Portrait

Contents

Preface to the English-Language Edition

Introduction: The Subject of the Portrait

Jeffrey S. Librett

The Look of the Portrait

The Autonomous Portrait

Resemblance

Recall

Look

The Other Portrait

L’altro ritratto

Character

The Eye

Visageity

Mimesis

Withdrawn Presence

Ipseity

Theophany

Revelation

Divine Abandonment

Dis-figuration

Eclipse

Infinite Detachment

Coda I

Coda II

Coda III

Notes

List of Figures

Preface to the English-Language Edition

The portrait often seems to be the action or expression of its cause (which is the subject, or the model); it is a space entirely rooted in the subject.

—Jean-Louis Schefer, Figures peintes

The portrait is suspended between two extremes: On the one hand, it tends toward likeness, and on the other, toward strangeness. On the one hand, it identifies, and on the other, it distances. The first side is that of proximity, recognition, description, and illusion; the second is that of distance, questioning, suggestiveness, and encounter.

One could say that presence is the shared border of those two extremes. Presence is itself an ambivalent theme: Either we imagine it as a full reality, immediate, and closed upon itself, or else it is thought to be the coming, the approach, or the opening of an alterity. It is either a question of what is called a representation in the ordinary sense of the term (a copy, a fac-simile), or else it is a presentation, a gesture that invites or suggests. Either the image disposes or it proposes.

This is why the art of the portrait has always been more or less clearly divided between two regimes of judgment: either a judgment about exactness, or one about forcefulness. A portrait is either faithful, precise, serviceable for identifying an individual, or else it is powerful, expressing dynamics by means of which somebody advances and withdraws. This art has always oscillated between an administrative or policing technique and a meditation on the infinity of a face.

The first of the following essays is devoted to the latter meditation. It seeks to consider how the art of the great portraitists makes something appear in the look of their models that gets eclipsed or that vanishes into the infinite—plunged into the distance, or else into the spectator’s own look. So there remains neither model nor spectator: There is rather the proposal or the possibility of an encounter and of what, within an encounter, will always lose its bearings beyond it.

The second essay asks what happens to the portrait when representation (imitation, figuration) is no longer bound by the requirements of exactness and recognition. Indeed, the contemporary portrait is no longer committed to the possibility of recognition even when it has a person’s name in its title (or even if it is designated as a self-portrait). Even a smear can be designated as a portrait. Nonetheless, it remains the case that this simple designation invariably opens up the call or appeal of a search, an expectation, or a tension: What look arises from this image? Or else, how does this shape look? (And we know straightaway that looking not only involves the eyes but an entire arrangement of features, volumes, and surfaces.)

The portrait is certainly not about to disappear. To the contrary, it is appearing in a truth that is becoming all the more acute. It questions more. It demands a renewed thinking, a revitalized feeling for what is happening with the human figure. If the portrait attests to the fact that this figure is disappearing right in front of us in the world that we make for it, at the same time it also reminds us that disappearance belongs to appearance, and distance to the approach of presence.

Jean-Luc Nancy

What is the subject of the portrait? Nothing other than the subject itself, absolutely. Where does the subject have its truth and validity? Nowhere else but in the portrait. That is why there is only a subject in painting, just as there is only painting of the subject. In painting, the subject sinks to the bottom (it returns to itself); in the subject, painting surfaces (it exceeds the face). Thus emerging from out of a line, neither subject nor object but art, or the world.

Introduction

The Subject of the Portrait

Jeffrey S. Librett

In the two essays published here, Jean-Luc Nancy reads the art of the portrait in terms of an ontology of the subject while construing the subject’s being in terms of its artistic portrayal. He argues that subject and portrait are to be inscribed in each other, and he sketches in broad strokes the intertwining histories of each. In Nancy’s portrait of portraiture, the history of portraiture (which he illustrates with a selective Ahnengalerie, or gallery of portraits) gives us access to a history of the subject, and the converse. While Nancy’s depiction of these histories remains just a sketch, it provides a rigorous conceptual orientation for both art-historical and philosophical discussions of the portrait and its subject.

From an Ontology of the Subject to (the) Art(s)

Whence his ontology of the subject? As most readers familiar with Nancy’s work will surely agree, the most important of the many nineteenth- and twentieth-century philosophical influences on his work, as far as an ontology of the subject is concerned, is Martin Heidegger. In these essays on the portrait, as elsewhere in his writing, Nancy follows in part but also reworks Heidegger’s sustained dissatisfaction with the Cartesian cogito, the subject of rational self-certainty.¹ According to Heidegger, Descartes understands the being of the Cartesian subject, a thinking thing, only from the outside, as it were, i.e. as the being of an enduringly, fully present entity (Vorhandenes, in Heideggerian parlance). Indeed, Heidegger argues that Descartes constructs the ego, which is supposed to exemplify finite thinking substance, on the model of extended substance, despite his distinction between res extensa and res cogitans.² The tradition of the Cartesian subject of knowledge thus fails to explore and describe what subjective existence is really like—its appropriate ontology, which would start with an acknowledgement that any subject is originally (rather than secondarily) inscribed in its world (Heidegger’s being-in-the-world). Such worldliness is constituted further by the subject’s involvement in space and time, in relationships with objects of use (things that are handy—Zuhandenes), and in relationships with others (being-with).³ Heidegger rejects the language of subject and subjectivity because it is embedded in a philosophical tradition that provides an inadequate account of what subject purports to name. This tradition creates unwittingly the double distortion of inadequately distinguishing the subjective being from objective being, and at the same time of exaggerating and reifying the subject’s separateness from things and other people in the world.

Nancy has extended and displaced this Heideggerian critique of the subject in numerous essays and books, in dialogue with close contemporaries who likewise worked enthusiastically but critically in the wake of Heidegger—most notably, Jacques Derrida and Maurice Blanchot, as well as Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe (with whom Nancy coauthored a number of significant studies), and more distantly Jacques Lacan and Emmanuel Levinas, to name just a few. Nancy tries to think through in new contexts Heidegger’s thesis that the essence of the human being lies in its existence, an existence that is always involved with a world and hence spatially, temporally, conceptually, and affectively displaced with respect to itself. More specifically, Nancy has stressed that existence involves radical plurality and relationality, self-alterity and self-deferral in relation to others. In this sense, he goes beyond the limits of Heidegger’s work, which has often been criticized for having overemphasized (despite Heidegger’s acknowledgement of the ineluctability of being-with-others) a heroically authentic solitude at the expense of human relationality, and for having thus failed in part to escape from the very conception of the isolated, worldless self that Heidegger had found so objectionable in the Cartesian tradition.⁴ While Nancy retains the use of the term subject—rather than adhere to the taboo Heidegger placed on this word, a word Heidegger wanted to see replaced by his own manifestly ontological term being-there (Dasein)—Nancy nonetheless remains in some respects close to Heidegger’s analysis of Dasein. For example, he conceives of the subject as maintaining a constitutive relationship with its own inessentiality and its own absence, as necessitated by the radically spatio-temporal character of existence, which defers and displaces self-presence in crucial ways. Nancy’s subject—far from being immediately present to itself in its own self-certainty—is what he at one point here calls "the absence-subject [l’absence-sujet] (Recall), thereby implying a certain synonymy between absence and the subject itself. But the absence is, of course, not an absence pure and simple. The being of the subject in Nancy is a being-toward-itself rather than a self-coinciding being-itself." It does not occupy simply the position where it is (or where it posits itself) in time and space, but remains ex-posed to both otherness and absence (of the world as also of itself). In what follows, we shall see that this determination of existence as exposition—which combines Heideggerian motifs with an emphasis on (among other things, sensuous) being-in-relation that Heidegger, with his concern for a heroically solitary authenticity, would have been loathe to endorse—is central to Nancy’s theory of the portrait.

Before retracing that theory, a few words on Nancy’s approach to the arts in general are necessary. One will want to know something about how Nancy construes the relationships between portraiture (within the visual arts) and the arts in their entirety, and in turn how he construes the relationship between the arts and an ontology of the subject. For Nancy’s claim that the history of portraiture gives us access to a history of the subject as a history of human being-in-the-world seems to give art a particular ontological privilege, and to give the visual arts, and portraiture in particular, a peculiar privilege within the realm of art. Yet while art does retain such a privilege, the impression that visual arts or portraiture would receive a further privilege is somewhat misleading.

In the first chapter of The Muses, Why Are There Several Arts and Not Just One (Conversation on the Plurality of Worlds), Nancy develops the notion of the singular plurality of (the) art(s). He will later elaborate this notion in a more general fashion as Being Singular Plural in the essay of that title. According to this singular plurality of (the) art(s), there is, on the one hand, no art except as the plurality of the particular arts, whose finite number remains indeterminable. On the other hand, each art form, even as it emphasizes one or more specific sensuous modalities (sight, hearing, and so on), registers the virtual presence of the other modalities within the sense or senses it highlights: Each sensing touches on the rest of sensing as that which it cannot sense (Muses, 17). In this way, any given artform is not just isolated in its own space but remains in a co-constitutive relation with the others it excludes. Any artform consequently stands for all arts, indeed for the whole of art, with the proviso that this whole only exists and can only present itself in the form of its (partial) absence, i.e. in its fragmented and, in principle, infinite multiplicity.

The relation between (the) art(s) and being-in-the-world is mediated by the sensuous embeddedness of each. For being-in-the-world, too, is always sensuous. Nancy suggests that the subject is always in touch with its world because he construes sensuous relationality as epitomized by touch. Touch is the one sense that summarizes what all senses do: They expose us to the world. The function and significance of (the) art(s), then, is to highlight the touch of sensuous being, to intensify and bring to awareness the subject’s being-in-the-world. Touch forms one body with sensing, or it makes of the sensing faculties a body—it is but the corpus of the senses. . . . . . [A]rt touches on the sense of touch itself. . . . It deals with being-in-the-world, in its very springing forth. . . . as exteriority and exposition . . . that are formally grasped, isolated, and presented as such (Muses, 17–18). To follow how Nancy works out this approach to (the) art(s) with respect to a broad spectrum of the particular arts, we would have to read his writings on portraiture in connection with those on painting and drawing and these together with others on music and poetry.⁵ As this