“Of all the history that we have integrated into our experience, formation and culture, let’s say that this image here is the most essential of all. We cannot take more than three steps in a museum and look at the paintings of battles ...
without seeing this horse up on its hind legs, whinnying. The horse entered the history of war with a certain splendour. The moment at which men sat astride this animal was a milestone. At the time, with the Achaeans’ arrival on horseback, this brought real and enormous progress.
These men suddenly had an extraordinary tactical superiority in comparison with horses harnessed to chariots – right up to the First World War when the horse disappeared, when it was rendered practically obsolete by other weapons. Thus, from the Achaean period to
the First World War, the horse was effectively something absolutely essential to this interhuman commerce known as war.”
Whoah, Neddy! This evening in the Lacan Circle Reading Group, Seminar V, Formations of the Unconscious page 100 Lacancircle.com.au/reading-group-…
Jacques-Louis David, Napoleon Crossing the Alps, or Bonaparte at the St Bernard Pass, 1801. Napoleon I is mounted on his favourite war horse Marengo, named after the battle with the Austrians, on which he carried Napoleon I to victory. There are five versions of this painting.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Sigmund Freud on psychoanalysis, in his New Introductory Lectures:
“If you are so imprudent as to betray the fact that you know something about the subject, they fall upon you with one accord, asking for information and explanations. You may perhaps expect this introduction ...
to psychoanalysis to give you instructions, too, on what arguments you should use to correct the obvious errors about analysis, what books you should recommend to give more accurate information, or even what examples you should bring up in the discussion from your reading or
experience in order to alter their attitude. I must beg you to do none of this. It would be useless. The best plan would be to conceal your superior knowledge altogether. If that is no longer possible, limit yourself to saying that, so far as you can make out psychoanalysis is a
“Don’t we see that analytic experience is deeply bound up with the discursive double of the subject, his discordant and ridiculous ego? Isn’t it clear that analytic experience begins with the fact that ultimately nobody feels at ease in the current state of ...
interhuman relations in our culture? Analysis began precisely by refusing to take sides within the sphere of common discourse, with its profound rifts as to the essence of mores and the status of the individual in our society, precisely by avoiding this sphere. It limits itself
to a different discourse, one that is inscribed in the very suffering of the being we have before us and is already articulated in something – his symptoms and his structure, that escapes him, in so far as
“If the unconscious is as Freud depicts it, a pun can in itself be the linchpin that supports a symptom, a pun that doesn’t exist in a related language. This is not to say that symptoms are always based on puns, but that they are always based on the existence of signifiers ...
as such, on a complex relationship of totality, or more exactly of entire system to entire system, of universe of signifiers to universe of signifiers. This is so clearly Freud’s doctrine that there is no other meaning to give to his term overdetermination, or to his necessary
requirement that for a symptom to occur there must be at least a duality, at least two conflicts at work, one current and one old. Without this fundamental duality of signifier and signified no psychoanalytic determinism is conceivable. The material linked to the old conflict is
“A radical formula about courage may say: women have courage and men are cowards. This is to be understood from the phallic reference, according to whether or not one has the organ that, in the body, embodies the phallic signifier: men have something to protect. A man is an
owner. He is essentially an owner. He will manage his property in better or worse ways, but he is conditioned by it. Women, with respect to phallic reference, have nothing to lose. Having nothing to lose can grant a courage without limits, even a ferocious one: women who, to save
what’s most precious, are prepared to go to the end without stopping, ready to fight as they want. It is true that the feeling of a handicap can lead to the position of victim, of complaint or fear, but it is in the woman where the sudden inversion of fear into a courage without
He spent most of his short life trying to be a writer, then, when he was 34, his mother died. He started work and did nothing else until he himself died seventeen years later. He was 51.
In Search of Lost Time (À la recherche du temps ...
perdu) began as a single novel about the difficulties of going to bed, the wonders induced by petites madeleines dipped in tea, the strangeness of Swann's love, and the beauty of place names.
It blossomed into a seven volume cathedral of monumental complexity about
memory, snobbery, homosexuality, comedic and murderous obsessionality and the eventual realisation that the unnamed narrator, having wasted so very much time, has within himself the stuff of a book. His life is his subject and it is a work of art.
“What is the famous traumatism we began with, the famous primal scene that enters into the subject’s economy, which is in play at the heart & on the horizon of the discovery of the unconscious? What is it, if not a signifier whose impact on life I began describing to you earlier?
The living being is grasped as living, as alive, but with this gap or distance, that is precisely what constitutes both the signifying dimension’s autonomy and the trauma or primitive scene. What is this, then, if it’s not this life that grasps itself in a horrible apperception
of itself, in its total foreignness and opaque brutality as the pure signifier of an intolerable existence for life itself as soon as it moves away from it to see the trauma and the primal scene? This is how life sees itself as a signifier in a pure state, which can in no way be