Intensities and Lines of Flight: Deleuze/Guattari and the Arts
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The writings of Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari offer the most enduring and controversial contributions to the theory and practice of art in post-war Continental thought. However, these writings are both so wide-ranging and so challenging that much of the synoptic work on Deleuzo-Guattarian aesthetics has taken the form of sympathetic exegesis, rather than critical appraisal.
This rich and original collection of essays, authored by both major Deleuzian scholars and practicing artists and curators, offers an important critique of Deleuze and Guattari's legacy in relation to a multitude of art forms, including painting, cinema, television, music, architecture, literature, drawing, and installation art. Inspired by the implications of Deleuze and Guattari's work on difference and multiplicity and with a focus on the intersection of theory and practice, the book represents a major interdisciplinary contribution to Deleuze-Guattarian aesthetics.
shifts in how art is referenced. The variation involves population, speed and duration. Some books contain no references to art and some focus on the work of one or two artists, while others are full of references to both art and artists. In individual texts, the movement between references can be slow or extremely fast. Similarly, the time spent discussing art in general, a particular artistic medium or a particular piece can be brief or extensive. For the present purposes, however, what matters
films—still action-images, but loopy in their own way. Normally, flashbacks are re-arranged actionimages. But Deleuze argues that flashbacks can do more than add scenes about the past to scenes about the present; they can also make the past survive into the present, and hence can split one event into two times that exist at once, simultaneously presenting the passing present and one or more pasts. When they do this, Deleuze calls them not “flashbacks” but “sheets of past”. Do sheets of past
montage of performances overlaps with (1) fade-over newspaper headlines, and Kane’s headshots; (2) the light bulb filament that wraps them up into one pool of shadow; and (3) the continuous audio behind the discontinuous visuals. Perhaps thinking of these continuities, Deleuze says that Susan’s “accumulated efforts emerge into one scene in long shot” (C2 106); the succession of failed performances collapses simultaneously into one result. But every action sequence culminates—that cannot be a
social consequences of Deleuze’s theory of music, arguing that, for Deleuze, the “measure of any music is its ability to create new possibilities for life” 4, or its “fabulating function that brings real parties together to produce . . . the germ of a people to come” 5, or its capacity to provide “a model for permanent revolution in society at large” 6. Thus, the dominant strains in the literature on Deleuze and music 7 presuppose that the formally composed works treated by Deleuze are, at best,
cf. Ross, The Rest Is Noise, 433. 23. While many accounts of Deleuze’s aesthetics focus on the “absent people”, his account of their relation to art is highly ambiguous: “What relationship is there between human struggle and a work of art? The closest and for me the most mysterious relationship of all. Exactly what Paul Klee meant when he said: ‘You know, the people are missing.’ The people are missing and at the same time, they are not missing. The people are missing means that the fundamental