I Try To Busy Myself Elsewhere, To

Usually The Amateur Is Defined As An Immature State Of The Artist: Someone Who Cannot — Or Will Not — Achieve The Mastery Of A Profession. But In The Field Of Photographic Practice, It Is The Amateur, On The Contrary, Who Is The Assumption Of The Professional: For It Is He Who Stands Closer To The (i)noeme(i) Of Photography.

One Of The Marks Of Our World Is Perhaps This Reversal: We Live According To A Generalized Image-repertoire. Consider The United Sates, Where Everything Is Transformed Into Images: Only Images Exist And Are Produced And Are Consumes ... Such A Reversal Necessarily Raises The Ethical Question: Not That The Image Is Immoral, Irreligious, Or Diabolic (as Some Have Declared It, Upon The Advent Of The Photograph), But Because, When Generalized, It Completely De-realizes The Human World Of Conflicts And Desires, Under Cover Of Illustrating It.

Today There Is No Symbolic Compensation For Old Age, No Recognition Of A Specific Value: Wisdom, Perceptiveness, Experience, Vision.

Is Not The Most Erotic Portion Of A Body Where The Garment Gapes? In Perversion (which Is The Realm Of Textual Pleasure) There Are No "erogenous Zones" (a Foolish Expression, Besides); It Is Intermittence, As Psychoanalysis Has So Rightly Stated, Which Is Erotic: The Intermittence Of Skin Flashing Between Two Articles Of Clothing (trousers And Sweater), Between Two Edges (the Open-necked Shirt, The Glove And The Sleeve); It Is This Flash Itself Which Seduces, Or Rather: The Staging Of An Appearance-as-disappearance.

Literature Is Like Phosphorus: It Shines With Its Maximum Brilliance And The Moment When It Attempts To Die.