Suming unDialoGue
Stefan Czerkinsky: Me, a painter? I'm no painter. And we're not going to do a preface either. We'll do some surfaces, not a presentation. Slip-slide. You do the drawings. I'll do the bits of writing. No trading places, no exchanging anything, it's no exchange, not at all...
Gilles Deleuze: Oh awright. I've got the drawings... here.2 The worse they are, the better they work. Look, they're surface-monsters. Like brownish-violet, and every surface color. How does violet work?
Stefan Czerkinsky: How does therrory work? How does a surface-monster work?
Gilles Deleuze: Therrory is violet. Therrory is painting-desire-writing using many other things, too, on the borders, in the corners, at the centers, and elsewhere. It's that oscillating movement: the Flow Flux Klan, a.k.a. "the great thought-racket" and its organ-members "the concept squatters." This is its program:
First, the support-free construction of therrotherapy in conjunction with the active destruction of the illnesses of our day: psychopomp, hypochondiaches, schizophaguses, gonorphrenia, neurotosis, neurotyphus, mortems, sexosis, phan-tasmologists, scatatonics, etc. And the worst of all: glorifying depression.
Second, the production of campaigns and slogans like:
"More of the unconscious, produce more, still more, and more after that."
"Nothing to interpret."
"It's all good, but really."
"Make every French citizen carry a visa and a work permit, accompanied by regular police shakedowns."
"Of two movements, the more deterritorialized prevails over the less deterritorialized."
"Of fifty movements, the most detetritorialized wins."
What we call the most detertitorialized movement is the delirious vector. It's violet. The unconscious is violet, or it will be.
Stefan Czerkinsky: What precautions should be taken when producing a concept?
Gilles Deleuze: You put your blinker on, and check in your rearview mirror to make sure another concept isn't coming up behind you; once you've taken these precautions, you produce the concept.' What are the precautions to be taken when moving from one theoretical field to another?
Stefan Czerkinsky: Nothing is simpler. You arm yourself with a concept carrying case in leatherette. You take a canvas that you yourself will boldly prime, in other words, a canvas without primer. You sandwich it between the two pieces of a wooden frame, which has been sawed in such a way that it attaches to both sides of the canvas. So the frame is a raised border on either side, forming two basins. First you paint on one side, according to the directions (vectors) you've chosen, for example, beginning from the corners, like the cardinal points: e.g., you paint North-East, North-South, South-East, North-West, etc. Paint with red or blue, or with red and blue, either mixed off the canvas, or mixed on the canvas, especially
if you want to produce different shades of brown or violet. Next you go around the back to see what happened on the other side, since the color has diffused
through the unprimed (non-occluded) canvas. You may or may not choose to keep an eye on the diffusion with a mirror placed behind the canvas. Now you paint the other side, using a different brush, with strokes in other directions and corners. You can also rotate the canvas, or change its situation: suspend it, put it on the wall, on the floor, etc.
Incessant diffusion from one side to the other. Each side modifies the other: red, blue, blue-red / red-blue, etc., giving rise to different shades of violet (and negative brown). Each side penetrates the other: violet is PENETRAY country, where you become the color-diffuser, the side-switcher, the time-passer: the painter or the painting, the nomad.
This is how you get deterritorialized movements of color, and many other things beside, and thus you produce intensities. You have traveled around something
that has no thickness.
I forgot to mention: get a canvas that is much larger than the frame, so you have a border, a margin that is at least two feet wide. This margin has several roles to play:
First, a zone of overproduction; second, an instance of anti-production; third, the body-canvas distance; fourth, reciprocal smudges and blots: who is painting and who is being painted? (The margin will become smudged and blotted
in diverse ways, according to the kind of work being done, the colors
employed, the positions of the canvas, and the vectors you've chosen. Your body will become smudged and blotted, too. In a way, it is also a margin.); fifth, tram-plings and walks; it's a threshold for the painter, the canvas, and the visitor alike. It sometimes happens that an infinitesimal part of the canvas will remain unpainted, forgotten; and sometimes you forget to forget. There's a hole. Think of the Vetuda of the Italian Renaissance, that's not it. Think of the Navajo women who never completely finish a tapestry: they leave a hole, they say, because they sink all their heart into the work, and they don't want their heart to be entangled in perfection. That's still not it. Or we say that the hole circulating on the canvas is a reality that opens on another reality, but that's just metaphysics and possible-worlds.
_______________Let this terrifying non-dialogue resume soon enough ____________
