Thursday, November 1, 2012

Pierre Guyotat, from "Coma," Trans. Noura Wedell

Owls, fish, black pigs, coral in the beating water below.

To see the world as the water spider, the eagle, the mole--who sees so little--see it; to feel the world like the dust mite, the crab, or the whale; like the seagull in the cold settling on the crown of the king's statue, warming up there by defecating.

The eye is the organ that is least watery; to understand the world, one must love it, see it, feel it thus, with several eyes superimposed, several animal senses combined. The human eye would then be in addition; to think what animals think, man is no more the king of the universe than the lion is the king of animals. Man must also believe his evolution continues as the animal's evolution does. We must see ourselves as animals see us. Ever since I have discovered it, I have felt the evolutionist vision to be more grandiose than the vision of Creation, its historical space is immense, such an increase of time and space cannot damage the history of man and the beauty of his advent. 

"God" cannot have created the world with human senses: creating a species of insects, of fish, for example, wouldn't He watch the world through the eyes of the species He is creating? Isn't evolution the trajectory of God's thought, as he thinks creation to come and thinks it as a synthesis of His visions? The trajectory of Evolution = the trajectory of the thought of God the Creator.

There is something of this in human creation, in fiction, in how a figure appears and is formed. The temporality of the book is the temporality of evolution. What is ideal theater but the moment when the creator disappears in favor of his creature, when those creatures speak, answer one another beyond his control. When I think of such a scene, I hear the most beautiful language of desire.

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