Jul 17
“I knew no end to desiring you.”
— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse; Fragments [translated by Richard Howard]
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“I knew no end to desiring you.”
— Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse; Fragments [translated by Richard Howard]
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L’attesa è un incantesimo: io ho avuto l’ordine di non muovermi.
Roland Barthes da “Frammenti di un discorso amoroso”
I feel like I'm fundamentally unable to talk to people about any media at this point. Like, I don't accept Word of God as canon. Sorry! I also don't think that the creator's comments dictate how we "have to" interpret a story, or even what the "right" interpretation is. The art speaks for itself.
But I've noticed that people desperately cling to authorial intent to enforce particular interpretations of the text. This is nothing new, of course, but the ability to follow creators on social media has drastically snapped us back into this way of thinking. They're too visible, too present, too accessible. It's way too easy to hear what a creator thinks of their own work, and when we accept the word of the creator as gospel, we absolve ourselves of the responsibility to engage with the artwork. It makes it easier, and the easy is attractive. But art isn't so simple. The creator's interpretation is just one of many, and it needs to be evaluated and discussed just like any other. It's not more valid by virtue of authorship.
There are interpretations that are better supported by the work than others. Perhaps the creator's interpretation is one of those. Perhaps the creator is more likely to have those interpretations. But those interpretations must still stand or fall on their own. No one person owns the work and dictates what it means.
Once the Author is gone, the claim to "decipher" a text becomes quite useless. To give an Author to a text is to impose upon that text a stop clause, to furnish it with a final signification, to close the writing. This conception perfectly suits criticism, which can then take as its major task the discovery of the Author (or his hypostases: society, history, the psyche, freedom) beneath the work: once the Author is discovered, the text is "explained:' the critic has conquered[.] —Roland Barthes, "The Death of the Author"
Todas las escrituras presentan un aspecto de cerco que es extraño al lenguaje hablado. La escritura no es en modo alguno un instrumento de comunicación, no es la vía abierta por donde solo pasaría una intención del lenguaje. Es todo un desorden que se desliza a través de la palabra y le da ese ansioso movimiento que lo mantiene en un estado de eterno aplazamiento. Por el contrario, la escritura es un lenguaje endurecido que vive sobre sí mismo y de ningún modo está cargado de confiar a su propia duración una sucesión móvil de aproximaciones, sino que, por el contrario, debe imponer, en la unidad y la sombra de sus signos, la imagen de una palabra construida mucho antes de ser inventada. Lo que opone la escritura a la alabra es el hecho de que la primera parece simbólica, introvertida, vuelta ostensiblemente hacia una pendiente secreta del lenguaje, mientras que la segunda no es más que una duración de signos vacíos cuyo movimiento es lo único significado. Toda la palabra está encerrada en ese desgaste de las palabras, en esa espuma siempre arrastrada más lejos, y no hay palabra sino allí donde el lenguaje funciona evidentemente como una voracidad que solo tomaría la extremidad móvil de las palabras; la escritura, por el contrario, está siempre enraizada en un más allá del lenguaje, se desarrolla como un germen y no como una línea, manifiesta una esencia y amenaza con su secreto, es una contracomunicación, intimida.
—Roland Barthes, «Escrituras políticas» en El grado cero de la escritura. Traducción de Nicolás Rosa y Patricia Wilson.
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Roland Barthes
"Waiting is an enchantment: I have received orders not to move."
A Lover's Discourse: Fragments by Roland Barthes
What is to be said of Languor, of the Image, of the Love Letter, since it is the whole of the lover’s discourse which is woven of languorous desire, of the image-repertoire, of declarations? But he who utters this discourse and shapes its episodes does not know that a book is to be made of them; he does not yet know that as a good cultural subject he should neither repeat nor contradict himself, nor take the whole for the part; all he knows is that what passes through his mind at a certain moment is marked, like the printout of a code (in other times, this would have been the code of courtly love, or the Carte du Tendre).
Fragments d’un discours amoureux（1977）