage:

 

"The properties that make us someone are not genialis; that is, they do not accord with the genius. We meet with the genius when we cast off our properties, the mask we wear on the acting stage. The genius reveals the propertyless face that lies behind the mask." [79]

 

This countenance without properties is what we might also call the faceless face; or perhaps even (borrowing a term from Deleuze and Guattari) the probe-head [g]. To be inspired, says Han, is to lose face and cease being someone "encapsulated in an ego" [79]; i.e., to be enthused is to become self-detached. 

 

However, as Larry David teaches, it's vital to curb enthusiasm. Or, as Deleuze and Guattari say, caution is the golden rule when dismantling the face and/or building a body without organs; "you have to keep small rations of subjectivity in sufficient quantity to enable you to respond to the dominant reality" [h].

 

This, arguably, is the most important - and most often overlooked - point in A Thousand Plateaus.  

 

V.

 

The crisis of religion, says Han, is a crisis of attention: "It is the soul's hyperactivity that accounts for the demise of religious experience" [86-87] - and, indeed, the destruction of the natural world. 

 

I don't agree with Han that a Romantic [i] and religious understanding of the world is necessary, but it might help to just slow down a bit and appreciate not just one another, not just birds, beasts and flowers, but even inanimate objects (each one of which vibrates and radiates at the centre of its own paradise). 

 

This doesn't mean uniting with the infinity of nature, it means rather living cheerfully in the material realm on a flat ontological surface, or what Lawrence calls (after Whitman) the Open Road. The goal is not a community of the living, but a democracy of objects wherein all things can interact in a vaguely friendly manner but outside of any transcendent system of meaning.   

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Although this is the cover of the Portuguese edition - featuring some of Cézanne's nude bathers - please note that page numbers given in this post refer to the English translation of Byung-Chul Han's work by Daniel Steuer (Polity Press, 2024), entitled Vita Contemplativa: In Praise of Inactivity.

 

[b] I have written in praise of shyness in a post published on 27 May 2014: click here.

 

[c] Referring to the kingdom of heaven established after the material universe is destroyed, Lawrence writes: "How beastly their new Jerusalem, where the flowers never fade, but stand in everlasting sameness. How terribly bourgeois to have unfading flowers!" 

      See D. H. Lawrence, Apocalypse and the Writings on Revelation, ed. Mara Kalnins, (Cambridge University Press, 1980), p. 144.

 

[d] See Stephen Alexander, 'Towards a Democracy of Touch', chapter 13 of Outside the Gate (Blind Cupid Press, 2010), pp. 262-275, wherein I examine and develop Lawrence's idea introduced in Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928). There are also several posts published on Torpedo the Ark that discuss the idea: click here for example.

 

[e] Plato Apology, trans. Harold North Fowler, (The Loeb Classical Library / Harvard University Press, 1999), p. 115. Han quotes this section (31 c-d) from a different edition; Plato, Complete Works, ed. John M. Cooper, (Hackett Publishing Co., 1997).

 

[f] Han is quoting Giorgio Agamben writing in Profanations, trans. Jeff Fort, (Zone Books, 2007), p. 12. 

 

[g] According to Deleuze and Guattari, beyond the face "lies an altogether different inhumanity: no longer that of the primitive head, but of probe-heads [...]"

      See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi, (University of Minnesota Press, 1987), p. 190.

 

[h] Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, p. 160.

 

[i] Han seems to see himself as a disciple of Novalis, the 18th-century German poet, novelist, philosopher, and mystic. He certainly subscribes to a similar model of Romanticism, writing, for example, that the Romantic idea of freedom is a corrective to our liberal-bourgeois notion of individual freedom, just as the Romantic conception of nature "provides an effective corrective to our instrumental understanding of nature" [92]. 

      He also argues that to Romanticise the world is to give it back "its magic, its mystery, even its dignity" [94] and that it is a mistake to describe "the Romantic longing for a connection with the whole" [96] as reactionary or regressive. It is, rather, a fundamental human longing. Obviously, I don't share Han's Romantic idealism or fervour and don't think I want to live in a promiscuous future world in which things don't only touch but permeate each other and there are no boundaries.     

 

 

To read part one of this post on Byung-Chul Han's Vita Contemplativa, click here. 

 

To read part two of this post on Byung-Chul Han's Vita Contemplativa, click here.