Un livre sauvage
Anaïs
Nin : préface de Tropique du Cancer, d'Henry Miller (extraits fournis par Marc Pilpoul, en rapport avec le spectacle du théâtre du Rond-Point.)
Refering to
his Wilhelm Meister Goethe once said: « People seek a central point: that
is hard, and not even right. I should think a rich, manifold life, brought
close to our eyes, would be enough without any express tendency; which, after
all, is only for the intellect ».
The book
is sustained on its own axis by the pure flux and rotation of events. Just as
there is no central point, so also there is no question of heroism or of
struggle since there is no question of will, but only an obedience to flow.
...
The
poetic is discovered by stripping away the vestiture of art; by descending to
what might be styled « a pre-artistic level » the durable skeleton of
form which is hidden in the phenomena of disintegration reappears to be
transfigured again in the ever-changing flesh of emotion.
The
scars are burned away – the scars left by the obstetricians of culture.
Here is
an artist who re-establishes the potency of illusion by gaping at the open
wounds, by courting the stern, psychological reality which man seeks to avoid
through recourse to the oblique symbolism of art.
Labels: rond-point
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