Divergence

Divergencies of Perception
Divergencies of
Perception
The Possibilities of Merleau-Pontian
Phenomenology in Analyses of
Contemporary Art
SAARA HACKLIN
Aesthetics
Department of Philosophy, History,
Culture and Art Studies
University of Helsinki, Finland
Academic dissertation to be publicly discussed,

by due permission of the Faculty of Arts at
the University of Helsinki in auditorium XIII
(Main Building, Unioninkatu 34), on
the 24th of February, 2012 at 12 o’clock.
© 2012 Saara Hacklin
ISBN 978-952-10-7605-3 (paperback)

ISBN 978-952-10-7606-0 (PDF)
Typesetting: Jonne Savolainen

Image processing: Hella Pakaslahti
http://ethesis.helsinki.fi/
Nord Print
Helsinki 2012
In memory of MEM
Supervised by:
Professor Arto Haapala
Faculty of Arts
University of Helsinki
and
Academy Research Fellow, Senior Lecturer Sara Heinämaa

Collegium for Advanced Studies
University of Helsinki
Reviewed by:
Professor Véronique M. Fóti
Department of Philosophy
Pennsylvania State University, USA
and
Professor Renée van de Vall

Department of Literature & Art
Faculty of Arts & Social Sciences
Maastricht University, The Netherlands
Discussed with:
Professor Renée van de Vall
Department of Literature & Art
Faculty of Arts & Social Sciences
Maastricht University, The Netherlands
Abstract
Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1908–1961) has been known as the philoso-

pher of painting whose thinking developed through visual arts. His
interest in the theory of perception intertwined with the questions
concerning the artist’s perception, the experience of an artwork and
the possible interpretations of the artwork. For him, aesthetics was not
a sub-field of philosophy, and art was not simply a subject matter for
the aesthetic experience (of beauty), but a form of thinking.
This study proposes an opening for a dialogue between Merleau-
Pontian phenomenology and contemporary art. The thesis has a two-
fold approach: on the one hand, it examines his phenomenology
through certain works of contemporary art, and on the other hand,
it presents readings of these artworks through Merleau-Pontian phe-
nomenology. My work is a demonstration of a Merleau-Pontian ap-
proach to artworks; the goal is both to show the potentiality of a
method, but also to engage in the critical task of finding the possible
limitations of his approach.
The chapters 2–3 lay out the methodological and conceptual points
of departure of Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological approach to per-
ception as well as the features that determined his discussion on en-
countering art. It presents the principles of phenomenological method
and Edmund Husserl’s influence on Merleau-Ponty and also examines
the role of the spectator in the phenomenological approach. Merleau-
Ponty referred to the experience of perceiving art using the notion of
“seeing with” (“voir selon”), and he also stressed a certain correlative
reciprocity that he described in “Eye and Mind” (“L’Œil et l’Esprit”,
1961) as the switching of the roles of the visible and the painter.
The choice of artworks is motivated by certain restrictions or la-
cunae in the phenomenological readings of visual arts as well as by a
quest for many-sidedness and a plurality of artistic approaches. The
vii
viii ABSTRACT
examined works include paintings by Tiina Mielonen, a photographic

work by Christian Mayer, a film by Douglas Gordon and Philippe Par-
reno, and an installation by Monika Sosnowska. These works also carry
features that resonate with, and also challenge, the phenomenological
approach of Merleau-Ponty.
The chapters with case studies (4–7) take up different themes. To-
gether with the artworks, the focus is on topics that are central to
Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology, namely space, movement, time, and
touch, as well as the question of the other. All of the themes are inter-
linked with the examined works of art. However, there are also topics
and aspects that reappear in the thesis, for instance, the notion of
écart and the question of encountering the other.
As Merleau-Ponty argued, the sphere of art has a particular capa-
bility to address our being in the world in a manner that is not and
cannot be done elsewhere. The thesis presents an interpretation that
emphasises the notion of écart, which refers to an experience of diver-
gence or dispossession. Éliane Escoubas proposes that “seeing with or
along” marks the écart between the object as a thing and as a paint-
ing/picture. The thesis also argues that écart includes the constitutive
element of all encountering: The sudden dissociation, surprise or rup-
ture that is needed in order for a meeting between the spectator and
the artwork, or between two persons, to be possible. The écart can be
understood as the principle without which the encountering with art
is not possible. Further, the thesis suggests that through artworks it
is possible to take into consideration the écart, the divergence, that
defines our subjectivity. We ourselves are marked by a special form of
divergence.
Acknowledgements
As a student, I chose to study philosophy thinking that eventually it

would, so to speak, “cover all”. Luckily, during my undergraduate years
I started to doubt my naïve viewpoint. I remember very vividly the
moment when my interest in the arts developed into an insight: philos-
ophy is both challenged and accompanied by the arts. This epiphany
arrived to me through working with contemporary art and I feel that
it has affected many of the choices I have made later in life.
A doctoral thesis is a result of a long process. First of all, I would
like to express my appreciation to my supervisors Professor Arto Haa-
pala and Academy Research Fellow, Senior Lecturer Sara Heinämaa
for their open-mindedness and unfailing trust in my project: thank you
for your insightful comments and questions. I owe a special debt of
gratitude to the pre-examiners Professor Véronique M. Fóti and Pro-
fessor Renée van de Vall for their valuable and thorough comments
that helped me to improve my work.
It is evident that this thesis would not exist without intriguing art-
works that urged me to challenge my preconceptions on phenomenol-
ogy. I would like to express my appreciation to the artists Douglas Gor-
don, Christian Mayer, Tiina Mielonen, Philippe Parreno and Monika
Sosnowska. I have had the joy of following closely the work of Chris-
tian Mayer and Tiina Mielonen, to whom I remain thankful for many
intellectually stimulating conversations.
As a young philosophy student, I was inspired by Docent Juha Hi-
manka’s lectures in phenomenology as well as his encouraging com-
ments. Similarly, I feel that for a new doctoral student, Professor
Pauline von Bonsdorff’s support, especially the invitation to join Cor-
pus — The Bodily Turn network, was important.
Dr. Martta Heikkilä has been my close colleague, who immediately
made me feel welcome at Aesthetics. She has always been ready to
ix
x ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
comment on and discuss both academic and non-academic issues, phi-

losophy of art and the arts, never pressuring me to return the books
that I borrowed from her excellent collection of French contemporary
philosophy. My friendship with Dr. Erika Ruonakoski started on the
first conference trip abroad. After that we have shared many memo-
rable moments in conferences as well as in cafés, where her knowledge
of Merleau-Ponty and her passion for discussing the arts has never
ceased to impress me. Despite her own busy timetable she also took
the time to read through and comment on my manuscript at a point
where outside perspective seemed to be the only way out.
As a doctoral student I have had the opportunity to attend both
Heinämaa’s and Haapala’s seminars. From these circles I am espe-
cially in debt to fellow PhD students Kaisa Heinlahti and Tuukka
Perhoniemi with whom I shared the first excitement and puzzlement
of doctoral studies, as well as Dr. Jussi Backman, who invited me to
Swedish–Finnish Phenomenological Workshops. Also, I wish to give my
thanks to Juho Hotanen, Dr. Virpi Lehtinen, University Lecturer Su-
sanna Lindberg, Timo Miettinen, Simo Pulkkinen, Dr. Joona Taipale,
Hermanni Yli-Tepsa as well as Docent Tua Korhonen, from whom I
received some last minute help. Further, my thanks to the colleagues
in aesthetics: Professor Esa Kirkkopelto, Ari Korhonen, Petteri Kum-
mala, Lecturer Leena Laiho, Sanna Lehtinen, Miika Luoto, Dr. Kalle
Puolakka, Sami Santanen, Jani Vanhala and Dr. Janne Vanhanen,
with whom I had the luck of sharing an office for some time. I spent
one term as a visiting researcher at the Jan van Eyck Academie, Maas-
tricht in fall 2008. I wish to express my gratitude for the people at the
academy: Director Koen Brams, advising researchers Katja Diefen-
bach, Hanneke Grootenboer, Dominiek Hoens as well as my fellow
researchers, especially Ines Lechleitner, Georgios Papadopoulos and
Stéphane Querrec.
During the doctoral studies I participated in an exhibition project
that took me to Mongolia. Working with a challenging project may
ruin a friendship, but in the case of artist Annu Wilenius a collegial
relation turned gradually into a friendship. The same project united me
with many other people: the artist duo Pink Twins (brothers Jusu and
Vesa Vehviläinen), artists Bayanbatiin Chinbat, Yondonjunain Dalkh-
Ochir, Ser-Od-Dolgor, Agnes Domke, Togmidshiirev Enkhbold, Sed-
bazar Ganzug, Sonia Leimer, Oula Salokannel, as well as Docent Antti
Ruotsala. In addition, all attempts to think with visual arts have been
vital for the development of my research project. For the many oppor-
tunities to work with and discuss art I wish to thank several people:
xi
Hanna Maria Anttila, Eeva-Mari Haikala, Henriikka Tavi, Hanna Ti-

monen, Anna Tuori as well as many colleagues who have worked in
the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma: Kaija Kaitavuori, Minna
Raitmaa, Pirkko Siitari, as well as Eija Aarnio, Leevi Haapala, Kati
Kivinen, Satu Metsola, Patrik Nyberg, Jari-Pekka Vanhala, among
others. Similarly, I am happy that Docent Irmeli Hautamäki invited
me to join the editorial board of the web journal Mustekala: thanks to
all my octopus colleagues, especially Marko Gylén, Pirkko Holmberg
and Saara Karhunen.
The doctoral studies were made financially possible by various
grants from different institutions, which I hereby thank: Kone Foun-
dation, the Finnish Cultural Foundation, Alfred Kordelin Foundation,
Jan van Eyck Academie, University of Helsinki, as well as the former
Institute for Art Research and the Department of Aesthetics, now The
Department of Philosophy, History, Culture and Art Studies. I am
grateful to Dr. Mark Shackleton for his meticulous proofreading. All
the remaining errors are mine. Thanks also to graphic designer Hella
Pakaslahti for image processing and consulting on printing matters.
Beyond the academic world, I feel endlessly grateful to my friends
and family: Laura Verronen and Anna Pollari, as well as Sini Kyttälä,
Laura Larmio and Hanna Lehto among other friends both in Finland
and abroad. Warm thanks to my brothers Antti and Pekka Hacklin
together with their families, my partner’s sister Ilona Savolainen and
her family, as well as Dr. Eeva-Leena and Docent Jussi Onnismaa.
I thank my parents Eliisa and Martti Hacklin for their constant
support and interest in all the more or less wise choices I have made.
They have taught me openness and curiosity for literature, visual arts,
theater, philosophy — and life in general. During my doctoral study
years I have shared my anxieties and joys with Jonne Savolainen,
a companion whose calming presence has helped me through many
difficult moments. He has always been willing to throw himself into
endeavours to help, be it a matter of obtaining a recording of a re-
cent football match or finding out about the finesses of free software
typesetting programs. Most recently I owe him thanks for turning the
manuscript into a book.
The beginnings of the thesis was marked by a grief shared by many
others. I would like to dedicate the thesis to the memory of my uncle
and his family: Mauri, Elsi and Mandi.
Contents
Abstract vii
Acknowledgements ix
1 Introduction 1
2 Phenomenological Method and Art 19

2.1 The Theoretical Contexts of Merleau-Ponty’s Thinking
on the Arts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19
2.2 The Question of Reduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
2.3 Expression and Spectatorship in Merleau-Ponty . . . . . 34
3 Conceptions of Seeing 51
3.1 Cartesian Vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
3.2 Phenomenology on Seeing: From Image to Icon . . . . . 62
3.3 Dissolving Seeing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
4 Phenomenology of Painting: From Space to Depth 85

4.1 Merleau-Ponty on the Pictorial Space . . . . . . . . . . 89
4.2 Suspended Landscape: On Tiina Mielonen’s Paintings . 110
5 Photographic Explorations: Perception, Movement,

Other 125
5.1 Merleau-Ponty on Photography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
5.2 The Expression of Movement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
5.3 Other Visions in Christian Mayer’s Another City, Not
My Own . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
xii
CONTENTS xiii
6 The Filmic Experience: Temporality and Rhythm 157

6.1 Merleau-Ponty on Film: The Cinematographical Time . 159
6.2 Technology, Spectatorship and the Film’s Body . . . . . 170
6.3 The Radiant Image: Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait . . 176
7 Positioned into Space: Touch, Reversibility, Passivity 195

7.1 From Vision to Touch: Reversibility and Passivity . . . 196
7.2 On Installation and Site-Specific Art . . . . . . . . . . . 208
7.3 Touching Back: Monika Sosnowska’s Fountain . . . . . . 215
8 Conclusions 231
Bibliography 241
Works by Maurice Merleau-Ponty — with Abbreviations . . . 241
Works by Other Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243
Dictionaries and Other Resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270
A Images 271
B Artist Resumes 287

Tiina Mielonen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287
Christian Mayer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288
Douglas Gordon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292
Philippe Parreno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296
Monika Sosnowska . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302
1
Introduction
The joint tradition of phenomenology and visual arts is very rich. Their
connection was established by early phenomenologists, such as Martin
Heidegger’s discussion of Vincent van Gogh’s paintings and Maurice
Merleau-Ponty’s interpretation of Paul Cézanne’s work. Even though
the connection between the two fields is close, philosophers’ discus-
sions of artworks have often been challenged, and not only by the
changing fields of arts.1 The relation of art and phenomenology has
been taken up during the last decades by various philosophers, such
as Edward Casey, Jacques Derrida, Éliane Escoubas, Jean-François
Lyotard, Jean-Luc Nancy, John Sallis, and others.2
Within the tradition, the influence of Maurice Merleau-Ponty
(1908–1961) is undisputed. His phenomenology of art is the point of
departure for my thesis. Merleau-Ponty has been known as the philoso-
pher of painting whose philosophical thinking developed through vi-
sual art. His willingness to approach art as a companion to or even
as a model for philosophy suggests not only that we should take the
primacy of perception as an ontological primacy, but also relate it to
the deeply radical, ethical choices that characterises the 21st century
discussion of art and aesthetics.
1 Here I refer to the manifold fields of contemporary art and the changes that
have occurred in art since 1960. As is well known, the form of artwork has become
multiple since the days of Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty. Moreover, some of this
development, for instance interest in the question of the body, has been influenced
by phenomenology. (Melville 1998; Potts 2000; Johansson 2009.)
2 This list is by no means exhaustive. Within early phenomenological and ex-
istential philosophy art was discussed by, for instance, Simone de Beauvoir, Mikel
Dufrenne, Henri Maldiney, Roman Ingarden and Jean-Paul Sartre, to name but
a few. More contemporary contributors are for instance Arnold Berleant, Mauro
Carbone, Véronique M. Fóti, Galen A. Johnson, Jacques Taminiaux, Renée van de
Vall and many more.
1
2 CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION
This thesis has a twofold approach. On the one hand, I examine

Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology through certain works of contempo-
rary art, and on the other hand, I present readings of these artworks
through Merleau-Pontian phenomenology.3 In short, the dissertation
is a demonstration of what I suggest is a Merleau-Pontian approach
to artworks; my goal is both to show the potentiality of a method,
but I also engage in the critical task of finding the possible limitations
of his approach. In the latter, the artworks contribute as a means to
critically examine the phenomenological line of thinking. This thesis
is thus by no means a chronological commentary on Merleau-Ponty’s
phenomenology of art, yet it has exegetic parts which are motivated
by certain restrictions or lacunae that I have found in the phenomeno-
logical readings of visual arts. My interest is in finding an alternative
opening for a dialogue between Merleau-Pontian phenomenology and
contemporary art.
In order to fulfil my twofold task, I first need to clarify what is
Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology of art and what are its points of de-
parture. My emphasis is on the relation between the spectator and the
work of art. This relation is also at the heart of the phenomenolog-
ical method, namely in the form of a question: how does something
appear to me?4 Merleau-Ponty referred to the experience of perceiv-
ing art with a notion of “seeing with”, and he also stressed a certain
correlative reciprocity that he described in “Eye and Mind” (“L’Œil
et l’Esprit”, 1961)5 as the switching of the roles of the visible and
the painter.6 I will examine these notions in connection with the art-
works.7 Together with the pieces, I will further focus on topics that are
central to Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology, namely: space, movement,
3 The term “Merleau-Pontian” refers here to my interpretation of Merleau-
Ponty’s phenomenological approach.

4 Contemporary works of art also problematise the habitual relation between
the work and the spectator in an unprecedented manner so that the very experience
of art has changed in nature. The focus on the relation between the spectator and
the work of art has been underlined, for instance, by minimalism in the 1960s.
5 First published in the first number of journal Art de France, 1961, republished
as a monograph by Gallimard in 1964.

6 Œ, 23, 31/126, 129.
7 Does philosophy end up assimilating art into it, or is there a way of “seeing
with” that genuinely allows difference — and thus also questions some self-evident
aspects of the perceiver? This question is linked to a wider set of problems, such
as whether turning to thinking would always “normalise” things, or whether phi-
losophy is incapable of encountering the other or difference, and is always willing
to either assimilate or expel. (See, for instance, Armstrong 2000, 49; Derrida 1981,
20–22.)
3
time, and touch, as well as the question of the other. These themes are
interlinked with the examined works of art.
The Primacy of Perception

In order to discuss Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy of art, the thesis must
first deal with perception. It is the point of departure for his discus-
sions of art and philosophy. Following the phenomenological tradition
set by Edmund Husserl (1859–1938),8 Merleau-Ponty dedicated the
second half of his doctoral thesis — The Phenomenology of Percep-
tion (Phénoménologie de la perception, 1945) — to the primacy of
perception, a theme that he continued to examine throughout his ca-
reer. Merleau-Ponty’s aim was to question what he conceived to be the
prevailing attitudes: empiricist and intellectual approaches.9 These ap-
proaches Merleau-Ponty considered to be as two versions of objective
thought: from his point of view, objective thought functions when the
world is taken as it is, as is done in empiricism. And similarly, it is a
matter of objective thought if the world is considered secondary to the
world of ideas, as is the case in intellectualism. In both of these mod-
els the aim is to attain clear and distinct knowledge of the world, but
they both fail to take into consideration how they are, too, based on
the lived experience and the perceived world. From Merleau-Ponty’s
perspective, this is the limitation of sciences: they prevail in the so-
called natural attitude. Merleau-Ponty, on the contrary, sought to find
a way for philosophy to take seriously the ontological primacy of the
perceived world. This did not mean prevailing in the traditional set-
ting, where the subject and the object are considered separate: “For
a philosophy that is installed in pure vision, in the aerial view of the
panorama, there can be no encounter with another”,10 Merleau-Ponty
argued. The question of perception is not only a technical question of
8 I wish to underline that the relation of the two is not undisputed. In this
thesis I will touch on the relation of Husserl and Merleau-Ponty later on, but it is
not the main interest of the work. For more on the relation of the two thinkers,
see for instance, a study of the concept of perception in phenomenology Renaud
Barbaras’ Desire and Distance. Introduction to a Phenomenology of Perception
(2006) in which Husserl’s and Merleau-Ponty’s differences are discussed.
9 These approaches were already a critical target in the first part of his doctoral
dissertation, The Structure of Behavior (La structure du comportement, 1942).

10 “[...] for the look dominates; it can dominate only things, and if it falls upon
men it transforms them into puppets [...]” VI, 77. “Pour une philosophie qui
s’installe dans la vision pure, le survol du panorama, il ne peut pas y avoir ren-
contre d’autrui : car le regard domine, il ne peut dominer que des choses, et s’il
tombe sur des hommes, il les transforme en mannequins [...]” VI, 107.
the senses. As Renaud Barbaras writes: “it merges in reality with the
ontological question in its simplest sense, namely as an inquiry into
the meaning of the being of what is.”11 Through our experience we
have access to being, and thus in order to question being, we need to
examine the ways we open up to the world, namely perception. The
appearing of the world can be examined through the phenomenological
method.
In an early essay “Cézanne’s Doubt” (“La doute de Cézanne”,
1945)12 Merleau-Ponty began to fathom the connection between per-
ception, artistic expression and philosophical contemplation. He fo-
cused on painting and the painter’s work, the bodily gestures through
which the artist’s encountering with the world is turned into a paint-
ing. According to Merleau-Ponty, Cézanne painted the world as it was
becoming visible, not the world as a static object. Cézanne’s painting
process was shadowed by a continuous doubt; this doubt was elemental
for his working process, it drove him to start all over again, to chal-
lenge his own painting. Merleau-Ponty paralleled the working method
of the painter with those of a phenomenologist. For him, the interest-
ing question in art was not about beauty, but about the questions of
perception, expression, history, as well as the very structure of real-
ity.13
In Phenomenology of Perception Merleau-Ponty had already de-
veloped a theory of language and expression. He conceived that the
meaning of a gesture is immanent in it. There is no separate world of
hidden meaning outside the gesture. Likewise, there is no particular
sense somewhere outside the artwork.14 This idea is further reflected
in the title of his unfinished manuscript, The Visible and the Invisible
(Le visible et l’invisible, 1964), where both are intertwined or encroach
upon each other. “What this ultimately means is that the hallmark of
the visible is to have a lining of invisibility in the strict sense, which
11 Barbaras 2006, 1.
12 Firstpublished in Fontaine no 47, in December 1945, reprinted in Sens et
non-sens (1948).
13 Galen A. Johnson has recently published a reading where he traces the ques-
tion of the beautiful and the sublime in Merleau-Ponty. However, his point of de-
parture is in how the questions Merleau-Ponty primarily discussed were elsewhere
than in the thematics of beautiful. (Johnson 2010, 13.)
14 Also, artwork may supersede all causal and linear relation, so that even the
sense that we give to the artworks later on has been issued by the works. (Œ,
62/139.) NB: If not indicated otherwise, the page numbers refer first to the French
original and then to the English translation.
5
it makes present as a certain absence.”15

In his last texts Merleau-Ponty developed a new ontology. It in-
volved an understanding of vision, where seeing is “the means given
me for being absent from myself”16 The seer and the seen are both
“caught up” in the same element, and an important concept for this
last phase was the concept of la chair, flesh.17 He wished to clarify
the concept of flesh by paralleling it with the old concept of element.
Like the Ancient element, flesh too is to be understood “in the sense
of a general thing, midway between the spatio-temporal individual and
the idea”.18 The point is that the artwork is, similarly to us, part of
“la chair” (flesh): there is no separate world beyond. “Hence every
painting, every action, every human enterprise is a crystallization of
time, a cipher of transcendence”.19 Through the concept of flesh, as
well as le chiasme, chiasm,20 the reversibility of perception becomes
possible: the relation to the other, and to the world is now understood
differently, so that the object and subject are no longer separate from
each other, or from the world — this is a reduction of the difference
between the subject and the world.
The Phenomenological Method and Works of Art

When encountering philosophical readings of visual arts, often the
interpretations deal with the artworks and artists that are known
from previous philosophical readings. These choices of examples di-
rect thinking — either consciously or non-consciously. At points, it
might seem that philosophy is more concerned in reaching for a dia-
15 Œ 147. “Ceci veut dire finalement que le propre du visible est d’avoir une
doublure d’invisible au sens strict, qu’il rend présent comme une certain absence”
Œ, 85.
16 Œ, 146. “c’est le moyen qui m’est donné d’être absent de moi-même” Œ, 81.
17 The term chair originates from Husserl’s leib in Ideen II. See Merleau-Ponty’s
“The Philosopher and His Shadow” (“Le philosophe et son ombre” 1953). (PO,
271/166; Saint Aubert 2004, 147.)
18 VI, 139. “La chair n’est pas matière, n’est pas esprit, n’est pas substance. Il
faudrait, pour la désigner, le vieux terme d’ ‘élément’, au sens où on l’employait

pour parler de l’eau, de l’air, de la terre et du feu, c’est-à-dire au sens d’une chose
général, à mi-chemin de l’individu spatio-temporel et de l’idée [...]” VI, 181–82. |
Barbaras suggests Merleau-Ponty’s thinking could be characterised as the ontology
of element, and in its elementiality it would be a heritor of Ionian philosophy, that
of Thales, Anaximander and Anaximenes. (Barbaras 1998, 220–21.)
19 VI, 208. “Donc tout tableau, toute action, toute entreprise humaine est une
cristallisation du temps, un chiffre de la transcendance” VI, 258.

20 For chiasm, see for instance VI, 264/214–15.
logue with itself, and that the works of art serve as a pretext for an
inner dialogue of philosophy.
Contemporary art opens views into the complex experiences of per-
ception and the meaning of being. Within the thesis, the selected art-
works — I will use the term “case studies”21 — are of varied origin.
My choices include paintings by Tiina Mielonen, a photographic work
by Christian Mayer, a film by Douglas Gordon and Philippe Parreno,
and an installation by Monika Sosnowska. The choice of artworks has
been directed by the research questions. They bring forth themes con-
cerning space, movement, time, touch and the question of the other.
These works carry features that, to me, resonate with, and also chal-
lenge, the phenomenological approach of Merleau-Ponty. The twofold
research frame of the thesis sets a particular weight on the selected
artworks. Through the works I also wish to open up critical angles to
Merleau-Ponty’s thinking. In a sense, the artworks can be understood
as ways of testing the limits of philosophy.
For instance, one of the principal purposes was to examine a cer-
tain absence in Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy: the exclusion or scarce
discussion of the avant-garde art of his time, such as photography,
is striking in Merleau-Ponty’s corpus. Naturally, it must be acknowl-
edged that Merleau-Ponty, who himself underlined that he was simply
a layman when it came to art, had a profound sensitivity and passion
for different arts. He did not limit himself only to Cézanne’s paintings,
but wrote broadly about the visual arts, and also analysed literature.
Yet, it seems that the new art, especially the new media, of the time
was not a particular interest of his. One example is his critical view
of photography. He claimed that photography destroys the metamor-
phosis of time, and he also had a certain distrust of abstract painting.
These preferences have led to the impression that different media pose
both an opportunity and a challenge when considering the scope and
coverage of Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology. Even though his remarks
may appear irrelevant in connection with contemporary art, I would
like to take them as an invitation to test Merleau-Ponty’s approach to
art in relation to the art of our time, and especially examine art made
in different media. What is it that the contemporary art of our time
can open our thinking to? By bracketing all questions of being, and by
concentrating on the ways of appearing, phenomenology offers a way
to cultivate the sensitivity that artworks continuously seem to demand
21 The
term “case study” is here used of the artworks discussed, the four examples
that contribute to the theoretical base of the thesis.
7
from the viewers. In relation to new forms of art, I argue for a certain
double-movement: we must at the same time both put in parenthesis
the question of the medium — we must not be fixated on the diffi-
culties that the choice of medium and technology may include — and
take into consideration the question of materiality and the challenge
it provides.
Against this background, one of the features directing the choice of
works had to do with the variety of media. I wanted to see what hap-
pens when Merleau-Ponty’s thinking is taken out of its comfort zone.
In traditional readings, the home ground for Merleau-Ponty is con-
sidered to be painting. But what comes about when Merleau-Ponty’s
thought is set alongside of contemporary works? When does it become
outdated, where does it open up new insights? My choices include
paintings, photography, moving image, and an installation. However,
the selected artworks do not form a particular school or style of art.
Further, I wish to avoid a setting where the medium becomes too cen-
tral in a time, when artists are increasingly creating hybrid works and
varying their medium depending on the work at hand.22 Instead, the
works address different questions, and through them I examine specific
concepts that were central to Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology. In the
discussion of the works, I wish to pay special attention to the rela-
tionship of the work of art and its beholder. What kind of relation is
created between the two? What kind of encountering do the works en-
able, what kind of spectatorial subject do they presuppose? What are
the conditions of “seeing with” in the particular cases? Does “seeing
with” lose its aptitude at some point?
I am consciously bringing together works made in various media,
suggesting that the particular materiality could be ignored and be
taken as a serious challenge for phenomenological thinking. I wish to
stress that the artworks have been exhibited in very different situa-
tions. For example, Sonsowska’s installation was made for a particular
exhibition and can no longer be accessed, whereas Gordon and Par-
reno’s film can be, if so wished, viewed at home. Their film, moreover,
crosses the boundaries between contemporary art and cinema.23 De-
spite the variation of the artworks, my thesis is limited to the visual
arts. I have chosen to discuss pieces that can be classified as paint-
22 For instance, Rosalind Krauss has argued that the medium is a series of con-
ventions developed by art institutions, and these conventions can be challenged.

(Krauss 1999; 2006.) On the other hand, Alex Potts, for instance, has presented a
view for a return to a critical interrogation of the medium. (Potts 2004.)
23 The work has also been displayed as a video installation.
ing, photography, media art or experimental cinema, and installation.

However, I have not included, for instance, performance art, despite
its obvious connections with the phenomenological tradition.24 This
is mostly because I wanted to start my discussion from the question
of images and their limits — though I understand that these themes
could also extend towards contemporary performance. Nevertheless,
despite the exclusion of a variety of visual arts from the case studies, I
aim to demonstrate an approach that could be taken further to other
fields, in the readings of new media art or live art, for instance.
Through my research frame I aim to explore both the possibilities
of Merleau-Ponty’s thinking as well as trace some of the limitations
and “unthought” aspects of his approach. Moreover, through Merleau-
Ponty I also hope to be able to find something unexpected and un-
thought in the artworks discussed. Ideally, the whole setting of the
thesis would be closer to a dialogue where neither of the two, philoso-
phy or works of art, rules over the other. To be sure, this kind of ideal is
utopian, but I hope to convince the reader of the importance of trying.
The method I am using has its roots in Merleau-Ponty’s own philos-
ophy in different ways. Firstly, my method is loaned from Merleau-
Ponty’s strategies of reading philosophy. Merleau-Ponty discussed his
relation to the history of philosophy, pointing out how all philosophers
have their “unthought”, i.e. thinking that they were simply not able to
think, due to historical limitations, lack of concepts etc.25 The future
generations can try to take into account the limitations and trace the
unthought from the margins of the philosopher’s text. Merleau-Ponty
himself was in a continuous relation with philosophers such as Edmund
24 The bodily aspects of both performance art and dance have been quite widely
discussed. Within dance, see for instance the works of Maxine Sheets-Johnstone:
The Phenomenology of Dance (1979) and The Primacy of Movement (1998); Son-
dra Horton Fraleigh: Dance and the Lived Body: A Descriptive Aesthetics (1987)
and Dancing Identity. Metaphysics in Motion (2004); Jaana Parviainen: Bodies
Moving and Moved: A Phenomenological Analysis of the Dancing Subject and
the Cognitive and Ethical Values of Dance Art (1998); Leena Rouhiainen Liv-
ing Transformative Lives: Freelance Dance Artists Brought into Dialogue with
Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology (2003). Within performance studies, see Amelia
Jones: Body Art/Performing the Subject (1998); Susan Kozel: Closer. Performance,
Technologies, Phenomenology (2007).
25 See especially Merleau-Ponty’s “Everywhere and Nowhere” (“Partout et nulle
part”), a preface to Les philosophes célèbres, and “The Philosopher and His Shadow
(“Le philosophe et son ombre”), both published in Signs (Signes, 1960). Also The
Incarnate Subject. Malebranche, Biran, and Bergson on the Union of Body and
Soul (L’Union de l’âme et du corps chez Malebranche, Biran, et Bergson), a lecture
series given in L’École Normale Supérieure in 1947–48.
9
Husserl and René Descartes. Also their thought was taken further, be-
yond, by Merleau-Ponty in search of the lacunae and limitations of
past philosophers. In my reading of Merleau-Ponty I have not lim-
ited myself to any particular period of his thinking, but instead I have
searched for different thematics that resonate with the chosen works of
art. Secondly, I take up his use of case studies. A prime example of his
own methodical use of case studies is to be found in Phenomenology of
Perception. As is well known, Merleau-Ponty had a particular interest
in empirical sciences as well as the arts. In both The Structure of Be-
havior (La structure du comportement, 1942) and Phenomenology of
Perception, he is in dialogue with empirical sciences, critically exam-
ining particular questions of psychology and biology of his time. One
of the most famous examples is his analysis of the case of Schneider.
This case refers to a patient called Schneider, examined by psycholo-
gists Kurt Goldstein and Adler Gelb. Schneider was wounded in the
First World War and was suffering from several problems, among oth-
ers difficulties in performing abstract tasks.26 Merleau-Ponty’s method
of discussing Schneider’s symptoms consisted of investigating a partic-
ular case that was examined within empirical sciences, thus falling
within objective thought. However, through using a case study, in this
case a particular medical description, his objective was to test his own
view, the phenomenological approach. Also within art, Cézanne could
be understood as one of Merleau-Ponty’s case studies. I would like
to stress that his way of discussing arts already demonstrates a cer-
tain openness: in regard to arts, his use of case studies takes the form
of thinking of particular questions concerning perception, space and
movement through works of art.
Phenomenology, Art and History

Taking up the topic of Merleau-Ponty and art in the 21st century is
not unproblematic. There is already a growing amount of commentary
literature, of which a good deal also presents criticism, pointing at the
possible limitations of phenomenology. One of the common criticisms
concerns Merleau-Ponty’s belief in “original perception” — an idea in
which he insisted on a return to uncontaminated, natural perception
— and that attaining this was Cézanne’s greatest achievement. This
26 The examinations of Schneider’s case have been questioned, but here the point
is not to consider whether the original research material was adequate, but to
demonstrate a certain method of using case studies.
is, however, an ungenerous interpretation, and nowadays many com-

mentators underline how in Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology nature
and culture were intertwined; this latter, more generous interpreta-
tion also disputes the idea of “original vision” as something that can
be attained. A more general form of critique concerns the debate that
can be referred to as the “critique of vision”,27 which addresses the
cultural dominance of sight over other senses. This criticism interprets
seeing as the dominant form of all experience, and that vision is based
on a model where the seer posits the seen as an object that it can gov-
ern. To describe vision as violence, possessive and objectifying, would
not do justice to Merleau-Ponty’s understanding of vision.28
Though much criticism has been presented against phenomenol-
ogy, I want to argue for the validity of Merleau-Ponty’s approach in
today’s art, aesthetics and philosophy. As mentioned earlier, first and
foremost my work presents a reading of Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenol-
ogy of art that is both critical and aims at taking his phenomenology
further, showing one possible way of using it to discuss the contempo-
rary works of art, and how the dialogue between them opens up new
angles into phenomenology and art. Of course, from the perspective of
the artworks, the research has undeniably a pre-set theoretical context.
However, I aim to give space to unexpected and “uninvited” aspects
that are raised by the artworks themselves, and thus force us to see
Merleau-Ponty’s thinking in a new light. By studying phenomenology,
I wish to be able to find a way to discuss both phenomenology and
works of art in an adequate and critical way.29
On a more general level this thesis is a demonstration of how phe-
nomenology serves as more than just “a yardstick against which to
size up other features in the contemporary philosophical landscape”.30
Consequently, the thesis is developed through various discussions: the
relation of philosophy and art, theory and artworks, has implications
for contemporary discourses within art, philosophy, aesthetics, art re-
27 See, for instance, Stephen Melville’s article “Division of Gaze, or, Remarks on
the Color and Tenor of Contemporary ‘Theory’” (1996).

28 For a reading of the Merleau-Pontian conception of vision, see for instance
Jorella Andrews’ article “Vision, Violence, and the Other: A Merleau-Pontean

Ethics” (2006).
29 Even though it might be difficult to find views in favour of “one true inter-
pretation” I still feel that it is important to emphasise this point to avoid any
misunderstandings. For a valuable discussion of this subject from a phenomeno-
logical point of view, see “For and Against Interpretation” in Alan Paskow’s The
Paradoxes of Art: A Phenomenological Investigation (Paskow 2003, 204–50).
30 Watkin 2009, 1.
11
search, as well as artistic research, sometimes referred as practice based

research. The setting of the thesis demonstrates the way in which dis-
cussion of artworks can challenge a philosophical standpoint. This re-
lation between philosophy and art aims to employ an approach where
art is not used as a subject matter, but is an attempt to think along
with it — to the extent that that is possible, as there are of course
limits to both along and with.31
Another, interlinked consequence of the phenomenological approach
is that it allows us to see differently the subject matter of aesthetics
and the relation of aesthetics to philosophy. Traditionally, the domain
for discussing the relationship of art and philosophy has been aesthet-
ics. However, the idea of aesthetics as a study of aesthetic judgements
on beauty has long been challenged in the discourses of continental
philosophy. In recent decades, aesthetics has repeatedly been attacked
as a field of study that needs to be renewed or even abandoned — to
the extent that these attacks have almost become a cliché. However,
Heidegger’s and Merleau-Ponty’s work on phenomenology contributed
strongly to the new understanding of aesthetics, and to contemporary
forms of aesthetic criticism. This critical tradition can be seen to con-
tinue in Jean-François Lyotard’s anti-aesthetics and it lives in the 21st
century in Alain Badiou’s inaesthetics and Jacques Rancière’s call for
radical aesthetics.32
As we know, for Heidegger the whole tradition of aesthetics was
fundamentally problematic. Heidegger believed that the modern tra-
dition of aesthetics had to be treated in a new way; it had to be sur-
mounted, in order to be seen as a continuation of the phenomenologi-
cal project.33 Merleau-Ponty did not share Heidegger’s open hostility
towards aesthetics, and yet their views can be seen to coincide, for in-
stance, in the criticism of the traditional subject–object relation found
in aesthetics. Also, Merleau-Ponty did not develop a comprehensive
31 Naturally, the connection between art and philosophy has been made many
times over, see for instance Hanneke Grootenboer’s article “Introduction ‘The
Thought of Images’” (2007). Inspiring ideas have been presented, for instance,
by Irit Rogoff, Professor of Visual Culture at Goldsmiths, who argued that the
researcher must write about art in a non-possessing, non-objectifying manner so
that: “[...] the writing can begin to take the form of writing with art rather than
writing about art” (Rogoff 2003, 127.) Rogoff’s thoughts draw inspiration from
Jacques Derrida and Jean-Luc Nancy. I would suggest that Merleau-Ponty could
have also served as an influence.
32 See for instance Derrida 1981; Armstrong 2000; Hallward 2003; Rancière 2004
& 2009; Badiou 2005; During 2008.

33 Heidegger 1934; see also 1985, 92.
aesthetic theory, at least not one in a traditional sense where aesthetic

theory would be in a realm of its own concerning beauty and taste.34
In contrast, through his own approach, Merleau-Ponty proposed a new
understanding of the relations of art, perception and philosophy. For
him, aesthetics was not a sub-field of philosophy, and art was not sim-
ply a subject matter for the aesthetic experience (of beauty), but a
form of thinking. Merleau-Ponty’s interest in the theory of percep-
tion intertwined with his questions concerning the artist’s perception,
the experience of an artwork and its possible interpretations. Ulti-
mately, Merleau-Ponty’s approach demonstrates his urge to reject the
separation of art and science. In a sense, the phenomenological ap-
proach could be interpreted, as some commentators have suggested,
to mean that eventually phenomenology becomes aesthetics, and that
phenomenological work turns out to be similar to a work of art in
crucial respects.35
These questions that I have discussed above — the understanding
of the relation between artwork and researcher, as well as the task of
aesthetics — are not the primary focus of my thesis, but they do extend
the relevance of my thesis outside mere phenomenology and Merleau-
Ponty scholarship. I will return to these matters in the conclusion of
my thesis.
Literature on Merleau-Ponty and the Arts

My aim is to present a reading of selected case studies through
Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology of art. I also examine his phenomenol-
ogy through these works of contemporary art. In regard to Merleau-
Ponty’s philosophy, I use commentaries from the fields of philosophy
and aesthetics, both Anglo-American and French, in a relatively se-
lective manner, based on the thematics at hand — be it questions of
34 My point is here to underline that Merleau-Ponty did not create a traditional,
separate aesthetics that could be presented in an uncontroversial manner. Here

I would like to follow Sven-Olov Wallenstein’s suggestion that “the tradition of
phenomenological aesthetics is still in the making” (Wallenstein 2009, 3.) However,
in a wide sense, aesthetics can of course still be found. Also many commentators
write about Merleau-Ponty’s aesthetics, for instance Alphonse de Waelhens’ (1951)
early commentary, as well as later commentaries, such as Michael B. Smith (1993).
However, Merleau-Ponty’s approach contains a certain radicalism that needs to
be underlined. For instance, as Jenny Slatman proposes, Merleau-Ponty’s aisthêsis
could also be seen as combining the sensuous and the ontological interpretation of
a work of art, which would then be a Merleau-Pontian interpretation of the unity
of aesthetics. (Slatman 2003, 272.)
35 Escoubas 2008, 43; see also Slatman 2003, 266.
13
image, space, or empathy. Further, in connection with the analysis

of artworks, I acknowledge that the thematics opened by each work
cannot be discussed in a vacuum. On the contrary, the questions are
related to the multifaceted field of research, including not only philos-
ophy and aesthetics, but also such fields as art history, film and media
studies, art criticism, artistic research, performance studies, and visual
culture.36 In a limited way, I have aimed to bring some of these dis-
cussions into the thesis. In association with each of the case study, I
will both describe, and briefly contextualise the artworks. For the most
part, taking into consideration the frame of reference of each work is
essential for my study. However, I would like to stress that this thesis
is not a study in art history, visual culture or film studies; even though
the limits between the different disciplines are not necessarily clear, I
stress that the thesis is written first and foremost within philosophy of
art, and my treatise relates mostly to discussion on Merleau-Pontian
phenomenology. However, I hope that my reading of Merleau-Ponty,
the encountering of the work of art, and its limits, will also address
research outside the fields of philosophy and aesthetics.
Let me next mention some of the research literature I use. Within
the fields of philosophy and aesthetics, Merleau-Ponty’s texts on arts
are best introduced to English-speaking readers in The Merleau-Ponty
Aesthetics Reader. Philosophy and Painting (1993), edited by Galen
A. Johnson. Along with this reader, a recent work by Galen A. John-
son, The Retrieval of the Beautiful. Thinking Through Merleau-Ponty’s
Aesthetics (2010) serves as an exemplary contextualisation of Merleau-
Ponty’s writings in art as well as offering insightful readings of his
philosophy.
Éliane Escoubas, who has written about pictorial space in Imago
Mundi: Topologie de l’art (1986) and L’espace pictural (1995), has
underlined the importance of the spectator’s attitude when encoun-
tering an artwork. In L’espace pictural Escoubas takes as a point of
departure a quotation from Merleau-Ponty: “seeing with or along”
( voir selon ou voir avec). She proposes that this expression marks
the écart (split, difference, distance) between the object as a thing and
36 Visual culture, arguably the youngest of these fields, prioritises the every-
day experience of the visual. It may take as its point of departure anything from
mundane commercial imagery to artworks, and a distinction between the two, com-
mercials and fine art, is not relevant for my discussion. (Mirzoeff 1999, 9; Van de
Vall 2008, 79.) However, Irit Rogoff remarks that it is still extremely difficult for
her to define what visual culture is and that the demand to define the field of study
mostly comes from outside the field. (Rogoff 2005.)
as a painting/picture, or even the difference between representational

or perceptual space and pictorial space (espace pictural).37 Escoubas’
approach to different paintings, her capability of bringing forth the
complexity and plurality of the constitution of painting as painting
throughout the history of art is a rich contribution to the tradition of
phenomenological readings of art. Escoubas argues that the space of
painting is not a physical space, but is closer to topological space, topos
being used in the sense in which Heidegger and Merleau-Ponty use it. I
share Escoubas’ goal of combining phenomenology and the visual arts.
However, the focus of Escoubas’ work is on the ontological foundations
of pictorial space, which she explicates by using Husserl’s, Heidegger’s,
Merleau-Ponty’s, and Henri Maldiney’s researches. Escoubas offers an
eloquent and detailed discussion of paintings from the 15th century to
the 20th century. I, on the other hand, will focus on the multifaceted
art of the 21st century, without attempting to make a historical point
based on the readings. Moreover, I take it to be an important part of
my working hypothesis that the phenomenological viewpoint can be
extended to new artworks made in various media, and therefore I will
not focus only on pictorial space, but will also study space and settings
created by contemporary methods.
Véronique M. Fóti has written an inspiring essay “The Evidences of
Paintings: Merleau-Ponty and Contemporary Abstraction” (1996) that
presents a question which resonates with the objectives of my thesis:
Fóti asks why Merleau-Ponty limits his discussion to classical and early
modern paintings — why is he hostile towards abstract art, and what
challenges does abstract art present to Merleau-Ponty’s conception of
vision? I follow Fóti’s way of questioning Merleau-Ponty’s choices of
painting.
In order to understand Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology of art, and
to clarify the conceptual and methodological starting points of the
phenomenological approach in general, one must not be limited to
texts which only concern visual arts. This approach is supported by
and modelled in Jenny Slatman’s L’expression au-delà de la repre-
sentation: Sur l’aisthêsis et l’esthétique chez Merleau-Ponty (2003).
Her research goes further than most studies in discussing the subject
of art: she argues that usually the contemporary studies of art limit
themselves only to those texts by phenomenologists that discuss art
in particular, and this means aesthetics in the common sense of the
word. Distancing herself from this practice, Slatman wants to connect
37 Escoubas 1995, 15.

15
the fields of art and philosophy in a new way. She writes that neither
philosophy nor aesthetics are solely interested in analysing the “es-
thésiologique” of experience, but both aim at realising this experience
through philosophical expression, which is — like artistic expression —
the creation or a form of poïêsis. Philosophy should think along with
painting. Slatman even proposes a new understanding of aesthetics;
following Escoubas, she, too, argues that aesthetics is philosophy, and
vice versa.38 Slatman’s ability to draw from various Merleau-Ponty’s
texts as well as her understanding of aesthetics resonates with the
tasks I have set myself in my thesis.
As known, there are a wide-range of phenomenologists discussing
visual arts, but not many of them take into account the different fields
of research concerning the visual arts. Renée van de Vall’s study on
spectatorship presents a very convincing proposal to bring philoso-
phy into the field of contemporary art. Van de Vall’s discussion At
the Edges of Vision: A Phenomenological Aesthetics of Contemporary
Spectatorship (2008) not only challenges or tests the phenomenologi-
cal approach by contrasting it to the different media which are used
in today’s visual culture, but she also relates phenomenology to other
fields such as visual culture studies. Within philosophy, Van de Vall’s
resources are multiple, referring to Lyotard and Merleau-Ponty among
others. Her work questions many common prejudices concerning con-
temporary media culture and its effects on spectatorship, showing how
phenomenology and visual art can be used in studying closer these
prejudices.
In addition, just as my case studies come from different fields of
art, so too the studies I have used reflect a variety of fields. For in-
stance, in my reading of the moving image I have turned to film studies,
where Vivian Sobchack has been one of the most influential pioneers
in applying phenomenological methods to film. Laura U. Marks’ study
on intercultural film are also relevant, especially Marks’ study of the
sensuous aspects of film and her readings of optic and haptic vision.39
38 Slatman 2003, 275–76.

39 Ialso found useful some insights concerning new media in Mark B. N. Hansen’s
work New Philosophy for New Media (2004) and Bodies in Code. Interfaces with
Digital Media (2006), which explore new approaches to technology as well as in-
vestigating the application of phenomenology to the field of digital media.
What to Expect
Counting the introduction and conclusions the work consists of eight
chapters and it can be roughly divided into two: the first part contains
two chapters (2–3) that introduce Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy of art
and the phenomenological method. The latter part of the thesis is made
up of four chapters (4–7). Each of them present a case study and a
discussion around varying themes — space, movement, time, touch, as
well as the question of the other — in Merleau-Ponty’s thinking and
visual arts. There is also a conclusive chapter (8). In the description of
the works, I will take as a starting point the way in which a particular
artwork appears to me. However, I am also aware that my personal
experiences open up limited observations and that different personal
histories would allow me to find new perspectives.40
In chapter 2 I briefly present Merleau-Ponty’s philosophical start-
ing point and outline the basic principles of his phenomenological
method. In this discussion I study the influence of Husserl on Merleau-
Ponty’s phenomenology. I also present the main elements of his phi-
losophy of art, most importantly his conceptions of expression and
spectatorship. The aim of the chapter is to show how Merleau-Ponty’s
principal concern is not to create a comprehensive aesthetics, but to
discuss philosophical questions — most importantly the question of
perception — through artworks, thus showing that they both share
similar interests in relation to the world.
In chapter 3 the discussion is concentrated around the question
of image and icon. It further explores the original relation to work of
art, a topic that was discussed by Merleau-Ponty especially in “Eye
and Mind”. The focus is to discuss the conception of seeing, the criti-
cism Merleau-Ponty presented against the Cartesian understanding of
vision, and how Merleau-Ponty conceives the relationship to the work
of art. This chapter is the key to understanding what I consider to
be the most important aspect of Merleau-Ponty’s approach, namely
how encountering a work of art requires a shift in the attitude of the
spectator. The artwork is claimed to bypass and question our appre-
hension and apperception of “everyday objects”. Instead, the artwork
is understood as an icon in a phenomenological sense, where an art-
work creates a new kind of visibility. The question posed is how can
we approach the work in a phenomenological manner?
Chapter 4 moves on to the first of the case studies. In the begin-
40 I will touch upon this issue especially when discussing the film Zidane.
17
ning of the chapter I examine Merleau-Ponty’s conceptions of painted

space or pictorial space, to use Escoubas’ term. The chapter presents
a discussion on Renaissance perspective and modern painting. In the
latter part of the chapter I introduce Tiina Mielonen’s paintings, where
the focus is on the way Merleau-Ponty’s conception of depth can be in-
terpreted through contemporary painting. Mielonen’s method of using
“ready-made” images, such as old postcards as the source of inspira-
tion, opens up the concept of painting’s space for a whole network of
looks and gazes, where the spectator may become aware of the partic-
ularity of his or her perspective as well as the layered nature of his or
her way of looking. The case study aims to examine the limitations of
Merleau-Pontian preconceptions of painting, as well as finding a way
to respond to the challenge set by another kind of understanding of
the painter’s vision.
Chapter 5 takes up the question of photography. Lens-based arts
appeared, at one point, to present a problem for phenomenology: in
photography a medium, the lens of the camera, is placed between the
artist and the world. Here I concentrate on showing how the main
emphasis of Merleau-Ponty’s unimpressed attitude to one particular
photograph is often misinterpreted to concern the whole field of pho-
tography. I will bring out the point that his criticism concerning the
possibilities of presenting movement in photography was related to his
criticism of the scientific attitude and objective thought. As a case
study the chapter presents Christian Mayer’s series of photos, taken
by a camera attached to a dog’s collar. It is an artwork that forces the
discussion away from the lens and the photographer towards the spec-
tator and the possibility of the images to both narrow and sustain the
gap between the experiences of the “photographer” and the spectator.
This gap is examined especially through the concept of empathy, as
the images set a question of limits to the spectator’s understanding.
Chapter 6 discusses the moving image and briefly presents Mer-
leau-Ponty’s ideas on cinema. However, the main emphasis of the chap-
ter is not on the genre of cinema, but on the possibilities of the moving
image and the visual arts to address questions of portraying a person
and the limits of expression, or in a larger scope, our understanding of
the other. My case study in this chapter is a film by Douglas Gordon
and Philippe Parreno presenting famous footballer Zinédine Zidane.
The work invites discussion of both the body and its representation
— how is that we see the figure on the screen? In addition, the chap-
ter takes on another theme tightly connected to the experience of film,
namely time: how it is experienced and captured, and how it is neces-
sarily layered and entangled. It shows how the experience of time in a

work of art can be multiple.
The last case study is discussed in chapter 7. This chapter stud-
ies the limits of “seeing with”, and the possibilities of the spectator’s
participation. It also moves towards multi-sensuous experience, most
importantly touch. The discussed work is an installation by Monika
Sosnowska. Her work can be seen as a comment on the tradition of
minimalism, if not happening, too: it is a work that at the same time
calls for a beholder and hides from her or him. This piece stretches the
limits of representation, both hiding in and rupturing with the sur-
rounding architecture. It seems to be a work that avoids eye contact
through camouflage — and yet reaches for the spectator, and espe-
cially his or her sense of touch, by dropping water that smudges the
installation and the spectator. The shift from optical to tactile under-
lines the importance of the bodily experience of the work. This case
study shows how the logic of “seeing with” has its presuppositions,
and how seeing with always presumes something of the work.
Finally, in chapter 8, the conclusion of the thesis, I turn once
again back to the questions posed at the beginning of the thesis. I
sum up the results of the thesis focusing especially on the case studies.
I also return to the question of aesthetics as well as phenomenology
as method. I emphasise how the question of spectator–artwork is not
limited only to the discussion within aesthetics, or within art, but is
related to the whole conception of self–other relations that Merleau-
Ponty deals with in his phenomenology throughout his career.
2
Phenomenological Method and Art
In this chapter I sketch out the theoretical context of Merleau-Ponty’s

philosophy. I present the methodological starting points of his thinking,
and examine steps, such as the phenomenological reduction, that are
relevant for an understanding of Merleau-Ponty’s approach to art. As
a follow-up, at the end of the chapter, I clarify the central concepts
concerning the discussion on arts, the most important of these being
the concept of expression and spectatorship. Chapter 3 continues the
conceptual clarification by studying the questions of perception and
vision.
2.1 The Theoretical Contexts of Merleau-Ponty’s Thinking

on the Arts
Merleau-Ponty is one of the key phenomenologists for the study of
perception and art. One of his arguments is the thesis of the pri-
macy of perception, which states that we have direct access to being
through our perceptual experiences. This thesis grants arts, and espe-
cially visual arts, a central position in his philosophy. Merleau-Ponty
approaches the phenomena of perception by studying particular cases
from visual arts, along with cases from psychopathology, and by posing
questions concerning intentional structure, constitution, and origin.
As is well known, throughout his career Merleau-Ponty wrote sev-
eral essays, articles and books where art plays a central role in his
philosophical questioning. It is important to emphasise that in Merleau-
Ponty’s oeuvre, art is not limited to one function or one field of inter-
est; it holds a significant position in all his attempts to think through
questions concerning perception, otherness, language, expression, and
later, flesh. Already in the preface of Phenomenology of Perception he
acknowledges how phenomenology is similar to the works of Cézanne,
19
20 CHAPTER 2. PHENOMENOLOGICAL METHOD AND ART
Proust and others “by reason of the same kind of attentiveness and
wonder, the same demand for awareness”.41 This is indicative of his
long-lasting interest in arts and his deep conviction that artistic vision
discloses essential structures of perception. There is in my opinion no
uniform conception of art or aesthetics that can be unquestionably laid
out, instead Merleau-Ponty combined his discourse of the arts with
his inquiries into perception that developed throughout his career.42
Merleau-Ponty’s conception of art intertwines with his phenomenolog-
ical approach to perception as a whole. In fact, I argue that there is no
separate Merleau-Pontian aesthetic theory, but the arts have a much
more central role in his thinking:43 philosophy and art have partially
the same aspirations and the same tasks — the task of disclosing our
fundamental relations to being. Thus, art gives a model for philoso-
phy but also a challenge; it manages to escape the limitations that
philosophy is bound to struggle with.
A clear-cut presentation of Merleau-Ponty’s “philosophy of art”
is difficult because his analyses, interpretations and interests varied.44
For instance, the focus on perception and the phenomenological method
were strongly emphasised in the early essay “Cézanne’s Doubt” (“Le
doute de Cézanne”, 1945). The essay also illustrates Merleau-Ponty’s
stand on the discussions of his time: he refused to explain artworks
through the personal life of the artist, but neither did he want to ex-
tract the artists from his or her historical context or to study the artist
41 PP, xxiv. “par la même genre d’attention et d’étonnement, par la même exi-
gence de conscience” PP, xvi.

42 Alphonse de Waelhens in his early work Une philosophie de l’ambiguïté :
l’existentialisme de Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1951) traced Merleau-Ponty’s aes-

thetic stand. However, the texts he based his readings on are understandably much
more scarce than the texts known now. Michael B. Smith in his essay “Merleau-
Ponty’s Aesthetics” (1993) argues for “a coherent theory of aesthetics”. However,
my point is to underline the position of the arts in his thinking, as well as the
development of his thought that also happened also through the arts, and how,
especially towards the end of his career, aesthetics does not appear as a separate
realm from the phenomenological project.
43 Escoubas and Slatman among others also propose interpretations of aesthetics
through which Merleau-Ponty’s (later) thought can be seen to bring phenomenology

and aesthetics together — this is not, however, aesthetics in the traditional sense
of the word, where aesthetics is understood as judgements of taste and beauty.
(Slatman 2003; Escoubas 2008.)
44 There are various interpretations of Merleau-Ponty’s oeuvre and its different
phases, i.e. whether there are radical breaks between early, middle and late periods,
or if the whole oeuvre should be seen as a consistent modulation. Also, Merleau-
Ponty himself kept evaluating his work, and especially in the last years presented
criticism towards his early work.
2.1. THE THEORETICAL CONTEXTS 21
as a creator with complete freedom, as Jean-Paul Sartre did. In general,

the essay very much reflects the thematic discussed in Phenomenology
of Perception. However, his thinking of arts developed further: his sec-
ond text on art discussed literature and was entitled “Faut-il brûler
Kafka?” (1946). This was a short comment on the debate about new
French literature, defending the positions of “immoral” writers such as
Sartre and de Beauvoir.45 From here on, the questions of literature and
painting were further examined in “Indirect Language and the Voices
of Silence” (“Le langage indirect et les voix du silence”, 1952).46 In this
essay the influence of Ferdinand de Saussure’s structuralist linguistics
as well as Merleau-Ponty’s debate with Sartre was especially central.47
In fact, the essay was an extract from a more extensive manuscript, La
prose du monde (The Prose of the World, 1969). The book was partly
meant to be a reply to Sartre’s What is Literature? (Qu’est-ce que la
littérature?, 1947) and an attempt to combine discussions of the visual
arts and literature. In opposition to Sartre’s claim that painting was
mute, Merleau-Ponty defended the expressive tasks and potentials of
painting. This manuscript was set aside for a new project that devel-
oped into The Visible and the Invisible (Le visible et l’invisible, 1964),
another posthumously published manuscript that was also never fin-
ished. The last text on art published during his career was “Eye and
Mind” (L’Œil et l’Esprit, 1961), which mirrored the new vocabulary
and ontology of flesh and intertwining that he was developing in the
45 Originally published in Action No 97, 12 July 1946, and reissued in Parcours
1936–1951 (PI). Emmanuel de Saint Aubert presents a detailed account on the

development of Merleau-Ponty’s early interest in arts in his Du lien des êtres aux
éléments de l’être. (Saint Aubert 2004, 211–23.)
46 The essay was published in two parts in Les Temps modernes, and later in the
collection Signs (Signes, 1960). The “Indirect Language and the Voices of Silence”
has many different influences and debates, such as a critique of André Malraux.
47 Merleau-Ponty’s relation to Sartre is complex. Their friendship turned into a
long debate, although the two came closer as Sartre wrote a moving preface to a
republished book by a mutual friend, Paul Nizan (1905–1940), Aden Arabie in 1960.
Their debate was deeply philosophical, political and aesthetic. (Grene 1993; Dastur
2000; Revault d’Allonnes 2001, 73; Dastur 2008.) For Merleau-Ponty’s critique
of Sartre, see “Sartre et l’ultra bolschevisme” (AD, 136–280). For an attempt to
shed light on Merleau-Ponty’s position regarding politics, see, for instance Lydia
Goehr’s article “Understanding the Engaged Philosopher” (2005). The traces of
the debate between Sartre and Merleau-Ponty can already be found in Merleau-
Ponty’s text early on: for instance, according to Saint Aubert, Sartre’s shadow is
present — without mentioning his name — in the last parts of “Cézanne’s Doubt”,
in the reading of Leonardo da Vinci and the question of liberty, and Sartre is still
addressed in the manuscript of The Visible and the Invisible. (Saint Aubert 2004,
302–304; 2006, 161–62.)
1960s.48
Concerning the arts that Merleau-Ponty preferred, his essays and
other shorter passages on art refer to a very rich and inspiring account
of arts. The artists he holds important seem to convey a logic: they
all are in some sense unprejudiced and renewing the art of their time.
However, by studying his preferences it is possible to find, for instance,
a modernist emphasis and a certain dislike — or at least absence — of
some of the avant-garde art of his own time.49 The preferences and the
neglects are of course related to the historical situation, and are thus
understandable. Having said that, I am interested in the omission and
absence of certain forms of art in Merleau-Ponty’s discourse, and will
argue that a closer examination is needed: for instance, in chapter 5,
I will look into Merleau-Ponty’s criticism of photography to show how
it does not need to encompass the whole field of photography, but is
directed against a certain attitude towards the world.
Merleau-Ponty’s Holistic Conception of Art and the Human Body

According to Françoise Dastur, Merleau-Ponty is situated within two
traditions. On the one hand, the tradition of French spiritualism, from
René Descartes, Maine de Biran, and Henri Bergson, and on the other
hand, the phenomenological tradition established by Husserl and Hei-
degger. As Dastur argues, understanding Merleau-Ponty’s thought re-
quires knowledge of both traditions.50 Dastur emphasises that in the
1930s, the French heritage of philosophy was governed by two ten-
dencies, the reflexive tradition and the intuitive tradition, which both
aimed at answering the same question. Both tried to solve the prob-
lem of the relation between the subject and the world by studying the
principles of perception. To Merleau-Ponty and to many of his contem-
poraries, the crucial question was how to avoid idealism without falling
into the naivety of realism. The phenomenological tradition seemed to
offer an answer to the question. From early texts on, Merleau-Ponty’s
48 Though they are not identical. For instance Johnson underlines how flesh
(chair) is not once capitalised in “Eye and Mind” as it is in The Visible and the
Invisible. (Johnson 2010, 31.)
49 See, for instance, Potts 2000, 208. | Merleau-Ponty’s conceptions on photog-
raphy were somewhat limited, as I will clarify in chapter 5.

50 Dastur 2001. | Merleau-Ponty kept returning to several thinkers — for instance
a wide range of scientist in the field of psychology — of which I shall not make a
full account here. For a detailed examination of the different influences on Merleau-
Ponty, see Emmanuel de Saint Aubert’s Du lien des êtres aux éléments de l’être
(2004), Le scénario cartésien (2005), and Vers une ontologie indirecte (2006).
relation to the philosophy of Husserl, whose Sorbonne lectures, Carte-

sian Meditations, he attended in 1929,51 was close. Even though the
relationship is not easy to fathom — for instance, the later writings
of Merleau-Ponty can be seen as opening a much deeper dialogue with
Heidegger52 — the phenomenological approach of his thinking is unde-
niable. Dastur argues that Merleau-Ponty is situated along with Eugen
Fink and Jan Patocka between Husserl and Heidegger, between cor-
poreality and flesh, and language and expression.53
Merleau-Ponty’s doctoral thesis was formed by The Structure of
Behavior and Phenomenology of Perception.54 The main point of de-
parture of this two-volume work is the psychological theories of his
time and the philosophical critique that he launches against them.
The main argument is that all these theories fail to take into account
the body. So the principal gesture of the thesis is that Merleau-Ponty
brings into his discussion the embodied situation of the experiencing
and perceiving subject. We are in the world through our bodily exis-
tence, and this relation cannot be annulled or ignored by any theory
of living and conscious beings. For Merleau-Ponty, this embodied life
could not be discussed properly by empiricist (realism) or intellectu-
alist theories (idealism).55
According to Merleau-Ponty, the basic criticism that phenomenol-
ogy directs at the life sciences and the sciences of the psyche is the
following: both empiricist and intellectualist theories, both realist and
idealist approaches presuppose objective thought (pensée “objective”),
a mode of thinking that is governed by the ideals of an unambiguous
and static world. This is problematic, as it neglects the relationship be-
tween the perceiving and the perceived, which is essentially ambiguous
51 Husserl CM.
52 Saint Aubert shows that the references to Heidegger grew from 1958 onwards.
(Aubert 2006, 160.)
53 Dastur, 2001, 8. | To define Merleau-Ponty’s influences and position is of course
not indisputable. Barbaras, for instance, writes how towards the end of his career
in the Nature lectures as well as in The Visible and the Invisible Merleau-Ponty
approaches Bergson. According to Barbaras, in the chapter “Interrogation and
Intuition” Merleau-Ponty defines the authentic sense of philosophical interrogation
as a form of confrontation between Husserl and Bergson. (Barbaras 1998, 34.)
Barbaras has also shown how in Bergson’s critique of nothingness the beginnings
of phenomenological reduction can be found. (Barbaras 2006, 74.)
54 He studied in L’École normale supériure, and belonged to the same generation
as Raymond Aron, Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Hyppolite, Jean-Paul Sartre, among

others.
55 This criticism starts to take its form already in La Structure du comportement
(SC, v–viii).
and unstable, or else it subjects this relationship to the models of cog-

nition or volition with their clear-cut structures. All objective thought
is based on a pre-established notion of the world. And yet, “The world
is there before any possible analysis of mine [...]”.56 The task is to take
this fundamental situation into consideration in all accounts of human
life: “The real has to be described, not constructed or formed.”57 Thus,
the primacy is in the lived experience of the world. And since the world
is given to us originally via perception, it is the task of the phenomenol-
ogist to investigate the constitution of the perceptual world. Through
the phenomenological methods, one is able to focus on perception, and
investigate the constitution of the sense of the world. This approach
can be characterised as a “return” to the lived experience. And since
all perception involves functioning sense organs, the phenomenology
of perception is also by necessity a phenomenology of the body.
The central task of Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception
is the description of the perceptual world and our bodily being in this
world. Our bodies are our means of being in the world; they allow
us to have space and spatial objects. The lived body, and the way of
its being, unites sense and sensibility. Merleau-Ponty characterises our
experience of our own bodies (corps propre), and explains that there
is a certain style that unites tactility and visuality, e.g. our tactile
sensations in our hand and our visual perception of the same hand.
Here we find an analogy between the body and an artwork:
The body is to be compared, not to a physical object, but rather

to a work of art. In a picture or a piece of music the idea is
incommunicable by means other than the display of colours and
sounds. Any analysis of Cézanne’s work, if I have not seen his pic-
tures, leaves me with a choice between several possible Cézannes,
and it is the sight of the pictures which provides me with the only
existing Cézanne, and therein the analyses find their full mean-
ing.58
56 PP,
x. “Le monde est là avant toute analyse que je puisse en faire [...]” PP, iv.
57 PP,
xi. “Le réel est à décrire, et non pas à construire ou à constituer” PP, iv.
58 PP, 174. “Ce n’est pas à l’objet physique que le corps peut être comparé, mais
plutôt à l’œuvre d’art. Dans un tableau ou dans un morceau de musique, l’idée ne

peut pas se communiquer autrement que par le déploiement des couleurs et des
sons. L’analyse de l’œuvre de Cézanne, si je n’ai pas vu ses tableaux, me laisse le
choix entre plusieurs Cézanne possibles, et c’est la perception des tableaux qui me
donne le seul Cézanne existant, c’est en elle que les analyses prennent leur sens
plein.” PP, 176.
We must ask what Merleau-Ponty seeks when he compares the

human body to a work of art. The concept of style links these two
realms of experiencing. A style of combining elements is involved in
the connection between sensations and perceptions; it is manifested
in the gestures of the hands, and it gives a certain general trait or
character to the whole body. This totality, like the totality of a work
of art, can be explained and analysed in distinct parts, but our original
access to the artwork, as well as our access to our own bodies and the
bodies of others, is perceptual. This means that in art nothing can be
communicated without material elements, certain colours, textures,
or sounds.59 None of these parts is expendable.60 In a similar way,
speech signifies not only through grammatical forms but also through
various material elements such as tone, gestures, and accent — and
in a similar way as with bodily gestures the meaning of speech is not
separable from the material means in which it is expressed.61 Tone and
59 “Literature, music, the passions, but also the experience of the visible world
are — no less than is the science of Lavoisier and Ampère — the explorations of
an invisible and the disclosure of a universe of ideas. The difference is simply that
this invisible, these ideas, unlike those of that science, cannot be detached from
the sensible appearances and be erected into a second positivity.” (VI, 149.) “La
littérature, la musique, les passions, mais aussi l’expérience du monde visible, sont
non moins que la science de Lavoisier et d’Ampère l’exploration d’un invisible et,
aussi bien qu’elle, dévoilement d’un univers d’idées. Simplement, cet invisible-là,
ces idées-là, ne se laissent pas comme les leurs détacher des apparences sensibles,
et ériger en seconde positivité.” (VI, 193–94.)
60 Dastur 2001, 42. | The theme of totality is especially in focus in Merleau-
Ponty’s Nature lectures, where he examines, among other things, anatomist G. E.

Coghill’s (1872–1941) critique of the animal machine (Vallier 2001, 195). In his
reading Merleau-Ponty discusses an understanding of totality — which for him
is a central question in philosophy from The Structure of Behavior onwards. As
Robert Vallier writes: “The question then is to understand how the parts relate to
the totality to the parts, and what status to give this totality” (Vallier 2001, 196).
Merleau-Ponty’s examination of totality goes beyond the themes of biology and
behaviourism and also touches upon the question of artistic creation. He writes on
Matisse’s painting process and the coming into being of a painting: “Threads are
tied up, which come from everywhere, and which constitute independent forms,
and at the same time, he finds that these threads realize something which has a
unity. With the first sign, a halo of the possible appears, which was not contained
in the first sign and which was unforeseeable from it.” (N, 154). “Des fils se nouent,
qui proviennent de partout, et qui constituent des formes indépendantes, et en
même temps il se trouve que ces fils réalisent quelque chose qui a de l’unité. Avec
le premier signe apparaît un halo de possibles qui n’étaient pas contenus dans le
premier signe, et qui étaient imprévisibles en partant de lui.” (N, 205.) Similarly,
in The Visible and the Invisible he writes concerning the bond between the flesh
and the idea, referring to Marcel Proust, how musical and literary ideas cannot be
detached from their sensible appearances. (VI, 194/149)
61 The discussion on expression is related to his conception of language. Merleau-
gestures reveal the source of the thoughts and also the fundamental
means of being.62
The analogy between the human body and the work of art leads us
to study more closely what Merleau-Ponty’s conception of an artwork
is. By comparing the human body and the work of art, Merleau-Ponty
draws attention to a certain type of indivisibility and dependence. The
material aspects of a poem cannot be extracted from its meaning, they
are interdependent in a similar manner as the body and its style of
comportment and intending, both form indivisible wholes. Thus, what
distinguishes both artworks and lived bodies from thingly objects is
the relation of mutual dependency between the expression and the ex-
pressed that characterises both: the sense cannot be separated from
the expressive means that takes place in space and time.63 By the com-
parison between the lived body and the artwork, Merleau-Ponty does
not mean that they would be completely identical in their structures,
but he argues that both have the character of indivisible wholes. So at
stake is the understanding of the holistic nature of artworks.
The question of style is connected to a discussion of artistic style
and expression. Merleau-Ponty’s conception of style can be seen as a
comment on André Malraux and his The Voices of Silence (Les voix du
silence, 1951), a book that presents the history of art through original
masterpieces and where style plays a distinct role.64 For Merleau-Ponty
style is not something only certain people have privilege to; on the
contrary, it is an indistinguishable part of our being:
[...] what is given to him [the painter] with his style is not a
manner, a certain number of procedures or tics that he can in-
ventory, but a mode of formulation that is just as recognizable
for others and just as little visible to him as his silhouette or his
everyday gestures.65
Ponty developed a philosophy of language in his early works, and especially the
question of expression haunted him in the Phenomenology of Perception. His early
interest in speech was influenced by Husserl. Later, especially in the 1950s, when
he was interested in Ferdinand de Saussure’s structuralism. His reading of Saussure
was not particularly faithful, he for instance chose to focus on parole instead of
langue, which for Saussure was not the object of linguistic. For a detailed reading
of the structuralist influence, see Edie 1987.
62 PP, 176/174.
63 PP, 177/175.
64 Malraux 1953. | According to Merleau-Ponty, Malraux only looks at style
from the outside, observing its consequences, but not really getting inside it into
its functioning. (LV 86/90.)
65 LV, 90. “[...] ce qui lui est donné avec son style, ce n’est pas une manière,
Style connects the artist and the world: his perception of the world
is marked by his style, it is not something that could be extracted or
abstracted from his particular way of relating to the world: “We must
see it [style] developing in the hollows of the painter’s perception as a
painter; style is an exigency that has issued from that perception.”66
Merleau-Ponty developed his conception of art by discussing visual
arts in more detail and by introducing the problems of literary expres-
sion. His early discussion on the analogy between human bodies and
works of art contains an important and permanent idea that he never
abandoned: he conceives all works of art as manifold forms of sensibility
and materiality informed by sense or meaning. These two, sensibility
and signification, cannot be separated — there is no signification that
could be extracted and presented in the sphere of ideas; and on the
other hand no material element of perception is without sense. This
argument pervades through his whole general project. From the early
publications to the last unfinished texts, there is a strong current that
ends in The Visible and Invisible. What is at stake is Merleau-Ponty’s
need for a philosophy that would avoid dichotomies, and that could,
for instance, describe perception without the traditional categories,
such as spirit and nature; subject and object. Towards the end of his
career, he coined the concepts of flesh (chair) and chiasm (le chiasme),
that made up the core of Merleau-Ponty’s radicalised criticism of the
conceptual limitations set by tradition. As a term, “flesh” comes from
Husserl’s discussion of embodiment, but Merleau-Ponty’s interpreta-
tion of the lived body (Leib, corps vivant, corps vécu) as a worldly
structure and process is developed further than Husserl’s.67 The con-
cept of flesh was designed to express the new ontology in which subject
and object would not be separate but dependent, and where the visible
and invisible could intertwine. As explained in the introduction, flesh
was to be understood as an element, in the Ancient sense. It is the
texture of the real.68 It could also be understood as a principle. I will
come back to the question of flesh later on.
un certain nombre de procédés ou de tics dont il puisse faire l’inventaire, c’est un

mode de formulation aussi reconnaissable pour les autres, aussi peu visible pour
lui que sa silhouette ou ses gestes de tous les jours.” LV, 86.
66 LV, 91. “Il faut le voir apparaître au creux de la perception du peintre comme
peintre : c’est une exigence issue d’elle” LV, 87.

67 As I proposed earlier, flesh was originally a Husserlian notion. However, as
Emmanuel de Saint Aubert points out, in Merleau-Ponty, the first uses of the word
“flesh” are not in connection with Husserl, but appeared in a dialogue with Sartre.
(Saint Aubert 2004, 147–205.)
68 Œ, 24/126.
2.2 The Question of Reduction

At this point, it is necessary to clarify the method of the phenomeno-
logical reduction. The problematic of reduction puts at stake the very
sense of phenomenology, as many commentators have remarked, among
them Renaud Barbaras.69 Reduction is a complex concept which is in-
dispensable for phenomenology. To better understand Merleau-Ponty’s
reflections on embodiment, perception, and the arts, it is crucial to look
deeper into the tradition of phenomenology, and especially to study
Husserl’s philosophical methods.
For Husserl, the task of philosophy was to illuminate the founda-
tions of all sciences and by implication its own foundations in lived ex-
perience. At that time in the early 20th century, many contemporaries
shared a similar project, wishing to find a foundation for philosophy
as well as a solid method for human sciences which was distinct from
the ones used in the natural sciences. The question of reduction is es-
sential to the whole understanding of phenomenology. With respect
to the philosophical problems of art, it offers a unique perspective for
an understanding of what can happen, at best, when we approach
artworks.
Discourse on the perception of a work of art, or the encounter with
an artwork, requires a concept of perception which differs from those
developed for the purposes of scientific observation and practical deal-
ings with objects. According to certain interpretations, Merleau-Ponty
suggests that artworks perform reductions themselves: they disclose
the perceptual world prior to all theoretical formation and practical
structuration.70 Also, another interpretation, on the basis of Merleau-
Ponty’s analyses, would be to argue that rather than performing the
phenomenological reduction, artworks can provide a motivation for
such operations.
From the phenomenological standpoint, our everyday life is char-
acterised by the natural attitude which takes the world as a non-
problematic field of our actions. In doing our daily chores we do not
question our surroundings or their presence. It is an attitude in which
our consciousness is directed towards the world and its things and
events as they are. In short, the existence of the world is taken for
granted. The natural attitude gives us the world in a certain way, and
it is also the attitude in which the special sciences operate. However,
69 Barbaras
1995, 24.
70 For
instance, Escoubas suggests that cubism is a pictorial épochè. (Escoubas
1995, 127–28.)
2.2. THE QUESTION OF REDUCTION 29
for phenomenology, abandoning the natural attitude is an obligatory

step: a philosopher cannot simply take the world for granted since
his tasks include the clarification of the many senses of being that
worldly objects may have: natural beings, artificial beings, human be-
ings, animal beings, cultural beings, historical beings, physical beings,
biological beings, etc.
In order to move away from the natural attitude one needs to per-
form the phenomenological reduction. For Husserl, phenomenology, or
philosophy more generally, cannot start without this step. The reduc-
tion is needed because phenomenologists must become aware of the
structures that make the world and its many beings self-evident for
us: it is the basis for all sciences, and gaining consciousness of it is not
possible within the natural attitude.
Even though reduction is regarded as a necessary method, it is also
one of the most difficult topics of phenomenology. First, contempo-
rary phenomenologists hold different views of it and also give different
interpretations of Husserl’s characterisations of his methods and his
aims. Husserl reminded us that phenomenology demands continuous
work, and that his texts did not aim to create any stable theoretical
systems.71 Husserl himself paralleled the phenomenological change in
attitude that reduction makes possible to Descartes’ extreme philo-
sophical doubt: it too is universal and searches for undoubted ground.
Yet from Husserl’s standpoint Descartes was not radical enough be-
cause he did not question his own conception of science that was based
on mathematical and geometric models, and because he confused the
meditating or reflective subject that takes the crucial philosophical
step to a thinking thing (res cogitans).72
So the phenomenological reduction reminds us of the state of doubt
in certain respects, but not in all. Husserl makes this clear already in
his first transcendental work Ideas Pertaining to a Pure Phenomenol-
ogy and to a Phenomenological Philosophy73 by explaining that instead
of doubting one “suspends” belief as well as its contrary, disbelief.
One puts belief, so to speak, out of action, or interrupts it, and one
“brackets” the object which was accepted or posited by the belief. As
such, the reduction is not a statement but an act of suspension. The
questioning of everything is a state of epochē, suspension of judge-
71 Husserl 1930, 23; see also PP, viii–ix/xv; PO, 262/161.

72 Husserl C, § 18; Heinämaa 1996, 19–21, 26.
73 Ideen zu einer reinen Phänomenologie und phänomenologischen Philosophie,
I (1919, I).
ment, where one withholds all beliefs in existence and non-existence.74

So for Husserl, the phenomenological method is a way of acting that
leads to the right kinds of questions which are proper to philosophy.
Phenomenological inquiries begin with a reduction, but at the same
time the reduction is something that cannot be planned ahead or man-
aged.75 In the reduction one is to bracket all beliefs of the reality or
unreality of objects. Thus it makes possible the reflective movement
which distances us from all forms of objective thinking and all posit-
ing of a fixed, ready-made world. In describing the epochē of objective
science, Husserl emphasises that the purpose is not to make things
disappear:
Within this epochē, however, neither the sciences nor the sci-
entists have disappeared for us who practice the epochē. They
continue to be what they were before, in any case: facts in the
unified context of the pregiven life-world; except that, because
of the epochē, we do not function as sharing these interests, as
coworkers, etc.76
For Husserl, a reduction included a transcendental move, where

phenomenology becomes the science of pure consciousness. Indeed,
it is possible to see different phases in Husserl’s oeuvre, but nev-
ertheless many commentators underline that his texts are to be re-
garded as a continuum rather than forming various different strands.77
For instance, towards the end of his life, the concept of life-world
(Lebenswelt) became central for Husserl.78 In The Crisis of European
Sciences and Transcendental Philosophy 79 (1937) Husserl approached
what he understood to be the crisis of European science.80 From
74 Husserl
I, § 31–32.
75 Himanka 2000, 126–43.
76 Husserl C, § 35, 136.
77 Mohanty 1964; Føllesdal 1990; Bernet 1998. | As already mentioned, the aim
of my text is not to make definitive statement concerning Husserl’s different phases.

78 Lebenswelt appeared before Krisis. For instance, in Ideen I he used the term
Erfahrungswelt, the world of experience, referring to the ordinary natural concept

of the world (Moran 2000, 181). In Ideen II he developed a concept of environment
(Umwelt) (Husserl I II § 50). Husserl sketched Lebenswelt and its structure in his
notes from 1930 onwards (Husserl Hua XV, 141–47).
79 Die Krisis der europäischen Wissenschaften und die transzendentale Philo-
sophie. The first two parts were published in 1937, but the book itself was left
unfinished and the third part was published posthumously. (Carr 1970, xvii–xix.)
80 The theme of crisis was a topical theme which was recurrent in the early 20th
century.
Husserl’s point of view, natural sciences have set an ideal of exactness

that also dominates human sciences. This criticism has its background
already in Ideas I, where Husserl writes about the difference between
phenomenological and mathematical sciences, and how their methods
must be different. The object of phenomenological research, the sphere
of consciousness, is not exact. From his point of view it is a misun-
derstanding that the ideal of the exactness of natural sciences is to be
adopted for all sciences.81
In Crisis Husserl writes that the demand of positivistic sciences for
exactness has led human sciences to avoid everything subjective, such
as questions of values and meanings. Husserl states that the crisis of
European sciences derives from the problematic situation where sci-
ence has been unable to recognise its connectedness to the life-world
(Lebenswelt). Science does not understand that its own objectivity has
a subjective basis, and how the domain of the subjective — conscious-
ness — is not exact. As a solution, Husserl sketches a reduction to the
life-world.82
Phenomenology discusses how the exact natural sciences are based
on the life-world. Simultaneously, it examines how the structures of
the life-world are formed in the transcendental consciousness. Thus,
Husserl’s reduction does not cease with the life-world, which now ap-
pears to be more like an intermediate phase in Husserl’s thinking;
the epochē of the objective sciences is the first step of the transcen-
dental epochē.83 However, Merleau-Ponty appears to have considered
Husserl’s life-world to be a turning away from transcendental ideal-
ism.84 Indeed, Husserl’s reduction to the life-world includes bracket-
ing the sciences and returning to the lived world, as its objects and
beings are primary in relation to the descriptions of science.85 Yet,
within Husserl’s production, the life-world does not seem to eliminate
or abandon transcendental idealism. Indeed, in other readings the life-
world and the pre-theoretical experience are tightly connected to the
transcendental reduction. In § 39 titled “The peculiar character of the
transcendental epochē as a total change of the natural attitude of life”
he writes:
Now, how can the pregivenness of the life-world become a uni-

81 Husserl I, § 70–75.
82 Husserl C, § 1–3.
83 Husserl C, § 35.
84 Moran 2000, 181.
85 Husserl C, § 36.
versal subject of investigation in its own right? [...] The life which
effects world-validity in natural world-life does not permit of be-
ing studied from within the attitude of natural world-life. What
is required, then, is a total transformation of attitude, a com-
pletely unique, universal epochē.86
The final or ultimate reduction would now appear to be not the

reduction to the life-world but the transcendental reduction that leads
to the absolute source of all being, i.e. the ego, and this move was not
accepted by Merleau-Ponty. Thus the relationship of Merleau-Ponty
to Husserl’s thinking is complicated for fundamental methodological
reasons.87 On the one hand, Merleau-Ponty takes a great deal from
Husserl’s methods, but on the other hand it seems that he does not
follow Husserl to the last steps which lead to the purported ultimate
anomalous sources of the life-world. Under discussion are the possibil-
ity of ultimate and total reduction and what the relation of the natural
and the transcendental attitude is.88
One solution is presented in the reading of Barbaras. He has fo-
cused on Husserl’s use of concepts: to describe the transcendental level
Husserl uses words and concepts derived from life. In Barbaras’ opinion
this means that life has not been reduced in phenomenological epochē,
and that it manages to escape the duality established by transcen-
dental phenomenology. There would, therefore, be dimensions of life
that overlap the transcendental level. Barbaras states, that “Merleau-
Ponty’s purpose is to develop a phenomenology that takes into account
the irreducibility of the life-world.”89
86 Husserl
C, § 39.
87 TedToadvine writes how Merleau-Ponty’s texts on Husserl can be divided
into three rough categories. The first is represented in Merleau-Ponty’s early phase
in the work prior to 1949, the second section appears simultaneously with Merleau-
Ponty’s teaching in the Sorbonne, from 1949 to 1952, and the last group of materials
is formed by the writings made in the Collège de France, from 1953 onwards. The
difficulties in interpreting the relationship become harder as Merleau-Ponty’s career
develops, as the number of references increases yet are often implicit. (Toadvine
2002, 227–28.)
88 PP, v/xii. | There are commentators, like Martin Dillon, who have claimed
that the later Merleau-Ponty disconnected himself from Husserlian tradition (Dil-
lon 1988). Yet, as other commentators, like Heinämaa have suggested, this does
not necessarily mean abandoning Husserl’s method (Heinämaa 2002, 127). In-
deed, there are many interpretations that point out similarities and comment that
Merleau-Ponty is merely continuing Husserl’s line of thought in order to take it
further and complete it, as argued by, for instance, Barbaras (Barbaras 2005, 208).
89 Barbaras 2005, 207–208.
I will not take a stand here on the questions whether Merleau-

Ponty accepted all of Husserl’s steps, and what alternative means he
developed for the ones he did not accept. This is a deep and extensive
methodological problem, and it is not necessary to solve it for the
purposes of the thesis. Concerning the aim to illuminate and critically
discuss Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy of art it is enough to establish that
he accepted Husserl’s reduction of the objective sciences, the reduction
that leads to the life-world and to perceptual and practical experiences
and their affective and practical objects. The problem concerning the
ultimate reductive step that Husserl outlined in Crisis, the one that is
supposed to lead away from the life-world, does not need to be solved
for the research tasks at hand.
In his introduction to Phenomenology of Perception, Merleau-Ponty
writes how “The most important lesson which the reduction teaches
us is the impossibility of a complete reduction.”90 This does not mean
a total rejection of the phenomenological reduction, but underlines
Merleau-Ponty’s suspicion of a complete, total and ultimate reduction.
The importance of reduction in the early Merleau-Ponty is highlighted
in his conception of artistic endeavour. Indeed, as Galen A. Johnson
stresses, Husserlian reduction gave Merleau-Ponty a fruitful starting-
point and a model for studying Paul Cézanne’s artistic methods and
the description of his creative work. It is as if Merleau-Ponty found a
counterpart for the questions developed in Phenomenology of Percep-
tion in “Cézanne’s Doubt”, where he sketches a reading of the artist’s
work so that Cézanne offers a paradigm of epochē.91
Of course, the comparison between the visual arts and phenomeno-
logical investigations is not made by Merleau-Ponty alone. Escoubas
points out that in a letter to Hugo von Hofmannsthal Husserl himself
discusses the proximity of phenomenology and pure aesthetics. Follow-
ing Husserl, Escoubas suggests that the epochē could be seen as the
driving force in all painting, and points to Cubism as initiating the
pictorial epochē.92 Escoubas further interprets Heidegger’s attempt to
90 PP, xv. “Le plus grand enseignement de la réduction est l’impossibilité d’une
réduction complète” PP, viii.
91 Johnson 1993, 9. | Johnson has also underlined how Merleau-Ponty describes
Cézanne being haunted by moments of doubt: Cézanne doubted his talents, his
eyes, other people, and the critics doubted him. Merleau-Ponty too had his own
doubts, and this is partly what made Cézanne such an attractive artist to him.
(Johnson 2010, 16.) Here, I would like to point out, following Escoubas, that the
status and thinking on the visual arts changed quite radically from the period of
“Cézanne’s Doubt” to the last years of “Eye and Mind”. (Escoubas 2008, 43.)
92 Escoubas 1986, 97.
perform the phenomenological epochē in order to capture the origin of

the work of art. Although there are important similarities between the
attitude of the artist and that of the phenomenologist, as well as simi-
larities in their working methods and aspiration, there are differences:
the bracketing of the natural attitude is a general method, not linked
to any specific forms of expressions or style; the attitude of the artist,
on the other hand, is bound to his or her personal ways of working
and handling experiential material.
2.3 Expression and Spectatorship in Merleau-Ponty

Early on Merleau-Ponty argued that the attitude of the philosopher
and that of the artist are very similar: both study the world and its
appearances, without the mediation of pre-established categories. This
view is especially developed in the early essay “Cézanne’s Doubt”.
Merleau-Ponty’s focus is on the philosophical problems of visual per-
ception, and thus the alliance with the visual arts is crucial, even
necessary. The task of inquiries into the visual is to open up reflec-
tive access to the sphere of original perception in ways that traditional
philosophy and the positive sciences cannot accomplish.93 As has been
pointed out, the topical emphasis of Merleau-Ponty’s thinking changed
throughout his career, but the emphasis on perception pervaded till
the last stages of his philosophical work. In The Visible and the In-
visible, he introduced and developed the concept of perceptual faith
(foi perceptive) — a concept through which Merleau-Ponty wished to
explicate the insight that we exist and live originally in the world that
is given through perception and that all perception includes a doxic
element, a proto-belief, which is a type of faith or trust in the sup-
porting proximity of the world. Moreover, this belief in the world is
a universal presupposition that the sciences take for granted.94 The
visual arts, especially painting, play a central role in this argument.95
93 The arts are not only limited to the visual, for literature also holds an im-
portant position. Mauro Carbone points out that in the working notes of The
Visible and the Invisible Merleau-Ponty suggests the proximity of literature and
philosophy. (Carbone 2004, 39.)
94 Indeed perceptual faith cannot be understood through the traditional concepts
of object, subject, knowledge — it is a faith in which the belief and incredulity

intertwine. (VI, 47/28.)
95 Other arts, such as literature, were important to Merleau-Ponty. Even though
in the question of perception the visual arts hold a particular position in his think-
ing, this should not be overemphasised. Indeed, the early texts concerning the arts
were inspired by the contemporary discussions on literature, and in the working
2.3. EXPRESSION AND SPECTATORSHIP 35
Its main themes include those of perception, expression, passivity, oth-

erness, and flesh (chair), which are all interdependent. I will, however,
introduce and explicate these themes separately for the sake of clarity
of exposition.
Perception and Expression

Perception is governed both by passivity and by the structures of ex-
pression. Thus it is not possible to pinpoint or determine where per-
ception ends and expression starts; all perception is expressive and all
forms of expression depend on perceptual sediments. So for Merleau-
Ponty, expressivity is a fundamental feature of perception. However,
Merleau-Ponty distinguishes between different levels of expressivity:
artistic expression and personal expression in general require certain
forms of volitional and reflexive activity, i.e. more activity than mere
perception does. However, personal expression and explicit volitional
acts of expression are dependent on the very same passivity which gov-
erns perception, namely anonymity which provides the pre-personal
ground for all expressive acts. So it is crucial to understand that all
perception and all expression involves activity and passivity.
Merleau-Ponty even states that instead of saying “I perceive,” one
should say “One perceives in me” — all perception carries a level of
anonymity.96 Moreover, since we cannot perceive without our bodies or
without our bodily being in the world, perception already connects us
to the world and to worldly others, and both belong to the flesh, to use
the terminology of The Visible and the Invisible. By the term “flesh”
Merleau-Ponty describes our being in the world, the intertwining of
the perceptive body and the perceptual world.
Thus, expression and perception are mutually implicatory, and
vision as well as artistic expression are connected to passivity and
anonymity.97 This close-knit web of concepts is explicated in “Eye and
Mind”, where Merleau-Ponty elaborates his conception of the artist’s
work in a direction where the focus is no longer so much on the soli-
notes of The Visible and Invisible Merleau-Ponty’s affinity with literature is still
present. However, the point of my treatise is not to analyse the hierarchy of dif-
ferent arts in the oeuvre of Merleau-Ponty, but to show how a general attitude
towards the arts can open philosophy up to new dimensions.
96 PP, 249/250.
97 The concept of passivity is central to Husserl’s thinking. As a philosophical
term, it originates from Aristotle, who took passivity as another half of the hier-
archical dichotomy with activity. For more, see Victor Biceaga, The Concept of
Passivity in Husserl’s Phenomenology (2010).
tary artist subject, but on the whole perceptual processes in which the
reversal of roles of the seer and the seen is enabled. He characterises
seeing by saying that it is the ability to be away from oneself.98 I will
study the connection of perception and passivity in more detail when
interpreting Merleau-Ponty’s discourse on “seeing with”, which is the
topic of both the next chapter and chapter 7.
The link between arts and expression is examined in Phenomenol-
ogy of Perception, where Merleau-Ponty writes: “Aesthetic expression
confers on what it expresses an existence in itself, installs it in nature as
a thing perceived and accessible to all [...]”.99 The link between seeing
and the visual arts is best described in the essay “Cézanne’s Doubt”,
where Merleau-Ponty draws primarily from his experience of the work
of Cézanne, but he also discusses other artists, such as Leonardo da
Vinci.100 Cézanne’s art was crucial for Merleau-Ponty throughout his
career, and the examples on the working methods of Cézanne are al-
ready present in the Phenomenology of Perception.101 Johnson ex-
plains his interest by reference to the sensible aspects of Cézanne’s
work and his Impressionist and pre-Cubist approach: “Merleau-Ponty
was clearly interested in Cézanne as a colorist and, above all, for
presenting us with a paradigm for pre-scientific perceptual experi-
ence of the natural world.”102 Johnson argues that Cézanne fascinated
Merleau-Ponty because he seemed to embody the whole attitude of
phenomenology: the aim was to disclose the pre-discursive and pre-
practical structures of perceptual experience.
Merleau-Ponty’s essay studies Cézanne’s approach to the pre-
theoretical and pre-practical structures of perception, but it also brings
forth a certain controversy or an unresolved question concerning the re-
lation between nature and culture. A comparison between the philoso-
pher’s and the painter’s work draws from the idea that they are both
aiming at epochē.103
98 Œ,83/146.
99 PP,212. “L’expression esthétique confère à ce qu’elle exprime l’existence en
soi, l’installe dans la nature comme une chose perçue accessible à tous [...]” PP,
213.
100 The essay is a contribution to several discussions of the time concerning the
questions of the artist’s freedom as well as explaining art through, for instance,
psychoanalysis. Already de Waelhens pointed to Heidegger and his statement that
questions on art are not to be solved by turning to the artist’s psychology or to
the history of art. (Waelhens 1951, 366.)
101 See for example PP, 230/230, 303/305
102 Johnson 1993, 7.
103 Evans & Behnke & Casey 1997, 18–19. See also for instance Crary 1999, 341. |
Cézanne wanted to paint this primordial world, and his pictures

therefore seem to show nature pure, while photographs of the
same landscapes suggest man’s works, conveniences, and immi-
nent presence. Cézanne never wished to “paint like a savage”.
He wanted to put intelligence, ideas, sciences, perspective, and
tradition back in touch with the world of nature which they were
intended to comprehend. He wished, as he said, to confront the
sciences with the nature “from which they came”.104
To summarise, Cézanne interested Merleau-Ponty because he aimed

at expressing the “lived perspective” and suspended all pre-established
models of perception. By studying his works it was possible to outline
an alternative to the Cartesian approach to the world which privi-
leges fixed categories of thinking over the dynamic structures of lived
perception. Yet commentators do not agree on the question whether
Merleau-Ponty’s early reading of Cézanne involves the idea of “brute
vision”, the certain turning back to the wild vision and original per-
ception. I will come back to this particular interpretative controversy
in the following chapter. However, I would like to suggest already here
a direction for solving the issue. It seems crucial to me that Merleau-
Ponty states how Cézanne never wanted to “paint like a savage”. This
suggests that Merleau-Ponty conceived of Cézanne’s working methods
as instituting and accomplishing a dialogue between the realm of per-
ceptual nature and the world of culture. So there was no simple return
to the anonymous, the savage, or the brute but an investigation of the
relations between the pre-objective (pre-theoretical and pre-practical)
dynamism of perception and the cultural forms of theoretical thinking
and practical action. Further, it must be stressed that Merleau-Ponty’s
discourse on Cézanne should not be taken as normative or as presum-
ing that all artists should follow his path.105
Galen A. Johnson has referred to stronger (Leonard Lawlor, Bernhard Waldenfels)

and weaker (M. C. Dillon) interpretations of the original past and its possible
presence in perception. (Johnson 2010, 182–83.)
104 DC, 64. “Cézanne a voulu peindre, et voilà pourquoi ses tableaux donnent
l’impression de la nature à son origine, tandis que les photographies des mêmes pay-
sages suggèrent les travaux des hommes, leur commodités, leur présence imminente.
Cézanne n’a jamais voulu ‘peindre comme une brute’, mais remettre l’intelligence,
les idées, les sciences, la perspective, la tradition, au contact du monde naturel
qu’elles sont destinées à comprendre, confronter avec la nature, comme il le dit, les
sciences ‘qui sont sorties d’elle’.” DC, 18–19.
105 This problematic was already acknowledged by Waelhens, who wrote that the
only flaw of Merleau-Ponty’s essay is that it makes it difficult for the reader to
Expressive
To understand Merleau-Ponty’s conception of expression, one needs
to conceive expression in a much larger sense than in the traditional
meaning of the word: it is not limited to clear and distinct thought
in the sphere of language, such as the sense of an utterance, or to an
expressive gesture within the arts, as for instance, in abstract expres-
sionism or action painting.106 Further, it must also by stressed that
Merleau-Ponty’s conception of expression did not remain the same: he
developed it at length already in the Phenomenology of Perception and
he returned to it several times, especially in his mid-career. In the last
phase of his work, expression came close to an ontological category.
Merleau-Ponty was interested in expression in general but also in
the specific question of the functions of language in lived speech. In
Phenomenology of Perception he writes:
It has always been observed that speech or gesture transfigure

the body, but no more was said on the subject than that they
develop or disclose another power, that of thought or soul. The
fact was overlooked that, in order to express it, the body must in
the last analysis become the thought or intention that it signifies
for us.107
He also thematised a special stage in the experience of speaking: the

birth of speech, its origin and sources. He made a distinction between
the speaking word (parole parlante) and the spoken word (parole par-
lée), which he then developed in the later essay “Indirect Language and
the Voices of Silence”.108 By this distinction, Merleau-Ponty empha-
sised the experiential fact that language always includes and provides
the possibility of exceeding the conventional system of language, of
creating new meanings and original ways of using language. Such cre-
understand how it is possible to paint otherwise than Cézanne: “Or cette interpré-
tation n’a, selon nous, qu’un tort : elle rend difficile de comprendre qu’on puisse
peindre autrement que Cézanne. Essayons de surmonter ces difficultés.” (Waelhens
1951, 366.)
106 Slatman 2003, 197; VI, 221/170.
107 PP, 229–30. “On a toujours remarqué que le geste ou la parole transfiguraient
le corps, mais on ne se contentait de dire qu’ils développaient ou manifestaient une

autre puissance, pensée ou âme. On ne voyait pas que, pour pouvoir l’exprimer, le
corps doit en dernière analyse devenir la pensée ou l’intention qu’il nous signifie.”
PP, 230.
108 LV, 72/83.
ative usages of language are encountered especially in literature and

poetry. Merleau-Ponty explains:109
The former [...] is the one in which the significant intention is at

the stage of coming into being. Here existence is polarized into
a certain “significance” which cannot be defined in terms of any
natural object. It is somewhere at a point beyond being that it
aims to catch up with itself again, and that is why it creates
speech as an empirical support for its own not-being. [...] But
the act of expression constitutes a linguistic world and a cultural
world, and allows that to fall back into being which was striving
to outstrip it. Hence the spoken word, which enjoys available
significances as one might enjoy an acquired fortune. From these
gains other acts of authentic expression — the writer’s, artist’s
or philosopher’s — are made possible.110
The theme of expression is central both to Merleau-Ponty’s anal-

yses and interpretations of the visual arts and to his discussions of
literature and poetry, even though the media and materials of oper-
ation differ. Linguistic expression is holistic in the very same way as
painting, and it is not limited to word-senses. The basis of speech is
connected with silence, which is not a structureless nothingness but
bears its own forms. The first uttered meaning is based on the prin-
ciple of communication between the human body and what differs
from it, the other. The work of the artist and that of the author is
also based on this very same ground and principle: the silence which
lingers before the expressive act and is broken by this act. The author
109 In one of the preceding footnotes Merleau-Ponty makes this distinction: “There
is, of course every reason to distinguish between an authentic speech, which formu-
lates for the first time, and second-order expression, speech about speech, which
makes up the general run of empirical language. Only the first is identical with
thought.” (PP, 207 n.2.) “Il y a lieu, bien entendu, de distinguer une parole au-
thentique, qui formule pour la première fois, et une expression seconde, une parole
sur des paroles, qui fait l’ordinaire du langage empirique. Seule la première est
identique à la pensée.” (PP, 207 n.2; see also LV, 72/83.)
110 PP, 229. “La première [parole parlante] est celle dans laquelle l’intention si-
gnificative se trouve à l’état naissant. Ici l’existence se polarise dans un certain

‘sens’ qui ne peut être défini par aucun objet naturel, c’est au-delà de l’être qu’elle
cherche à se rejoindre et c’est pourquoi elle crée la parole comme appui empirique
de son propre non-être. [...] Mais l’acte d’expression constitue un monde linguis-
tique et un monde culturel, il fait retomber à l’être ce qui tendait au-delà. De là la
parole parlée qui jouit des significations disponibles comme d’une fortune acquise.
A partir de ces acquisitions, d’autres actes d’expression authentique, — ceux de
l’écrivain, de l’artiste ou du philosophe, — deviennent possibles.” PP, 229.
and painter share the task of expression: both are bound by what is
already expressed and are struggling for a new expression. Both aban-
don ready-made alternatives, even if the ready-made choices are very
different, since these two artists use different media for their expression
and thus work with different materials.
The shared starting-point of the author and the painter is in the
lived human body and its fundamental attitudes to the world. The
common task of artists is to express and create something new: an ex-
pression which addresses and “speaks” to other worldly perceivers. The
expressive resources of language are here understood in the broad sense
so that they include words, but also intonation, rhythm, and stress,
and underneath them silence. These non-intellectual, non-conceptual
and non-discursive resources are shared by linguistic expressions and
bodily gestures. In the fundamental silence which nourishes all artis-
tic expression could, according to Merleau-Ponty, prevail a unifying
“second power in which signs once again lead the vague life of colors,
and in which significations never free themselves completely from the
intercourse of signs?”111 Language is thus not seen as a stable system,
a storehouse, where the author and the poet simply pick up what she
or he wants or needs. Rather it is a dynamic whole which is connected
to the other areas of artistic expressivity by the silence of anonymous
perception. Like visual artists authors can explore language and create
new meanings.
Merleau-Ponty developed his early concept of expression in Phe-
nomenology of Perception as part of his phenomenology of the body,
language, and art. It is to be understood as a concept which describes
the interplay of sense and the sensible.112 At this stage of his philos-
ophy, it was important to Merleau-Ponty to develop a powerful and
valid account of the expressive functions of the lived body, and to show
that speech and bodily gestures share the fundamental structures and
sources of meaningful expression.
By this argument Merleau-Ponty opposed the empiricist conception
of language which reduces language to physiology, and the intellectu-
alistic conception which conceived language as a purely categorical op-
eration. From Merleau-Ponty’s perspective, both these viewpoints fail
to understand and describe the phenomenon of speech as a whole.113
111 LV, 82. “[...] seconde puissance, où de nouveau les signes mènent la vie vague
des couleurs, et où les significations ne se libèrent pas tout à fait du commerce des
signes ?” LV, 73.
112 PP, 230/229–30.
113 See for instance PM, 23/15; Dastur 2001, 53.
To open a new perspective, he parallels speech with gestures and ar-

gues that both contain sense. In order for the listener to understand
what the speaker says, he has to know language; and thus speaking
and understanding are language-specific activities. Thus we should not
assume that speaking is an operation of coding or converting non-
linguistic thoughts into the medium of words and sentences or that
understanding is a reception of such thoughts or representations. The
senses which are shared in communication are not pure spiritual ob-
jects or empty forms, but the materiality of spoken language adds up
to its meanings. Moreover, in communication one encounters another
speaking subject, a certain style of being in the world, and the world
that the other relates to.114 Expression is thus not a solitary thing —
an action of my body independently of any addressed other, but it is
always an intersubjective enterprise. Yet, communication is not about
becoming the same in a sense that the gap between me and other, my
world and his or her world, would disappear.115
Slatman explains that, towards the end of Merleau-Ponty’s career,
his notion of expression came close to the idea of logos: it also in-
cluded the faculties of speech, comprehension, and rationality. Ex-
pression, Slatman writes, was the way through which Being manifested
in and expressed itself in us. Slatman draws attention to the way in
which Merleau-Ponty in his late thinking distinguished between dif-
ferent kinds of sense, internal sense and expressed sense. She traces
this distinction to Plutarch’s concepts of logos endiathetos and logos
prophorikos.116 Merleau-Ponty mentions these concepts in his working
notes for The Visible and Invisible. He comments on the distinction by
saying that the perceptual world does not contain any mode of expres-
sion but yet calls them all forth: “it is the λόγος ἐνδιάθετος which calls
for the λόγος προφορικός — —”.117 Slatman clarifies how Plutarch’s
distinction between inner speech and outer speech helps in capturing
114 “What I communicate with primarily is [...] a speaking subject, with a certain
style of being and with the ‘world’ at which he directs his aim” (PP, 213). “Je
communique d’abord [...] avec un sujet parlant, avec un certain style d’être et avec
le ‘monde’ qu’il vise” (PP, 214).
115 PM 186/134; Dastur 2001, 60.
116 Slatman 2003, 135–37. | “But the statement that there are two kinds of speech,
one residing in the mind, the gift of Hermes the Leader, and the other residing in the
utterance, merely an attendant and instrument, is threadbare; we will let it come
under the heading ‘Yes, this I knew before Theognis’ birth’. But that would not
disturb us, because the aim and end of the speech in the mind and the speech in the
utterance is friendship, towards oneself and towards one’s neighbour respectively”
(Plutarch, Moralia 777c.)
117 VI, 170. “c’est le λόγος ἐνδιάθετος qui appelle le λόγος προφορικός — ” VI,
Merleau-Ponty’s standpoint: How would something from the purely

inner domain, something purely immanent be understood? Does the
inner discourse — logos endiathetos — call for outer expression — lo-
gos prophorikos — that is, the pronounced or the shared discourse? It
seems evident that in order to accomplish this, the inner dialogue has
to have a relationship with the outside world and the logos prophorikos.
Thus, the inner speech would always already be infected by expressed
language, and would not really be inner or independent of the outer.118
Merleau-Ponty characterises this paradox by writing: “There would be
needed a silence that envelops the speech anew, after one has come to
recognize that speech enveloped the alleged silence of the psychological
coincidence.”119
Slatman connects the conception of inner and outer logos with the
idea of the subject. She explains that logos endiathetos is connected
with our inner life, with the life that is not perceptible. For St. Au-
gustine and for Descartes this inner life became the realm of certitude,
and for Kant it was known as the subject. For Merleau-Ponty both
ideas, the concept of autonomous subject and the idea of an isolated
inner life, were part of the modern tradition that had to be challenged.
For him, the “subject” is always already involved with the world and is
impregnated by it. The idea of an inner life must not be rejected com-
pletely, he argues; but it must be understood in a new way, as thinking
by speech, by a particular form of speech, namely parole parlante.120
Spectatorship
As we have seen, Merleau-Ponty’s studies on expression and percep-
tion are closely related and inform one another. Thinking about the
discussion on expression in relation to questions on art, expression ap-
pears to be twofold: on the other hand, there is the experience of the
artist which finds its form in his or her expressions; on the other hand,
there is the experience of the spectator or beholder, and this expe-
rience too is expressive. My interest lies in the artworks and in our
encounters with them.121 From the Merleau-Pontian perspective, it is
222.
118 Slatman 2003, 139.
119 VI, 179. “Il faudrait un silence qui enveloppe la parole de nouveau après
qu’on s’est aperçu que la parole enveloppait le silence prétendu de la coïncidence
psychologique.” VI, 230.
120 Slatman 2003, 137–38, 145.
121 Here it should be noted that there is a passage in Phenomenology of Perception
where Merleau-Ponty writes about the optimum distance for each object, each
possible to argue that all experiences of beholders are expressive. Fun-

damentally intersubjective, expression is not a pre-determined message
about something by somebody; it is not a statement made to some-
body but neither is it a mere material mark carrying a non-material
content. Rather, the sensible is always informed by sense, and con-
versely, sense always manifests itself in the sensible. This idea of their
mutual dependence opens up new possibilities for understanding the
dynamic character of all expression, most importantly the possibility
of including unexpected elements in the theory of expression: some-
thing that was not intended to be expressed or experienced, but simply
took place. For Merleau-Ponty, expression always includes the level of
anonymity, and it is not simply about overcoming this anonymity, but
about opening oneself anew to it.122
As already mentioned, flesh (chair) for Merleau-Ponty is the name
of a principle that works against the tradition of philosophy, from
Descartes to Kant and Hegel. It is a concept with which Merleau-Ponty
tries to fight against the Cartesian separation of mind and body and
against the Kantian separation of internal sense and external sense.
It is also coined to question Hegelian dualities of spirit and matter.
Merleau-Ponty struggled with these dichotomies in his interpretation
of perception and expression and he tried to liberate himself from
them in his early phenomenological account of expressive perception
and sensible expression.
The way Merleau-Ponty conceives of the interdependency of per-
ception and expression, subject and object, has crucial implications
also for our understanding of the role of the spectator. First, the spec-
tator is both active and passive in his experiencing of art; his or her
experience of art is both receptive and expressive, both passive and
active. No perception is without expressive elements, and vice versa.
The introduction of the concept of flesh in the late discussions of
perception and art changes the articulation of the relation between the
spectator and the artwork. As explained above, the concept of flesh
artwork: “The distance from me to the object is not a size which increases or
decreases, but a tension which fluctuates round a norm. An oblique position of the
object in relation to me is not measured by the angle which it forms with the plane
of my face, but felt as a lack of balance, as an unequal distribution of its influences
upon me.” (PP, 352.) “La distance de moi à l’objet n’est pas une grandeur qui
croît ou décroît, mais une tension qui oscille autour d’une norme : l’orientation
oblique de l’objet par rapport à moi n’est pas mesurée par l’angle qu’il forme avec
le plan de mon visage, mais éprouvée comme un déséquilibre, comme une inégale
répartition de ses influences sur moi.” (PP, 349.)
122 Lannoy 2008, 52.
was Merleau-Ponty’s attempt to distance himself from the classical

categories of subject and object. The new analytical concepts of flesh
and the logos of the sensible world, changed the account of the relation
of the painter and the painted, but it also affected the notion of spec-
tatorship. The spectator cannot be understood as a solitary observer
who identifies the work of art by his or her activities of looking — a
notion modelled on the idea of scientific observation and monitoring.
Related to Merleau-Ponty’s understanding of spectatorship as well
as his attempt to question the dichotomies of traditions through new
concepts such as flesh, I will briefly add a short remark concerning
the concept of essence. Merleau-Ponty’s unfinished manuscript The
Visible and the Invisible and especially the chapter “Interrogation and
Intuition” opens up the question what is essence. In the tradition of
philosophy, essence has been paired with fact, or the individual —
the universal and the particular — Merleau-Ponty’s aim was, again,
to overcome the dichotomy and to think of essence outside the usual
bifurcations.123 He proposes in the “Interrogation and Intuition” that if
essence is that without which there would be nothing at all, a necessity,
then, when philosophy finds beneath doubt a prior “knowing”, he asks:
“Does it define it well or sufficiently by saying that it is the essence?
Is the question of the essence the ultimate question?”124
As we know, in this late manuscript Merleau-Ponty was developing
a new ontology, and here the purpose is to suggest an understanding
where beneath the traditional way of fathoming essence, there is yet
another layer:
But whence do we get the hypothesis, whence do we know that

there is something, that there is a world? This knowing is be-
neath the essence, it is the experience of which the essence is a
part and which it does not envelop. The being of the essence is
not primary, it does not rest on itself, it is not it that can teach us
what Being is; the essence is not the answer to the philosophical
123 Dupond 2008, 73. | On February 1960 in a working note titled Essence —
— Negativity” Merleau-Ponty writes: “I do not oppose quality to quantity, nor
perception to idea — — I seek in the perceived world nuclei of meaning which are
in-visible, but which simply are not invisible in the sense of the absolute negation
[...], but in the sense of the other dimensionality [...]” (VI, 236.) “Je n’oppose pas
qualité à quantité, ni perception à idée — Je cherche dans le monde perçu des
noyaux de sens qui sont invisible, mais qui simplement ne le sont pas au sens de la
négation absolue [...], mais au sens de l’autre dimensionnalité [...]” (VI, 285).
124 VI, 109. “Le définit-elle bien ou suffisamment en disant que c’est l’essence ?
La question de l’essence est-elle la question ultime ?” VI, 145.

question, the philosophical question is not posed in us by a pure

spectator: it is first a question as to how, upon what ground, the
pure spectator is established, from what more profound source
he himself draws. Without the necessities by essence, the unshak-
able connections, the irresistible implications, the resistant and
stable structures, there would be neither a world, nor something
in general, nor Being; but their authority as essences, their affir-
mative power, their dignity as principles are not self-evident.125
With his proposal Merleau-Ponty wishes to show how fact and

essence are not to be distinguished, and further essence not to be
considered as something beyond our experience, but that they are
both something that surrounds and traverses us: “In short, there is no
essence, no idea, that does not adhere to a domain of history and of
geography. Not that it is confined there and inaccessible for the others,
but because, like that of nature, the space or time of culture is not
surveyable from above [...]”.126 He further underlines how the concept
of essence is active, and uses the term “operative essence” to describe
our belonging to it. Essence is not to be conceived as “a stumbling
block” above us to be seen by some spiritual eye. On the contrary, “[...]
there is an essence beneath us, a common nervure of the signifying and
the signified, adherence in and reversibility of one another — as the
visible things are the secret folds of our flesh, and yet our body is one
of the visible things.”127 Through these ideas concerning the concept
125 VI, 109. “Mais d’où tenons-nous l’hypothèse, d’où savons-nous qu’il y a
quelque chose, qu’il y un monde ? Ce savoir-là est au-dessus de l’essence, c’est

l’expérience dont l’essence fait partie et qu’elle n’enveloppe pas. L’être de l’essence
n’est pas premier, ne repose pas sur lui-même, ce n’est pas lui qui peut nous
apprendre ce que c’est que l’Être, l’essence n’est pas la réponse à la question phi-
losophique, la question philosophique n’est pas posée en nous par un pur specta-
teur : elle est d’abord de savoir comment, sur quel fond, s’établit le pur spectateur,
à quelle source plus profonde lui-même puise. Sans les nécessités d’essence, les
connexions inébranlables, les implications irrésistibles les structures résistantes et
stables, il n’y aurait ni monde, ni quelque chose en général, ni Être : mais leur
autorité d’essences, leur puissance affirmative, leur dignité de principes ne vont
pas de soi.” VI, 145.
126 VI, 115. “Brièvement, il n’est pas une essence, pas une idée, qui ne tienne à
un domaine d’histoire et de géographie, non qu’elle y soit enfermée, et inaccessible

pour les autres, mais parce que, comme celui de la nature, l’espace ou le temps de
la culture ne se survolent pas [...]” VI, 152.
127 VI, 118. “[...] mais il y a une essence au-dessous de nous, nervure commune
du signifiant et du signifié, adhérence et réversibilité de l’un à l’autre, comme les

choses visible sont les plis secrets de notre chair, et notre corps, pourtant, l’une des
choses visibles.” VI, 156.
of essence it is possible to better fathom the position of spectator and

his or her experiences, aspects that I will discuss in the following case
studies.
Phenomenology and Its Reception in Contemporary Art

Now, after laying out the main parameters of Merleau-Ponty’s phe-
nomenology of art, it is necessary to look briefly at its reception in
theories of art and aesthetics and in the practices of the artists. As
already mentioned, in art research phenomenology has many different
positions and roles: on the one hand, it is valued for its ability to the-
matise the bodily aspects of art, and for its discussions of lived expe-
riences. As these topics are central, for instance, in dance studies, it is
not surprising that phenomenology has a solid position there and that
its concepts are largely used. Maxine Sheets-Johnstone, for instance,
has contributed to creating a phenomenological approach in the field
of dance, and Finnish researchers such as Jaana Parviainen and Leena
Rouhiainen have contributed to the development of phenomenological
methods in dance research.128
In addition, many artists have had a strong interest in Merleau-
Ponty’s philosophy. Within the French tradition, art historian Robert
Klein’s early essay “Modern Painting and Phenomenology” (“Pein-
ture moderne et phénoménologie”, 1963) valued the links between phe-
nomenology and the informal painting of the 1940s and 1950s.129 Fur-
ther, Merleau-Ponty’s works were translated into English in the early
1960s, and his discourse on art and perception inspired many American
artists, critics, and curators, especially those who were working in the
minimalist tradition. Among others, art critic and theorist Rosalind
Krauss has been influenced by Merleau-Ponty’s works in her early
readings of minimalist art.130 Early on, Krauss’ influential readings
emphasised the phenomenological nature of minimalist art, drawing
attention to the intertwined and reciprocal relationship between the
spectator and the work. Krauss writes on Robert Morris’ L-beams, an
exhibition held in 1965:
128 Sheets-Johnstone: The Phenomenology of Dance (1979) and The Primacy
of Movement (1998); Parviainen: Bodies Moving and Moved: A Phenomenological

Analysis of the Dancing Subject and the Cognitive and Ethical Values of Dance Art
(1998); Rouhiainen Living Transformative Lives: Freelance Dance Artists Brought
into Dialogue with Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology (2003).
129 Published in Form and Meaning (Le forme et l’intelligible, 1970).
130 Krauss 1977. | Her work had wide-ranging effects, even though some have
commented that her approach was anti-methodological. (Melville 1998, 148–53.)

Insofar as sculpture is constantly forming an analogy with the

human body, Morris’s work addresses itself to the meaning pro-
jected by our own bodies, questioning the relationship of that
meaning to the idea of psychological privacy. He is suggesting
that the meanings we make — and express through our bodies
and our gestures — are fully dependent on the other beings to
whom we make them and on whom vision on them we depended
for them to make sense. He is suggesting that the picture of the
self as a contained whole [...] crumbles before the act of connec-
tion with other selves and other minds.131
There are various artists who have drawn inspiration from phe-
nomenology, including Robert Irwin and Bruce Nauman, to name just
two. To Irwin, an artist dealing with perception and its limits, light
and space, the spectator’s consciousness of the work had an ethical
dimension. Likewise, Bruce Nauman can be connected with the phe-
nomenological tradition, as his works pervade perception itself.132
In the beginning of the 1960s Merleau-Ponty’s works were often
understood and discussed in a very focused and selective way, which
made it seem as if his philosophy was preoccupied with the immedi-
ate and subjective aspects of perception and excluded the necessary
social and historical dimensions of art.133 Later on, Merleau-Ponty’s
phenomenology is often associated with Cartesian and Husserlian me-
diations, which are both rejected as apolitical, subjectivistic, idealistic,
and simply unable to approach the concrete artwork itself, being fo-
cused on personal experiences and subjective acts. Miwon Kwon, an
art historian who has specialised in site-specific works sums up recent
developments in this field:134
Within the limited critical discussions concerning present-day,

site-orientated art, one tendency has been to valorize the no-
madic condition. Referencing the writings of Gilles Deleuze and
131 Krauss 1977, 267.

132 The phenomenological implications of Nauman’s works have been discussed
by Marcia Tucker, who points out that Nauman has turned his interest into the way
things are experienced, and how body is necessary in order to examine phenomena
such as language, gestures, breathing and motion. Tucker’s text “PheNAUMANol-
ogy” was first published in Artforum 4, December 1970. (Tucker 1998; see also
Reiss 1999, 61–62; Bishop 2005.)
133 Potts 2000, 210–11; Prendeville 2008, 58.
134 Kwon 2004b, 30–31; 2004, 157–59.
Félix Guattari as theoretical support, some critics have cham-

pioned the work of artists such as Andrea Fraser, Mark Dion,
Renée Green, and Christian Philipp Müller, among many others,
for having abandoned the phenomenologically-oriented mode of
site-specific art (best exemplified by Richard Serra’s sculptures).
This is a mode that is seen to be outdated now. [...] Qualities
of permanence, continuity, certainty and groundedness (physi-
cal and otherwise) are thought to be artistically retrograde, thus
politically suspect, in this context.135
Kwon’s summary shows how at least within the discourses of site-

specific art, phenomenology became a synonym for an outdated model.
This, however, does not have to be the case. Here I agree with Claire
Bishop, who argues that the new rise of phenomenology in the visual
arts of the 1990s offers a much more truthful reading of Merleau-Ponty
and phenomenology in general than the earlier ones.136
I will not go further into the details of the reception of Merleau-
Ponty’s works, but for the purposes of my argument it is important
to point out two thematic limitations that burdened this reception.
The early interpretations conceived phenomenology in a narrow way
and laid too much emphasis on the idea of immediate bodily presence,
which led to the neglect of the intersubjective aspects of experience,
both historical or political, which were studied extensively by all classi-
cal phenomenologists starting with Husserl. Due to this individualistic
emphasis of the early interpretations, critics attacked phenomenology
for its purposed assumption that the body is a neutral means and lacks
historical and cultural sediments. However, more recent Husserl and
Merleau-Ponty research has examined unpublished manuscripts and
deepened the conception of phenomenology and its potential. New re-
search has come up with new topical and methodological inventions.
It has shown how the lived experience is both historical and inter-
subjective, and it examines embodiment as a historical process.137
From today’s perspective, phenomenology is not non-historical or non-
social, but includes powerful conceptual and methodological tools for
the study of the contextual, situational, and intersubjective aspects of
lived experience.138
135 Kwon 2004, 159.
136 Bishop 2005, 76. | Another question is what is the relationship between theory
and works of art. For instance, does theory make works solitary and unattached?
137 See, for instance, Zahavi 2001; Heinämaa 2010.
138 For discussion on whether the phenomenological approach is seen as anti-
Preparatory Remarks for the Following Inquiries

As already mentioned, this work is a demonstration of a Merleau-
Pontian approach to art. One of the focuses of the phenomenological
method is on the relation between the spectator and the artwork, and
the task is to provide a phenomenological examination on how artworks
appear to spectators. On this, we have first noted that the spectator’s
position comes close to that of the artist. According to Merleau-Ponty,
making art and understanding it both require combination of activity
and passivity. This combination is needed for any encounter with the
other.
The work at hand includes close readings of four artworks. In each
of the four chapters that study a particular artwork, a certain structure
is repeated: as I move on to a case study, I will present the artwork (for
images, see appendix A) as well as the artist (for the artists’ CVs, see
appendix B). In most cases, this information comes from interviews
with the artists, or other similar sources. After this preliminary infor-
mation of the work under study, I will offer a description and an in-
terpretation that employs the phenomenological method. I will study
and explicate the way the work appears to the spectator, and from
this explication I proceed to examine themes and questions that are
central to Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology of art: questions of space,
time, movement, and the other. Moreover, I will argue that the four
case studies put forward questions and involve aspects that place them
in a critical dialogue with Merleau-Ponty’s thinking on art.
In the following chapter I will first deepen my interpretation of
Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy of art by studying his account of seeing,
his criticism of Descartes, and his concept of “seeing with”, an impor-
tant concept for my own methodological approach. After these con-
ceptual sections, I will then turn to my readings of particular artworks
and my explication of the position and experience of the spectator in
them.
historical, see for instance, Haar 1996, 179.

3
Conceptions of Seeing
In this chapter, I will clarify Merleau-Ponty’s expression “seeing with”,

a concept that he used to describe how to encounter works of art.
The beginning of the chapter approaches Merleau-Ponty’s reading of
Descartes, presenting the Cartesian interpretation of vision, which can
be seen as a counterpart for Merleau-Ponty’s own understanding of
vision.139 Later on, I bring forth Husserl’s conception of experiencing
a work of art to elucidate the phenomenological foundation behind
Merleau-Ponty’s approach. I also discuss how the expression “seeing
with” implies another kind of attitude towards the artwork. In this case
the work is understood as an icon — not in a traditional Byzantine
or Peircean sense, but in a phenomenological sense, where an artwork
creates a new kind of visibility that sets it apart from everyday objects.
In the explication of an icon, I use Jenny Slatman’s and Jean-Luc
Marion’s theories of icon to define how an icon must be approached
differently, and how the artwork may open up our understanding of
being in the world.140 Overall, this chapter is a continuation of the
methodological discussion of the previous chapter.
139 As I will show, Merleau-Ponty did not simply reject Descartes’ thinking as
a whole. The criticism mentioned here is directed against vision as presented in
Dioptrics.
140 “The discursive construction of sight is intimately connected with other forms
of construction: our visual behaviour is shaped not only by what we think about
vision, but also (and perhaps even more so) by how visual images and technologies
teach us to look. Merleau-Ponty understood this very well, as is evident from his
writings on painting. He treated painting not as an isolated phenomenon, but as
articulating a perceptual and expressive relation to the world.” (Van de Vall 2008,
16.) My italics.
51
52 CHAPTER 3. CONCEPTIONS OF SEEING
3.1 Cartesian Vision

In Phenomenology of Perception Merleau-Ponty presented criticism of
“objective thought” (“la pensée objective”). The critique was following
in the lines of Husserl’s Crisis, as it focused on the bodily being and
our subjective, corporeal and limited point of view to the world. It dis-
cussed in detail the limitations of both realist and idealist approaches
to perception: no causal explanations or logical derivations can present
an adequate account of human existence, and thus, the perception of
the body and the perception of external things require a new method
of genetic phenomenology. Taking into account the ambiguity of our
perception is essential in developing the paradigm that would escape
the limitations of “objective thought”.141
In Merleau-Ponty’s conception of vision one of the most impor-
tant influences along with Husserl is Descartes.142 Emmanuel de Saint
Aubert formulates how Merleau-Ponty’s strategy with philosophical
interlocutors is often ambivalent: his adversaries are also his best ac-
complices. This is the case with Descartes, too. The motivation for
Merleau-Ponty is in finding from the proponent of the ontology of the
object the premises for his own new ontology.143 Through his career
Merleau-Ponty returned repeatedly to Descartes’ works, and his re-
lation to his philosophy is complex.144 On the one hand, Descartes
figures as the main representative and originator of philosophical ra-
141 Slatman has noted that Merleau-Ponty’s use of objectivism is wider than
Husserl’s: for Merleau-Ponty objectivism does not only exist in the attitude of
natural sciences, but also in certain uses of language, that is not conscious of its
own genesis or the force it has. (Slatman 2003, 65.)
142 Concerning seeing, along with Husserl and Descartes, one can also trace the in-
fluence of fellow philosophers, such as Sartre, and the surfacing of criticism towards
ocular-centrism. See Martin Jay’s article “Sartre, Merleau-Ponty, and the Search
for a New Ontology of Sight” (1993). Merleau-Ponty’s reading of Descartes was
influenced by contemporary philosophers and he read commentaries on Descartes
and Cartesian thinking by philosophers such as the French idealist philosopher
Léon Brunschvicg (1869–1944) and the philosopher and historian of philosophy
Martial Guéroult (1891–1976), among others. (Saint Aubert 2005, 33, 60; see also
NC, 159–268.)
143 Saint Aubert 2005, 21. | The Visible and the Invisible could be seen as a
continuation and as an attempt to find an ontology that would describe our relation
to being. The title of the unfinished manuscript can be understood as bringing
together the sensuous of the visible world and the imaginary, conceptual world
that remains invisible.
144 See, for instance, the note in The Visible and the Invisible, written in April,
1960: “The second part of the book (which I am beginning) with my description
of the visible as in-visible, must lead in the third to a confrontation with the
Cartesian ontology (finish Gueroult’s Descartes — read his Malebranche — see
3.1. CARTESIAN VISION 53
tionalism, the approach in which perception is understood simply as

a form of thinking. On the other hand, Merleau-Ponty does not only
treat Descartes as a philosopher whose thoughts are to be abandoned,
but returned to his works in order to surpass them.145 From the outset
it is clear that Descartes’ thinking gave birth to the modern subject
as opposed to the world, and yet it simultaneously embodied an ap-
proach that overcomes dualistic distinctions.146 And as was the case of
Husserl, Merleau-Ponty’s relation to Descartes’ thinking is connected
to his understanding of the philosophy of history.147 Merleau-Ponty
discussed Descartes throughout his life, and even the final text he left
on his desk in spring 1961 was a note concerning Descartes.148
One of the purposes of his reading could be characterised as a
wish to examine the incoherence of Descartes’ Meditations on First
Philosophy in which are demonstrated the existence of God and the
distinction between the human soul and body (1641).149 He was espe-
cially interested in the sixth meditation, “The existence of material
things, and the real distinction between mind and body”, and how
it threatens to demolish the earlier meditations. In the sixth medi-
tation Merleau-Ponty could trace both the “bad” Cartesian thinking
against which he attacked, but also openings towards new ontology:
Leibniz and Spinoza).” (VI, 242.) “La second partie du livre (que je commence)
avec ma description du visible comme in-visible, doit conduire dans la 3e à une
confrontation avec l’ontologie cartésienne (achever le Descartes de Guéroult — lire
son Malebranche — voir Leibniz et Spinoza).” (VI, 291.) Husserl also kept returning
to Descartes, emphasising the importance of a radical new beginning for philosophy
in Cartesian Meditations. (See, for instance, Husserl CM, § 1–2.)
145 Even though Merleau-Ponty makes critical remarks on Descartes in “Eye and
Mind”, he was also challenged by his thinking — this is especially visible towards
the end of the third chapter. Galen A. Johnson has written on the importance of
the third chapter, as it “is the hinge swinging the door open from the new theory
of vision in part 2 to the new ontology in part 4.” (Johnson 2010, 20.)
146 Of interest are especially his letter to Princess Elizabeth, discussing the differ-
ent types of knowledge we can have of our body, mind and their union. (Descartes
AT III, 663–97.)
147 As can be seen from the essay “Everywhere and Nowhere” (“Partout and nulle
part” from 1956, published later in Signes).

148 See for instance PP, 231; NC, 159–268; VI, 238–39. | Saint Aubert writes:
“Le scénario cartésien de Merleau-Ponty se propage dans l’ensemble de son œuvre,

en transpositions infinies qu’il serait trop long de recenser de manière exhaustive”
(Saint Auber 2005, 27). For Merleau-Ponty’s reading of Descartes, see for instance
Heinämaa’s article “The Living Body and its Position in Metaphysics: Merleau-
Ponty’s Dialogue with Descartes” (2003; see also Reuter 1997; 1999).
149 Meditations was published in Latin: Meditationes de prima philosophia, in
qua Dei existentia & animae immortalitas demonstratur. Merleau-Ponty referred

to the French translation by Duke of Luynes, with the supervision of Descartes.
Many recent commentaries have paid attention to how later on, for
instance in the lecture notes on Cartesian and today’s ontology,150
Merleau-Ponty elaborated his reading of Descartes. In the beginning
of the lecture, Merleau-Ponty wishes to set Cartesian thinking against
examples of fundamental thinking about arts and literature.151 In the
lecture he discusses especially the Meditations, finding a possibility to
read Descartes’ ontology as not opposed to the one that Merleau-Ponty
was developing.152
However, here I will concentrate on the particular passage in Mer-
leau-Ponty’s “Eye and Mind”, for two reasons: firstly, the third chapter
presents a shift in thinking, and secondly, its topic, seeing, is of partic-
ular interest from the point of view of my research. In the introduction
of “Eye and Mind” Merleau-Ponty has argued that art, and especially
painting, holds a special place in relation to the world.153 Art is pre-
sented as the opposite to the practical scientific approach that ma-
nipulates things to get the desired result. After discussing at length
the physicality of seeing, the painter and the experience of painting,
the way we are engaged with the world, and how it is not possible for
the artist to paint without body, Merleau-Ponty moves on to analyse
a view that at the outset appears to be totally opposite to his. The
third chapter begins with a claim: Descartes’ Dioptrics is an attempt
to sweep away the difficulties, yet “[i]t is worthwhile to remember this
attempt and its failure.”154 The way in which Descartes is introduced
is indeed of interest. His thinking is claimed to present us with a show-
piece on how one should not think, and yet there is something more
to it, too: we are promised that the return to the claimed failure will
pay off. Indeed, as many commentators have proposed, I see here a
connection between Merleau-Ponty’s strategy with Descartes and his
contemplation on philosophy of history, where philosophy is seen as
an enterprise to search for lacunae in past philosophers’ thinking.155
150 “L’ontologie cartésienne et l’ontologie d’ajourd’hui”, published in Notes de
Cours 1958–1961. NC, 159–268.

151 NC, 166.
152 Slatman 2001.
153 In the previous chapter I remarked that Merleau-Ponty discussed literature
widely as well as other art forms.

154 Œ, 130. “Il vaut la peine de rappeler ce que fut cet essai, et cet échec.” Œ, 36.
155 Merleau-Ponty discussed his conception of history in the essay “Everywhere
and Nowhere” (“Partout et nulle part”), the lecture series The Incarnate Subject.
Malebranche, Biran, and Bergson on the Union of Body and Soul. (L’Union de
l’âme et du corps chez Malebranche, Biran et Bergson), and in the essay “The
Philosopher and His Shadow” (“Le philosophe et son ombre”).
Thinking about “Eye and Mind”, it is significant that Merleau-

Ponty chose to connect his discourse on art to Descartes’ philosophy
and his early text, Dioptrics (La dioptrique), even though Descartes is
not known as a thinker on the visual arts. Dioptrics, a study discussing
sight and seeing, was published in 1637 as a part of a larger treatise
entitled Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting One’s Reason
and of Seeking Truth in the Sciences.156 At the outset, the choice of
text might even seem to be inadequate in relation to the subject as
the French title, Dioptrique, refers to the theory of bending light. The
last four chapters of the ten-chapter work concentrate on examining
the methods by which sight could be improved by lens grinding. The
study approaches vision on the theoretical, scientific and technical lev-
els: its motivation was both methodical and practical as it also aimed
at the augmentation of vision.157 In general Discourse serves as an
attempt to find a universal mathematical method, and it is part of
Descartes’ continuous quest for a proper method. It can be read as an
attempt to secure or explain the grounds of empirical science, which
is dependent on vision.158 It is Descartes’ attempt at a new science,
one that would not have to fall into the pitfalls of errant experiences,
involving such bodily connected faculties as perception, imagination
and memory.159 Dioptrics, as well as the jointly published Meteorology
and Le Geometrie (Geometry), were attempts to apply a philosophi-
cal model grounded on methodological considerations. Dioptrics gives
insight of the importance of vision and light for Descartes thinking,
but for a contemporary reader Merleau-Ponty’s choice may seem cum-
bersome since Descartes is not concerned with the visual arts, but on
the contrary, is rather suspicious towards them. Again, the choice of
Merleau-Ponty can be seen through his argumentative method. Saint
Aubert remarks that this kind of displacement was typical of Merleau-
Ponty, it followed a certain logic of counter-examples which were to
be as opposite as possible: in “Eye and Mind”, instead of discussing
the sixth meditation of Descartes, he takes up Dioptrics to discuss
perception, vision and depth — the thematics through which the en-
tanglement of the body and the soul is expressed.160 It can be argued,
156 Discours de la méthode pour bien conduire sa raison, et chercher la vérité

dans les sciences. Plus la Dioptrique, les Météores et la Géometrie qui sont les
essais de cette méthode (Descartes AT VI).
157 Fóti 2003, 41–42.
158 Fóti 2003, 50.
159 Judovitz 1988, 48; 2001, 68, 85.
160 Saint Aubert 2005, 31.
as Fóti has remarked, that Merleau-Ponty’s interrogation of the text

detaches it from the scientific context as well as from the mechanistic
physiology that is central to it.161
The common theme for Descartes and for Merleau-Ponty is the
topic of vision and its relation to the visual world. Merleau-Ponty
claims that Dioptrics presents vision through an oversimplifying model.
He attacks Descartes who, in his mind, avoids the true ambiguity of
vision by restructuring it according to a model of thinking:162 “It is
the breviary of a thought that wants no longer to abide in the visible
and so decides to reconstruct it according to a model-in-thought”.163
The claim is weighty; especially bearing in mind Descartes’ under-
standing of knowledge, which to him excluded all hidden, murky and
complex components and aimed at simplicity, clarity, and certainty.164
In Descartes, the clarity of vision is menaced by the body that hosts
the obscurity of sensory experiences — vision errs, because the soul is
dependent on the body.165 To Merleau-Ponty, on the contrary, vision
was inseparable from its ambiguity, and thus philosophy’s challenge
was to approach and express these ambiguities, and he argues that
Descartes was, in his urge to get rid of illusion, merely transforming
the whole sphere of vision into an illusion where the role of the body
is diminished, as for him it is eventually the soul that senses, not
the body.166 This is the starting point of objectivism against which
Merleau-Ponty directs his philosophical critique.
What is the final interpretation of Merleau-Ponty’s criticism of
Descartes, and whether it is justified, is a complicated question, and it
is not the task of this thesis to present a definitive commentary on the
issue.167 However, it is important to articulate the justifications that
led Descartes to study the mechanisms of seeing. In Dalia Judovitz’s
discussion of Cartesian vision she points out that Merleau-Ponty’s crit-
161 Fóti 2003, 42.
162 Whether God’s ability to guarantee reason is a sign of His power or sign of
our own power depends on one’s interpretation. As Levin puts it, “being able to
prove God’s existence, the Cartesian ego seems to participate in His omnipotence.”
(Levin 1988, 138.)
163 Œ 130. “C’est le bréviaire d’une pensée qui ne veut plus hanter le visible et
décide de le reconstruire selon le modèle qu’elle s’en donne.” Œ, 36.

164 Cottingham 1986, 22–23.
165 Fóti 2003, 50.
166 Cf. Fóti 2003, 46.
167 For instance, Saint Aubert has pointed out that there are several working
notes and even different versions of the “Eye and Mind” manuscript which help
to fathom the importance of Merleau-Ponty’s attention to Cartesianism. (Saint
Aubert 2005, 33.)
icism brings out the tendencies of Descartes reasoning that are tightly
connected, yet their consequences might not be as simple.168 Merleau-
Ponty wishes to stress Descartes’ hostility towards illusions, and all
possible sidetracks from the way to truth, expanding the hostility to
concern the visible world as a whole. From this perspective illusion
contaminates all vision and sense-perception, and this leads Descartes
to transfer the attributes of the visible to the sphere of the purely men-
tal, where they again may metaphorically demonstrate the powers of
reason. Judovitz also examines other texts in which Descartes discusses
illusions, such as Observations (Experimenta, 1619) and Rules for the
Direction of the Mind (Les Règles pour la direction de l’esprit. Reg-
ulae ad directionem ingenii).169 She argues that in order to explain
Descartes, it does not suffice to refer to the birth of the discourse
on certainty during the Renaissance and Baroque era. She contextu-
alises Descartes’ writings by referring to visual devices favoured in the
Baroque era such as anamorphosis and trompe l’oeil. Anamorphosis,
for instance, is a device that contrary to the perspective technique,
does not rationalise space and the visible, but it implies a decentrali-
sation of the viewing subject. For Descartes, these kinds of illusionistic
devices were a hindrance to truth: those accustomed to the trickery,
might not be able to recognize what is certain.170 Judovitz remarks
that the disqualification of the body is a reflection of the development
of science and new scientific instrumentation: the Copernican revolu-
tion had produced a counterintuitive discovery that the earth moves
around the sun, even though our senses would tell us otherwise.171
Against this background Descartes’ attempt to avoid the unreliability
of the senses, one can understand his suspicious attitude towards the
visual arts.172 Thus, in his quest for certitude, illusions such as trompe
l’oeil -paintings, appear as a threat to the truth-searching philoso-
pher.173
It must be acknowledged that when Descartes wrote Dioptrics, vi-
sion was generally considered analogous to reason and that Descartes,
168 Judovitz’s study Subjectivity and Representation in Descartes. The Origins
of Modernity (1988) as well as The Culture of the Body (2001).

169 Unfinished manuscript written in 1628, published posthumously in 1701.
(Descartes AT X; Judovitz 1993, 64.)

170 Judovitz 1993, 62–64; see also Descartes AT X, 371/PW, 16; Fóti 2003, 50–51.
171 Judovitz 2001, 85.
172 This attitude stems from Plato and his view on visual arts as mimesis, con-
sidering paintings as merely simulation and thus alienated from the truth. See, for
instance, Plato Republic 596e–608b; also Escoubas 1986, 107–108.
173 Judovitz 1993, 63; 2001, 99–100.
too, used the metaphor of seeing to account for reason and knowl-
edge.174 Knowledge was conceived as an attempt or capacity to clar-
ify and sharpen the insight of reason. Nonetheless, Descartes’ strive
for clearness is, from the point of view of Merleau-Ponty, taken too
far: Dioptrics represents a philosopher’s and a scientist’s ideal world,
where everything is crystal clear and there are no exceptions, ambi-
guities, obscurities, and indeterminate cases. It is true that Descartes
models vision according to touch — he uses the example of a blind
man’s touch, mediated through a cane — in order to demonstrate the
certainty of vision, as the senses of touch can be vivid and clear.175
Merleau-Ponty’s criticism can be summarised by saying that instead
of exploring vision as such, Descartes is content to think about it —
vision is studied not as a modality of perception but as a problem
of thinking. This becomes explicit in the fourth and fifth chapters of
Dioptrics, where Descartes argues that it is the soul which has sensory
perceptions, and not actually the sense organs which are only claimed
to serve as mere outer sensing means, not sensing means as such.176
The mind does not need to examine any pictures resembling sensed
objects — in fact, Descartes underlines how the mind can also be sim-
ulated by signs and words.177 Here, the question of seeing and image
are removed from the sense experience into the domain of thinking —
it is in line with the previously presented suspicions about illusions.
It was part of the project in which Descartes wished to denounce re-
semblance as a false way of attaining knowledge, as it was in danger
of falling into illusions.178
The most significant disagreement between Descartes and Merleau-
Ponty concerns the understanding of the receiving subject and his
or her bodily being. Merleau-Ponty argues that in the Cartesian set-
ting, the self is completely detached from the body and sensuous feel-
174 See especially Rules for the Direction of the Mind. On the role of light in
philosophical thinking, see “Light as a Metaphor for Truth”, by Hans Blumenberg

(1993).
175 Fóti 2003, 42–43. | This understanding of touch can be compared with Aris-
totle’s descriptions in De Anima. (Aristotle 423b; Fóti 2003, 43; Derrida 2005,
47.)
176 Descartes AT VI, 109/PWI, 164.
177 “Il faut, outre cela, prendre garde à ne pas supposer que, pour sentir, l’âme ait
besoin de contempler quelques images qui soient envoyées par les objets jusqu’au
cerveau, ainsi que font communément nos philosophes.” (Descartes AT VI, 112.)
“We must take care not to assume — as our philosophers commonly do — that
in order to have sensory perceptions the soul must contemplate certain images
transmitted by objects to the brain.” (Descartes PWI, 165.)
178 Judovitz 1988, 40.
ing, and is considered to be totally transparent to itself.179 This set-

ting is articulated and emphasised in the copper drawings included in
Dioptrics: the pictures present a cross section of an eye from above,
and a philosopher-spectator who observes this detailed diagram and
thus studies the process of seeing in the objectified third-person per-
spective. From Merleau-Ponty’s perspective the spectator is treated in
Dioptrics merely as a factor within the network of causal relations. As
Fóti has suggested, “Descartes ignores the ways in which vision char-
acteristically plays across and does not respect prosaically construed
entities or locations.”180 From this it follows that a Cartesian cannot
see himself in the mirror:
The Cartesian does not see himself in the mirror; he sees a pup-
pet, an “outside,” which, he has every reason to believe, other
people see in the very same way, but which is no more for himself
than for others a body in the flesh.181
Merleau-Ponty argues that such a theoretical framework and its

way of thinking about seeing shows its limits and restrictions when it
is applied to seeing in the visual arts. He emphasises that Descartes
is studying copper drawings, not paintings. To Descartes looking at
these drawings becomes equivalent to deciphering ink spots: there are
no intentional objects involved in this theoretical setting that would
be able to touch our senses and create “small paintings” in our mind,
or at least there is no resemblance between the objects in the mind and
in reality.182 Instead of concluding that the copper prints resemble the
pictured objects, e.g. forests and cities, Descartes argues that copper
drawings work in a similar way as texts, and seeing is about encoded
information being decoded.183
Merleau-Ponty criticises Descartes for focusing his discourse on see-
ing in cases relevant to sciences and not paying attention to cases
179 Levin 1988, 15.
180 Fóti 2003, 44.
181 Œ, 131. “Un cartésien ne se voit pas dans le miroir : il voit un mannequin,
un ‘dehors’ dont il a toutes raisons de penser que les autres le voient pareillement,
mais qui, pas plus pour lui-même que pour eux, n’est une chair.” Œ, 38–39.
182 “Il faut au moins que nous remarquions qu’il n’y a aucunes images qui doivent
en tout ressembler aux objets qu’elles représentent : car autrement il n’y aurait
point de distinction entre l’objet et son image.” (Descartes AT VI, 113.) “We must
at least observe that in no case does an image have to resemble the object it
represents in all respects, for otherwise there would be no distinction between the
object and its image.” (Descartes PWI, 165.)
183 Œ, 40/131–32; see also Fóti 2003, 46.
crucial to painting and the visual arts — he comments that it is note-

worthy how little Descartes wrote on the arts and that he did not
conceive of painting as a particular operation of grasping being.184 He
also argues that Descartes’ concentration on drawings instead of paint-
ings reflects his prejudice for form over colour.185 In a drawing, one
is able to present the perceived object through its exterior, which can
be sharpened and rendered precisely. This choice of examples reflects
Descartes’ philosophy of spatiality. For Descartes space is, in general,
the idealised space inseparable from his thinking. On the other hand,
it seems evident to Merleau-Ponty that even though Descartes does
not really discuss paintings, he was inspired by Renaissance painting,
in which, allegedly, a new ideal perspective was developed in connec-
tion with a new way of looking at the world, where space is fitted
into a scientific plan: pattern replaces human perception and vision is
geometrised, as if there could be a final solution for painting.186
Towards the end of the third chapter of “Eye and Mind” Merleau-
Ponty moves away from the rationality of Dioptrics towards the later
Descartes, and refers also to his letters to Princess Elizabeth of Bo-
hemia, as well as to the Meditations.187 From the outset Meditations
offers a radical critique of the lived body, the problem of the body that
haunted Descartes’ thinking.188 However, in Meditations, it is possi-
ble to trace a tension in the thinking of the compound of body and
soul.189 So, eventually, after passages of criticism against Descartes,
Merleau-Ponty turns to him in a positive manner, in order to think
how the Cartesian paradox, how the soul-body union could be thought
through, could be included within metaphysics. Merleau-Ponty writes
184 Œ, 42/132.
185 For a reading of Descartes’ preference of graphic art to painting and the ques-
tion of colour, see Véronique M. Fóti’s “The Dimension of Color” (1993).
186 Œ, 48–49/135; Levin 1988, 102. | It is not unproblematic to speak of Re-
naissance perspective: As a term this is a reference to the Albertian perspective,

developed by Filippo Brunelleschi and described by Leone Battista Alberti in De
pictura (1435). Also, to link Descartes and Renaissance space is problematic — Lyle
Massey, for instance, argues for a standpoint where Descartes’ suspicion towards
vision also led towards a rejection of the fixed perspectival point: “For Descartes
perspective neither rationalized vision nor did it stand in metaphorically for the
mind’s rational view of the world.” (Massey 1997, 1158.) I will discuss in more
detail the questions of perspective in the following chapter.
187 Merleau-Ponty refers to the letter to Princess Elizabeth earlier in Phenomenol-
ogy of Perception. (PP, 231/231.)

188 See, for instance, Judovitz 2001, 83–84.
189 For Merleau-Ponty’s detailed reading of this tension in Descartes, see the
lecture notes in NC, and also Heinämaa 2003.

at the end of chapter three:
All the inquiries we believed closed have been reopened. What is

depth, what is light, τί το όν? What are they — not for the mind
that cuts itself off from the body but for the mind Descartes says
is suffused throughout the body? And what are they, finally, not
only for the mind but for themselves, since they pass trough us
and surround us?190
The reading of Descartes has both shown that his understanding of

seeing is the opposite to that of Merleau-Ponty, but also that Merleau-
Ponty suggests that his interpretation of Descartes’ thinking of the
mind-body compound underlines how it contains an opening for new
possibilities in philosophy. At the very end of the discussion, he points
towards the ambiguity of Descartes’ own writing, describing the exte-
rior world to be “at the tip” of our hands — in this setting, the body is
immersed in the world, not a mind reconstructing it from outside.191
If we accept Merleau-Ponty’s argument that the early Cartesian
way of thinking seeing replaced the phenomenon of vision with a theo-
retical model, then how does phenomenology and Merleau-Ponty dis-
cuss vision? He claims that the Cartesian understanding of vision is
dominated by the interests of cognition and science and he offers a
phenomenological account instead, which is supposed to be purified
of scientific and positivistic prejudices of being. However, some critics
claim that Merleau-Ponty’s own theory does not manage to solve the
problems either and his understanding of vision has been accused of
being problematic.192
190 Œ, 138. “Toutes les recherches que l’on croyait closes se rouvrent. Qu’est-ce
que la profondeur, qu’est-ce que la lumière, τί το όν — que sont-ils, non pas pour
l’esprit qui se retranche du corps, mais pour celui dont Descartes a dit qu’il y était
répandu — en enfin non seulement pour l’esprit, mais pour eux-mêmes, puisqu’ils
nous traversent, nous englobent ?” Œ, 60.
191 Œ, 58–59/138.
192 See, for Luce Irigaray’s well-known criticism of Merleau-Ponty in An Ethics
of Sexual Difference (Éthique de la différence sexuelle, 1984). Further, according

to Irigaray, vision holds a special place in Merleau-Ponty’s thinking, and thus his
thinking is yet another testimony of Western ocular-centrism, where vision is able
to entwine and control the seen. She renews her criticism in a more recent inter-
view: “For Western philosophers such as Sartre or Merleau-Ponty, seeing is not a
way of contemplating but of seizing, dominating and possessing in particular the
body of the other.” She specifies how “[...] when Merleau-Ponty tells us about the
reproduction of the mountain by the painter, he considers the view as a means
of seizing and mastering, thus reproducing, more than as a sense which can be
3.2 Phenomenology on Seeing: From Image to Icon

I will now move on to discuss closer what I find to be central in
Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological approach. As a point of departure,
here is an excerpt from “Eye and Mind”:
I would be hard pressed to say where the painting is I am looking

at. For I do not look at it as one looks at a thing, fixing it in
its place. My gaze wanders within it as in the halos of Being.
Rather than seeing it, I see according to, or with it.193
Clearly, seeing with, is not ordinary seeing. Merleau-Ponty himself

rejects an explanation that the delicacy art requires has been sug-
gested to show itself to the “third eye”, the inner gaze, supposing that
art would overrun “the usual visibility”, the visibility we are used to
sensing with our two eyes. In that case, the artworks would connect
the sensible world with the one that is not to be sensed, bringing this
unseen world out for the metaphoric “third eye” to perceive. The inter-
pretation where art combines the sensual and purely mental is rejected
by Merleau-Ponty as an oversimplified construction that relies on pos-
tulating another world. To him the challenge lies in understanding the
way our eyes and bodies (or flesh) are much more than just mechanisms
for retrieving the world; they are responsive agents with spontaneous
activities of their own and with whole histories of sensing.194
Seeing with, in the first place, is seeing where the eye moves accord-
ing to the visible, or, as Merleau-Ponty has described it, suggesting the
reversibility of experience, the eye is that which has been moved by
an impact of the world.195 It implies, as Jacques Garelli has pointed
touched and moved.” (Fielding & Irigaray 2004, 390–91.) What Irigaray describes
would clearly be a one-sided way to consider vision and the artist’s work. I do
not directly reply to Irigaray’s criticism, but it is considered when I move forward
to discuss Merleau-Ponty’s descriptions on seeing, especially in relation to works
of art. Of course Irigaray’s relationship to Merleau-Ponty’s thinking is more com-
plex than this criticism would suggest. Cecilia Sjöholm, for instance, has proposed
that Irigaray’s Elemental Passions (Passions élémentaires, 1982) can be read as
a response to “The Intertwining — The Chiasm” chapter of The Visible and the
Invisible, and it shows how Merleau-Ponty’s thinking and especially the notion of
chiasm has affected her thinking. (Sjöholm 2000.)
193 Œ, 126. “Je serais bien en peine de dire où est le tableau que je regarde. Car
je ne le regarde pas comme on regarde une chose, je ne le fixe pas en son lieu, mon
regard erre en lui comme dans les nimbes de l’Être, je vois selon ou avec lui plutôt
que je ne le vois.” Œ 23; see also Œ, 24–25/126–27.
194 Œ, 24–25/126–27.
195 Œ, 26/127.
3.2. PHENOMENOLOGY ON SEEING 63
out, that Merleau-Ponty’s “voir selon” is an expression that does not

contain an object in a traditional sense. Garelli argues that normally
seeing, “voir ceci”, does include a perceiving subject and a perceived
object.196 Seeing with, however, requires an attentiveness that is dif-
ferent from everyday experience. To demonstrate: I suggest that in
seeing with, for instance the painting — or whatever is encountered
— is not seen as an image of something or either as a simple surface.
While seeing with, for instance, a painting, one is simultaneously able
to see its materiality, the brushstrokes, the structure, but also how
these brushstrokes form shapes such as still life objects. Thus, it is not
just a matter of looking at the absent objects represented on a can-
vas, but seeing the painting both as painted and as a presentation of
something in the paint, so that the seeing consists of the tension be-
tween the two, and the painting can be seen as on the threshold of its
own constitution. Further, seeing with could be understood as being
together with the seen — not outside, but with it, as a companion, or
equal, united by an attempt to understand our being in the world. In
“seeing with” the traditional roles of seer and seen no longer hold: in
a sense, the spectator becomes part of the work — I will discuss this
description further in relation to the concept of icon.
Immediately after writing about seeing with, Merleau-Ponty re-
marks that “The word ‘image’ is in bad repute [mal famé] because
we have thoughtlessly believed that a drawing was a tracing, a copy,
a second thing, and that the mental image was such a drawing, be-
longing among private bric-a-brac.”197 Merleau-Ponty uses the word
dessin, which can be translated as drawing, pattern or outline, and
also as picture. His distrust towards the word “image” is based on the
assumption that the image is easily confused with the Platonic idea of
art as a copy or imitation, as if it would be secondary to something
real or essential.198
196 “Alors que l’expression : ‘voir selon’ ne pose, en son énoncé, aucun objet à
voir, mais postule, sans la nommer, une attitude à l’égard d’un quelque chose, d’un
Etwas, qui, comme nous la verrons, pourrait se révéler primordial, sans relever pour
autant de l’ordre des choses individuées à inspecter.” (Garelli 1992, 80.)
197 Œ, 126. “Le mot d’image est mal famé parce qu’on a cru étourdiment qu’un
dessin était un décalque, une copie, une seconde chose, et l’image mentale un dessin
de ce genre dans notre bric-à-brac privé.” Œ, 23.
198 The notion of image in psychology and philosophy has been understood in
different ways. Bergson, for instance, uses image in a very different way to Merleau-
Ponty in his discussion of perception and memory in Matter and Memory (Matière
et mémoire, 1896), writing how the brain is just one image among many images.
Gaston Bachelard referred to image in connection with imagination in his phe-
Merleau-Ponty developed his ontology in order to criticise the para-

digm of vision and representationalist thinking that reduces seeing
to the thought of seeing, as in Descartes.199 For Merleau-Ponty the
painting’s purpose is not to make present an object or a scenery that is
otherwise absent from the situation. Neither is it a way to simply make
visible what is imaginary. Merleau-Ponty points out that paintings and
drawings do not belong to the in-itself (en soi), a mode of existence of
objects, opposite to that of persons; rather they make us understand
the whole problematic of the imaginary, and the way the imaginary
is simultaneously close to and far away from the actual: “[...] nearer
because it [the imaginary] is in my body as a diagram of the life of the
actual [...] much farther away from the actual because the painting is
an analogue or likeness only according to the body.”200 In the working
notes from the period of The Visible and the Invisible, Merleau-Ponty
writes:
What is a Bild? It is obvious that the Bild is not gazed upon as we

gaze upon an object. We gaze according to the Bild, we gaze at it
only in order to explain (so we think) the means of expression. It
works not by offering us an in itself to be observed, but by acting
laterally upon the gaze, by sketching a meaning that the gaze
validates. And this segregation opens . . . What? Not “meanings”
(and still less things as visible things), but beings such as the
shadow of Metzger’s twisted iron wire, regional beings, verbal
Wesens.201
This remark concerning image and the imaginary draws attention

to the way in which arts are capable of transcending their function of
nomenological study Poetics of Space (La poétique de l’espace, 1958). Heidegger’s

essay “The Age of World Picture” (“Die Zeit des Weltbildes”, 1938) with its criti-
cism of the world view where the world is reduced to a representation concurs with
Merleau-Ponty’s distrust of the traditional concept of image.
199 Slatman 2003, 193.
200 Œ, 126. “[...] plus près puisqu’il est le diagramme de sa vie dans mon corps
[...] Beaucoup plus loin, puisque le tableau n’est un analogue que selon le corps
[...]” Œ, 24.
201 MPR, 440. “Qu’est-ce qu’un Bild ? Il manifeste ici que le Bild ne se regarde
comme on regarde un objet. On regarde selon le Bild, on ne le regarde que pour

expliciter (croit-on) ses moyens d’expression. Il opère non en nous offrant un en soi à
observer, mais en agissant latéralement sur le regard, en esquissant une signification
que le regard valide. Et cette ségrégation ouvre ... Quoi ? Non pas des ‘significations’
(et encore moins de choses comme les choses visibles), mais des être tels que l’ombre
du fil de fer tordu de Metzger, êtres régionaux, Wesen verbaux.” MPR, 439.
representing ordinary things that are absent. For Merleau-Ponty, Bild

does not mean “to have a resemblance to”. Neither is the task of an
artwork to simply open up meanings. By saying this, Merleau-Ponty
puts the focus on the process of presentation rather than physical qual-
ities and re-presentation. This implies that a work of art is not defined
by its physical properties nor by re-presentation of such qualities, and
yet sensible materiality cannot — or must not — be bypassed.
The “bad repute” of the image is paralleled with a copy or a private
mental picture, whereas the painting, or the work of visual art, is not
a representation of something visible in a sense that it would allow us
to examine the object, which is absent.202 Already in his 1948 radio
lectures Merleau-Ponty argued that painting is not comparable to, for
instance, signs at a station which point to the platform or exit.203 “If
this were the case then the purpose of painting as such would be to
serve as a trompe l’oeil and its meaning would lie entirely beyond the
canvas, in the objects it signifies: in its subject.”204 This interpretation
understands painting only as a representation, in a sense that it only
represents something that is absent. On the contrary, a work of art:
[...] comes to dwell in the world in which it makes us at home

though we do not have the key to it, the work of art teaches us to
see and makes us think as no analytic work can, because in the
analysis of an object we cannot find anything other than what
we have to put into it.205
202 In general, image can be understood as a problematic or even restricting ex-
pression when it comes to art, since today we are faced with various forms of art.
If Merleau-Ponty’s statement is interpreted as an attempt to emphasise the atti-
tude artworks are encountered, the question of materiality or medium presents a
question: does seeing with bypass materiality, as it somehow seems to imply seeing
further than the surface? To my mind the seeing with is about opening oneself to
the work, and thus it does not cling to appearances — which is also materiality —
but yet presents a demand to open oneself to the materiality through which the
work is conveyed.
203 The radio lectures, “Causeries”, were commissioned by French national radio
(RDF) and were broadcast in 1948. The seven talks were recorded for a programme
called “The French Culture Hour” (“Heure de culture Français”, published in C.)
204 C, 95. “Si c’était vrai, le but de la peinture serait le trompe-l’œil, et sa signi-
fication serait toute hors du tableau, dans les choses qu’il signifie, dans le sujet.”
C, 55, see also 55 n.b: on the tape the word signifie is: “dans les choses qu’il
représente”.
205 PM, 90. “[...] parce qu’elle s’installe et nous installe dans un monde dont nous
n’avons pas la clef, elle nous apprend à voir et nous donne à penser comme aucun
ouvrage analytique ne peut le faire, parce qu’aucune analyse ne peut trouver dans
un objet autre chose que ce que nous y avons mis.” PM, 127.
In art Merleau-Ponty was interested in reaching the invisible, the

capacity of arts to surmount all the genealogy of perceiving, to sur-
prise, to lead astray, and to confuse the traditional order where the
subject governs the object by his or her look. What seems to mat-
ter is the attitude in which the spectator is ready to encounter the
work. To see “according to” or “with” thus offers a certain guideline
in encountering a work of art. Escoubas has taken this concept as a
point of departure for her study. She proposes that it marks the écart
(split, difference, distance, divergence) between seeing an object as a
thing versus seeing it as a painting or picture.206 Further, she suggests
that it marks the difference between the space of perception or the
space of representation on the one hand, and pictorial space (espace
pictural) on the other. She argues that the way of looking at the ob-
ject, the “seeing with” or “according to”, is actually a condition of the
constitution of the painting as a painting, thus pictorial space or the
space of the painting is not space of representing or reproducing of
the real. According to Escoubas, the space of painting is a space of
manifestation.207
A work of art is not a representation, but it manifests. To reach
this space of manifestation that is at stake in the work of art, one needs
to “see with”. I shall now move on to briefly discuss Husserl’s thinking
concerning image to better understand Merleau-Ponty’s position and
the problematic of encountering the artwork within the phenomeno-
logical tradition.
Husserl and the Aesthetic Consciousness

I will not attempt to trace the historical influence between Husserl’s
conception of aesthetic consciousness and Merleau-Ponty’s idea of “see-
ing with”, but propose that Husserl’s inquiry into pictorial conscious-
ness offers a possibility to clarify Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological
standpoint. It both gives tools to understand the radical difference art
requires from the spectator, but also helps to see how Merleau-Ponty
developed further his own understanding of seeing with artworks.
Husserl only mentions art in a few places in his writings, but this
does not mean that he saw art as uninteresting from the phenomeno-
logical point of view.208 There are places where he did discuss the
206 Escoubas 1995, 15.
207 Escoubas 1995, 15.
208 Allegedly his relation to art seems to have become more complex towards the
end of his career. (Rodrigo 2006, 96.)

encountering of an artwork. There are also several current research

commentaries that look for links between Husserl’s thought and an
understanding of art today, for instance, by Danielle Lories.209 Here,
however, I am not striving for a detailed commentary of the shifts in
his standpoints, but simply for a general outline of his thought con-
cerning the notion of image, as I see it to be helpful in understanding
Merleau-Ponty’s position.
What is the core of Husserl’s picture theory? Husserl’s concep-
tion of image developed throughout his career.210 Husserl’s studies
and notes concerning questions of perception and imagination are col-
lected in a Husserliana volume entitled Phantasie, Bildbewusstsein,
Erinnerung.211 In addition, one of the most commented passages in
which Husserl discusses his theory of artistic representation is found
in Ideas I, § 111: he uses Dürer’s etching “Knight, Death and the
Devil” (1513–14) as an example. The passage is in a context where
Husserl discusses the relationship between neutrality modification and
fantasy (Phantasie).212 As Frederik Stjernfelt points out, he developed
his conceptions of pictures and imagination in various phases.213
In the case of Husserl’s example of Dürer’s etching presented in
Ideas I, the attention is first directed to the physical thing, the etch-
ing, as the materiality that is the basis of the image. After that, there
is another level that consists of seeing what is pictured, i.e. we distin-
guish from the black lines the figures of “a knight on a horse”, as well
as “death” and “the devil”. The third level is to look to a point beyond
the drawing’s surface, moving the regard away from the Bildobjekt to
the absent Bildsubjekt, the pictorial subject. This kind of seeing is to
Husserl a matter of aesthetic contemplation, ästhetischen Betrachtung.
According to Husserl, the depicted (abgebildede) either exists or does
not exist at the same time. Or further, we are conscious of it exist-
ing in the neutrality modification of being.214 Thus the capability of
aesthetic contemplation is, according to Husserl, an example of the
209 Lories 2006.

210 It has been argued, for instance by Pierre Rodrigo, that Husserl’s later remarks
show a certain degree of self-criticism towards his early comments on art. (Rodrigo
2006, 97.)
211 Husserl Hua XXIII.
212 “Neutralitätsmodifikation und Phantasie”, Husserl I, § 111. | Phantasie is here
deliberately translated as fantasy, not imagination, as the latter might exclude some
important meanings of the word. Here I follow Mark Richir and his comments in
“Commentaire de Phénoménologie de la conscience esthétique”. (Richir 1999, 15.)
213 Stjernfelt 2007, 289.
214 Husserl I, § 111, 262/252.
neutrality modification of perception: our gaze is directed through the

image object. When we perceive something aesthetically, the impor-
tance whether the object seen — the knight, the horse, etc. — exists
or not, is not relevant, but the question of Being is neutralised.215 To
be able to encounter something without determining it as existing or
non-existing is essential for phenomenology and discourse on art. The
main point of Husserl’s approach is to set aside existential questions
and focus on what appears to us in art.
Stjernfelt stresses that in the development of Husserl’s thinking,
the notion of picture was among the most stable concepts: “The de-
termination of the concept of picture by the triad of picture, pictural
object and sujet is constant”.216 In Phantasy, Image Consciousness,
and Memory, Husserl presented the following definition:
We have three objects: 1) the physical image, the physical thing

made from canvas, marble, and so on; 2) the representing or
depicting object; and 3) the represented or depicted object. For
the latter, we prefer to say simply “image subject”; for the first
object, we prefer “physical image”; for the second, “representing
image” or “image object”.217
Besides the physical image, Bild, Husserl makes a distinction be-

tween abbildende Objekt or the representing object, and abgebildete
Objekt or the image subject. According to Husserl, it is clear that the
physical image and the representing image are not in the same phys-
ical space, but it is also necessary that the physical image object and
the image subject must also belong to different realities. It is image
consciousness, Bildbewusstsein,218 that enables the contemporaneous
presence of the different elements — it makes it possible that the per-
ceiver can live in two different worlds.219
215 Husserl I, § 111, 261–62/251–52; Richir 1999, 16; Brainard, 2002, 164–65;
Paskow 2004; Rodrigo 2006, 97.

217 Husserl PIC § 9, 21. “Drei Objekte haben wir: 1) Das physische Bild, das Ding
aus Leinwand, aus Marmor usw. 2) Das repräsentierende oder abbildende Objekt,
und 3) das repräsentierte oder abgebildete Objekt. Für das letztere wollen wir am
liebsten einfach Bildsujet sagen. Für das erste das physische Bild, für das zweite
das repräsentierende Bild oder Bildobjekt” Hua XXIII, § 9, 19.
218 In different commentaries “Bildbewusstsein” has been translated both as im-
age consciousness and pictorial consciousness. I will follow John B. Brough’s trans-
lation of Hua XXIII and use the term image consciousness.
219 Husserl PIC § 9; Stjernfelt 2007, 291; Bernet 2002, 332.
Husserl was especially interested in defining different types of in-

tentional acts, such as perception, imagination and signitive acts —
one of the central problems being whether fantasy is a form of picto-
rial consciousness. Husserl in 1904–5 considered memory and fantasy
as types of pictorial consciousness. In later documents, after 1909, it
is possible to find Husserl doubting his stand concerning the determi-
nation of fantasy and memory as forms of image consciousness, as in
them the physical image is replaced by an inner pictorial image.220
Stjernfelt formulates one of the consequences of Husserl’s image
consciousness: “Aesthetic contemplation of pictures may be distin-
guished as a special focussing on the pictorial object as appearance
(where both the picture as physical support as well as object reference
are bracketed).”221 The focus of phenomenological analysis is consid-
ered to be on the appearing, on the experience of the work of art.
As Allan Casebier remarks, we are addressing: “[...] the capacity of
perceivers to transcend their perceptual acts in recognizing what art
object such as the Dürer engraving depicts.”222
The artwork requires, or even demands, a move away from the nat-
ural stand. To Husserl, aesthetic contemplation is in an important re-
spect similar to phenomenological contemplation. Husserl writes: “The
phenomenological intuiting is thus closely related to the aesthetic in-
tuiting in ‘pure’ art.”223 As we know, this aspect is also present in
Merleau-Ponty, who is known for his interest in seeing similarities
between artists’ and phenomenologists’ works. Further, it has been
pointed out by, for instance, Richir and Lories, that Husserl’s views
are not that far from Immanuel Kant’s aesthetic insights in his Cri-
tique of Judgement (Kritik der Urteilskraft, 1790). Lories writes: “From
what transpires in this regard we may conclude that the description
of the aesthetic consciousness presupposed by Husserl is nothing other
than the Kantian description.”224
220 Stjernfelt 2007, 289; Bernet 2002, 331. | In fantasy, Bernet argues, one of the
forms of conflict disappears, as there is no physical image required, and the division
between perception and phantasy would then become blurred. (Bernet 2002, 333.)
222 Casebier 1991, 9.
223 Husserl 1994, 2. “Das phänomenologische Schauen ist also nahe verwandt dem
ästhetischen Schauen in ‘reiner’ Kunst.” Husserl 1994, 133. | Sven-Olov Wallenstein

has pointed out that “Even though he [Husserl] at various points in his career
suggested a parallel between the phenomenological epoche [...] and the aesthetic
attitude, this proximity seems never to have become a decisive issue for him.”
(Wallenstein 2009, 3.)
224 Lories 2006, 37; see also Richir 1999, 17; Wallenstein 2009. | Lories acknowl-
Above, I have wanted to observe briefly Husserl’s views on per-

ceiving an image.225 Even though the ideas behind Merleau-Ponty’s
expression “looking with or according to a painting” do not coincide
with Husserl’s, I suggest that it is clarifying to look at Husserl in or-
der to understand the radically different attitude art requires from the
spectator. Like Husserl, Merleau-Ponty insists that artworks manage
to fall in between the familiar modalities of being: neutrality mod-
ification has rendered powerless every doxic modality, and artworks
have created an in-between stage of their own. We cannot encounter
the artwork as an ordinary object since then we would not be able
to “see” it, we would lack aesthetic consciousness. Moreover, it is cru-
cial to understand that what was at stake for Merleau-Ponty was the
bringing together of different levels of the image in order to show that
the imaginary belongs to the perceptual world.226
edges: “This is far from being a novel conclusion: it has been recognized by many
commentators, ever since Sartre’s reflections on the topic. On the example of the
engraving in §111 of Ideen I, Sartre wrote in L’imagination: ‘What is important
to Husserl here is that the “thesis” or positing of existence underwent a neutrality
modification’, and he adds in a footnote: ‘He wants above all to show that, in the
aesthetic contemplation, the object is not posited as existing. His descriptions refer
for the most part to the Critique of Judgement.’” (Lories 2006, 36–37.)
225 Even though Husserl is mostly absent from later philosophical discussions on
the visual arts, there are exceptions. His understanding of aesthetic consciousness,
for instance, has been used in film theory. Casebier emphasised that his theory
of artistic representation can be useful in developing a realist model for contem-
porary film theory that has previously been, according to Casebier, governed by
idealist/nominalist frameworks. Casebier’s aim was to create a successful approach
that would help the field of film theory to find its identity. His attempt took as its
point of departure Husserl’s theory of artistic representation, as presented in such
early works as Logical Investigations and Ideas I, and aimed to approach questions
and issues that the theories of the previous framework were unable to answer,
concentrating on the experience of film representation. (Casebier 1991, 2–3.) Film
theory is naturally a field of its own, even though film does not appear to be so
far from contemporary art, which often involves moving images. Along with Case-
bier there are also other studies, such as Vivian Sobchack’s The Address of the
Eye. A Phenomenology of Film Experience (1992) which applies Merleau-Ponty’s
thinking. Chapter six explores film further.
226 Steinmetz 2007, 84. | I am aware that to say that Husserl’s concept helps to
clarify Merleau-Ponty’s thinking, contains a danger of thinking that it would suf-

fice to understand what Merleau-Ponty is saying. Of course there are differences,
of which the biggest is perhaps Merleau-Ponty’s continuous interest in art and
his many essays on the theme. Sean Dorrance Kelly, for instance, argues that in
the theme of the indeterminate lies one of the differences between Husserl’s and
Merleau-Ponty’s understandings: to Husserl indeterminate features are something
one has not yet seen and therefore determined, and to Merleau-Ponty, the inde-
terminate is something we see, yet it has a certain je ne sais quoi. He does not
Icon
Through the statement “Rather than seeing it, I see according to, or
with it” Merleau-Ponty did not aim to reach for a hidden meaning
somewhere beyond the work of art, in another world. On the contrary,
his attempt is to examine the way in which art is capable of bring-
ing the two aspects, invisibility and visibility, together.227 Merleau-
Pontian understanding could be described as a way to move away
from ordinary seeing, but in a such manner that one could also take
into consideration materiality — “seeing with” is not simply about
looking past, or beyond the materiality that is the basis of “depicted”
images, but about dwelling in the artwork, considering how it is able
to manifest the invisible in the visible, and bringing together these
different elements.
Granted, considering the conception where artwork demands differ-
ent kinds of seeing, one could ask whether artworks are necessarily able
to create a strange sphere of in-between, as was described by Husserl.
Or what about works that tend to play with a particular ambiguity,
like ready-mades: works of art that from the outset do not stand out
from ordinary objects? What about works which do not seem to offer
themselves up to our viewing?
Here, I discuss more closely one of the implications of “seeing with”,
namely the artwork’s status as icon, as something that exceeds every-
day objects and representations. Before going into Merleau-Ponty’s
conception of an icon, I need to first be precise about what is meant
by an icon? In everyday usage, an icon often refers to an image or
representation, an “iconic” figure in popular culture, or to a religious
painting presenting a saint or Biblic scenes.228 Within the tradition of
philosophy, icons are connected, among others things, to pragmatist
Charles S. Peirce’s (1839–1914) well-known typology of signs.229 To
conceive indeterminate aspects merely as temporal failures in perception, but that

these features are something more, a rupture, that is quite not possible to deter-
mine, and that the indeterminate features are nonetheless in some way present in
one’s vision. (Kelly 2005, 80; see also PP, 12/6–7.)
227 Merleau-Ponty favoured painting partly because of its corporeal nature, yet
art forms like literature and photography also share a sensuous basis. Therefore,
it would be a misunderstanding to claim that the physical characteristic of image
should be forgotten for the sake of transparency of image.
228 “also ikon, 1570s, ‘image, figure, representation,’ from L[ate] L[atin] icon,
from Greek eikon ‘likeness, image, portrait,’ related to eikenai ‘be like, look like.’”
(Harper, Online Etymology Dictionary.)
229 Peirce developed his theory of signs from his early writings such as “On a New
List of Categories” (1967) to his final texts.

put it briefly, Peirce classified signs into icons, indexes and symbols,
according to their relationship to the object. For Peirce, an icon is a
question of similarity, as an icon’s relation to an object is correspon-
dence — both the image and a diagramme of something can be icons.
As for indexes, they indicate their object through, for instance, a part
of the object, or through a trace, like in a wind vane or thermome-
ter. Symbols, again, are related to objects on the basis of common
agreement, as in the case of a trophy.230 However, here I will not ex-
amine the icon in a Peircean sense, but follow Slatman in her reading
of Merleau-Ponty’s icon where artworks’ particular character of man-
ifesting invisibility in the visible is a quality of an icon.231 From this
perspective, an icon creates a new visibility.232
Merleau-Ponty uses the term icon in a few passages of “Eye and
Mind”: in the second chapter of the essay he writes how things have an
equivalent in the seer, how they raise a carnal formula in the spectator:
“Thus there appears a ‘visible’ to the second power, a carnal essence
or icon of the first. It is not a faded copy [...]”.233 There are also other
passages in the third chapter, where in connection with Descartes’ con-
ception of looking at etchings or his own mirror image, Merleau-Ponty
remarks how “For him, icons lose their powers”.234 As I understand it,
the icon is to Merleau-Ponty a way to understand how a painting is
given to us, it underlines the particularity of the work of art. Looking
at paintings is not about deciphering signs, as is the case with reading,
but instead it addresses the embodied spectator through our shared
carnality, and thus is about our being in the world. An icon manages
to surpass the usual category of a representation and turn it into a pre-
sentation where the visible and the invisible are both present. “The
etching gives us sufficient indices, unequivocal ‘means’ for forming an
idea of the thing that does not come from the icon itself; rather it
arises in us, as ‘occasioned’ by the icon”.235
230 The Peircean classification of signs is related to his philosophy and the cat-
egories of firstness, secondness and thirdness, the modes of being. (Laakso 2003,
90.)
231 See Slatman’s book L’expression au-delà de la representation. Sur l’aisthêsis
et l’esthétique chez Merleau-Ponty (2003) and her articles “L’invisible dans le vi-
sible. Vers une phénoménologie de l’eikhôn” (2003b) and “Phenomenology of the
Icon” (2009).
232 Slatman 2003b, 234.
233 Œ, 126. “Alors paraît un visible à la deuxième puissance, essence charnelle ou
icône du premier. Ce n’est pas un double affaibli [...]” Œ, 22.

234 Œ, 131. “Il n’y a plus de puissance des icônes” Œ, 39.
235 Œ, 131–32. “La gravure nous donne des indices suffisants, des ‘moyens’ sans
Jenny Slatman has argued that in his late texts Merleau-Ponty

developed a phenomenology of the icon. How should the concept of
icon then be understood? When examining Merleau-Ponty, it turns
out that he does not directly refer to the ancient distinction of eidos,
eikon, eidolon.236 This distinction is reflected — but not unproblemat-
ically, as the terms have had different meanings — in the classification
Plato made in the Republic, where he identifies the three categories of
couches: made by god, a carpenter, and a painter. The eternal idea of
a bed is made by god. The wooden bed made by a carpenter is a copy
of god’s idea of a bed. The painter’s image of a bed is only an image,
made according to a copy of a copy.237 According to Plato, of these
three, the last is vanity, and thus it seems to emerge into the world as
a surplus.238
Slatman remarks that traditionally philosophy has regarded ide-
ality or essence to be situated in the level of ideality. But does not
eidetic research then end up in idolatry, she asks, and proposes that
in order to avoid the idolatry of the eidetic and to criticise the ontol-
ogy of representation we should turn towards the icon to search for
its ideality.239 She points out that it would be following in the line
of Husserl, who brought the world of idea and phainomena together,
showing that eidos is not to be detached from the phenomenal world.
Similarly, the project Slatman assigns to Merleau-Ponty, is to find
an ideality icon:240 Merleau-Ponty worked on aesthetics, moving from
the sphere of contemplative thought to corporeal vision. Indeed, he
parallels an icon and visual art in, for instance, the above-mentioned
lecture notes on Cartesian and contemporary ontology: “Thus, there
can be beings that are not in itself and yet are not nothing: paint-
ings — icons”.241 In contrast to Descartes’ understanding of images,
équivoque pour former une idée de la chose qui ne vient pas de l’icône, qui naît en
nous à son ‘occasion’.” Œ, 40.
236 Slatman 2003, 183.
237 Plato Republic 10, 596a–598d ; Escoubas 1986, 107–108 ; Slatman 2003b,
232–33.
238 The painter “‘[...] is the imitator of the thing which those others produce.’
‘Very good,’ said I; ‘the producer of the product three removes from nature you
call the imitator?’ ‘By all means,’ he said. ‘This, then, will apply to the maker of
tragedies also, if he is an imitator and is in his nature three removes from the king
and the truth, as are all other imitators.’ ‘It would seem so.’ ‘We are in agreement,
then, about the imitator.’” Plato Republic 10, 597e.
239 Slatman 2003b, 232–33.
240 Slatman 2003b, 233; 2009, 197.
241 “C’est ainsi qu’il peut y avoir des êtres qui ne sont pas de l’en soi et qui ne
sont pas de rien : les tableaux — les icônes.” NC, 174.

where resemblance of the image and the seen was irrelevant, an icon
is not a copy, or mere tekhne, in a Platonic sense. This also leads into
considering icon, as Slatman puts it, productive mimesis in the Aris-
totelian sense, thus poiesis. In Slatman’s reading an icon is understood
in a phenomenological sense: it is a result of the interaction between
the painter and his/her visible world. This is reflected in the relation
between painting and spectator, so that the spectator turns into the
seen. The painting is a manifestation of the inner relation to the world,
a presentation of the appearance of being.242
Indeed, Slatman underlines a reading where Merleau-Ponty’s use
of the term ‘icon’ is seen as a criticism of Descartes.243 As mentioned
earlier, Merleau-Ponty objected to the Cartesian understanding of im-
ages by saying that in that kind of seeing icons lose their powers.244 It
was important for Merleau-Ponty to make a clear distinction between
an image as an imitation and a powerful image found in art, namely an
icon. In order to discuss closer the dimensions of an icon in Merleau-
Ponty, Slatman suggests that Jean-Luc Marion’s studies concerning
the icon are useful. Marion is one of the contemporary philosophers
who have brought the icon into phenomenological discourse — yet this
is not totally unproblematic in relation to Merleau-Ponty’s concept of
icon, not least because Marion’s relation to religion is different from the
one Merleau-Ponty has. To Marion, theology becomes an indisputable
moment in all theorisation of painting.245 Marion writes: “The divine
does not produce the icon [...] man becomes religious by preparing a
face for the divine: he takes it upon him to fashion the face, and then to
ask the divine to invest it, as radically as possible, so as to become his
god.”246 He continues: “[...] The idol must fix the distance and diffuse
divinity and assure us of its presence, of its power, of its availability
[...] the idol fixes the divine for us permanently.”247 On the contrary:
The icon manifests neither the human face nor the divine nature
that no one could envisage [...] The icon conceals and reveals that
upon which it rests: the separation in it between the divine and
242 Slatman 2003b, 233–34; 2009, 200.
243 Slatman 2003, 184.
244 Œ, 39/131.
245 Marion 1991, 8.
246 Marion 2001, 5.
247 Marion 2001, 5. | “What is peculiar to the idol, therefore, has to do with this:
the divine is fixed in it on the basis of the experience of the divine that is had by
man, who, by relying on the idol’s mediation, attempts to attract the benevolence
and the protection of what appears in it as a god.” (Marion 2001, 5–6.)
its face. Visibility of the invisible, a visibility where the invisible

gives itself to be seen as such, the icon reinforces the one through
the other.248
Slatman discusses Marion’s understanding of differences between

image and icon, arguing that they present two modes of being. Marion
sees the difference between the icon and the idol not as a cultural,
factual difference, but as a phenomenological difference. The difference
can be found in the style or manner of being of the images and how the
images are directed.249 For Marion the icon, as opposed to the idol,
manifests distance, this being constitutive for the relation to the divine,
and thus bringing the visible to invisibility. An iconic painting is not
a representation but a presentation. Marion, moreover, considers that
the icon is invisible in the visible, God being the invisible manifested
in the icon. Slatman points out that even though Marion’s definition
of the icon as the invisible in the visible involves a link between the
invisible and God, and thus draws openly from Christianity, Marion
claims that his analysis is not historical or religious in essence, but
phenomenological.250
248 Marion 2001, 8.
249 Slatman 2003, 186. | Slatman parallels Merleau-Ponty’s icon with Jean-Luc
Marion’s analysis in L’idole et la distance (1977), also discussed in La croisée du
visible (1991) and In Excess. Studies of Saturated Phenomena (De Surcroît : études
sur les phénomènes saturés, 2001/2002).
250 Marion 1991, 138–39; Slatman 2003, 186; 2003b, 235. | Although Slatman
parallels Marion and Merleau-Ponty, she points out a problematic aspect: Marion
is openly hostile towards the new media, such as television, or in general popu-
lar culture. This hostility is not shared by Merleau-Ponty. There is also another
problematic parallel: the suggestion of a Christian undertone in Merleau-Ponty.
Slatman remarks that in Marion, the new way of seeing demanded a religious
shift, whereas Merleau-Ponty did not call for such a move, even though one could
ask whether, for instance, already speaking of icon or invisible is already theo-
logical? It can be noted that his vocabulary has in places a certain theological
character, for instance the concepts of flesh or incarnation. Johnson has pointed
out that Merleau-Ponty never declared himself to be an atheist. He also remarks
on the sense of the sacred or the holy and spiritualisation that can be traced in
Merleau-Ponty’s writings, though the spiritual was of this world. (Johnson 2010,
131, 67). Merleau-Ponty discusses God widely, for instance in his Nature-lectures.
The question of religion is of course wider. Slatman suggests: “Et peut-être faut-
il avouer que notre ontologie de la vision reste toujours tributaire de la tradition
judéo-chrétienne de l’iconicité (et de l’iconoclasme)” (Slatman 2003, 192). In short,
Slatman notes, referring to Marie-José Mondzain, that the Western understanding
of the ontology of vision is based on the Judeo-Christian tradition of both iconicity
and iconoclasm. (For more, see Mondzain 1996.) As a Catholic, Marion has openly
chosen a position where phenomenology seems to turn into theology. Dominique
Marion presents three features that demonstrate the icon’s ability

to introduce the invisible into the visible. Firstly, Marion points out
how the icon is about exceeding objectivity, which is related to spatial-
ity, and that there is a certain demand for the unravelling perspective.
It is no longer a question of “this putting that into the scene”, but
the order of the visible and invisible is different: the visible makes the
invisible inhabit the scene. The icon gives itself to the look without us-
ing perspective. Here the invisible has a more profound role than just
organising the visible. Secondly, the icon — and here Marion refers to
well-known iconic figures such as the Virgin Mary and Christ — al-
ways displays the glance, the look. The icon gazes down at the believer
who prays and raises his or her eyes to look at the icon. To Marion, in
the icon the invisible is in transit through the visible: an icon includes
commerce between two invisible looks, the look of the praying person
and the invisible, holy gaze. Thirdly, the icon succeeds in inserting
the invisible into the visible. It reverses the positions of spectator and
spectacle, the spectator finds himself or herself to be looked at by the
invisible gaze of the icon.251
The new visibility that the icon creates is related to the position of
the spectator. According to Marion, an image gives itself to the spec-
tator, whereas an icon is affected by other’s look. Thus his conception
of an icon is close to Merleau-Ponty’s description of the visible-seer
(voyant-visible), i.e. how touching-touched can also occur in the visi-
ble.252 In Marion’s reading, it becomes clear that the viewer (voyeur)
Janicaud, who started a debate in the 1990s, claimed that thinkers such as Lev-
inas, Ricœur, Henry and Marion have introduced their beliefs into the philosophical
work and thus smuggled theological discourse, religious ideas and vocabulary into
French phenomenology. Janicaud claimed that they participate in what has been
called the theological turn in phenomenology. The whole discussion of the invisi-
ble, according to Janicaud, would no longer be phenomenological but theological
or metaphysical. In the debate, Marion was seen as a philosopher who exempli-
fied the theological tendency of philosophy. Yet it is not indisputable to say that
there is such a thing as the theological turn. Zahavi, for instance, along with many
other commentators, has taken a sceptical stand towards Janicaud’s accusations
that certain discourses, vocabulary and topics are necessarily theological. The shift
towards the invisible is not only a French phenomena. In fact, it seems that almost
all thinkers in the field of phenomenology have regarded this shift as important.
On the other hand, it is completely within the scope of phenomenology to examine
other forms of manifestation than the visible. (Zahavi 1999, 234–37.)
251 Marion 1991, 41–46.
252 Slatman 2003, 186–90; VI, 309–10/260–62. | “Le voyant-visible (pour moi,
pour les autres) est d’ailleurs non pas un quelque chose physique, ni un comporte-
ment de vision, mais une perspective, ou mieux : le monde même avec une certaine
déformation cohérente” (VI, 310.) “The visible-seer (for me, for the others) is more-
of the images shown on television, for instance, is a consumer who

devours and defines the image and views them merely for the pleasure
of seeing.253 On the other hand, the seer (voyant) is able to see the
unavailable and the invisible.
The relationship of a seer and an icon is a two-way relation, and
can be paralleled with a Merleau-Pontian icon-painting that aims at
crossing the limits of traditional representative ontology and is reach-
ing towards reversibility of looks. This is a situation where subject and
object are no longer valid, and is described in “Eye and Mind” in terms
of the changing roles between the painter and the visible: “Inevitably
the roles between the painter and the visible switch. That is why so
many painters have said that things look at them.”254 Hence, also the
spectator looking at the icon turns into the seen-seer (voyant vu) and,
s/he is no longer outside of the painting, but participating in its spec-
tacle — not observing it from an objective standpoint. The spectator
in a traditional sense and the Merleau-Pontian seen-seer differ in their
capability to encounter what is new and strange: the former, asso-
ciated with a consumer, merely stays an outsider who observers the
image without exposing himself to the others’ look, whereas the latter
is affected by the others’ look and is thus open to the unexpected.255
Slatman formulates how in iconic works the spectator “[...] no longer
stays outside of the work and thus has no longer the position of an
aerial view.”256 The spectator of images, on the contrary, simply sees
over not a psychic something, nor a behavior of vision, but a perspective, or better:
the world itself with a certain coherent deformation” (VI, 262.)
253 Marion 1991, 91–92. | Marion has used television to illustrate the contempo-
rary relationship to imagery. His analysis is somewhat problematic, especially in

relation to the new art forms and their use of imagery. Marion claims that a spec-
tator merely produces images that he or she wants to see, presenting thus a logic
opposite to the phenomenological attitude. (Marion 1991, 97–98; Slatman 2003,
188.)
254 Œ, 129. “Entre lui et le visible, les rôles inévitablement s’inversent. C’est pour-
quoi tant de peintres ont dit que les choses les regardent [...]” Œ, 31. | Merleau-
Ponty quotes Georges Charbonnier, who conducted interviews with artists. André
Marchad explains to Charbonnier: “Ce n’était pas moi qui regardais l’arbre. C’est
l’arbre qui me regardait. Donc, je sentais, certains jours, que la nature contenait
vraiment ce monde du dedans, cette âme du dedans, cachée à nos regards et terri-
blement obsédante. Je l’ai vu et je l’ai senti à plusieurs reprises. Si je suis sur des
grandes plages désertes, au bord de la mer, ce n’est pas moi qui regarde la mer,
c’est la mer qui me regarde [...]” (Charbonnier 2002, 110–11.)
255 Slatman 2003, 188.
256 “[...] il n’est pas en dehors du spectacle, qu’il n’a pas une position de survol. Le
spectateur n’est pas un voyeur, il est impliqué dans le monde visible de l’œuvre
d’art.” Slatman 2003, 191.
only what he or she wants to see.

The way in which the relationship of seer and seen develop in Mar-
ion, is, according to Slatman, connected to the reversibility described
in “Eye and Mind” in passages relating to the changing roles between
the painter and the visible. Seeing is dependent on the seen, that there
is something visible, and on the other hand, the seen calls to be seen.
The understanding of space is also different: Merleau-Ponty argues
that the space of representation understood in a Cartesian or Renais-
sance sense, is a space without hiding place (sans cachette).257 Being is
determined by absolute positivity. An iconic space, on the other hand,
is a place where things encroach on each other, where brute Being
bursts out.258
Slatman concludes that icons, and phenomenological understand-
ing of the visual arts, present a challenge to find another way of look-
ing. Slatman’s thesis is that, besides art, philosophy can also be seen
metaphorically as more iconic than idol-like. As icon philosophy is
something which is not fixed (non figée), but questions its own possi-
bilities and form; it is unfinished and is open-ended.259
3.3 Dissolving Seeing

Above, I have outlined, what I conceive to be Merleau-Ponty’s ap-
proach to seeing and encountering art. From the phenomenological
point of view, the particularity of art is its ability to create a strange
in-between stage of its own, its capability to reject objectifying and the-
matised attitudes. Following Slatman’s reading on iconicity, Merleau-
Pontian seeing with includes the idea that artworks are manifestations
of the invisible, and that in these icons, the ideality philosophers would
like to examine is to be found.
In my concluding remark, I wish to bring out some additional view-
points concerning Merleau-Ponty’s approach. The description of view-
ing a painting or a work of art does not only require a certain un-
thematising attitude from the viewer, it also emphasis reciprocal rela-
tionships. Taking the way Merleau-Ponty characterised unthematised
looking further, it leads towards a situation where subject and object
are no longer valid. The seer and the seen can no longer be told apart.
257 I will discuss Renaissance space in the next chapter.
258 Slatman 2003, 194; Œ, 47/134.
259 Slatman 2003, 224; 2009, 215. | Indeed, the iconic is not restricted in image,
for Slatman argues that the iconic is applicable to text, too. (Slatman 2003, 251.)
3.3. DISSOLVING SEEING 79
Even if Merleau-Ponty describes the relationship of the painter and

the visible, this dependence is also related to both the spectator and
the work of art. The experience of a painter is further characterised by
the word “inspiration”, and as Merleau-Ponty points out, the inspira-
tion and expiration of Being that comes into existence in the process
is respiration in Being.260 Both of these descriptions underline the re-
versibility of the experience. Seeing is connected with being seen and
the experience of being looked at. Indeed, there is a necessity of being
seen when looking at something: there is no accessibility to art without
exposing oneself.261
The work presents an invitation to the spectator. This leads one to
ask could there then be limits to unthematised looking when thinking
about contemporary art? Would there be any other ways to describe
the relationship? In the interrupted manuscript of The Prose of the
World, Merleau-Ponty studied the corporeal relationship to the world
and to others, claiming that corporeality is a shared situation, a basis
that enables communication, and thus also the understanding of art-
works, such as books and paintings. In the background lies the prob-
lematic of intersubjectivity.262 In this manuscript he paralleled the
work of art and the other — that their encountering is, to a certain
extent, a similar situation. For instance, in his description of the expe-
rience of reading a book, the prerequisite for understanding it is in the
shared meanings and spoken language, the language parlée. Reading a
book starts with the familiar, as first the letters and words have to be
recognisable to the reader:
But, if the book really teaches me something, if the other person

is really another, at a certain stage I must be surprised, disori-
260 Œ, 31–32/129.
261 Gilles Labelle has written about the neglected communal aspects of Merleau-
Ponty’s philosophy of art, discussing the dependence between artists, the artwork,
and the spectator, and pointing out that even the most isolated artist works within
the community, as the paintings eventually return there. Labelle writes how the way
we see is dependent on the seen, that there is something visible, and on the other
hand, the seen calls to be seen: it demands an echo from the seer, and therefore
the seer appears now as a place where what asks to be seen becomes fully visible.
(Labelle 1999, 117.)
262 I.e. the recognition of another subject as a part of the experience of the shared,
objective world; two subjects that need to recognise their own corporeality and that
of others. I and another have shared perception, this experience would then be the
basis of the whole objective world, a result of intersubjectivity, and my and the
other’s living body. It is necessary to realise that my body can be experienced like
other objects. The world cannot only be a series of personal experiences, but is
experienceable and shared by all.
ented. If we are to meet not just through what we have in com-

mon but in what is different between us — which presupposes
a transformation of myself and of the other as well — then our
differences can no longer be opaque qualities. They must become
meaning.263
The surprise, a sudden dissociation, is necessary so that they, the

book and the reader (or two people), could meet in how they are differ-
ent, not in how they are similar. The central feature for Merleau-Ponty
in this encountering is the certain moment of surprise that confirms the
difference, the alien character of the other. Therefore, the encounter
requires an equal openness for otherness — we cannot devour the other
as was the case in the television imagery of Marion’s description.
In Merleau-Ponty’s conception of encountering, a special position
is reserved for the role of what is new and alien. But how should this
be understood? Michael Yeo discusses how the elements of surprise
and disorientation have ethical implications, as they “interrupt our
attempts to situate the text/other in terms of already-acquired mean-
ings.”264 Yeo brings out an important and yet problematic claim: the
new and alien needs to be encountered, but what is new and strange
should not be classified merely as “incomprehensible”.
Naturally, we are also able to read a book or meet another with-
out the element of surprise, but in that encounter there would be no
new meanings nor, as Merleau-Ponty argues, would the other be recog-
nised as truly other. An encounter, being based on what is familiar,
suddenly opens up into a new direction by surprising us. A momen-
tous cut, which could perhaps be described as a moment of falling, or
disorientation, in the communication can be caused by, to use Merleau-
Ponty’s example, the other saying something completely unforeseen, or
suddenly saying exactly the same, for that matter. Hence, at best, en-
countering an other — or a work of art — is able to constitute a shared
situation that is no longer merely a community of being, but a com-
munity of doing, creating together something new.265 As Yeo points
out, the difference does not alone suffice for a genuine experience of
263 PM, 142. “Mais, si le livre m’apprend vraiment quelque chose, si autrui est
vraiment un autre, il faut qu’à un certain moment je sois surpris, désorienté, et que
nous nous rencontrions, non plus dans ce que nous avons de semblable, mais dans
ce que nous avons de différent, et ceci suppose une transformation de moi-même et
d’autrui aussi bien : il faut que nos différences ne soient plus comme des qualités
opaques, il faut qu’elles soient devenues sens.” PM, 198.
264 Yeo 1992, 48.
265 PM, 200/144.
the other, the difference has to become meaning to be reintegrated.

Merleau-Ponty’s description of losing the track of a book and then find-
ing later on something to hold on, to re-orientate, does not eliminate
the difference, but affirms it, only when the new, alien, disorientating
is not classified as nonsense or incoherent.266
However, it must be added that the thematics of the encountering
other is a wide and a complex issue. Even though I underline Merleau-
Ponty’s insistence on recognising the other as truly other and parallel-
ing this process with the encountering of a work of art, his approach
is also open to criticism, as has most notably been done by Emmanuel
Levinas. As is well known, Levinas was persistent in his philosophy of
opposing the reduction of the Other to the Same.267 Although Lev-
inas appreciates certain features of Merleau-Ponty’s thought, he claims
that Merleau-Ponty, along with so many other representatives of West-
ern philosophy, failed in the discussion of the other — his model of
intersubjectivity is based on prior knowledge that the I already em-
bodies.268
Thomas W. Busch has pointed out that whereas for Merleau-Ponty
to see a face is to take certain hold of it (avoir sur lui une certaine
prise), Levinas would consider this offensive.269 Levinas writes: “A
face enters into our world from an absolutely foreign sphere, that is,
precisely from an absolute, that which in fact is the very name for
ultimate strangeness.”270 Further, for Levinas, it is important to find
a signifyingness that would avoid the transmutation of the other into
the same. This signifyingness can be find in a “trace”.271 Levinas states
266 Whether or not Merleau-Ponty actually manages to affirm the other can be
questioned. Are we not always in his model projecting our already acquired mean-
ings into the encountering? Critics such as Irigaray insist that Merleau-Ponty sys-
tematically failed to take into account the difference. Irigaray writes: “Despite his
efforts, Maurice Merleau-Ponty falls back into a lack of differentiation with respect
to these others who ‘haunt’ him and with whom he ‘haunts a single actual Being.’
They form, in part without their knowing, a single ‘Being,’ a single Whole in which
his perception participates without being able to dissociate itself from it. [...] He
lacks the space-time, the available corporeal matter thanks to which it would be
possible for him to perceive the other as other in the present, including what, in
this other, will remain invisible to him.” Also, Irigaray claims Merleau-Ponty is
solipsistic in his description of an encounter, where I does not encounter you, but
many. (Irigaray 2004, 398. See also Irigaray 1993, 151–84; 2001, 17.)
267 Busch 1992, 195.
268 Diprose 2002, 178.
269 Busch 1992, 196; see also PP, 296/295.
270 Levinas 1987, 96.
271 Busch 1992, 196.
that:
[...] a trace does not belong to phenomenology, to the compre-

hension of the appearing and the dissimulating, we can at least
approach this signifyingness in another way by situating it with
respect to the phenomenology it interrupts. A trace is not a sign
like any other. But it also plays the role of a sign [...] He who left
traces in wiping out his traces did not mean to say or do anything
by the traces he left. He disturbed the order in an irreparable
way. He has passed absolutely.272
Thus, as Busch points out, the Other leaves a trace, but is never
present in it, but is something that always withdraws.273 For Levinas
“The beyond from which a face comes signifies as a trace. A face is in
the trace of the utterly bygone, utterly passed absent [...].274 In Busch’s
reading he underlines the difference between Levinas and Merleau-
Ponty concerning the idea of reversibility and reciprocity, which for
Merleau-Ponty were central — on the other hand, Levinas rejected
reversibility and instead of reciprocal relations stressed that they are
inverted.275
My intention is not to take a stand on the Levinasian critique.
I acknowledge that paralleling the other — let alone the Levinasian
Other — with a work of art involves a risk. However, I still would like
to consider a work of art as a place for the other. I wish to underline
that in my reading of Merleau-Ponty, the conception of reversibility
and reciprocity are not understood as totally symmetrical — this is
stressed especially in the later texts of Merleau-Ponty, and I will dis-
cuss this further in section 7.1. Through the acknowledgement of the
incompleteness of reversibility there is both a danger of reducing the
Other to the Same, but as I would like to suggest, also an opening
into acknowledging the other as truly other, encountering the ultimate
strangeness.
Art is necessarily social by nature.276 For Merleau-Ponty, the work
272 Levinas 1987, 104–105.
273 Busch 1992, 197.
274 Levinas 1986, 355.
275 Busch 1992, 198–99.
276 Even the remotest and most isolated piece will have audience, though there
are of course exceptions. A fascinating fictive example of an audienceless artwork

is presented by Georges Perec in Life. A User’s Manual (La Vie Mode d’emploi,
1978). One of the main characters, a wealthy English gentleman called Bartlebooth,
dedicates his life to a project that aims at dissolving aquarelle water sceneries,
painted by Bartlebooth over a span of 20 years, back into the sea.
of art and its meanings are created in the various encounters with
viewers.277 However, connected with thinking of a work of art, one
must proceed into asking what happens when the other remains in-
accessible: what happens when a work refuses to see with, and denies
any access and companionship? Further, is it certain that when en-
countering the alien we do not adopt the strange by dissolving it, and
thus ignore possibilities of non-communication, disagreement etc.?
With the following case studies of contemporary art I wish to be
able to approach also these critical questions, and demonstrate what
possibilities the phenomenological approach — interpreted as I have
done here — could open for the encountering. I will start my discussion
from what has been considered to be home ground for Merleau-Ponty,
namely paintings. In the next chapter I move on to discuss painting and
its spaces, and eventually also the first of the case studies, paintings
by Tiina Mielonen.
277 The origin for the different associations is in the work of art, as the work is
able to exceed all causal explanations. (Œ, 62–63/139.)
4
Phenomenology of Painting: From Space to
Depth
In this chapter, I shall first examine Merleau-Ponty’s insight into pic-

torial space, especially his conceptions of two different spaces:278 I will
present a reading where the opposition between figurative or Carte-
sian space and modern or Cézannian space is examined closer.279 This
reading is influenced by Isabel Matos Dias’ and Éliane Escoubas’ dis-
cussions of pictorial space. Secondly, in the latter part of the chapter,
I present my first case study in contemporary painting. Towards the
end of Merleau-Ponty’s career, depth became a concept that spoke of
voluminosity, of the intertwining of the visible and the invisible. In
the case study, I examine the consequences of this shift more closely. I
will inquire into the spatial qualities of painting by studying the works
of Tiina Mielonen. I have chosen Mielonen’s works for a close reading
because they challenge Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological conceptu-
alisation of lived or experienced space. In the reading I will focus my
attention on the phenomenon of depth, a topic that captures an im-
portant development in Merleau-Ponty’s thinking on space.
Space in Phenomenology
Why is space of interest to my discussion of art? First, the phenom-
ena of spatiality are crucial for the interaction between the painter
and the painted, as well as for the interaction between the spectator
and the painting. More specifically, the phenomenon of depth (pro-
fondeur), which haunted Merleau-Ponty for decades, is essential for
278 Œ, 32/129; Matos Dias 2001, 149–50.
279 Here I use the term modern to refer to non-Euclidean, Cézannian space, thus
I do not use the term to refer to the period that started in the 16th century, as in,
for instance, Edward S. Casey’s notion that Descartes’ space is modern (1997).
85
86 CHAPTER 4. PHENOMENOLOGY OF PAINTING
both types of relationships. Second, space plays a fundamental role

in the phenomenology of perception and embodiment in general. This
comes from the fact that phenomenological analysis shows how the
lived body is constituted in the very same process as the perceptual
world and its spatial objects.280 The chapter will study the spatiality
of painting in particular, but before going into this main topic, I will
first sketch out the phenomenological context of my inquiry.
In general, phenomenology can be said to criticise the mathemat-
ical methods of modern sciences and their claims to universality. In
Husserl’s reading the roots of the modern scientific method extend
as far as to Euclidean geometry, but this method only reached full
bloom in the Galileo Galilei-inspired scientific revolution of the 16th
century. According to Husserl, the new idea that emerged with the
modern natural sciences was the idea of an infinite field of being that
an all-inclusive mathematical science can master. He writes: in the
work of Galileo, “nature itself is idealized under the guidance of the
new mathematics”.281
As explained above, phenomenology institutes a new type of in-
quiry into our possibilities of experiencing the world and its multiple
types of beings. For this purpose, phenomenology has to start with a
rejection of all positing of being, and thus it must also reject the posit-
ing which is involved in the modern natural scientific attitude: the
positing of nature as an open infinity of physical bodies in causal and
functional relations. It takes its own point of departure in the lived ex-
periences of the subjects that relate to the world,282 and in their lived
280 Husserl was continuously interested in space — his writings on the subject
extend from the first phenomenological studies, such as Logical Investigations to

Crisis. Heidegger’s thought concerning place and space developed throughout his
career. One of his influential texts concerning arts is “Art and Space” (“Die Kunst
und der Raum”, 1969). An inspiring discussion on the history of space from the phe-
nomenological perspective has been made by Edward S. Casey, whose studies are
reaching towards a dialogue with visual arts (1997; 2002; 2004; 2005; 2007). There
are also a significant number of studies which adapt phenomenological approaches
to environmental aesthetics and architecture. For instance, Arnold Berleant’s stud-
ies in environmental aesthetics have underlined the human in the perceptual centre
(1991; 1992), whereas Kirsi Saarikangas’ studies in art history have brought forth
the experiences of lived spaces in architecture (2002).
281 Husserl C § 9, 23.
282 Husserl was from the beginning captivated by the privilege of the human body.
He used the distinction between merely an object body and a lived body, and the
terminology of Körper — Leib. Through the concept of the lived body Husserl also
developed the concept of the body as a Nullpunkt, Nullkörper. Husserl writes that
space is always constituted from the one and only persisting point, as the world
appears to me through the body. (Husserl Hua XVI, 80.)
87
bodies that provide the “zero ground” for all perceptual experiences
and for all estimations of distances, directions, and locations. There
can be no spatial relations without the lived body.283
In Crisis, Husserl argued that the modern idea of universal mathe-
matical science triggered a fundamental reshaping of all sciences, natu-
ral and human. Husserl shows how the development of the techniques
and practices of measuring has, together with the mathematisation
of the natural sciences, resulted in a new idea of knowledge which
surpasses lived experience. The object of this knowledge is not the
life-world, which is disclosed to us in experience and perception, it is
instead a mathematical universe of pure nature. Moreover, this math-
ematised nature is substituted for the life-world as the ultimate source
of justification. For Husserl, this is a fundamental confusion that trans-
fers the qualities of the method to the qualities of the object. He states:
“[S]ome were misled into taking these formulae and their formula-
meaning for the true being of nature itself.”284 In the new setting, the
attention of the scientist is directed at abstractions and idealisations;
it is no longer bound to the objectivities of the life-world.
In Husserl’s thinking ideality was not a problem as such; the prob-
lem was the way in which it was applied. The Greeks had idealised
empirical numbers, i.e. the concrete units that were used in measure-
ment. The difficulties began when modern thinkers sought to conquer
the infinite mathematical horizons, and the idea of a completely ratio-
nal and all-inclusive science was instituted as the rule for all scientific
practices. Mathematics offered means for these practices both through
its ideal objects and through the art of measuring.285 From the phe-
nomenological perspective, the problem of this development in objecti-
fication was that the sciences forgot their starting points in experience,
and were unable to think back to the original meanings established in
experience, i.e. to pre-scientific believing or perceptual faith.286
283 Of course, Husserl is not the first philosopher to suggest such a thing. As
Casey points out, Kant had argued that body is the source of orientation. Yet
Kant had not argued that the perceptual field pivoted entirely around the body.
(Casey 1998, 217–18.)
284 Husserl C § 9f, 43–44.
285 “The obscurity was strengthened and transformed still later with the devel-
opment and constant methodical application of pure formal mathematics. ‘Space’

and the purely formally defined ‘Euclidean manifold’ were confused; the true axiom
(i.e., in the old, customary sense of the term), as an ideal norm with unconditional
validity, grasped with self-evidence in pure geometric thought or in arithmetical,
purely logical thought, was confused with inauthentic [uneigentliches] ‘axiom’ —”
Husserl C § 9i, 56/56.
286 “It will gradually become clearer, and finally be completely clear, that the
Merleau-Ponty accepts the main lines of argument that Husserl

developed in The Crisis. For him, Euclidean space is a result of a
particular way of objectifying and abstracting from the nature given
in perceptual experience.287 Any philosophy that takes this space as
fundamental fails to take into account its dependency on the lived
experience of space that is always perspectival and always tied to the
body as our anchor point in the world: “space has its basis in our
facticity”.288 In the radio lectures from 1948 Merleau-Ponty explains
how the structures of the life-world differ from those of Euclidean
space:
Instead of a world in which the distinction between identity and

change is clearly defined, with each being attributed to a different
principle, we have a world in which objects cannot be considered
to be entirely self-identical, one in which it seems as though
form and content are mixed, the boundary between them blurred.
Such a world lacks the rigid framework once provided by the
uniform space of Euclid. We can no longer draw an absolute
distinction between space and the things which occupy it, nor
indeed between the pure idea of space and the concrete spectacle
it presents to our senses.289
Thus, Merleau-Ponty argues that scientific insight into objective

space must be confronted with the subjective experience of the life-
proper return to the naïveté of life — but in a reflection which rises above this
naïveté — is the only possible way to overcome the philosophical naïveté which
lies in the [supposedly] ‘scientific’ character of traditional objectivistic philosophy.
This will open the gates to the new dimension we have repeatedly referred to in
advance.” Husserl C § 9l, 59/60. See also Husserl C, § 9b.
287 “[Therefore] system space. Correlatively, the earth is no longer the center of
the world, the sky is no longer the limit of the cosmos, infinite world. Perspec-
tive has the same function as philosophical critique: connection of subjectivity and
objectivity, [of] viewpoint and reality.” IP, 44. “[Donc], espace système. Corrélati-
vement : la terre n’est plus centre du monde, le ciel n’est plus limite du cosmos,
monde infini. [La] perspective a même fonction que philosophie critique : lien de
subjectivité et objectivité, [de] point de vue et réalité.” IP, 82.
288 PP, 296. “l’espace est assis sur notre facticité” PP, 294. See also PP, 316/319,
451/458
289 C, 51. “Au lieu d’un monde où la part de l’identique et celle du changement
sont strictement délimitées et rapportées à des principes différents, nous avons un

monde où les objets ne sauraient se trouver avec eux-mêmes dans une identité
absolue, où forme et contenu sont comme brouillés et mêlés et qui enfin n’offre plus
cette armature rigide que lui fournissait l’espace homogène d’Euclide. Il devient
impossible de distinguer rigoureusement l’espace et les choses dans l’espace, la
pure idée de l’espace et le spectacle concret que nous donnent nos sens.” C, 18–19.
4.1. MERLEAU-PONTY ON THE PICTORIAL SPACE 89
world if we are to make sense of perception and movement. “Space is

not the setting (real or logical) in which things are arranged, but the
means whereby the position of things become possible.”290 This means
that the lived space is a system of internal connections of signification;
it is the network of experienceable things in relation to one another.
4.1 Merleau-Ponty on the Pictorial Space

In many of his works Merleau-Ponty thematises the problem of space
by discussing paintings. The main topic of his discussion of the spatial-
ity of painting in the essay “Eye and Mind” is Renaissance perspective
and the modern era. Renaissance ideas of perspective and the Carte-
sian approach of Renaissance thinkers291 have been described as the
source of Western ocularcentricism.292 Merleau-Ponty argues that the
modern era, i.e. the 19th and 20th century developments in the vi-
sual arts, most notably Paul Cézanne’s works, radically challenge the
Renaissance setting and its assumptions of human vision and visible
space.
These two crucial shifts in the history of the theory of vision are,
however, questioned by many recent commentators.293 Renaissance
perspective is much richer and more varied than Merleau-Ponty claims,
and his idea that the Renaissance perspective would stand for, repre-
sent or mirror Descartes’ rationalism and the Cartesian quest for cer-
tainty, has likewise been questioned.294 Merleau-Ponty has also been
criticised for the romantic attribution of the qualities of genius to
Cézanne and his ability to express a “brute vision”.295 Some commen-
290 PP, 284. “L’espace n’est pas le milieu (réel ou logique) dans lequel se disposent
les choses, mais le moyen par lequel la position des choses devient possible.” PP,
281.
291 As a side-remark, I wish point to Dürer’s diagrams. In his engravings on
perspective Dürer often marked the spot of the onlooker (the artist or scholar)
with a drawing of a single eye in profile. See, for instance, The Painter’s Manual,
which was originally published in 1525. The version published in 1538 contains
some new diagrams. (Dürer 1977.)
292 See, for instance, Van de Vall 2008, 17. | As Margaret Iversen points out,
perspective construction has also later been associated with male-centered, indi-
vidualistic ideologies. (Iversen 2005, 194; see also Damisch 1994, xiv–xv.)
293 On the discussion of perspective, see for instance, Damisch 1994; Crary 1995;
Massey 1997; Iversen 2005.

294 Massey 1997.
295 Crary 1999, 287–89. | Granted that Merleau-Ponty did reject the idea of the
artist as a solitary, universal genius. Johnson, for instance, comments that Merleau-
Ponty was interested in the gaps and discontinuities in the persona of Leonardo da
tators argue that it is a clichéd and completely unoriginal point to

present Renaissance perspective and Cartesian rationalism as defining
features of Western culture and its preoccupation with the visual.296
These issues have been widely discussed in the research literature,
but it is not my aim to take a stand of any of the forms of critique
presented against Merleau-Ponty’s analyses or interpretations in “Eye
and Mind” or to present an overview of the various aspects of this
discussion. For the purposes of my thesis, I will primarily focus on
Merleau-Ponty’s conception of the spatiality of painting and explicate
his understanding of it.
In “Eye and Mind” Merleau-Ponty describes two different types of
space. In his presentation Descartes and Cézanne represent two anti-
nomies concerning thinking about space. “Cartesian” space, or “Eu-
clidean” space as Merleau-Ponty also calls it, is infinite, yet is con-
trolled by the gaze and is divisible — partes extra partes. “Cézannian”,
or modern space is intertwining and latent, or is constantly disclosing
itself and opening up. Further, it is iconic, in the sense described in
the previous chapter.297 To these characteristics emphasised in the re-
search literature on Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy, I would like to add
another remark from “Eye and Mind”, namely Merleau-Ponty’s char-
acterisation of the way in which abstract art relates to the world.
According to him, abstract art attempts to deny its connection to the
world. As is well known, Merleau-Ponty’s preferences include, besides
his appraisal of Cézanne, also a certain distaste for abstract art. He
writes:
How would the painter or poet express anything other than his
encounter with the world? What does abstract art itself speak
of, if not of a negation or refusal of the world? Now austerity and
the obsession with geometrical surfaces and forms [...] still have
an odor of life, even if it is a shameful or despairing life.298
Merleau-Ponty declines the validity of the “rejection of the world”,

since his project is to demonstrate the richness of lived experience and
Vinci. (Johnson 2008, 90–91.)
296 Van de Vall 2008, 17.
297 Cf. chapters II and III in Œ.
298 LV, 93. “Comment le peintre ou le poète diraient-ils autre chose que leur
rencontre avec le monde ? De quoi l’art abstrait lui-même parle-t-il, sinon d’une
négation ou d’un refus du monde ? Or l’austérité, la hantise des surfaces et des
formes géométriques [...] ont encore une odeur de vie, même s’il s’agit d’une vie
honteuse ou désespérée.” LV, 91.
its intentional connections with the world and to argue how there is
no “separate world” beyond the canvas. His interpretation of abstract
art is bound to the art scene of the time, and is thus also limited by
it. Véronique M. Fóti even points out that his comments on abstract
art refer to a specific art movement, geometric abstraction, which ex-
plores either geometric shapes, and/or protozoa — “infusorians and
microbes”, as Merleau-Ponty put it. Fóti even suggests that this de-
scription is an obvious reference to the works by the American painter
William Baziotes (1912–1963).299 Here, my aim is not to trace the the-
oretical aspirations of abstract painters, but I wish to point out that
Merleau-Ponty’s interpretation of abstract art does not do it justice.
Isabel Matos Dias suggests that in Cartesian space, Merleau-Ponty
finds a representation or figuration of the mental vision theorised by
Descartes. Here space is called “figurative”. However, in Cézannian,
or modern space, Merleau-Ponty finds an expression or a figuration
of sensible vision. Matos Dias argues that this juxtaposition suggests
another interpretation of the two models: art as imitation and art as
expression. In Matos Dias’ reading the confrontation is between art as
the copy of the world and art guided by the original.300 The former
shows art only as a form of illusionism, the latter would take seriously
the difficulties of perception and depth. Let me add that, within this
interpretative framework, abstract art could be characterised as totally
lacking a worldly point of reference, since it is neither an expression
nor a copy of the world. Instead, its space is close to a geometric space.
In “Eye and Mind” paintings seem to be classified and assessed ac-
cording to a criteria that emerges from the foundations of phenomenol-
ogy, namely lived experience. In Merleau-Ponty’s criticism of Cartesian
figurative space we find a rejection of all models. In the sensible vision,
on the other hand, we focus our reflections on lived experience in all its
ambiguities. From this standpoint, the critical attitude to abstract art
which Merleau-Ponty expresses, is based on the idea that abstract art
would aim at erasing or abandoning the lived experience on which it
necessarily rests.301 Escoubas underlines that we must go further than
Merleau-Ponty and not say that there is either abstract or figurative
space in a painting, for painting is always, in a singular manner, both
299 Fóti 2000, 141.

300 Matos Dias 2001, 149–50.
301 It must be noted that Merleau-Ponty did refer to, for instance, the works of
Paul Klee and Wassily Kandinsky. On the question of abstract art, see Fóti 2000;
also 1998.
figurative and abstract.302

Here I would like to stress that the term pictorial space should not
be understood as equal to the representation of space. The latter is too
narrow a concept and it would imply, again, that a work of art is to
be understood simply as an arrow that points somewhere and a paint-
ing would then be simply a reproduction. Instead, pictorial space is
something that the spectator fathoms when he or she is “seeing with”
the painting. I also underline that pictorial spaces are manifold — ab-
stract paintings have, for example, their own pictorial spaces — and
this concerns the mode of appearing.303 I agree with Fóti, who argues
that Merleau-Ponty’s remarks on abstract art do not do justice to it,
even though his texts on painting would be highly applicable to ab-
straction. Fóti’s own analysis underlines how there are many different
types of abstract art, such as Abstract Expressionism or minimalist
abstraction. Her own examples, painters Linda Gentile, Peter Pinch-
beck and Edwin Ruda, fall outside the categories. She argues that they
“work out the vision itself”, creating paintings that are visually and
emotionally compelling and thus inseparable from visual appearance,
and how these paintings have “highly energized space”.304 All in all,
the exploration of vision that Merleau-Ponty held important, i.e. the
encounter with the visible world, can also be found in the abstract art.
I will not here analyse the problem of abstract art further, but simply
emphasise that my project is to show that Merleau-Ponty’s notions of
Cartesian space and Cézannian space are both much more plural than
some readings of Merleau-Ponty suggest. Thus I wish to point out new
possibilities for phenomenological inquiries into painting and art.
Cartesian and Cézannian Space

In Merleau-Ponty’s description, painting is an attempt to approach
the world without any prejudices, but as such it, too, can suffer from
the problems of intellectualism and empiricism. Merleau-Ponty’s crit-
ical remarks on Classical perspectival painting are motivated by his
criticism of Descartes’ Dioptrics and the ideas on seeing presented in
it. The main problem of this figurative space, as he understands it,
is its reliance on a certain model of seeing, which emerges together
with linear perspective techniques. Linear perspective is understood
by Merleau-Ponty as a concrete enactment of Descartes’ early theory
302 Escoubas 1995, 35.
303 Escoubas 1995, 36.
304 Fóti 2000, 162.
of thinking of vision: vision that is mechanical and geometrical. At

best, this theory can merely correct the “errors” and indeterminacies
of lived perception, it cannot study seeing in operation or handle the
ambiguities that are intrinsic to it.305
Within art history, perspective and perspectival painting have been
topics of much debate during the 20th century. The focus of this dis-
cussion has changed as well as its significance.306 However, a detailed
discussion of art-historical studies concerning perspective techniques
and their development is beyond the scope of my thesis. I shall not at-
tempt to “reconstruct the perspective practice”307 or reveal the “per-
spectival fig leaf”.308 The aim is not to reveal or demonstrate what
“perspective is truly about”. My interest is exclusively in Merleau-
Ponty’s statements about perspective and its philosophical motives.
The aim is to explicate the basic line of his thought and study how his
thinking on space developed.
Merleau-Ponty refers repeatedly to the perspectival techniques of
the Renaissance, but he does not discuss any particular paintings to
demonstrate his point.309 “Eye and Mind” draws heavily from Erwin
Panofsky’s (1892–1968) rather controversial Perspective as Symbolic
Form (Die Perspektive als “symbolische Form”, 1927). Merleau-Ponty
gives direct reference to his works in two passages and repeats several
of his arguments.310 In order to see what is, or might be, original in
305 Œ, 46–49/134–35. | For the connections between the development of perspec-
tive technique and Descartes’ thinking, see Kemp 1990, 129–31.

306 Elkins, for instance, argues that “instead of a bewitching ‘secret’ that lured
Dürer across the Alps, it has become a commonplace, ubiquitous and routine”
(Elkins 1994, 3).
307 Elkins 1994, 263. | Elkins views the discussion on perspective as twofold: those
who wish to reconstruct the perspective practice, and those who are concerned with
the philosophical discussion on perspective, i.e., “positivist” and post-structuralist
endeavours.
308 According to Panofsky, the late medieval artists who did not know geometry
well enough, hid discrepancies with, for instance, a bit of drapery, or “some other
perspectival fig leaf”. In later readings of Panofsky, it also symbolises the urge to
reveal the “hidden” painting, to find clues to its secret. (Grootenboer 2005, 114–15.
For the history of perspective, see Kemp 1990.)
309 Œ, 49/135.
310 See Œ, 49, 90/135, 148. | Panofsky’s influence on Merleau-Ponty is visible
already for instance in the lecture notes “The Experience of Others” (“L’expérience
d’autrui”, 1951–52, published in MPS): “L’analyse de Panofsky nous met en garde
contre deux erreurs en ce qui concerne l’interprétation de l’histoire de l’art. 1) Il
serait faux d’imaginer qu’il y a derrière les peintres, pour aboutir à ses fins, un esprit
du monde (surartistes de Malraux). On n’a pas affaire à un inconscient historique
qui dirigerait les peintres à leur insu ; il faut comprendre que le peintre travaille et
his phenomenological approach, it is necessary to look at Panofsky’s

work.
Perspective, as we learn from Panofsky, originates from Latin “per-
spectiva” and it means “seeing through”, or in German durchsehung,
as Dürer put it.311 This idea of seeing through can be understood as
a method of establishing stable relationships between objects in space
and as a representation of these relations — a rigid system or a net-
work that presupposes one prioritised and predestined point of view.312
Panofsky explains:
In order to guarantee a fully rational — that is, infinite, unchang-

ing and homogenous — space, this “central perspective” makes
two tacit but essential assumptions: first, that we see with a sin-
gle and immobile eye, and second that the planar cross section of
the visual pyramid can pass for an adequate reproduction of our
optical image. In fact these two premises are rather bold abstrac-
tions from reality, if by “reality” we mean the actual subjective
optical impression.313
ne pense pas l’histoire universelle. 2) Il ne faut pas croire que le développement de

la peinture est le fait de hasards. Quelque chose guide les peintres dans leur travail :
un problème senti sourdement comme une situation non résolue. Il y a une sorte de
rationalité de la peinture ; on ne se peut donc parler ni de ‘surartiste’ ni de ‘torrent
d’histoire’, mais tous les peintres font partie du même monde pictural, un problème
se présente à tous. Dans un tableau nous lisons une histoire silencieuse dans la
mesure où le problème n’est pas explicite.” (MPS, 545.) “Panofsky’s analysis warns
us against two errors in the interpretation of art. (1) It would be wrong to imagine
that in order for painters to reach a conclusion, a world spirit exists (Malraux’s
‘superartists’). We are not dealing with an unconscious history that, unbeknown to
them, directs painters. We must understand that painters work and do not think
about universal history. (2) We must not believe that the development of painting
is random. Something guides painters in their work. The problem is felt vaguely as
an unresolved situation. A kind of rationality of painting exists. We cannot speak
of the ‘superartists,’ nor can we speak of a ‘historical current.’ Yet every painter is
part of the same pictorial world , a problem present in all of us. In a painting, we
read a silent history wherein the problem’s cadence is inexplicit.” (MPS, 439; see
also the lecture notes “Institution” from Collège de France, IP 83/45.)
311 Panofsky 1991, 27; see also MPS, 546/439; Escoubas 1986, 137 | In Phe-
nomenology of Perception, Merleau-Ponty writes: “The object-horizon structure,

or the perspective, is no obstacle to me when I want to see the object” (PP, 79).
“La structure objet-horizon, c’est-à-dire la perspective, ne me gêne donc pas quand
je veux voir l’objet” (PP, 82).
312 Theory and the development of perspective techniques did not go hand in
hand. (Panofsky 1955, 247–51.)

313 Panofsky 1991, 29.
Here, Panofsky underlines how the construction invented in the Re-

naissance reduces the spectator to a motionless eye, and treats space as
a homogenous mathematical space. In the field of art history Panofsky
was following the methodological framework set by formalist art his-
torians Heinrich Wölfflin (1831–1903) and Alois Riegl (1858–1905).314
His project has been characterised as a recovery of the Hegelian Idea:
he understood art as a particular kind of knowledge and set out to
investigate how art in different historical periods expresses different
kinds of relations between the knowing mind and the world.315 The ti-
tle of Panofsky’s essay involves a direct reference to philosopher Ernst
Cassirer’s Philosophy of Symbolic Forms (Philosophie der symbolischen
Formen, 1923–1929). In Philosophy, as well as later in An Essay on
Man (1944), Cassirer (1874–1945) introduced and developed his con-
cept of symbolic form that was designed to bring together scientific
and nonscientific forms of life: myth, language, and art are symbolic
forms that condition human knowledge. Panofsky’s understanding and
application of Cassirer’s concept of symbolic form is widely discussed
and criticised, as well as his reading of perspective.316 Panofsky ar-
gued that perspective is a symbolic form, or one of such forms, and
for him the task of the philosopher or art theoretician was to trace the
development of this form through different cultural epochs. He writes:
Indeed, it may even be characterized as (to extend Ernst Cas-

sirer’s felicitous term to the history of art) one of those “symbolic
forms” in which “spiritual meaning is attached to a concrete, ma-
terial sign and intrinsically given to this sign.” This is why it is
essential to ask of artistic periods and regions not only whether
they have perspective, but also which perspective they have.317
Panofsky’s project was to trace the development of perspective

from Antiquity to modernity. In the last chapter of Perspective as
Symbolic Form Panofsky argues that it changes its position from being
314 Wood 1997, 8.
315 Hatt & Klonk 2006, 96.
316 Art historians have later questioned the accuracy of Panofsky’s studies — not
least because he seems to forget his role as an art historian —, but he has also
been widely appreciated for drawing from various fields such as philosophy, optics,
theology and psychology. As one of the key figures in the field of visual culture,
W. J. T. Mitchell says in Picture Theory that Panofsky’s study can be seen to
mark a starting point for visual culture. (Mitchell 1995, 31; see also Damisch 1994,
2; Iversen 2005; Grootenboer 2005, 114.)
317 Panofsky 1991, 41.
a technical and mathematical problem to becoming an artistic prob-

lem. It is by nature a two-edged sword. In the concluding chapter, he
states:
[T]he history of perspective may be understood with equal justice

as a triumph of the distancing and objectifying sense of the real,
and as a triumph of the distance-denying human struggle for
control; it is as much a consolidation and systematization of the
external world, as an extension of the domain of the self.318
Against this Panofskian background, it is clear that Merleau-

Ponty’s rejection of perspective is motivated by his refusal of all models
that are substituted for subjective perception as well as his refusal of
the demand to obey predestined rules in which the perceiver is reduced
to a motionless eye.319 Following Panofsky, Merleau-Ponty takes per-
spective as a historical product of a certain time and space. He writes:
“The perspective of the Renaissance is no infallible ‘gimmick’. It is
only one particular case, a date, a moment in a poetic information
of the world which continues after it.”320 Merleau-Ponty directs his
318 Panofsky 1991, 67–68.
319 Merleau-Ponty writes “Analysons un objet culturel antérieur à la zone du
langage ; par exemple, la perception d’un tableau sans personnage humain. Un
tableau est la trace manifeste d’un certain rapport culturel au monde ; celui qui
le perçoit, perçoit en même temps un certain type de civilisation. Dans les cas
où l’art a cherché à se faire aussi peu subjectif que possible (peinture italienne de
la Renaissance), dans cette volonté même, cet art est l’expression d’une certaine
manière d’être homme. La perspective planimétrique, inventée, dans ce but, est
un moyen énergique d’égaliser le monde parce qu’elle permet la représentation
cohérente de la multiplicité des objets sans qu’ils empiètent les uns sur les autres ;
le peintre se résoud à ne plus sacrifier un objet à un autre. Or, ainsi comprise, elle
exprime une certaine attitude objectivante à l’égard du monde.” (MPS, 544.) “Let
us analyze a cultural object that is prior to the zone of language: the perception of
painting without any human figures. A painting is the manifest trace of a certain
cultural relationship to the world. Someone who perceives it also perceives a certain
kind of civilization. In the case where art has sought to be as little subjective as
possible (such as in Italian painting in the Renaissance), even within this desire, art
is the expression of a certain manner of being human. The planimetric perspective,
invented to achieve this goal, is an energetic way of equalizing the world because
it permits the coherent representation of the multiplicity of objects without letting
one infringe upon the other. The painter resolves to no longer sacrifice one object
to another. However, thus understood, painting expresses a certain objectivizing
attitude toward the world.” (MPS, 438.)
320 Œ, 135. “La perspective de la Renaissance n’est pas un ‘truc’ infaillible : ce
n’est qu’un cas particulier, une date, un moment dans une information poétique
du monde qui continue après elle.” Œ, 51.
criticism especially against the theoretications of that time. Renais-

sance painters knew from experience that a “fool proof” solution to
the problems of painting was utopian: “They [painters] knew that lin-
ear perspective was far from being an ultimate breakthrough; on the
contrary, it opened several pathways for painting.”321 And later he
adds:
The idea of universal painting, of a totalization of painting, of

painting’s being fully and definitively accomplished is an idea
bereft of sense. For painters, if any remain, the world will always
be yet to be painted.322
In Merleau-Ponty’s view, there is no “final” solution for the paint-

ing that would mean the death of painting. Likewise, it is only theo-
reticians who mistakenly think that the problem of painting could be
mastered by mathematical methods, and it is they who are are willing
to neglect the multiplicities and ambiguities of experience in order to
construct a coherent and all-encompassing theory.
However, by simply tracing the changes in Merleau-Ponty’s un-
derstanding of perception, we cannot find a unified theory or a fixed
conceptualisation of vision and space. The idea of brute perception was
central in “Cézanne’s Doubt”, but in the late period of his thinking
Merleau-Ponty questions the judgmental model of perception by em-
phasising his analysis of perceptual faith (“foi perceptive”).323 Merleau-
Ponty’s work constantly problematises concepts that to his mind ap-
pear prejudged, in the sense that they contain too much of the burden
of our philosophical tradition, but he was unable to complete this work.
For instance, in the working notes to The Visible and the Invisible, en-
titled “Wild Perception — The Immediate — Cultural perception —
learning”, from 22th October 1959, he still reformulates and elaborates
his understanding of perception, pondering the possibility of returning
to “brute vision”:
321 Œ, 135. “Les peintres, eux, savaient d’expérience [...] que la perspective linéaire
est si peu un point d’arrivée qu’elle ouvre au contraire à la peinture plusieurs

chemins.” Œ, 50.
322 Œ, 148. “L’idée d’une peinture universelle, d’une totalisation de la pein-
ture, d’une peinture toute réalisée est dépourvue de sens. Durerait-il des millions
d’années encore, le monde, pour les peintres, s’il en reste, sera encore à peindre.”
Œ, 90.
323 This conception is already introduced in Phenomenology of Perception in the
form of proto-doxa, perceptual belief. (See, for instance, PP, 395/400.)

I say that Renaissance perspective is a cultural fact, that per-

ception itself is polymorphic and that if it becomes Euclidean,
this is because it allows itself to be orientated by the system.
Whence the question: how can one return from this perception
fashioned by culture to the “brute” or “wild” perception? What
does the informing consist in? By what act does one undo it
(return to the phenomenal, to the “vertical” world, to lived ex-
perience)?
[...] With life, natural perception (with the savage mind) is per-
petually given to us the wherewithal to set up the universe of
immanence — — And yet, this universe tends of itself to become
autonomous, realizes of itself a repression of transcendence — —
The key is in this idea that perception qua wild perception is of
itself ignorance of itself, imperception, tends of itself to see itself
as an act and to forget itself as latent intentionality, as being at
— —324
This means that Merleau-Ponty’s thinking does not give itself to

us in any simple or theoretically orderly way — his understanding of
perception and space was dynamic and was undergoing changes that
were left unfinished. The reader of the working notes to The Visible
and the Invisible, is unable to find any “final” understanding of the
perceptual relation to space, nor an account of the intertwining of the
perceiver and the perceived in the flesh of the world.325
In fact, some commentaries point out that it is not clear or un-
controversial whether Merleau-Ponty located the artist’s perception
on the level of “primordial vision”, or perceptual faith that informs
324 VI, 212. “Perception sauvage — Immédiat — Perception culturelle — lear-
ning. 22 octobre 1959. Je dis que la perspective de la Renaissance est un fait de

culture, que la perception même est polymorphe et que, si elle devient euclidienne,
c’est qu’elle se laisse orienter par le système. D’où question : comment peut-on
revenir de cette perception façonnée par la culture à la perception ‘brute’ ou ‘sau-
vage’ ? En quoi consiste l’information ? Quel est l’acte par lequel on la défait (on
revient au phénoménal, au monde ‘vertical’, au vécu ?) [...] Avec la vie, la per-
ception naturelle (avec l’esprit sauvage) nous est donné perpétuellement de quoi
mettre en place l’univers de l’immanence — Et pourtant, cet univers tend de soi à
s’autonomiser, réalise de soi un refoulement de la transcendance — La clé est dans
cette idée que la perception est de soi ignorance de soi comme perception sauvage,
imperception, tend de soi à se voir comme acte et à s’oublier comme intentionnalité
latente, comme être à —” VI, 261–63.
325 Barbaras has remarked on the much-disputed subject that the concept of flesh
[itself] would be a mark of its fundamental indecision. (Barbaras 2003, 188.)

all our seeing, or whether he understood artistic vision rather as a

culturally constructed form that rests on the foundation of perceptual
faith.326 On the one hand, Merleau-Ponty seems to think that per-
ceptual faith or primordial vision, characterises the artistic vision: the
painter should perceive the world like the first human being did or
like the child does. On the other hand, he refers to Panofsky and his
Hegelian–Cassirerian idea of perspective as a culturally or historically
constructed symbolic form, and concludes that the painter’s work is
never done.327 Further, Merleau-Ponty also argues that nature and
culture are not two mutually exclusive spheres of being, but are in-
tertwined in man and his artifacts, which are both manufactured and
natural.328
I argue that these two alternative readings that dominate the de-
bate on Merleau-Ponty’s understanding of visual arts — i.e. either
striving for “innocent seeing” or rejecting it for culturally constructed
vision, are both simplifying. The two alternatives are themselves al-
ready problematic in identifying primordiality with naturalness and
sense-constitution with the historical-cultural construction of objec-
tivities.329 This means that the whole setting should be framed differ-
326 Evans & Behnke & Casey 1997, 18–19.

327 It should be remarked, as Melville has pointed out, that also the ordinary use
of the word “perspective” is oddly divided: it either gives us the world as it is,
or creates division between people, separating one perspective from another, as in
“from my perspective”. For Melville, this division also informs senseless arguments
concerning the nature of perspective as either “natural” or “conventional”. (Melville
1990, 12–13.)
328 PP, 220–21/PP, 220.
329 This debate could be linked with a discussion concerning perspective: art his-
torian Robert Zwijnenberg refers to the debate over the origins of perspective. To
present the debate in a nutshell: to consider perspective as a discovery means that
it is universal, like a natural law waiting to be found. To consider it as invention
means to think of it as a cultural construction, reflecting the thinking of the era of
its creation. Panofsky’s thesis relates to the latter standpoint. According to Zwij-
nenberg one spokesman for perspective as discovery is E. H. Gombrich (1909–2001),
who considered linear perspective to be a better system of representation than any
other. This distinction into two camps undoubtedly oversimplifies the matter. Even
Panofsky and Gombrich cannot be claimed to actually hold such extreme view-
points. (Zwijnenberg 1999, 112–15.) Gombrich himself wrote how “Brunelleschi’s
perspective represents an objectively valid invention” (Gombrich 1976, 107.) For
a summary of the debate between Gombrich and Nelson Goodman, as well as
Gombrich’s counterarguments against Panofsky, see Carrier 1980. For Gombrich’s
standpoint, see for instance Gombrich’s essay “The ‘What’ and the ‘How’: Perspec-
tive Representation and the Phenomenal World” (1972) and “From the Revival of
Letters to the Reform of the Arts: Niccolò Niccoli and Flippo Brunelleschi” (1976).
In his own analysis Zwijnenberg wants to bypass the problems of the opposing pairs
ently. Van de Vall points in the right direction in arguing that Merleau-
Ponty’s aim is not to oppose “the ‘cultural fact’ of linear perspective to
a ‘natural’ (psychophysiological) vision that could be objectively, even
scientifically proved.”330 The opposition between cultural objectivities
and natural objectivities is misleading, and the whole problem of brute
vision has to be approached differently. Van de Vall’s interpretation
is based on the idea that no painting can represent or express brute
perception — “brute perception refers primarily to how, and only sec-
ondarily to what is depicted”331 —, instead paintings may stage brute
perception, i.e. provide a framing. In this reading, painting and wild or
brute perception would be connected in Merleau-Ponty’s thinking, but
not because it is represented in the artwork. The link is more complex
and involves the spectator: painting allows or provides the possibility
for brute perception. To put it differently, in Van de Vall’s reading,
brute perception would take place in our looking at the painting. Thus
the question is not only what the work itself is, or what the painter
does, but also what the painting enables in the encountering.332 Van
de Vall explains:
In looking at the painting, we enact a specific visual behaviour,

following the clues the painting offers to our eyes. It is in this
enactment that brute perception might occur, as we sense the
particular quality of our relation to our visual world.333
To my mind, the suggestion is valuable. To take it seriously would

mean that instead of focusing on finding either a figuration of a model,
system, or lack of models, i.e. uncontaminated vision in arts, it would
be possible to focus on the encountering of a work of art. It would
set the focus on the beholder’s openness to the work. What would be
of origin or invention. He comments that the emotional and subjective aspects that
have been considered absent from the linear perspective can actually be included
in the perspective techniques which Leonardo da Vinci developed. In his reading,
perspective is no longer associated with an objective and emotionless relation to
scenery. (Zwijnenberg 1999, 112–18, 134, 129.)
330 “Merleau-Ponty cannot be accused, as Panofsky was, of opposing the ‘cultural
fact’ of linear perspective to a ‘natural’ (psychophysiological) vision that could be

objectively, even scientifically proved. Yet his notion of ‘wild’ or ‘brute’ perception
does suggest a subjective naturalness and ahistorical authenticity. And, as Damisch
has remarked, is not the plea for an originary experience, unblemished by culture,
just as culturally mediated as its supposed opposite?” (Van de Vall 2008, 43.)
331 Van de Vall 2008, 45.
332 Van de Vall 2008, 43–44.
333 Van de Vall 2008, 45.
valued in these encounterings would be the possibility of finding some-

thing that is new to the experience, which differs from the ordinary,
which opens us to the world anew. Van de Vall’s suggestion is impor-
tant since it shows that the problem of painting cannot be formulated
or understood merely as a problem concerning the relation between
the painter and the painting, or between the seer and the seen, nor
does it necessarily involve another person, the beholder. The painting
operates as a hinge which connects the painter’s vision to the vision
of the beholder and both are intertwined in the visible world.
Revisiting Pictorial Spaces

I shall next examine closer the features of Cartesian and Cézannian
spaces. My aim is to demonstrate how the painting’s space can be
seen as more diverse than the traditional Merleau-Pontian reading has
presented.
Escoubas follows the tradition instituted by Husserl and Heidegger
and adopted by Merleau-Ponty, and argues that we should not ground
our investigation on the chronological history of art and ask merely
how spatiality and its various historically constituted forms appear in
paintings.334 When we are looking at a painting as a painting, we can-
not merely consider it a document to be classified into the chronology
of art. She argues that art history is contextual and is able to register
shifts in space, but cannot explain them. Instead, we should attempt
to unfold the being of space that is at stake in the painting. The trans-
formations of pictorial spaces are thus transformations in the way in
which the visible is disclosed, and this requires the spectator’s look,
a certain attentiveness and willingness to “see with”, in order to be
found.335
For me, a valuable part of Escoubas’ reading, is her discussion
of perspective, because it relates to the “iconic” conception of image
studied in the previous chapter. Escoubas argues that the sense of “per-
spective” changed when the Latin word “perspective” was translated
into Italian as prospettiva. Her detailed reading shows how the sensible
aspects of vision are not separable from the mental visions or spiri-
tual aspects, but rather that they intertwine. In Imago Mundi (1986)
Escoubas directs her attention to how a particular epoch disposes the
spatial-temporal interval in painting. During the 15th century painters
334 Escoubas 1995, 16.

335 Escoubas 1995, 33.
explored the newly-found geometric perspective. Painting became re-

organised around the search for depth and illusionism which was in-
scribed into the painting. However, Escoubas points out a tension that
is reflected in the transition from the Latin “perspective” to the Italian
“prospettiva”. She argues that the Latin “perspective” means travers-
ing the painting with one’s look, but in the Italian “prospettiva” the
prefix “pro” means “in front” or “before” (en avant). In the latter,
the perceiver is no longer traversing space, inhabiting it, but is placed
in front of it — like an Albertian window. In other words, from the
15th to the 16th century there is a change, where the perceiver is
first considered to be a participant involved in and inhabiting space,
but the 16th-century Italian understood the perceiver as a nonpar-
ticipating onlooker that monitors space without taking part in it. As
the term “perspective” changed into “prospettiva”, it gave birth to a
third space between the space of the spectator and the represented
space. This third space is neutral or undefined. Escoubas even calls
it the “space of aporia” and argues that the Renaissance had created
a conceptual framework for painting which involved a tension: should
it traverse through the painting or stay in front of it, should it in-
habit space, or stay in the space of aporia? Escoubas also supports
her argument by reference to developments in theatre and by an in-
terpretation of scene paintings from Ancient Greece. The latter were
called “scenographia” — and Escoubas claims that the term itself has
undergone an analogous semantic displacement to the term “perspec-
tive”. Originally “skênê” meant a temple or a god’s habitation, later
it meant a theater scene, a backdrop for the events taking place on
stage.336
Read from this angle, the Renaissance creates a tension which is
related to the idea of examining depth: either the look is positioned or
placed before a space, or the gaze inhabits a space. Escoubas writes
that Renaissance painting is a matter of defining a structure of both
traversing (cheminement, “à travers”) and pointing (vise, “en avant”),
336 Escoubas 1986, 138; 1995, 44–46. | On the origin of skênê: “σκηνή [f.] ‘(roof
of a) tent, booth, banquet; stage (building), scene’ (IA, Dor.). No good etymology
exists, or the etymology is unknown. [...] According to DELG s.v., σκηνή originally
denoted any light construction of cloth hung between tree branches in order to
provide shadow, under which one could shelter, sleep, celebrate festivities, etc. ..
.. derived from the root σκη-/σκά- < *skeh- which is found in σκίιαά ‘shade’ as
well. See there for further etymology. Borrowed ad Lat. Scaena (only in the sense
of ‘stage’)” (Beekes 2009, 1349). Or: “Σκηνή, dor. f. ‘Zelt(dach), Bude, Schmaus;
Bühne(ngebäude), Szene’ (ion.att., dor) Kompp., z.B. Zeltbau (Arist.), ‘das Laub-
hüttenfest’ (LXX, NT u.a.)” (Frisk 1970).
and these structures give birth to the modern space, which is defined
by the tension between near and far. The Renaissance space is a sys-
tem of relations, a process of transparence, and is incorporeal, as the
spectator stays outside the space. Such incorporeal space is completely
constructed by using architectural, measurable and mathematical ele-
ments and it is “lifeless”.337 In Escoubas’ view, Renaissance painting
does not so much represent say, a city, but the ideality of space. Thus,
space is being represented in its purity. In general, the perspective is
seen as a means of restoring the pure visibility of the visible.338
Escoubas explicates a tension within the development of the sense
of linear perspective. The Latin term would refer to a look that en-
ters the space and inhabits it, the Italian term would refer to a look
that stays outside the space, and is thus in this sense incorporeal. Es-
coubas’ reading brings forth — once again — the complexity of the
idea of perspective. She repeats her analysis on the nature of per-
spective in a later work, L’espace pictural. Here she remarks that the
pictorial space of the Renaissance should not be interpreted merely
through the paradigm of modern natural and mathematical sciences.
This is because pictorial space is subjected to the conditions of visi-
bility according to historical modalities, but these are not reducible to
the conditions for the reproduction of the real. Pictorial space is plu-
ral and therefore never simply figurative.339 Escoubas’ explication and
interpretation shows a crucial aspect of Merleau-Ponty’s concept of
Cartesian or figurative space. By following Escoubas, figurative space,
too, can be characterised as space more in terms of “iconic” expression
rather than as objective space; it thematises the role of the spectator.
I shall next look into so-called modern or Cézannian space and
examine some of the criticisms presented against it. Throughout his
career Merleau-Ponty emphasised that it was Cézanne who broke the
domination of linear perspective.340 This required that in his paint-
337 Escoubas refers to Husserl’s “L’arche originaire Terre” (Escoubas 1995, 49).
338 Escoubas 1986, 138–39, 142; 1995, 45.
339 Escoubas 1986, 142; 1995, 35–36.
340 Merleau-Ponty is not the only philosopher to agree with this interpretation.
Maldiney, for instance, points out three different “periods” within the spatiality of
visual arts: “Trois fois dans l’histoire de la peinture, l’espace du paysage est venu à
son dévoilement dans l’Ouvert : une fois en Chine avec le paysage ‘Montagne(s) et
eau(x)’ des Song, une fois au XVIIe siècle avec les plus grands paysagistes hollan-
dais, une fois dans la tonalité impressionniste avec les paysages de Cézanne, de van
Gogh et de Seurat, les trois fois par le rythme, de quel abîme issu ? L’expérience
peut répondre.” (Maldiney 1994, 151.) Also, Cézanne’s painting is not a homoge-
nous totality, and Merleau-Ponty acknowledged this. (IP, 87/48.)
ing Cézanne had to abandon all predetermined notions of geometri-

cal space and instead study sensed depth. All in all, Merleau-Ponty’s
emphasis on the primacy of the sensible was rigorous and fundamen-
tal. Indeed for him, Cézanne gives the paradigmatic example of the
painter’s ability to reach the pre-scientific or “primordial vision”, a
vision that is in a certain sense de-personalised or anonymous and
common to all who can see.341
However, we have seen that expressions such as “pure vision” or
“raw vision” can be problematic. They risk introducing a position be-
tween the naturally given and the culturally constructed. Another type
of criticism, developed by Irigaray, claims that Merleau-Ponty falls
back on an instrumentalist understanding of the lived body and its
sense-organs. Some formulations of Merleau-Ponty, so the argument
goes, suggest that the artist’s eyes and body are merely instruments
used in the process of creating a copy of the real or an expression of the
imaginary. Irigaray writes: “When Maurice Merleau-Ponty says that
the painter ought to reproduce all that the mountain gives him to see,
he considers the eyes of the artist as instrument — a quasi-technical
mechanism”.342
Irigaray’s criticism points at a potential and fundamental prob-
lem: when taken to the extreme, her critical remarks suggest that
Merleau-Ponty merely replaces the theoretical and reflective vision
of Descartes with a practical model which is equally problematic in
that it too forgets the sensible and the affective-erotic. However, I
claim Irigaray’s reading, or its extreme version, does not do justice to
Merleau-Ponty’s thinking and is selective in focusing on certain for-
mulations and neglecting others. Granted, Irigaray does bring forth a
line of thinking which is very generally accepted and often repeated,
and one which dominates Merleau-Ponty commentaries. The argument
goes that Merleau-Ponty criticises and rejects in order to prioritise and
privilege practical work, but in both cases, the sensible is neglected or
a false mode is imposed on it. Yet it seems that Irigaray’s reading is
based on the false notion that Merleau-Ponty put forward an account
341 Matos Dias 2001, 145. | Merleau-Ponty’s reading of Cézanne is based on partic-
ular sources, namely interviews, letters and contemporary studies, presumably Lil-
iane Guerry’s Cézanne et l’expression de l’espace (1950), as well as Cézanne’s con-
temporaries such as Émile Zola, Émile Bernard’s La methode de Cézanne (1920),
and Joachim Gasquet’s Cézanne (1921). (DC, 14/60; IP, 86/99; Œ, 7/121.)
342 “[...] — which could realize a copy of the real. Such an ideal amounts to a
scientific aim more than to a desire for a meeting with or between living being(s).
Life as such never can be reproduced as it is.” (Irigaray 2004, 393.)
of painting as practical work, and that the artist’s gaze and his or her
movements are instruments that serve pre-established practical ends.
Was not one of the most important lessons of Phenomenology of Per-
ception the argument that all perception is intertwined with desire?
In the beginning of the chapter on sexuality we read: “Let us try to
see how a thing or a being begins to exist for us through desire or love
and we shall thereby come to understand better how things and beings
can exist in general.”343 Moreover, Irigaray’s criticism contains at its
core the claim that for Merleau-Ponty the painter is a solitary subject,
unable to meet and connect with another living being. This would be
as if the painter were alone in his or her search for the ultimate point in
which his or her perception would turn into a non-corporeal medium,
a transparent tool that would reveal the world as it is in itself. Such a
neglect of encountering might characterise some sections of Merleau-
Ponty’s early writings, but his approach changes in his later works,
where he subjects the roles of subject and object to closer examina-
tion. I shall examine the possibility of encountering the other in more
detail in the following chapters.
We may turn back to Cézanne once more to look into the argument
that artists are merely instruments. Does Merleau-Ponty truly claim
that he worked merely as an instrument? The way in which Merleau-
Ponty refers to the efforts it took for Cézanne to create a painting in
no way speaks of a painter who merely worked as an instrument. There
is another kind of approach to Cézanne, too: Jonathan Crary, whose
detailed study includes critical remarks on Husserl and Merleau-Ponty,
suggests that rather than taking Cézanne as an innocent eye, we must
consider him to be an observer who was astonishingly alert to whatever
was anomalous in perceptual experience.344 Cézanne had the urge to
approach “raw” vision, but it does not necessarily make him innocent,
or even ignorant, about the gimmicks of vision.345 Crary writes how
343 PP, 178. “Cherchons à voir comment un objet ou un être se met à exister pour
nous par le désir ou par l’amour et nous comprendrons mieux par là comment des
objets et des êtres peuvent exister en général.” PP, 180.
344 Crary 1999, 287.
345 Crary’s analysis of how perception and attention is shaped by Western moder-
nity sheds light on the various ways our perception is controlled. His interest is
directed towards the perceptual process. Crary examines Husserl’s and Merleau-
Ponty’s writings as well as other contemporary tendencies in relation to Cézanne.
Concerning the nature of attention and perception at the end of 19th century he
writes: “These problems took shape around many, often radically different positions
and practices concerning the possibility of ‘pure perception’, and the possibility of
‘presence’ within perception.” (Crary 1999, 282.)
Cézanne’s explorations were concerned with learning anew:
[...] how his relentless enterprise of holding onto a visible world

is doomed to disintegration and that within the efflorescences of
these repeated failures is the entrance onto another space/time
of rhythm, onto the indefinite floating time of an event [...]346
The Depth of the Painting

As we saw above, the interpretations of two supposedly oppositional
conceptions of spaces, Cartesian and Cézannian, are not straightfor-
ward or unquestionable. Moreover, Merleau-Ponty’s essay “Eye and
Mind” demonstrates that the transition in his thinking from early
“phenomenology” to the late “ontology” also affects his understanding
of the visual arts and an understanding of space. In the following, I
will present an interpretation of how I see this shift of emphasis af-
fects an understanding of pictorial space, showing how it changes and
develops from an exploration of the visible into an exploration of the
intertwining of the visible and the invisible.347
As Johnson points out, the theme of depth in “Eye and Mind”
combines Merleau-Ponty’s late ontology and his ideas of modern paint-
ing.348 We saw above that one of the main complaints that Merleau-
Ponty presents against the Cartesian conception of vision and the Re-
naissance perspective is that they do not consider the phenomenon of
depth. Merleau-Ponty argues that in Cartesian space, depth is a just
the “third dimension” derived from the two other dimensions; it has
no character independent of breadth and height.349 In such a space
346 Crary 1999, 339. | It is significant to consider Crary’s point on positioning
Husserl and Cézanne in relation to the processes of rationalisation and moderni-

sation. Cézanne’s desire to get rid of all techniques developed in painters’ studios
and in the academies, turned into a sensitivity towards perception and all that
was alien to it. Likewise his focus on attention brought forth the discovery that
attentive looking does not lead to a fuller grasp of the object but, on the contrary,
breaks it apart. Here, I do not feel that Crary’s reading of Cézanne is necessarily
contradictory to phenomenological thinking.
347 For another formulation of the shift regarding visual arts, see Alloa 2008, 72.
348 Johnson 1993, 46.
349 The critical discussion of Cartesian depth is already present in Phenomenol-
ogy of Perception, especially in the chapter “Space”, and it continues in the lecture
notes on Cartesian ontology (1960–1961). (PP, 281–344/283–347; NC, 180–82.)
“For God, who is everywhere, breadth is immediately equivalent to depth. In-
tellectualism and empiricism do not give us any account of the human expe-
rience of the world; they tell us what God might think about it.” (PP, 298.)
“[t]hings encroach upon one another because they are outside one an-
other. The proof of this is that I can see depth in a painting which
everyone agrees has none [...]”.350 Here, the true problem of depth is
not yet formulated, depth is just an issue of a variable point of view.
“Descartes was right in liberating space: his mistake was to erect it
into a positive being, beyond all points of view, all latency and depth,
devoid of any real thickness.”351
Towards the end of the third chapter of “Eye and Mind”, Merleau-
Ponty describes how rather than being the third, last, dimension, depth
is the first. More precisely, it is to be experienced as the reversibility of
dimensions. Depth is “a voluminosity we express in a world when we
say that a thing is there.”352 There is another passage where Merleau-
Ponty uses the term “voluminosity”, but here it is used to characterise
our experience of looking at a painting:
It [a painting] gives visible existence to what profane vision be-

lieves to be invisible: thanks to it we do not need a “muscular
sense” in order to possess the voluminosity of the world. This vo-
racious [dévorante] vision, reaching beyond the “visual givens,”
opens upon a texture of Being of which the discrete sensorial
messages are only the punctuations or the caesurae. The eye
lives in this texture as a man in his house.353
Here, the phenomenon of voluminosity is connected to the visible,

but not in a narrow and prosaic sense, but in a sense that the profane
“Pour Dieu, qui est partout, la largeur est immédiatement équivalente à la pro-
fondeur. L’intellectualisme et l’empirisme ne nous donnent pas un compte rendu
de l’expérience humaine du monde ; ils en disent ce que Dieu pourrait en penser.”
(PP, 295–96.)
350 Œ, 134. “Les choses empiètent les unes sur les autres parce qu’elles sont l’une
hors de l’autre. Le preuve en est que je puis voir de la profondeur en regardant un

tableau qui, tout le monde l’accordera, n’en a pas [...]” Œ, 46.
351 Œ, 134–35. “Descartes avait raison de délivrer l’espace. Son tort était de
l’ériger en un être tout positif, au-delà de tout point de vue, de toute latence,
de toute profondeur, sans aucune épaisseur vraie” Œ, 48. | In the lecture notes
on Cartesian ontology, Merleau-Ponty writes: “Abandon de la notion de dimen-
sion comme rapport ou point de vue d’où se fait mesure. ‘Point de vue’ évoque
projection.” (NC, 169.)
352 Œ 140. “d’une voluminosité qu’on exprime d’un mot en disant qu’une chose
est là.” Œ, 65. My italics.

353 Œ, 127. “elle donne existence visible à ce que la vision profane croit invisible,
elle fait que nous n’avons pas besoins de ‘sens musculaire’ pour avoir la voluminosité
du monde. Cette vision dévorante, par-delà les ‘données visuelles’, ouvre sur une
texture de l’Être dont les messages sensoriels discrets ne sont que les ponctuations
ou les césures, et que l’œil habite, comme l’homme sa maison.” Œ, 27.
vision does not reach. It is another kind of vision, devouring — dévo-

rante could also be translated as raging, consuming — that opens into
the texture of Being, where the profane traces of the visible simply
mark breaks, interruptions or pauses (caesurae). I propose that in a
sense, the painting would thus be a place for a reversal or fall of the
visible, as it brings forth what profane vision believes to be invisible.
Interpreted in this way, depth is related both to the questions of organ-
ising visible space, and at the same time it is radically different from
it, as it is reaches beyond “visual givens”. Art is making depth visible,
the invisible that is concealed in the visible.354 A painting is about
“making space and light, which are there, speak to us.”355 Merleau-
Ponty also remarked how “[t]he painter’s vision is not a view upon the
outside, a merely ‘physical-optical’ relation with the world.”356
Related to the experience of depth, understood as the intertwin-
ing of the visible elements, is another, crucial, description given of
vision in “Eye and Mind”. It comes from the painter André Marchand
(1907–1997), who Merleau-Ponty quotes:
In a forest, I have felt many times over that it was not I who
looked at the forest. Some days I felt that the trees were looking
at me, were speaking to me. . . . I was there, listening. . . . I think
that the painter must be penetrated by the universe and not want
to penetrate it. . . . I expect to be inwardly submerged, buried.
Perhaps I paint to break out.357
With this quotation Merleau-Ponty wishes to underline the con-

cept of reversibility: the roles of the visible and the painter are re-
versed in this experience in the forest. The description is informed by
a paragraph in Phenomenology of Perception in which he describes
354 VI, 193/149.

355 Œ, 138. “de faire parler l’espace et la lumière qui sont là” Œ, 59.
356 Œ, 141. “La vision de peintre ne plus regard sur dehors, relation ‘physique-
optique’ seulement avec le monde” Œ, 69.

357 Œ, 129. “Dans une forêt, j’ai senti à plusieurs reprises que ce n’était pas moi
qui regardais la forêt. J’ai senti, certains jours, que c’étaient les arbres qui me re-
gardaient, qui me parlent... Moi j’étais là, écoutant... Je crois que le peintre doit
être transpercé par l’univers et non vouloir le transpercer... J’attends d’être inté-
rieurement submergé, enseveli. Je peins peut-être pour surgir.” Œ, 31; Marchand
in an interview with Georges Charbonnier. (Charbonnier 2002, 109–15; see also
NC, 171.)
the reversible nature of touch in terms of touching and touched.358

The description can also be found in The Visible and the Invisible
from the chapter “The Intertwining — the Chiasm”.359 The experi-
ence of reversibility that Marchand describes above, concerns vision,
and it indicates an ontology in which the roles of subject and object
become interchangeable, as both participate in the common tissue of
flesh (chair). This means that no being is a subject as such, and no
being is an object, but all beings take part in the reversibility that
characterises all being. Thus the flesh denotes the radical inseparabil-
ity of seer and the visible. In short, the way perception and space is
understood in the later Merleau-Ponty, is different from his articula-
tions in “Cézanne’s Doubt”, in which a solitary observer was capable of
reaching the object by his attentiveness. Now, in contrast, space brings
together our flesh and the flesh of the world.360 Marchand’s description
of his sudden experience demonstrates a certain reversal or fall that
takes place in painting: the poles of the subject and the object are upset
or overturn in a radical way. Even though both Phenomenology of Per-
ception and “Cézanne’s Doubt”, include preliminary and experimental
descriptions of this kind of change or alteration, the phenomenon is
not properly thematised or explored in these works. It only becomes
focal in the later works. This means that Merleau-Ponty’s analysis of
the structures of “original perception” have changed: the two poles of
358 “quand je touche ma main droite avec ma main gauche, l’objet main droite
a cette singulière propriété de sentir, lui aussi Nous avons vu toute à l’heure que
jamais les deux mains ne sont en même temps l’une à l’égard de l’autre touchées
et touchantes.” PP, 109. “when I touch my right hand with my left, my right hand,
as an object, has the strange property of being able to feel too. We have just seen
that the two hands are never simultaneously in the relationship of touched and
touching to each other.” PP, 106.
359 “Il y a un cercle du touché et du touchant, le touché saisit le touchant ; il y a
un cercle du visible et du voyant, le voyant n’est pas sans existence visible ; il y a

même inscription du touchant au visible, du voyant au tangible, et réciproquement,
enfin il y a propagation de ces échanges à tous les corps de même type et de même
style que je vois et touche — et cela par la fondamentale fission ou ségrégation
du sentant et du sensible qui, latéralement, fait communiquer les organes de mon
corps et fonde la transitivité d’un corps à l’autre” VI, 185–86. “There is a circle of
the touched and the touching, the touched takes hold of the touching; there is a
circle of the visible and the seeing, the seeing is not without visible existence; there
is even an inscription of the touching in the visible, of the seeing in the tangible
— and the converse; there is finally a propagation of these exchanges to all the
bodies of the same type and of the same style which I see and touch — and this is
by virtue of the fundamental fission or segregation of the sentient and the sensible
which, laterally, makes the organs of my body communicate and founds transitivity
from one body to another.” VI, 143.
360 “L’espace est la rapport de notre chair et de la chair du monde” NC, 209.
vision are not seen as stable, or fixed anymore, but are understood and
characterised by dynamic concepts: chiasm, intertwining, flesh. Here,
vision is changing, too. As I and the other, the subject and the object,
enter into this dynamic intertwining, the focus of analysis moves away
from the subject, and towards the process of visibility itself.361
The change is enabled by the set of concepts that seems quite indis-
pensable to describe the experience.362 As we are examining spatiality
closer, I underline how Merleau-Ponty’s emphasis is moving away from
the subject to shared visibility; his thinking about space itself is, too,
changing towards plurality. The seer who becomes seen cannot merely
“see with” somebody else, but these looks and this gaze must inter-
twine into a myriad of looks where the original is no longer traced.
4.2 Suspended Landscape: On Tiina Mielonen’s Paintings

Above, I traced Merleau-Ponty’s position about spatiality in painting.
I shall now move on to my first case study, through which I wish to
look for ways to deal with experience of space as well as the questions
of perception. Here, the position of late Merleau-Ponty will be set
alongside of contemporary visual art. I have chosen to observe selected
paintings by Finnish artist Tiina Mielonen, and through them bring
out viewpoints that comment on the aspects presented previously, but
also open up new questions, especially concerning the experience of
seeing.363
The Beginnings of Painting

Painter Tiina Mielonen (b. 1974) has been interested in tourist im-
agery for a decade or so.364 Often the starting points for her paintings
361 As the painter no longer masters the object, the relation of the painter to the
painted has to be taken further. For instance, the painter is concerned with what is
in between the object — as Escoubas points out, what is unreal, irréel. (Escoubas
1995, 110.)
362 Irigaray’s criticism could still haunt this description: in Merleau-Ponty’s de-
scription a relationship between two is not necessarily drawn, but rather a rela-
tionship between one and many, as in me and others. (Irigaray 2001, 17.)
363 I am aware that from the debate concerning perspective in Merleau-Ponty the
leap to contemporary painting is a stretched one — I am necessarily bypassing, not

least, central shifts in the discourses of painting since the 1960s that have addressed
themes such as is painting dead, what could painting be after modernism, as well
as the return of painting.
364 See appendix B for a CV.
4.2. SUSPENDED LANDSCAPE 111
are found in postcards or other similar material. She paints with oil on
plexiglass, which gives the works a certain immaterial feel. Through
her working methods, she could be associated with painters like Luc
Tuymans (b. 1958) and Marlene Dumas (b. 1953), who also work with
photography, or with, for instance, Nina Roos (b. 1956), who paints
on plexiglass. Both Tuymans and Dumas draw from photography, and
other surrounding imagery.365 With Marlene Dumas the term second-
hand imagery refers to this practice of recycling images, whereas Tuy-
mans has described painting as a medium of belatedness.366
I want to show how Mielonen’s paintings provide a possibility to
address certain central aspects of spatiality and looking which open up
Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology of art in a fruitful way. Let me clar-
ify by discussing three of Mielonen’s works, painted in 2005 and 2007.
In the light of Merleau-Ponty’s account of painting, I am particularly
interested in the processes which take place in Mielonen’s paintings.
In interviews, Mielonen has described her working methods and has
revealed that she often finds the impulse for her paintings from post-
cards or travel brochures. The interest in “second hand” imagery of
landscapes and places has lasted for several years. However, she does
not see it as her primary task to explore the cultural history that this
imagery brings out. For her, the significance lies in the painting itself,
both in the act of painting and in its result.367
Thinking about process of Mielonen’s painting, a postcard or other
kind of travel image, a scene caught by the photographer’s trained eye,
always provides the initial impetus. From the outset, this particular
image might not be anything out of ordinary. Often these travel im-
ages present cultural conventions on what and how things are seen:
after all, for a tourist, a postcard is a way to show or share a visual
impression. Of course, the images of popular views do not coincide
with one’s own experience, and instead they often present the scene in
an idealised or conventional manner. According to Marion’s definition,
which I discussed in chapter 3, this imagery can be seen as images that
365 For the use of photography, see Hal Foster’s The Return of the Real: The
Avant-Garde at the End of the Century (1996).
366 Tuyman’s imagery is more connected with history, whereas Dumas is more
linked with popular culture, yet both deal with serious issues such as death. There
is indeed a certain dissociation in painting that does not characterise photogra-
phy or video, which along with the new digital technology are considered to be
almost instant mediums. Besides contemporary paintings, there is a wide variety
of painters such as Johannes Vermeer and Piet Mondrian who have influenced
Mielonen. (Hacklin 2008.)
367 Hacklin 2008.
are meant for consumers to devour and define, and as such they can
be easily bypassed.
Nevertheless, there is always something particular in the image
that catches the artist’s eye, be it a feature of the composition, a
distinct colour perspective, or a particular detail. However, the image
which serves as a point of departure for the painting is never preserved
by it: the paintings are an interpretation of shared visuality, a study
of coming into presence of the painter’s vision. Thus, the painting
necessarily gives birth to something new, as Mielonen freely examines
the elements she finds fascinating, namely the exchange between the
visible elements and the dynamism of paint. The painting embodies the
perception of the artist, her study of particular features of visibility,
atmosphere, shades, and plexiglass emphasises her brushstrokes. The
final painting is often finished at one go, as the aim of the artist is to
reach a certain precise, yet spontaneous impression.
In my reading of Mielonen’s paintings, I want to emphasise the
multi-layered character or entanglement of perceptions, i.e. these dif-
ferent layers of perceiving. This “tissue of looks” includes more than
simply the vision of the painter and beholder; instead these layers that
are made up of various different ways of looking, complete the tradition
of perceiving, and inevitably there are certain time-lapses in between.
The first Mielonen’s paintings that I want to study in detail is called
Rider (2005). The painting presents a scene with a rider in a valley
(see figure A.1).368 The landscape around the figure seems leafy, even
luscious. The shades of green change from dark, almost black to bright
bluish jade green. The figure of the rider — he or she, presumably on
a horse — is riding on a path that diagonally runs from the left side of
the painting towards the right corner. The rider is placed close to lower
right corner and the painting carries a feeling of pressure. The steep
mountain on the left side appears to be collapsing down on the figure.
Also, it is not clear whether the scene contains a valley — the masses
of green simply hover in the painting. The figures of rider and horse
seem to merge into the surrounding space and it is not possible to get
a detailed perception of them. The shapes and masses of colours in the
painting manage to at one moment break the surface of the painting,
and at another moment reorganise it again into a landscape.
The second painting, Trailer (2005) has much brighter colours than
Rider. Here, the scene is likewise governed by strong diagonal elements
which give an effect of movement (see figure A.2). There are also many
368 See appendix A for the images.

similar shades to the previous painting, but the feeling here is much
lighter. The shade of olive green marks greenery which divides what
looks like a trailer and a parking lot seen from what one presumes to
be the road or highway. The green shapes are bordered with brighter,
pear-shaded green. The sky that covers almost half of the painting’s
surface, is quite even, and there are no visible brushstrokes. The area is
almost uniformly light or powder blue, yet there are some shimmering,
white tones next to a diagonal form painted in old rose, which seems to
form a hillside in the background scenery. Within the painting, there
is also a thin and eye-catching line, a brilliant rose-shaded diagonal
stroke that marks the border of the road, passing by a greyish pole
that is likewise by the side of the road. On a parking lot, an ivory-
white travel trailer or mobile home is parked. No cars are visible on
this seemingly isolated parking lot.
Terrace, a painting from 2007 presents a view from what is pre-
sumably a terrace of a steep mountain with some overlooking houses
on the mountainside (see figure A.3). The sky is dominant but painted
smooth, whereas the mountain is created with brushstrokes that give
an impression of a rocky structure with steep shadows. The shape on
the left hand side is dark brown, absorbing light, whereas the opposing
mountain steep is bathed in sunshine. The terrace itself seems to be
more difficult to fathom, or less stable: it is as though it stands on air;
there is a certain feeling of vertigo, as if the ground beneath the spec-
tators’ feet would crumble at any minute. The motif of the mountain
means that this painting might remind one of various other paintings,
not least Cézanne’s studies of mountain scenes.
The Postponed Look
Mielonen’s paintings are often, though not always, empty of people,

and the unoccupied spaces carry a peculiar ambience, as if we were
anticipating something. The anticipation motivated by the emptiness
creates a certain narrative feeling in the works. The paintings could
be seen as scenes, in the sense that they show us places where action
is taken or will take place. This brings us to Escoubas’ discussion of
the skênê-paintings that functioned as background for theatre plays,
or, as she suggested, were places of dwelling for gods. The choice of
subject further connects the paintings to the tradition of landscape
painting — and Cézanne, for that matter — which has also influenced
the tourist imagery.369

Not all of Mielonen’s paintings are figureless, and Rider, for ex-
ample, contains figures. What is particularly noticeable, however, is
the sense of heightened mobility in the paintings, as if the work were
in movement or, when the works are seen in an exhibition, there is a
certain rhythm formed by the paintings that can lure the spectator
into creating a narrative between the scenes.
If we compare Mielonen’s works to Merleau-Ponty’s discourse on
the visual arts and painting, what seemingly differentiates Mielonen
from the ideals previously connected with Cézanne, is, for instance,
the fact that Mielonen is not observing nature per se. Instead, she
takes her starting point and focuses her attention on the images that
have already been taken by somebody.370 And yet her works are also
explorations on visibility, because irrespective of the subject matter,
painting as much as perception, is bodily, and always already in the
world. In this respect, I take Van de Vall’s interpretation of Merleau-
Ponty to be illuminative: the artwork is able to stage brute perception
and thus it opens up the possibility for the spectator to look in a
new way. This means that it is the spectator’s task to find in the
painting a way of seeing, an aspect of visibility that was previously
left unnoticed.371
One of the thematic sources of Mielonen’s paintings is found in
“ready-made” imagery, where the point of view of the spectator is
fixed to the objective lens. This aspect must be examined closer. In
so far as Mielonen’s paintings emerge from images, they draw from
an imagery that is shared, from an imagery that has been designed
for the public and that draws from a tradition of images; they also
address, among other things, our capability to recognise these scenes.
369 I will not discuss landscape painting and its history — suffice to note that
the travel imagery is tightly linked to the tradition of landscape painting from the
fifteenth century onwards, and in the ways in which certain places and sceneries
have been represented. The topic of landscape has also been connected with the
political aspects as the term landscape originally derives from Landschaft, a term
that referred to a particular kind of polity. (Casey 2002, 4, 258; Olwig 2002, 10.)
370 Within art history, this step could be linked with a certain Anglo-American
discussion, namely Leo Steinberg’s much disputed concept of “flatbed”. In an essay

“Other Criteria” Steinberg wrote about the paintings which move from a verti-
cal, head-to-toe-experience of nature to horizontal planes, to table tops or to any
surfaces on which objects are scattered. This was a move from modernism to post-
modernism. Steinberg’s thesis has been much disputed, and it has also been con-
nected to a whole paradigm shift from modernism to post-modernism. (Steinberg
1972; Crimp 1993.)
371 See Van de Vall 2008, 45.
Such imagery is often photographed in a certain pattern that seems

to follow ideals that are linked to images of paradisiacal scenes and
pilgrimage sites: it includes a whole tradition of seeing. This possible
familiarity or feeling of recognition is linked in the painting with the
experience of depth. To specify this interpretation of Mielonen’s works,
let me turn back to Merleau-Ponty’s discussion of depth.
As we saw above, depth is not just one of the dimensions of space,
nor just one aspect or point of view for Merleau-Ponty. In his later
works, Merleau-Ponty struggles to entangle and formulate this idea in
a way that does not fall back on the Cartesian notion of spatiality.372
To effectuate this, he connects his concept of depth to that of volumi-
nosity, the texture of Being in which “the eye lives ”. In The Visible
and the Invisible he writes:
For the visible present is not in time and space, nor, of course,
outside of them: there is nothing before it, after it, about it, that could
compete with its visibility. And yet it is not alone, it is not everything.
To put it precisely, it stops up my view, that is, time and space extend
beyond the visible present, and at the same time they are behind it, in
depth, in hiding.373
The main point here is that depth “prevents” us from seeing. Yet
it is only through depth that we can see, because we exist or are in
the depth, we take part in the visible, the textures, lights, and colours
which are to be experienced. This argument is directly opposed to the
Cartesian notion of an aerial view of the panorama discussed earlier,
in which the look merely dominates the seen, and glides over it.374
When we study Mielonen’s paintings with this analysis of depth
in mind, we can notice that her works disclose not only the vision of
the artist’s or the spectator’s perception, but also a whole history or
tradition of intertwined experiences as well as various layers of look-
ing. What I have seen and what I see now, is connected with what
others have seen, and how I look is tied to the ways in which others
372 I have already mentioned that the question of space is dealt with in Phe-
nomenology of Perception, but as Sue L. Cataldi puts it, a new sense of depth is
emerging in The Visible and the Invisible. (Cataldi 1993, 57; see also Matos Dias
2001, 162.)
373 VI, 113. “Car le présent visible n’est pas dans le temps et l’espace, ni, bien
entendu, hors d’eux : il n’y a rien avant lui, après lui, autour de lui, qui puisse
rivaliser avec sa visibilité. Et pourtant, il n’est pas seul, il n’est pas tout. Exacte-
ment : il bouche ma vue, c’est-à-dire, à la fois, que le temps et l’espace s’étendent
au-delà, et qu’ils sont derrière lui, en profondeur, en cachette.” VI, 150.
374 In Phenomenology of Perception Merleau-Ponty wrote that depth was “invis-
ible” for the analytical reflection. (PP, 295/297.)

look. A whole nexus of visions or a texture of seeing is disclosed by one

painting.375 In this sense, what is given is a double depth: the paint-
ings organise the visible space through the means of painting, and at
the same time it is also radically different from the visible: here, the
paintings also address another kind of depth.
In order to clarify my point, I want to dwell on the idea of looks. I
pointed out that the way in which postcards are looked at can be clari-
fied by the distinction presented in the previous chapter, the difference
between images and icons. Postcards are habitually considered to be
fixed images that do not require our look or participation. Rather, they
are taken as products that can be consumed quite freely and without
any effort. The interpretation that the concept of image suggests is
closer to the look that dominates the seen — that glides over it —
and is not ready to open up to any unexpected, sudden aspects. Thus
the imagery has seemingly become transparent or self-evident to us.
However, at the same time it is also already present in us: it marks our
perception, it is hinges onto our perception and adds on ways of looking
that have been taken as exemplary for travel or tourist imagery.
Mielonen’s paintings put the photographs to a very different use.
By focusing on subject matter that is shared and perhaps not really
looked at properly, Mielonen’s works bring to the fore one aspect of
the invisible which would otherwise be left unnoticed. Simply put, they
are studies of perceptual processes in painting, and thus at the same
time also studies in the process of seeing and becoming. Therefore,
to use the somewhat rigid and insufficient classification from above,
“Cézannian” in the crucial sense that they are figurations of sensible
vision.
Artistic expression is not born in a vacuum, but carries influences
and hints of rich visual and other imagery. It seems to me that Mielo-
nen’s paintings are not limited to the dyad of the sole-artist and the
spectator, since they thematise the comprehensive process of visibil-
ity itself, alert to the shared experience of perception. These paintings
are born within, and stay in contact with, the web of looks that in-
tertwine, perceptions that existed before the painting was made. On
the other hand, they also indicate looks that will take the vision of
painting with them, to connect it with something else somewhere else.
This web of looks involves its own depth, a texture full of hiding places
and with no possibility of stepping outside. Thus here, the vision of
375 In“Eye and Mind” Merleau-Ponty refers how a painting opens up its own web
of meanings, which overrides all genealogy and causality. (Œ, 62–3/139.)
the painter as well as that of the spectator are already impregnated

with the looks and visions of others, known and unknown, familiar and
unfamiliar. This idea of entangled visions or traditions of seeing can be
extended outside the painting and direct perception: it suggests that
also our memories, especially remembered images, are already impreg-
nated with or haunted by the looks of others, as if that what we see
and have seen, or think we have seen, would not simply belong to our
lives, but would always and already indicate others.
Let me develop my interpretation with the help of Edward S.
Casey’s analysis of the glance. For Casey, the glance is “featherweight”
in comparison to the gaze. The glance is, like seeing for Merleau-Ponty,
taking us out of ourselves, and thus “the glance can take us virtually
anywhere”.376 He argues that “the glance is a basic action that clings
closely to surfaces yet also goes far into depths.”377 Here, Casey does
not contrast depth to surface, but on the contrary claims that depth
follows from the surface, opens up from it.378 This should not be con-
sidered identical to Merleau-Ponty’s late reflections on depth: surface
and depth are mutually implied, and thus the disclosure of one can
succeed only by the disclosure of the other.
The pictorial space of Mielonen’s paintings can be conceived as
bringing to the fore the inseparability of different looks. The “depth”
of these paintings, surfacing from the photographic images, memories,
various landscape paintings, must be located in their ability to address
the pictorial spaces and places that are already in us and with us and
from which we cannot step outside as they have been formed in a
whole landscape of glancing. Thus the paintings would also thematise
an aspect of time and the entanglement of lived space with lived time
— as if the presence of the paintings would address our memories, and
open the painting towards our past and our future.
Casey’s analysis of the glance examines it in the cases of both pho-
tography and painting. One of his formulations is especially clarifying:
he says that photography is haunted by the world. Or, as he further
claims, an image can haunt us.379 He writes: “we become the objects of
their [what figures in photographs] enigmatic but directed look. And
376 Casey 2007, 5.

377 Casey 2007, 48. | On the glance in Heidegger, see Fóti 1998, 345.
378 Casey 2007, 49.
379 Casey 2007, 397–98. | I do not have a possibility to go over the thesis Casey
develops in his The World at a Glance (2007). Suffice to say that his treatment of
the glance opens up a new reading on its importance.
when this happens, we feel haunted by them.”380 It must be remarked

that the examples that Casey has chosen to illuminate this argument
about photographs and images more generally are far from being ran-
dom. He discusses among others, Walker Evans’ iconic photographs.
Evans was, as Casey points out, a master of direct framing of reality,
and his images of American life and its less-known aspects, such as Al-
abama sharecroppers, have been widely influential, and undoubtedly
haunting.381
I would like to take up Casey’s analysis of the phenomenon of
haunting and connect it with the themes of Mielonen’s works. Sig-
nificantly, the idea of haunting can also be found in Merleau-Ponty’s
account of intersubjectivity which informs his discourse on art. He in-
vokes “others who haunt me and whom I haunt; ‘others’ along with
whom I haunt a single, present, and actual Being”.382 For Merleau-
Ponty it is not only or primarily images that haunt us, but rather
other seeing and sensible beings. However, images subsist through a
network of interdependent perceivers and they can help us notice this
network and become conscious of it: “Now art, especially painting,
draws upon this fabric of brute meaning”.383
Drawing from Casey’s and Merleau-Ponty’s concepts of haunting, I
propose that the photographic images that Mielonen uses as the point
of departure for her painting, belong to an imagery that is haunted by
the world, but more importantly also haunts us as spectators. Mielo-
nen’s paintings present images but also disclose our own involvement
with them by producing impressions of continuity and discontinuity.
They create a vague feeling of recognition. These paintings tease the
spectator by not situating themselves anywhere exactly, neither here
nor there, neither in the present nor in the past or future, but rather
manifesting the ability to reside in a constant movement between the
known and the alien, between the familiar and the strange. This in-
between state can be characterised by the concepts of haunting. For
instance in the painting Trailer, the spectator’s point of view is the one
familiar from the experience of driving a car: a driver comes down the
road, sees a possible highway rest stop that has vacant spaces for his
car — and sees a trailer, occupied or forgotten, waiting there. Or, the
380 Casey 2007, 399.

381 Casey 2007, 396–98.
382 Œ, 122–23. “les ‘autres’ [...] qui me hantent, que je hante, avec qui je hante
un seul Être actuel, présent” Œ, 13.

383 Œ, 123. “Or l’art et notamment la peinture puisent à cette nappe de sens
brut” Œ, 13.
other way around, we are leaving the trailer behind, distancing our-
selves from an almost unoccupied resting place. Or perhaps we cross
the road to make an improvised walking trip into the surrounding
landscape that does not yet appear to be anything particular — on
the contrary, the painting takes us into the middle of an anonymous
landscape. The scene in the painting invites the look to glide over it, as
if there would be nothing specific to cling to, nothing out of ordinary,
and yet it all appears familiar in a haunting way: our gaze returns to
the painting. Even the title of the painting creates a tension: “Trailer”
is by definition either an unpowered vehicle pulled by a car, a mo-
bile home, or a trailer is a movie trailer, a preview run in cinemas or
television to advertise a movie. A promise of something, or a leftover.
Possibly the belatedness of painting is here its ability to make be-
lieve it has always been somewhere there in the background, waiting
to be recognised. In this sense Mielonen’s work would again manifest
the Merleau-Pontian attitude in which the painter’s task is to disclose
the ambivalent and dynamic process of perception, the appearing of a
landscape or any other aspect that the painter is studying. Mielonen’s
paintings explore fundamental questions concerning the task of paint-
ing, e.g. the materiality, heaviness and lightness of paint, the precision
and easiness of the brushstrokes. By her way of using ready-made ele-
ments, the painter is able to disclose the intertwining of different looks
and visions. In this way her paintings do not let the spectator look at
the painting simply as an image, but demand that he or she looks at
— or with — it as an icon with multiple texture, spatial and temporal:
“Thus, there can be beings that are not in itself and yet are not noth-
ing: paintings — icons”.384 As explained in the previous chapter, the
other essential feature of an icon is its unfinished nature. The icon is
not finished and completed, but open and thus invites new visions and
new forms of visibility. The icon transcends and questions the usual
category of the image as copy, it is a presentation in which the in-
visible and visible are both disclosed — and disclosed in their mutual
dependency.
In the case of Mielonen, the “openness” of the paintings can be un-
derstood as including the movement between the own and the alien, the
familiar and the strange, and more importantly the experience of a cer-
tain gap, an écart between them. How should we understand this term
that has such a central position in Merleau-Ponty’s work? Galen A.
384 “C’est ainsi qu’il peut y avoir des êtres qui ne sont pas de l’en soi et qui ne
sont pas de rien : les tableaux — les icônes.” NC, 174.
Johnson argues that “écart” refers to the “experience that is not in full
possession of itself, experience of dispossession.”385 Lawrence Hass has
described it as “a constitutive difference in the fabric of experience”. He
explains further: “For [Merleau-Ponty], this constitutive difference is
what opens, for example, the seer to the seen, but it is an opening that
isn’t so severe that the two aspects are divorced from one another”.386
And we saw above that in Escoubas’ reading, écart determined a cer-
tain shift in the encountering of the artwork. It marks the difference
that enables us to “see with” the work of art, as opposed to looking at
something through it. In other words, Escoubas suggested that écart
marks the difference between grasping the space of the painting as a
representation or reproduction of the real and grasping it as the space
of manifestation of being.387
Following Escoubas’ interpretation of Merleau-Ponty’s concept, I
would like to argue that écart also includes the constitutive element of
all encountering. The sudden dissociation, surprise or rupture that is
needed in order for a meeting between the two to be possible: between
the reader and the book or two persons, between two places of lived
space, or between two eras of historical time.388 With respect to paint-
ing, I propose that écart could be understood as the principle without
which the encountering with art is not possible: it is the spatial and
temporal distance which enables the experience of being apart from
oneself. This is only possible by the sudden shift and change of focus
that the experience of the other provides. I suggest that the vision
Mielonen’s paintings stages, addresses the experience of écart, as the
constitutive difference or an experience of dispossession. For instance,
in connection with the painting entitled Terrace, there is, in me, a fun-
damental uneasiness, a shift, as my glance follows the structures built
on the mountain slope — there is a sense of vertigo from the steepness
of the scenery, as well as from the sudden lack of support, that I as a
spectator feel. Similarly, for instance, through the title Mielonen has
chosen for her painting, Rider, the work connects it with a series of
rider-themed works of visual arts and historical rider figures in popular
385 Johnson 2010, 179. | Johnson also points out that this term is absent from “Eye
and Mind”. M. C. Dillon, who has examined the proximity of Derrida’s différance
and Merleau-Ponty’s écart, writes: “Merleau-Ponty conceives presence in terms of
perceptual experience that incorporates the dehiscence named as écart.” (Dillon
1997, 4.)
386 Hass 2008, 129. | Hass further underlines that écart is not a concept in the
usual sense, but is an expressive device.

387 Escoubas 1995, 15.
388 See chapter 3.
culture. On closer examination of the painting, looking at the figure’s

face, the spectator experiences a haunting moment as if the face of the
rider contained features of a skull. Is it death riding? Curiously, for
an instant the pastel-shaded painting turns gothic or even medieval
in its atmosphere, and becomes associated with, for instance, Dürer’s
etching, Knight, Death and the Devil (1513) mentioned in the previous
chapter, or the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, both of which recall
the darker shades and finitude of human existence.
In fact, the idea of the haunting looks of the others can be con-
nected to one passage in The Visible and the Invisible, in which
Merleau-Ponty describes his experience of a landscape:389
Each landscape of my life, because it is not a wandering troop

of sensations or a system of ephemeral judgments but a segment
of the durable flesh of the world, is qua visible, pregnant with
many other visions besides my own; and the visible that I see,
of which I speak, even if it is not Mount Hymettus or the plane
trees of Delphi, is numerically the same that Plato and Aristotle
saw and spoke of. When I find again the actual world such as
it is, under my hands, under my eyes, up against my body, I
find much more than an object: a Being of which my vision is a
part, a visibility older than my operations or my act. But this
does not mean that there was a fusion or coinciding of me with
it: on the contrary, this occurs because of a sort of dehiscence
opens my body in two, and because between my body looked at
and my body looking, my body touched and my body touching,
there is overlapping or encroachment, so that we must say that
the things pass into us as well as we into the things.390
389 Casey has suggested that the experience of landscape in Merleau-Ponty in-
volves a specific kind of look, the glance. (Casey 2007, 7–8.)

390 VI, 123. “Car le poids du monde naturel est déjà un poids du passé. Chaque
paysage de ma vie, parce qu’il est, non pas un troupeau errant de sensations ou un
système de jugements éphémères, mais un segment de la chair durable du monde,
est prégnant, en tant que visible, de bien d’autres visions que la mienne ; et les
visible que je vois, dont je parle, même si ce n’est pas l’Hymette ou les platanes
de Delphes, est le même numériquement que voyaient, dont parlaient Platon et
Aristote. Quand je retrouve le monde actuel, tel qu’il est, sous mes mains, sous
mes yeux, contre mon corps, je retrouve beaucoup plus qu’un objet : un Être dont
ma vision fait partie, une visibilité plus vielle que mes opérations ou mes actes.
Mais cela ne veut pas dire qu’il y ait, de moi à lui, fusion, coïncidence ; au contraire,
cela se fait parce qu’une sorte de déhiscence ouvre en deux mon corps, et qu’entre
lui regardé et lui regardant, lui touché et lui touchant, il y a recouvrement ou
empiétement, de sorte qu’il faut dire que les choses passent en nous aussi bien que
Here, in this rather long quotation, the experience of a landscape

is again characterised as an experience of reversibility — the turning
back of vision to itself but never completely symmetrically. However,
in addition to this “narcissistic” reversibility in which vision is entan-
gled with itself despite the asymmetry, the experience as described by
Merleau-Ponty also included another kind of entanglement in which
alien visions inform my vision. In short, what Merleau-Ponty is de-
scribing when he writes about the “visible pregnant with many other
visions” is exactly the experience of haunted vision: vision disturbed
by other visions. Past, present, and future. This experience is very
close to what I suggest Mielonen’s paintings reach for.
Finally, I wish to emphasise the physical feel of these paintings
and argue that they create a specific kind of feeling of in-between, a
suspense. The “real” feel of the paintings, and especially the way the
plexiglass can make the colour glow and create an immaterial feel, is
enticing, and this effect underpins a feeling of tension: as if — due to
the shimmering and floating colours — one were not able to catch the
“final” work, as if there was no steady surface. I conceive this effect as a
manifestation of the lost position of aerial view. These paintings seem
to escape from all attempts to master the visible, there is no superior
position outside the sensible world. The experience of non-coincidence
can also be understood as the power of the painting to let the look
perform two different movements, to glide over it and fall into it at the
same time: the spectator’s look is able to follow the brushstrokes that
at the same time form a space, create a feeling of surface and texture,
and also create spaces for the eye to fall on. Likewise, the floating fields
of colours, and the certain sharpness that alternates with fuzziness and
blurriness recall the ideas of depth and invisibility — as if the paintings
would not give themselves to our looks in an undeniable way, as if there
would be a kind of cancellation of perception hidden in them.
My suggestion is that Mielonen’s paintings invite us to open our-
selves to a possibility of already having seen them, their scenes, places,
figures. At the same time, these paintings which carry an unusually im-
material feel, are able to escape from our look — it is not quite certain
where the painting is placed, on the contrary the elements in painting
seem to be in constant movement, which creates a strong tension in
the experience.
When we articulate and interpret Mielonen’s paintings using Mer-
leau-Ponty’s approach, the question of medium arises. Sometimes us-
nous dans le choses.” VI, 162.

ing photography as a starting point for a painting has been associated

with a distanced, even clinical effect. Yet it seems that painters using
this technique have by no means a clinical relation to the photos they
explore — I will address the question of photography in detail in the
next chapter. Here, more importantly, what counts is the insistence of
painting to explore the dimension of visibility. Thinking about phe-
nomenology and how it is particularly interested in examining how I
belong to the world, and to the other, and its interest in making visible
the paradoxical, confused relations of subject and the world, subject
and others, the painting of images seems to fit seamlessly as part of it.
These works show that we are always surrounded by imagery; that im-
ages are interwoven into our world and our ways of seeing and looking;
that they are part of the “enigma of the visible” and of visibility with
its power, its instability and latencies.391 Both painting and photogra-
phy acquire their “own dimension”,392 both present the examination
of coming into presence through the material forms that are typical of
them. The medium is no longer “pure” in a sense that it would be iso-
lated from other media. The painting makes visible what is persistently
present in our surroundings, and yet alters it through the language of
painting, thus deepening the intertwining of images and experiences.
Concluding Remarks
In this chapter I have discussed the central tension in Merleau-Ponty’s
phenomenological understanding of painted space, the tension between
the Renaissance perspective as a form of Cartesian vision, on the one
hand, and Cézannian space as the engulfment in the sensible world.
My exegetic goal was to study how the Merleau-Pontian conception of
space is more complex than it seems at first hand. His understanding
of space and depth changes towards the end of his life, so that in
the final works the look of the painter is no longer directed at the
space in front, but is engulfed in the depth of the visible world, in the
invisible. Through this change, I was able to open anew the questions
of contemporary painting’s spatiality.
I used these resources in the investigation of Mielonen’s paintings.
The application had two goals: first, I explicated and interpreted se-
lected aspects of Mielonen’s works, and secondly I used this explication
to develop further Merleau-Ponty’s conception of painting and its re-
391 Haar 1992, 177.

392 Œ, 61/139.
lation to perception. In my interpretation, Mielonen’s paintings were

seen as staging “brute perception”, to cite Van de Vall’s expression.
The paintings allow the spectator to become aware of the thickness
of the visible and its multiple temporal layers, and they demonstrate
that our perception is already inscribed with the perceptions of others.
In so far as we try to “see with” the paintings by Mielonen, we feel
at certain moments that we are impregnated by various perceptions,
some of which are contemporary and some of which are past. Thus the
painting acts as a condensation of multiple visions and different ways
of looking. This experience can be characterised as a specific experi-
ence of écart, i.e., a divergence within the perceptual experience that
reminds the beholder of the haunting of the looks that take place in
our perception
I wished to bring out what is problematic in the traditional phe-
nomenological treatment of space or pictorial space, and to show that
its transition or cultivation happens in relation to modern and contem-
porary painting. I have argued that Cartesian and Cézannian spaces,
primordial vision and culturally constructed vision, do not form a
simple binary or opposition in Merleau-Ponty’s thinking as is often
claimed or assumed. Instead, focusing on the way artwork is to be
seen with — its ability to stage “brute vision” — and through em-
phasising the transition in Merleau-Ponty’s conception of depth, the
phenomenological approach can be considered in relation to contempo-
rary painting. My limited discussion of Mielonen’s paintings operates
as an exemplary analysis which highlights the richness and strength of
Merleau-Ponty’s concepts of intertwining and reversibility. Instead of
associating Merleau-Ponty’s concepts of brute or wild perception with
traditional ideas of purity and clarity, and instead of taking his discus-
sion of nature to mean mere nature purified from all human or cultural
formations, I have focused my study on the varied and fragmented ex-
perience of spatiality that we find with contemporary paintings and
have asked how Merleau-Ponty’s concepts can make sense of what we
experience when studying these paintings.
5
Photographic Explorations: Perception,
Movement, Other
In the following I will elucidate Merleau-Ponty’s viewpoint on pho-

tography. I will first introduce the basis of his criticism: from the
outset, he claims that photography is unable to grasp movement. The
question of expressing movement with photographic means might not
appear central from the contemporary perspective, but this criticism
has had far-reaching consequences. On a more general level Merleau-
Ponty’s brief, yet critical comments on photography still seem to have
an effect, not so much on photography, but on the notion of phe-
nomenology’s ability to partake in discussions on contemporary art.
Secondly, I will examine movement, a theme that was central to his
photography criticism. I will follow Barbaras’ reading to show how the
concept of movement in Merleau-Ponty’s late texts is linked to per-
ception and our being in the world. Thirdly, I take as my second case
study, the German artist Christian Mayer’s work Another city, not my
own (2007). Here, in addition to the question of movement, the top-
ics of encountering the other and empathy become central. With my
case study I will demonstrate what I understand to be the possibility
of reading photography through Merleau-Pontian phenomenology and
how it may open up a new angle into our being in the world.
5.1 Merleau-Ponty on Photography

For a long time lens-based arts, i.e. photography and film, were consid-
ered to be governed by a monocular perspective. From the viewpoint
of traditional phenomenology lens-based arts appear problematic. In
them a medium, such as a camera, is situated between the artist and
the world and thus it prevents the artist from achieving the brute
125
126 CHAPTER 5. PHOTOGRAPHIC EXPLORATIONS
or wild vision. Yet, as was argued in chapter 4, this vision can be

understood, not as an artist’s perception that is represented in the
artwork — thus being privileged by a certain style or medium — but
as something that the artwork is capable of staging, i.e. it is found
in the encounter between the spectator and the artwork. Against this
background, it is evident that the position of photography in Merleau-
Ponty’s thinking can also be reconsidered. I will show how his brief
verdict on photography interpreted in a narrow way — being an un-
interesting form of image making, as it is “contaminated” with tech-
nology — simply does not do justice to either photography or to phe-
nomenology.393 Instead, his statement has to be examined in a larger
context.
What is Merleau-Ponty’s stand on photography? From the outset,
like Renaissance linear perspective, photography belongs to the aerial
view of panorama, the sphere of “pensée de survol”, since it simply
glides over the surfaces instead of exploring the lived experience.394
However, this is not necessarily the case. Let us examine his stand
closer.
Contemporary discussion on photography is both widespread and
lively. In their introduction to Photography: A Critical Introduction
(2002) Derrick Price and Liz Wells summarise that there are two dis-
tinguishable strands in the recent debate on photography. Firstly,
there are the theoretical approaches that focus on the image’s rela-
tionship to reality and secondly, there are those approaches that focus
on the interpretation of the image.395 To this rather rough division
of photography theory I would like to add that within the academia,
there is nowadays increasingly more artistic and practice-based re-
search that discusses and uses photography in new and challenging
ways.396 Even though the classification merely gives a rough idea of
393 My discussion does not aim at making statements on photography’s role today,
whether we have entered, from the 1970s onwards, into the Post-Medium condition,
as stated by Rosalind Krauss (1999), or whether more than ever photography
matters as art, as stated by Michael Fried (2008).
394 Melville has pointed to certain discussions on photography, that understand
the camera as “most simply a machine for producing automatic linear perspective
renditions of the world.” (Melville 1990, 13.)
395 Price & Wells 2002, 22. | I cannot possibly cover the discussion here, but I
would like to point to two classic texts. Walter Benjamin’s “The Work of Art in the
Age of Mechanical Reproduction” (“Das Kunstwerk im Zeitalter seiner technischen
Reproduzierbarkeit”, 1936) examines the meaning of photographic invention to art
in general, whereas Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida (La chambre claire, 1980)
discusses the nature of photography itself.
396 On Finnish artistic research and photography, see, for instance, Elo 2007.
5.1. MERLEAU-PONTY ON PHOTOGRAPHY 127
the abundance of today’s photography theory, it seems reasonable to

say that Merleau-Ponty’s vantage point on photography is first and
foremost concentrated around the question of the relation of the im-
age to reality, or in his case, its relation to lived experience. However,
this has also been a point of criticism. Fóti, for instance, has argued
that Merleau-Ponty’s interest in the ontological debars interest in the
artworks themselves, preventing him from examining questions that
are intrinsic to the medium itself.397
Photography in “Eye and Mind”

Even though Merleau-Ponty’s commentary on photography is very
short, perhaps too short to make any conclusive deductions, it must
nevertheless be examined. Granted, his stand is not particularly excep-
tional in the context of the philosophy of his time. Already in the late
19th century and the early 20th century, the invention of photography
was interlinked with 19th-century technological development. At the
time, photography was connected with a mechanistic, scientific world-
view. In his famous essay “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical
Reproduction” (1936), Walter Benjamin argued:
First, process reproduction is more independent of the original

than manual reproduction. For example, in photography, process
reproduction can bring out those aspects of the original that are
unattainable to the naked eye yet accessible to the lens, which is
adjustable and chooses its angle at will. And photographic repro-
duction, with the aid of certain processes, such as enlargement or
slow motion, can capture images which escape natural vision.398
This citation from Benjamin shows, how besides the idea that a
camera can exceed natural vision, photography has also been viewed
as a direct copy of reality. Still in the 1980s some philosophers, such
as Roger Scruton, were of the opinion that photography was simply
a mechanical reproduction of the object. This was a reason for pho-
397 Fóti writes how Merleau-Ponty is driven by ontological interest: “as though
it might alienate him from the tasks and respectability of philosophical discourse.
Painting, in short, is neither interrogated in its own being nor allowed to concern
itself with problems intrinsic to it.” (Fóti 2000, 143.)
398 Benjamin 1936.
tography to remain excluded for a long time from certain aesthetic

theories.399
The main argument against photography in “Eye and Mind” is
presented in a short passage. Merleau-Ponty refers to physiologists
Étienne-Jules Marey’s (1830–1904) images: “Marey’s photographs, the
cubists’ analyses, Duchamp’s La Mariée do not move; they give a
Zenonian reverie on movement.”400 The photographs mentioned are
from Marey’s experiments. Similar experiments were made by his col-
league Eadweard Muybridge in the USA.401 The goal of these studies
was to examine animals’ and humans’ movements. Before Marey’s and
Muybridge’s successful researches, it had not been possible to record
movement with such accuracy and the movements of a running horse
had remained inaccessible to human vision.
The physiologist Marey also made other experiments: he shot vari-
ous series of people and animals in different settings in order to explore
movement. This project has been connected to the representability of
time, a theme that puzzled scientists and philosophers especially in
the late 19th and early 20th centuries. For instance, Jonathan Crary
has suggested that the images of Marey’s and Muybridge’s early ex-
periments have a certain “disruptiveness” in them: the images do not
underline the naturalness of vision, but demonstrate its systematic
and constructed character.402 For Marey the principal object of his
research was movement, whereas time was only a secondary object.
Interestingly, his images also caught the attention of the artists of the
era.403 Merleau-Ponty discusses these images in relation to the expres-
399 “The ideal photograph also stands in a certain relation to a subject: a pho-
tograph is a photograph of something. But the relation is here causal and not
intentional.” (Scruton 1981, 579; see also Armstrong 2000, 5–10.) This is not to say
that there has not been significant theorisation of photography before, but simply
to demonstrate how photography’s position has changed from the 1960s.
400 Œ, 144. “Les photographies de Marey, les analyses cubistes, la Mariée de
Duchamp ne bougent pas : elles donnent une rêverie zénonienne sur le mouvement.”
Œ, 78.
401 Marey saw Muybridge’s images in a French journal in 1878, which had an
effect on his experiments as they influenced him to develop his own technique,
chronophotography. (Doane 2002, 49.)
402 Crary 1999, 138. | Crary remarks in another passage on the chronophotographs
how “Marey’s image, especially in the late 1880s with their overlapping transparen-
cies, are also a repudiation of perceptual fusion, in that they constitute a visual
field in which the viewer shifts back and forth between different levels of organiza-
tion — between a holistic perception of a single temporal vector and an aggregate
apprehension of isolated positions.” (Crary 1999, 161–62.)
403 Doane 2002, 46, 85.
sion of movement. He writes:
When a horse is photographed at that instant when he is com-

pletely off the ground, with his legs almost folded under him —
an instant, therefore, when he must be moving — why does he
look as if he were leaping in place? And why, by contrast, do
Géricault’s horses really run on canvas, in a posture impossible
for a real horse at a gallop? It is because the horses in Epsom
Derby bring me to see the body’s grip upon the ground and that,
according to a logic of body and world I know well, these “grips”
upon space are also ways of taking hold of duration.404
For Merleau-Ponty a separated photo of a horse shows nothing else

but a “frozen” horse. This is not surprising, since originally the photos
were a means to halt movement in order to study the position and
the detailed movements of the muscles, to fathom the different phases
of a horse’s gallop or a man’s jump.405 By contrast, Merleau-Ponty
made the point that the painting of a horse appears to be much more
in motion than the one in the photography, even though the legs of
the former were in a completely “impossible” position. At this stage, I
would like to suggest how through the remark “impossible” the photo
appears to “haunt” the vision of Merleau-Ponty: because he has seen
the photos of running horses, he already knows the proper trajectory
of its legs’ movement. It is as if he cannot see the painting without
thinking of the photo series that reveals to vision the true phases of
the movement.
Merleau-Ponty juxtaposes the “frozen” photography with a paint-
ing, which in his mind is able to create an impression of movement.
For Merleau-Ponty it was important to take into consideration how
the particular work under discussion came about.406 What is known
404 Œ, 145. “Pourquoi le cheval photographié à l’instant où il ne touche pas le
sol, en plein mouvement donc, ses jambes presque repliées sous lui, a-t-il l’air de
sauter sur place ? Et pourquoi par contre les chevaux de Géricault courent-ils sur la
toile, dans une posture pourtant qu’aucun cheval au galop n’a jamais prise ? C’est
que les chevaux du Derby d’Epsom me donnent à voir la prise du corps sur le sol,
et que, selon une logique du corps et du monde que je connais bien, ces prises sur
l’espace sont aussi des prises sur la durée.” Œ, 80.
405 Even though Marey resisted the cinema, his experiments with movement con-
tributed to its development: the experiments that aimed in dissecting movement

led to another kind of invention concerning the moving image, namely cinema.
(RC, 20; Newhall 1982, 121; Doane 2002, 61.)
406 “et c’est toujours en regardant mieux comment elle s’est faite qu’on en donne
et qu’on en donnera de nouvelles représentations. Quant à l’histoire des œuvres, en

about these works? The painting, Epsom Derby (1821, also known as
Races at Epsom), is a work by Jean-Louis-André-Théodore Géricault
(1791–1824). Again, Merleau-Ponty’s choice of example was not made
haphazardly. Géricault was a romanticist, who was known for having a
great passion for horses.407 His paintings demonstrate how the empha-
sis in romanticism was on the strong emotion of the experience. Now,
from the career of Marey, we have learned that he was obsessed by
the challenge to capture movement. He states: “motion is the most ap-
parent characteristic of life; it manifests itself in all the functions; it is
even the essence of several of them.”408 Marey’s project has been con-
nected with the urge to create a concept of life adequate to modernity,
where the concepts of movement, process and change were central. All
in all, the goal of Marey’s research was the fragmentation and analysis
of movement — this meant that at best his images would show an
object that appears not to have moved.409
I argue that even though Merleau-Ponty states that photography is
incapable of presenting movement in comparison to painting or sculp-
ture, the main point of his criticism concerns the scientific attitude.
From his perspective, Marey is situated within the natural attitude,
he saw the world through science, and the world exists for science to
be explored.410 All in all, Merleau-Ponty’s criticism of photography
was not exceptional. The limitation of photography he pointed at was
similar to the critique of science that looks at things from above, from
tout cas, si elles sont grandes, le sens qu’on leur donne après coup est issu d’elles.”
(Œ, 62.) “And it is always by looking more deeply into how it came about that we
make and will go on making new representations of it. As for the history of works
of art, in any case, if they are great, the sense we give to them later on has issued
from them.” (Œ, 139.)
407 He had studied under Carle Vernet (1758–1835), a horse painter who was fa-
mous for his hunting scenes. Géricault suffered from riding accidents that affected
his health, and he died at the age of 33. During Géricault’s lifetime he had oc-
casionally been called “ce fou de Géricault”, “the Fool Géricault”, because of his
move away from traditional norms of perception, thought and behaviour: this was
only confirmed by the subject he embraced especially in his collaboration with
doctor Étienne-Jean Georget (1795–1828) at the end of his career, namely mental
patients, whose passion Géricault admired. (Miller 1942, 152, 161; Régis 1992, 112,
166.)
408 E. J. Marey, Animal Mechanism: A Treatise on Terrestrial and Aërial Loco-
motion (New York: D. Appelton, 1874), 27. Cited in Doane 2002, 46.
409 Doane 2002, 46–59, 213.
410 For Husserl’s description of natural attitude, see for instance Husserl I II, §
49d.
outside.411 In photography, an instrument replaces lived experience,

and the world is seen through a “bodiless eye”. The reciprocal relation-
ship that was found in painting, is missing from photography.
In general, the idea of objectivity had long been associated with
photography, yet has also been criticised. In a short text entitled “Five
Notes for a Phenomenology of the Photographic Image”412 philosopher
Hubert Damisch wrote: “Would the art, or rather the craft, of photog-
raphy not consist partly in allowing us to forget that the black box is
not ‘neutral’ and that its structure is not impartial?”413 Photography
may technically be copying, inscribing, but it does not offer a neu-
tral copy of a world. And yet, as Damisch suggests, it is tempting to
forget photography’s limitations. It is exactly this, the photography’s
relation to the world, that Merleau-Ponty found problematic.
In addition to the criticism I have already discussed, Merleau-Ponty
paid attention to the use of photographs in Malraux’s The Voices of
Silence. This book presents various, mostly black and white images of
paintings and sculptures, as well as of masks, coins, and crockery. In
The Prose of the World Merleau-Ponty writes:
[T]hose styles which escape their creator’s view and become vis-
ible only when the museum gathers together works scattered
around the world or when photography enlarges miniatures,
transforms a section of a painting by its way of framing it,
changes rugs, coins and stained-glass windows into paintings,
and brings to painting a consciousness of itself which is always
retrospective.414
411 Granted, photography’s position at the end of the 1950s was very different
from today’s situation. Photography had a long way to go before it reached the po-
sition it holds today — and yet already from the early inventions in photography,
the ambition for it to be more than just a mechanical medium, had been present.
On the other hand, by the 1950s there had been many famous photographers who
have been considered artists, for instance, Alfred Stieglitz (1864–1946), El Lissitzky
(1890–1941) and László Moholy-Nagy (1895–1946). Man Ray (1890–1976) and Lee
Miller (1907–1977) had developed their technique of solarisation in the 1920s. Nev-
ertheless, photography was still decades away from the position it nowadays holds.
It was only in the late 1970s and 1980s that photographs were made large scale
and hung on walls. (Kriebel 2007, 15; Fried 2008, 2.)
412 First published in L’Arc, reprinted in 1978.
413 Damisch 1978, 71.
414 PM, 68. “ces styles qui échappent au regard de leur créateur et ne deviennent
visibles que quand le Musée rassemble les œuvres dispersées à travers la terre,
ou quand la photographie agrandit les miniatures, transforme par ses cadrages un
morceau du tableau, transforme en tableaux les vitraux, les tapis et les monnaies
Merleau-Ponty’s reading involves a criticism of Malraux’s concep-

tion of art history, as well as his use of images. In The Voices of Silence
the photographs of different objects transform them into something
else and create connections between artworks and artifacts in retro-
spective. Here, photography is not understood as a neutral black box,
but as a form of reproduction that gives a distorted image of the pho-
tographed. Further, unlike Benjamin, Merleau-Ponty did not use the
opportunity to comment on photography as a means of reproduction
that could bring art closer to spectators, but simply pointed out how
photography may, through enlargement or new framing, distort the
work of art.415
Now, in general photography covers many different technologies
and practices of image making and it is not inescapably done in the
theoretical or the scientific attitude. Granted, photography is a distinct
activity as much as painting is and my intention is not to absorb them
into each other. However, an artist’s work is not limited to certain tech-
niques and practices, but is defined by the attitude and relationship
to the world it suggests. Merleau-Ponty’s discussion on Marey’s photo
is not generalisable to all photography, since it would overlook the
problems that are intrinsic to photography as well as avoid questions
that interrogate its own being.
As is well known, Merleau-Ponty objected fiercely to the idea of
an artwork as a copy. Photography’s challenge has been to reject this
position of a replica or a copy in order to take up the position of
an artwork, an icon. Here an icon, as clarified in chapter 3, does not
mean a traditional, religious icon. Fóti writes how in Merleau-Ponty an
image: “is rather an icon of certain way of seeing which discloses the
perceptual and oneiric complexities of experience to the percipients
willing, so to speak, to see along with it rather than trying to look
straight through it.”416
Next I will look closer at the concept of movement. Through the
following discussion it is possible to see how photography could be
capable of addressing movement.
et donne à la peinture une conscience d’elle-même qui est toujours rétrospective”
PM, 96.
415 Benjamin writes: “technical reproduction can put the copy of the original into
situations which would be out of reach for the original itself. Above all, it enables
the original to meet the beholder halfway, be it in the form of a photograph or a
phonograph record. The cathedral leaves its locale to be received in the studio of
a lover of art; the choral production, performed in an auditorium or in the open
air, resounds in the drawing room.” (Benjamin 1936.)
416 Fóti 2000, 141.
5.2. THE EXPRESSION OF MOVEMENT 133
5.2 The Expression of Movement

For Merleau-Ponty a crucial question in the passage concerning pho-
tography involved the expression of movement. At the time, the theme
of movement was connected to, for instance, the discussion of Gestalt
psychology as well as the problem of the representability of time.417
We saw above how photography was juxtaposed with painting and
sculpture: “Just as painting has created the latent line, it has made
for itself a movement without displacement, a movement by vibration
or radiation.”418 Merleau-Ponty’s argument is that Géricault’s painting
expresses movement, it managed to capture several moments within
it, whereas photography merely sliced time artificially into pieces and
ended up showing a motionless horse. Thus, from the outset, photog-
raphy acts against time, since it prevents time from showing itself.419
It also fixes points of view into one cyclopean point. Merleau-Ponty
explains:
The photograph keeps open the instants which the onrush of time
closes up forthwith; it destroys the overtaking, the overlapping,
the “metamorphosis” [Rodin] of time. This is what painting, in
contrast, makes visible, because the horses have in them that
“leaving here, going there,” because they have a foot in each
instant.420
In order to understand what was at stake in the criticism, it is nec-

essary to look closer at the question of movement. How is movement
417 Merleau-Ponty’s analysis of movement has been influenced by, among oth-
ers, the psychologist and central figure of Gestalt psychology, Max Wertheimer
(1880–1943), by Henri Bergson as well as by psychologist Albert Michotte
(1881–1965). Michotte published his The Perception of Causality (La perception
de la causalité) in 1945, and thus his influence is visible after Phenomenology of
Perception.
418 Œ, 144. “Comme elle a créé la ligne latente, la peinture s’est donné un mou-
vement sans déplacement, par vibration ou rayonnement.” Œ, 77.

419 John Sallis writes: “How, then, does time show itself? Most assuredly not in
the way that ordinary, perceptible things show themselves. Not, for instance, as a
stone shows itself, protruding from the earth into brilliant sunlight. One never sees
or hears time itself as one sees and hears things, even though it seems that time
somehow haunts all the things one sees and hears.” (Sallis 2000, 12.)
420 Œ, 145 “La photographie maintient ouverts les instants que la poussée du
temps referme aussitôt, elle détruit le dépassement, l’empiétement, la ‘métamor-

phose’ du temps, que la peinture rend visible au contraire, parce que les chevaux
ont en eux le ‘quitter ici, aller là’, parce qu’ils ont un pied dans chaque instant.”
Œ, 80–81. | Here Merleau-Ponty cites the poet Henri Michaux’s (1899–1984) essay
“Aventures de lignes” on Paul Klee.
to be understood and how could it relate to photography? In Phe-

nomenology of Perception Merleau-Ponty examined on the one hand
the question of the motility of the body in a chapter called “Spatiality
of One’s own Body and Motility”, and on the other hand the theme of
movement in a chapter titled “Space”. In his discussion on the motility
of one’s own body Merleau-Ponty stressed how sight and movement
are specific ways of relating to objects. Our bodies are not merely
in space and time or conceive of them, but inhabit time and space.
Movement is not a handmaid to consciousness, nor is it merely about
changing place. It cannot be dissociated from the dimension of time,
since movement always contains the past as successive instants.421
Merleau-Ponty examines the paradox how he has an experience of
movement, even though “in thinking clearly about movement, I do
not understand how it can ever begin for me, and be given to me
as a phenomenon.”422 He develops an approach where movement is
understood as a style, not as a property. Merleau-Ponty argues that
we are aware of movement without considering objective positions:
For example, the bird which flies across my garden is, during the
time that it is moving, merely a greyish power of flight [...] It is
not I who recognize, in each of the points and instants passed
through, the same bird defined by explicit characteristics, it is
the bird in flight which constitutes the unity of its movement,
which changes its place, it is this flurry of plumage still here,
which is already there in a kind of ubiquity, like the comet with
its tail.423
421 PP, 160–61/159–61. | In the lecture course Nature, he remarks that: “Le mou-
vement perçu à l’état naissant est toujours un mouvement qui va quelque part. Ce
qui est absurde pour le physicien qui définit le mouvement non par le terme vers
lequel il va, mais par ses antécédents.” (N, 204–205.) “Movement perceived in its
nascent state is always a movement that goes somewhere. This is absurd for the
physicist, who defines movement not by the term toward which it goes, but by its
antecedents.” (N, 153.) The notes have been published in Nature. Course Notes
from the Collège de France (La nature. Notes Cours du Collège de France, 1968).
422 PP, 313. “à penser clairement le mouvement, je ne comprends pas qu’il puisse
jamais commencer pour moi et m’être donné comme phénomène.” PP, 311.
423 PP, 320–21. “Par exemple, l’oiseau qui franchit mon jardin n’est dans le mo-
ment même du mouvement qu’une puissance grisâtre de voler [...] Ce n’est pas
moi qui reconnais en chacun des points et des instants traversés le même oiseau
défini par des caractères explicites, c’est l’oiseau en volant qui fait l’unité de son
mouvement, c’est lui qui se déplace, c’est ce tumulte plumeux encore ici qui est
déjà là-bas dans une sorte d’ubiquité, comme la comète avec sa queue.” PP, 318.
For Merleau-Ponty the phenomenon of movement displays tempo-

ral and spatial implications. Stefan Kristensen has studied the first
course Merleau-Ponty held at the Collège de France, the contents of
which can be found in an unpublished manuscript titled “Le monde
sensible et le monde de l’expression” (1953–1954).424 Kristensen em-
phasises how for Merleau-Ponty movement is a variation or a modality
of primordial spatiality. The movement cannot be defined as a chang-
ing of place, as that would prioritise space. Kristensen states that the
main thesis is that phenomenal movement, mobile object and move-
ment form unity in perception. In the lecture course Merleau-Ponty
considered the ontological consequences of phenomenal movement: the
fact that the perceptual field is essentially a milieu of movement and
that the structure of movement gives meaning, allows the thinking of
the sensible and meaning. Kristensen remarks that the concept of flesh
appears then as an endeavour in the ontology of phenomenal move-
ment to designate the inseparability of time and space.425
Besides “Eye and Mind”, in the lecture “Le monde sensible et le
monde de l’expression” as well as in his course on Cartesian ontology
Merleau-Ponty approached the question of art and the artwork’s ability
to express movement. In the former lecture, he considered movement
as a means of universal expression, and also discussed the ability of
paintings and cinema to present movement. In both courses, sculptor
Auguste Rodin (1840–1917) served as an exemplary model. Merleau-
Ponty summarised his strategy: to organise the different parts of the
body into different times, so that as a whole, the body of the sculpture
would be in a position in which it actually never is.426 In this man-
ner the body bursts in temporality. Merleau-Ponty writes: “initially,
movement is not about changing place, but an inner way of making,
the bursting of the body towards what it leaves behind and what it
approaches.”427 It is clear that movement cannot be defined through
the changing of place, but neither is movement a matter of meticulous
analysis of the trajectories and the different parts of a movement; the
sum of them would not create an impression of movement. This was
once again underlined in an appendix to The Visible and the Invisible:
424 A summary of the course has been published in Résumés de course. Collège
de France 1952–1960, see RC, 11–21.
425 Kristensen 2008, 245–46.
426 For a Merleau-Pontian reading of Rodin’s work, see Johnson 2010.
427 “le mouvement n’est pas d’abord changement de lieu, mais formule interne
d’un faire, éclatement d’un corps vers ce qu’il quitte et ce qu’il approche.” NC,
172.
“[t]he discontinuous images of cinema prove nothing with regard to

the phenomenal truth of the movement which connects them before
the eyes of the spectator [...]”428
Movement can be understood as a style or an inner way of burst-
ing and it is deeply interlinked with perception and our being in the
world. Barbaras has shown how the development in the understanding
of movement is connected to the changes in grasping the embodied sub-
jectivity. As Merleau-Ponty later criticised himself, in Phenomenology
of Perception he considered being in the world as embodied conscious-
ness for which the body was simply a mediator of the world. In The
Visible and the Invisible he attempts to overcome the division to “con-
sciousness” and “object”, setting aside the preconditions that are in-
volved in terms such as “subject”, “mind”, and “self-consciousness”.429
Here, Merleau-Ponty is searching for a new meaning of Being that
would not be fully positive. Barbaras points to a marginal note, where
Merleau-Ponty writes concerning the signification of “Being”. “What
is true here: what is not nothing is something, but: this something is
not hard as a diamond, not unconditioned, Erfahrung.”430
As Barbaras suggests, also the understanding of perception is now
changed. The perception need no longer be considered an inferior mode
of knowledge because our perceptions are obscure — as in Descartes
— but now the opacity is “a feature of Being itself.”431 The world that
exists for the subject is opaque. Barbaras writes:
If the subject is situated within the world, it exists in a mode

entirely different from that of other worldly beings. As the me-
diator of appearance, it is adapted to its structure and exists in
such a way that through it the presence of the unpresentability
of the world within the horizon becomes possible.432
428 VI, 157. “les images discontinues du cinéma ne prouvent rien quant à la vé-
rité phénoménale du mouvement qui les relie aux yeux du spectateur” VI, 206. |
Granted, today the veritable medium of movement is not a still image, but a mov-
ing image. However, besides film, the wide variety of media art examines movement
— and sometimes movement is best examined through stillness. An interesting ex-
ample of approaching the limit of movement can be found, for instance, in Bill
Viola’s works, in his The Quintet Series (2000). I will examine the thematic of
moving images together with temporality in chapter 6.
429 Barbaras 2000, 77–79; VI, 102/74.
430 VI, 109 n.* “ce qu’il y a de vrai : ce qui n’est pas rien est QUELQUE CHOSE,
mais : ce quelque chose n’est pas dur comme diamant, pas inconditionné, ERFAH-
RUNG.” VI, 144 n.* See also Barbaras 2000, 81.
431 Barbaras 2000, 82.
432 Barbaras 2006, 85.
This means that neither can the subject for which the world ex-
ists be considered in terms of transparency and coincidence with itself.
Because, “the subject for which there is a world necessarily involves a
dimension of negativity.”433 We know how in the last texts of Merleau-
Ponty flesh was an important concept for the new ontology in order to
illustrate they way in which subject and object are dependent. In this
new order, the perception is dependent on the perceived being, and
not the other way around, where the perceived is based on perception.
In the late oeuvre of Merleau-Ponty, we see how the focus moves from
what is perceived to the moment of perceiving. This moment also pro-
vides a certain écart. In “Eye and Mind” there is a definition: “Seeing
is not a certain mode of thought or presence to self; it is the means
given me for being absent from myself [...]”.434 Barbaras asks: how
is one to deal with the meaning of being of embodied consciousness?
How is one to find the ground for subjectivity as essentially embodied,
without abolishing the transcendent dimension, without rejecting the
divergence, the écart found in the experience? He presents an interpre-
tation in which the essence of perception for Merleau-Ponty consists
of movement.435 Barbaras writes:
It is the peculiarity of movement to accomplish its own identity

by exceeding itself, by differing indefinitely from itself, in the
same way that transcendence is characterized by identity within
difference [...] The being of movement, as something essentially
unaccomplished, is the only possible mode of presence for an irre-
ducible absence, the concrete form of negativity that is peculiar
to perceived transcendence. To perceive means to encroach upon
the depth of the world, impelled by a motion toward (avancée)
that never stops, never exhausts itself: self-movement is the sole
possible foundation for the inexhaustible plenitude of perceived
being.436
Here, perception is identified with movement — indeed, in the heart

of seeing, there is already movement. As Merleau-Ponty had remarked:
“What would vision be without eye movement?”437 In his discussion of
433 Barbaras 2006, 85.
434 Œ, 146. “La vision n’est pas un certain mode de la pensée ou présence à soi :
c’est le moyen qui m’est donné d’être absent de moi-même [...]” Œ, 81.
435 Barbaras 2000, 85–86.
436 Barbaras 2000, 86.
437 Œ, 124. “Que serait la vision sans aucun mouvement des yeux [...]” Œ, 17.
See also Barbaras 2006, 91.

the role of movement, Barbaras elucidates how living movement sum-

mons resumption, meaning that immobility is only a pause, a modality
in movement. Barbaras writes: “Movement is therefore both penetra-
tion into exteriority and the ability for indefinite renewal; it rejoins the
thing where it is, but it cannot stop there, because any location calls
for a new fulfillment.”438 He points to a passage in Merleau-Ponty’s
Nature lectures: “An organ of the mobile senses (the eye, the hand)
is already a language because it is an interrogation (movement) and
a response [...], speaking and understanding.”439 In Barbaras’ reading
perception and movement appear as two sides of the same fundamental
event, where perception gives us distance and movement aims at reduc-
ing this distance.440 We have seen how in The Invisible and the Visible
Merleau-Ponty discussed the reversibility of both seeing and touching,
and how they are always incomplete: I cannot see myself seeing, as well
as my touching is never exactly the same as touched. What prevents
me from seeing myself seeing? Merleau-Ponty states that de facto, my
eyes are invisible for me. But beyond this, there remains something de
jure invisible, namely that: “I cannot see myself in movement, witness
my own movement”.441 For Merleau-Ponty this means that perception
and movement are synonymous, that they emerge from each other —
thus perception cannot rejoin movement. Or as Barbaras writes: “It is
impossible for perception to witness movement because it is essentially
movement”.442
Above, I have clarified how movement is central in understanding
perception and our being in the world. In the later work of Merleau-
Ponty, the emphasis moved away from the perceiving I that perceives
the world towards the moment of perception. Through the concept of
movement it is possible to take into consideration the divergence, the
écart, that defines our embodied subjectivity.
Now, it is a continuous challenge for art to be able to address the
experience of our being in the world. In Rodin’s sculpture, Merleau-
Ponty could find a certain radiation, which he identified with move-
ment. As the question of movement is interlinked with perception and
438 Barbaras 2006, 94.

439 N, 211. “Un organe des sens mobile (l’œil, la main), c’est déjà un langage car
c’est une interrogation (mouvement) et une réponse (perception comme Erfüllung
d’un projet), parler et comprendre.” N, 273; Barbaras 2006, 95.
440 Barbaras 2006, 96.
441 VI, 254. “je ne puis me voir en mouvement, assister à mon mouvement” VI,
303.
442 Barbaras 2000, 87; VI, 255/303.
5.3. OTHER VISIONS 139
our being in the world, the thematics can be understood as a constant

movement towards something that always remains within distance; a
certain blind spot, the invisible of the vision, where we cannot see our
own seeing, similarly as we cannot witness our own movement. In the
following discussion I will suggest one possibility where photography
could address our being in the world and reveal it in a way our daily
perception is not capable of.
5.3 Other Visions in Christian Mayer’s Another City, Not My

Own
Christian Mayer (b. 1976, for the artist’s CV, see appendix B) works
with various techniques, from photography and video to mixed media
installations. I have selected Mayer’s work, because it opens up the
previous phenomenological discussion on photography and movement
in a way that demands another kind of understanding of movement
and perception of the other.
Another city, not my own (2007, for images, see appendix A) is
a digital slideshow consisting of 190 images. The work was prepared
by Mayer on his visit to Mongolia in 2007. It is a series of photos
from the perspective a half-wild street dog living in Ulaanbaatar. The
silent slideshow may be exhibited either as a projection or from a
monitor, the duration of the work is approximately 25 minutes.443
Note that the format of a slideshow is associated with, for instance,
holiday images shown either with an old slide-projector or using digital
preview software. As exhibited, the spectator is provided with an artist
statement explaining how the work has been made. It reads:
Another city, not my own

There are thousands of street dogs in Ulaanbaatar. They live
on their own and explore the city looking for food. I equipped
one of these street dogs with a digital camera that takes one
photo automatically every minute. The digital slide show arising
from this project is a documented dérive [unplanned journey]
from a dog’s view, a specific view of a city that is not my own,
taken by an inhabitant that isn’t aware of the fact that it is
taking pictures. It is the attempt to notice the way in which
certain areas, streets, or buildings resonate with states of mind,
443 According to the artist, he has deleted only a few totally black images and
that the series is otherwise linear.
inclinations, and desires, and to seek out reasons for movement

other than those for which an environment was designed.444
I would add here that in Ulaanbaatar, the cityscape is crowded

with dogs.445 There are dogs that accompany people, as well as those
that simply move around seemingly at will. However, these street dogs
or stray dogs are not always totally wild or without a home, they can
in some cases return more or less regularly to certain gers or houses
to be fed.446 It is one of these half-wild dogs that Mayer chose as a
“guide” to the city.
Picturing the Unseen

To turn back to the themes raised by Merleau-Ponty’s discussion on
Marey’s photographs of horses, I would like to point out that from a
certain perspective Mayer’s work exemplifies the contemporary tech-
nological pursuit and as such this pursuit could very well relate to
Marey’s and Muybridge’s projects and thus fall within the attitude
that Merleau-Ponty did not value. As we know, today, photography
and moving image are increasingly used to visualise what has been pre-
viously inaccessible to our vision.447 The visualisation not only renders
visible what has been unseen, but it has a capability to address also
other senses than vision, as well as change our understanding of our-
selves, since images give us access to, for instance, the inside of our
bodies.448
444 Mayer 2008, 82.
445 Indeed, in Mongolian society the dog has a central position. Mongolian cul-
ture has a very strong nomadic background — thus many families living in the
countryside practise a lifestyle where the family’s ger is moved around between
certain areas according to the time of the year. These families traditionally have
dogs to guard the gers and look after the livestock. In the cities the role of the dog
is different. Changes in traditional living practices have increased the number of
stray dogs.
446 A ger, also known as a yurt, is a circular-shaped tent used by nomads in
central Asia and Mongolia, but nowadays they are also found in cities either in ger
districts or among buildings.
447 Van de Vall 2008, 81. | This development would be connected in general with
the visualisation of culture, which was pointed out by Martin Heidegger in his essay
“The Age of the World Picture” (1938).
448 For instance on the hapticity of images, see section 6.3; see also Deleuze 2003,
126; Marks 2000, 129. | Slatman also argues how new technology has radically
changed the classical categories of the body. For instance, X-ray, ultrasound, in-
ternet cameras and virtual reality have blurred our conception of the body. The
understanding of our proper body is inseparable from the body imagery we access
In Marey’s early experiments the view was directed to, for instance,
the legs of horses. The form of Mayer’s work appears to be in line with
investigations of the early photographers. In all of them, photos were
taken at even intervals. However, Mayer’s work is addressing different
issues than the early scientific experiments. The aim of these experi-
ments was not analytical in the same way as Marey’s; as an experiment
Another city, not my own seems to simultaneously show and hide at
the same time. Mayer’s work does not try to dissect an object such as
a horse’s gallop into pieces. On the contrary in Mayer’s photos, the
spectator is invited to move both towards the animal and its world —
instead of pointing the camera at the animal, the camera is adjusted
to it, so that the spectator could see what it sees, experience the city
from another perspective — but simultaneously the spectator is also
shown something of his or her own experience. The thematics of the
work open up questions of the other and empathy, but also approach
questions concerning our being in the world and our inability to see
ourselves — topics that are closely related to movement.
Considering Mayer’s other works, there is an interesting counter-
part to Another city, not my own: a project done earlier in Brazil in
connection with an exhibition titled The Chronicle of the Brazilian
Expedition of Thomas Ender—Reconsidered (2004) gives an idea of
Mayer’s focus. In his piece, Audio description of the entire video ma-
terial brought back from a two-week travel through Brazil on the traces
of a 19th-century expedition,449 Mayer used a 3-hour video from the
trip in Brazil. In the final work, Mayer erased the video footage and
replaced it with discourse, a travelogue that was derived from the im-
ages. Instead of the images the monitor only shows a blank screen with
a time-code that displays the running time of the video. The spectator
can wear headphones and listen to the travelogue or reach for a book
— for instance, endoscopy, changes our body image and thus also what we conceive
of as the body proper. Imagery affects our primordial level of understanding of the
motoric and the sensuous. (Slatman 2004, 1; see also Van de Vall 2008, 78, 90.)
449 Mayer describes: “Audio description of the entire video material shot during a
two-week travel through Brazil on the traces of a 19th-century expedition is a 167-

minute long video in which you hear a speaker describing the whole 3 hours of the
video material that I brought back from our journey with a technique originally
developed to enable blind people to enjoy visual things. The original sound is
audible in the background and the visual is only the timecode of the tapes that are
run at the original speed. The video space is here uncoupled from the real space
that it originally depicted and is used as an autonomous imaginary space. Even
the time in this space is peculiar: videotime, a time that is not divided into days
but into tapes, and where frames and not seconds are the smallest unit.”
to read a text in which the original imagery from the film is described
by using the standard description methods developed for the blind.
In another piece titled Gizmo (2009), Mayer worked with docu-
mentary material found in the Berliner Rundfunk archives. The topic
of the documentary was Ted Serios (1918–2006), a man who claimed
that he was able to produce images on Polaroid film using only his
psychic powers. In Mayer’s work, the spectator sees a loop of Ted Se-
rios concentrating, trying to make a “thoughtograph”, an image that
would be created on a Polaroid camera film held in a cylinder, which
he called “Gizmo”.450
Both Audio Description... and Gizmo present the question of image:
the former plays with the spectator’s ability to imagine or illustrate
what she or he hears from the headphones and the latter is a visuali-
sation of an attempt to create an image from the “mind”. Also in the
work discussed here, Another City, not my own, the question of image
is at stake. For one thing, its images are not “taken” by artists, but
have been created under certain pre-set parameters. All in all I suggest
that these works address our desire to see as well as a certain inca-
pability to perceive, that our seeing is directed according to different
preconceptions and prejudices.
The technique used in Another city, not my own connects with
automatism, a method used by the surrealists. In surrealist automa-
tism artists merely create circumstances or boundaries within which
the work may happen. Relating to this method, an obvious refer-
ence point for the work is in the situationists and their walking prac-
tice called dérive that drew inspiration from surrealist automatism.451
Mayer himself refers to the concept of dérive in the description of the
work. Dérive is one of the basic situationist practices. According to
the philosopher Sadie Plant, the Situationists were interested in chal-
lenging the urban environment and how it directs our actions.452 In
order to do this, they developed the method of dérive, drifting, in
which the aim was to lose all the prevailing relations to the surround-
ing space. Dérive is a mixture of rules and regulations as well as a
demand for playfulness. The inspiration for developing the practice
450 Schlaegel 2010.

451 Plant 2000, 59.
452 “The width of the streets, the heights of buildings, the presence of trees,
advertisements and lights, the circulation of traffic, the colours of front doors, and
the shapes of windows: urban lives are shaped in the most subtle and neglected
way by the arrangements of space. The situations in which we live are created for
us.” (Plant 2000, 57.)
of a dérive comes from the habitual, rather limited patterns that the
people living in the city tend to follow. The practice aims at broaden-
ing everyday experience, its typical movements and actions that are so
often governed by functionality.453 The goal of the practice is to exam-
ine the “psychogeographical articulation of the modern city,”454 the
architectural reading, the playful behaviour that would then overcome
repressed desires.455
I will not examine the concept of dérive further, but lastly propose
that considering the principles of dérive in terms of phenomenology it
could be understood as aiming in losing the naturalist attitude. More-
over, dérive could be seen as having similar ambitions as reduction,
since it aims to challenge the way we perceive and act in the sur-
rounding space. It is based on the assumption that our actions within
urban space are often governed by familiarity, and this familiarity is
deeply rooted in our own bodies.
Investigations of a Dog
Why choose a dog? In Ulaanbaatar, dogs are present everywhere.
There their position and role is different from the practices of no-
madic life in the countryside, where they are used as sheepdogs and
guards. The urban dogs treat the city as their home-ground. However,
even though the camera bearer would know the city like the back of
its paw, the spectators of the images are, in most cases, as good as
aliens in observing the city. Some elements of the cityscape may per-
haps remind one of suburbs in South America, Asia, Africa or Eastern
Europe. All in all, the perspective that Another city, not my own of-
fers is not easy to approach. In fact, I would claim that inaccessibility
is one of the key elements of this artwork that discusses among other
things the possibilities of intercorporeality. Citing psychologist Erwin
Straus, Ronald Bogue has remarked how in encountering “the animal
453 Indeed, it seems that dérive is essentially a practice developed for cities. The
key figure of the movement, Guy Débord (1931–1994), writes in “Theory of the
Dérive” (“Théorie de la dérive”, 1958): “Wandering in open country is naturally
depressing, and the interventions of chance are poorer there than anywhere else.”
454 The exclusion of the countryside is not absolute, as it is known, Débord himself
practiced dérive in the German countryside, sustaining the urban atmosphere by

using a map of London. Débord writes, for instance, that a suitable length for a
dérive is one day, the time between two periods of sleep. (Débord 1958.)
455 What is at stake here is the resonation between the drifter and the environ-
ment, how spaces affect our thoughts and how shifting quarters may bring out a
totally different atmosphere. (Débord 1958.)
world of sensation without the perceptual coordinates of an objective

space and time, we feel lost.”456
It must be underlined that the photos are of course not taken by the
dog; it has merely carried the camera around its neck. The spectator is
thus not offered a view identical to the dog’s view, but merely a series
of photos taken by a digital camera. What makes the pictures stand
out from the ordinary is the factual disinterestedness of their visuality.
There is no decisive moment of pushing the button in order to catch a
particular scene, instead the camera simply follows a programme and
records the surroundings accordingly.457 The camera is not “used” by
the dog actively, but its movement and interest have directed what is
recorded. These images are not driven at first hand by the aesthetic
appearance; there is no planned harmony or clairvoyance to be found.
Curiously, when looking at the images, one feature catches the eye:
the abundant imagery of various structures familiar in cityscapes, i.e.
gates, fences, billboards, cars, electric wires and different iron con-
structions on, for instance, windows. These structures appear in the
images as no longer so necessary, indispensable or usable as they might
appear from our daily human perspective. More than protection and
functionality, the gates, walls and fences act as limits, obstacles be-
tween the animal other and the spectator. The spectator may assume
that some of these objects also appear differently to the dog. Perhaps
some of the “obstacles” serve as a source, invaluable posts providing
the various smells of fellow animals, but this the eye of the camera
cannot reach.
In Merleau-Pontian terms we are, however, connected to the ani-
mals through our bodily presence and it is through this corporeality
that we are able to understand them. In Mayer’s work, corporeality
is not experienced directly — the other’s body is most of the time
omitted from the images — nonetheless it is mediated through a series
456 Bogue 2003, 119. | The subject of dogs has been addressed by various con-
temporary artists, such as Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s or Francis Alÿs’s works. Referring to

John Berger, Miwon Kwon writes in her recent essay on Alÿs’s works, how “modern
societies have lost a capacity for a certain kind of existential encounter — that of
seeing and being seen by animals, eye to eye — that affirms the autonomous yet
parallel dualism of our mutual existence on earth.” (Kwon 2010, 181).
457 Vilém Flusser wrote about the act of photography as “phenomenological
doubt”, where the subject matter can be approached from various viewpoints,
not just from one, supposedly “perfect” viewpoint, and how the photographers
practice is fixed to a programme. In the case of Mayer’s work, it is very much a
result of programming. Here, even the “photographer” is not conscious, but totally
absorbed into its everyday practices. (Flusser 2005, 38.)
of photographs. In the images, the body of the dog is present as a

shadow, as a piece of fur, and even as a lick (the dog’s tongue once
wipes the lens). It is also reflected in the strange angles of the images
and perhaps implied sometimes by the objects seen in the shots —
though at points the blurred images could be mistaken for being taken
by a candid camera. Next, I would like to turn to the phenomenologi-
cal approach and examine through Mayer’s Another city, not my own,
the challenge it posits to the spectator.
Intercorporeality, Intersubjectivity and Empathy

Despite the fact that we sense the world through our senses and our
body, the photographer’s body remains absent from our visual percep-
tion of photographs. Of course, the absence of the body of the photog-
rapher is not unusual.458 However, in Another city, not my own, the
blurred and distorted images seem to, if not give back, at least, imply
the bodily presence of something other than human. The images im-
ply an animal environment, i.e. an environment that differs from the
one that we are familiar with. And yet the work may address us in a
manner that surmounts the seeming difficulties of alienness.
What is at stake in the images? Clearly, Mayer’s work could be
read in many different ways. Here, I would like to focus on the topic of
intersubjectivity, a thematic that was central for Merleau-Ponty and
his discussions on art. An early essay “Metaphysics and the Novel (“Le
roman et la métaphysique”, 1945)459 approaches novels and in partic-
ular Simone de Beauvoir’s She Came to Stay (L’Invitée, 1943).460 An
important theme of the novel as well as for the essay, was the question
of the other.461 How to understand the other’s existence? In Husser-
458 Leder 1990.
459 Merleau-Ponty’s essay was originally published in Cahiers du Sud, no 270
March-April 1945, reprinted in SNS.
460 Simone de Beauvoir’s She Came to Stay tells a story of a triangular affair,
touching the issues of other and freedom. The novel can be interpreted in many
ways. For instance Ulrika Björk suggests that it should be interpreted as a literary
description of the ambiguity and complexity of feminine subjective becoming —
themes that Beauvoir later took up in The Second Sex (Le deuxième sexe, 1949).
For discussion on the relations between the philosophical themes and fiction writing
in Beauvoir, see Björk 2008.
461 Merleau-Ponty writes: “Je remarque que la chose, après tout, a besoin de moi
pour exister. Quand je découvre un paysage jusque-là caché par une colline, c’est
alors seulement qu’il devient pleinement paysage et l’on ne peut pas concevoir ce
que serait une chose sans l’imminence ou la possibilité de mon regard sur elle. Ce
monde qui avait l’air d’être sans moi, de m’envelopper et de me dépasser, c’est moi
lian terms: how do I constitute someone else as another ego, Ichpol?

Does it not turn me into a visible, determined object in the eyes of the
other? These questions correlate with the thematic of intersubjectiv-
ity, intercorporeality and empathy, themes that have been discussed
widely in the phenomenological tradition. In my reading, I suggest that
these questions are also raised by Mayer’s work. Another city, not my
own can be approached through the problematic of intercorporeality
as the work leads the spectator towards the world of a stray dog. It
also implies a new situation, where the understanding of the other and
the self overlap in a new way.
Within phenomenology, the theme of intercorporeal relations of hu-
mans and animals have been discussed among others by Edith Stein
(1891–1942), a student of Husserl’s, whose studies on empathy inspired
also his teacher’s thinking, as well as Merleau-Ponty.462 Later on, a
number of contemporary commentators such as Corinne Painter, Ted
Toadvine, and Erika Ruonakoski have taken up the question of em-
pathy.463 I will not present an exhaustive overview of the topic, but
simply bring out aspects that are relevant for discussing this particular
artwork.
Merleau-Ponty discussed intercorporeality (intercorporéité) espe-
cially in relation to Husserl.464 For Merleau-Ponty, the concept de-
scribes, for instance, the experience of a handshake, and how one’s
qui le fais être. Je suis donc une conscience, une présence immédiate au monde, et
il n’est rien qui puisse prétendre à être sans être pris de quelque façon dans le tissu
de mon expérience. Je ne suis pas cette personne, ce visage, cet être fini, mais un
pur témoin, sans lieu et sans âge, qui peut égaler en puissance l’infinité du monde.”
(SNS, 38.) “I observe that, after all, the thing needs me in order to exist. Only
when I discover the landscape hidden until then behind a hill does it fully become
a landscape; one cannot imagine what a thing would be like if it were not about
to, or able to, be seen by me. It is I who bring into being this world which seemed
to exist without me, to surround and surpass me. I am therefore a consciousness,
immediately present to the world, and nothing can claim to exist without somehow
being caught in the web of my experience. I am not this particular person or face,
this finite being: I am a pure witness, placeless and ageless, equal in power to the
world’s infinity.” (SNS, 29.)
462 The concept of empathy is derived from the German einfühlen, to feel into
something. It was introduced to the discourses of psychology and philosophy by

Theodor Lipps. (Moran 2004, 270.) The concept of empathy is familiar from the his-
tory of aesthetics: empathy was first introduced into modern aesthetics by Theodor
Vischer in 1873 to describe how we are able to project our feelings into what we
see. (Harrison & al. 1998, 682, 690.)
463 Painter 2007; Toadvine 2007; Ruonakoski 2007; 2011.
464 See “The Philosopher and His Shadow” (“Le Philosophe et son ombre”, 1959),
PO.
own hand annexes another person’s body, and how they coexist or
are compresent: “The other person appears through an extension of
that compresence; he and I are like organs of one single intercorpo-
reality.”465 Gail Weiss points out that intercorporeality demonstrates
how “the experience of being embodied is never a private affair, but
is always already mediated by our continual interactions with other
human and non-human bodies”.466 Regarding the images of Another
city, not my own, intercorporeality enables an understanding, where
the spectator — perhaps only occasionally — feels that the “photog-
rapher” and he or she are of one single intercorporeality.
The problematic of intersubjectivity — how do I constitute some-
one else as another? How do others perceive me? — and the experience
of intercorporeality, are the basis for the feeling of empathy.467
Husserl discusses animal life first in Ideas II, where he makes a
distinction between material nature and animal nature.468 The dis-
cussion on animals is connected with the theme of intersubjectivity.
To Husserl, it is “lived bodiness”, Leibkörperlichkeit that constitutes
empathy.469 In empathy the other is perceived as similar to me — my
analogon. Through our own bodies, we can experience other bodies.
Yet being able to empathise with somebody that possesses a body dif-
ferent from mine, requires modification — Husserl sets a standard of
a body in relation to which, for instance, a child and an animal are
abnormalities. For Husserl, there is also a limit to the modification and
analogy of the body.470
In the chapter “Conditions of the Possibility of Sensual Empathy”,
Edith Stein writes how the physical body is a realisation of a type that
is then variable within limits:471
Should I perhaps consider a dog’s paw in comparison with my

465 S, 168. “[A]utrui apparaît par extension de cette comprésence, lui et moi
sommes comme les organes d’une seule intercorporéité.” S, 274. | The term “com-
présence” comes from Husserl, “übertragene Kompräsenz”. (S, 274 n.3.)
466 Weiss 199, 5. | Joona Taipale writes “Intercorporeality refers to this funda-
mental entanglement (Ineinander) of the own and the alien in a unitary bodily
experience: it refers to the manner in which the own and the alien are interwo-
ven in a ‘functional community of one perception’ (Funktionsgemeinschaft einer
Wahrnehmung)” (Taipale 2009, 113.)
467 The basis for perceiving others as others is connected with bodily self-
awareness. For a study on the thematics, see Taipale 2009.

468 Husserl I II, § 12.
469 Moran 2004, 294.
470 San Martin & Pintos Peñaranda 2001, 353; Moran 2004, 294.
471 Stein 1989, 59.
hand, I do not have a mere physical body, either, but a sensitive

limb of a living body. And here a degree of projection is possible,
too. For example, I may sense-in pain when the animal is injured.
But other things, such as certain positions and movements, are
given to me only as empty presentations without the possibility
of fulfillment.472
As much as humans, animals also have their biological and physical

normality and ways in which they perceive. Each animal has through
its constitutive functions its finite world.473 The further one deviates
from one’s own “type”, the more difficult it is to attain the possibility
of fulfilment.474 Even though each species has a world of its own, it
is possible to be conscious of having access to different aspects of the
world in comparison to other species. Domesticated animals like dogs
might be easier to empathise with, but still their world presents a chal-
lenge, since we are not capable of perceiving the environment totally
in a similar manner. We cannot for instance completely imagine the
olfactory world of a dog.475
According to Husserl, animals possess a personalistic attitude in a
non-reflective way. A personalistic attitude is the attitude in which
we are when we communicate with others, shake hands with one an-
other, or simply consider surrounding things as our surroundings, in
opposition to “Objective” nature as is the case in natural science.476 A
personal attitude is the basic attitude to which other attitudes are sub-
ordinated. Yet, as Painter points out, in Husserl non-human animals
“cannot live in a naturalistic attitude, since they seem to be incapable
of engaging in the reflective, objectifying thinking about objects that
is characteristic of this attitude, which describes a specific attitude of
humans.”477 This capability of the personalistic attitude thus serves as
a common ground: both animals and humans share it, and therefore it
is in this attitude that we are related to each other. Even though dogs
472 Stein 1989, 59. | Stein writes that the further we are from the human, the
more difficult it becomes to sense in the alien body. Yet for instance, Ruonakoski
points out that Stein also discusses the general phenomena of life, such as growth,
development, health, and argues that we could thus be able to, in a more limited
sense, empathise also with plants. (Stein 1989, 77–78; Ruonakoski 2007.)
473 San Martin & Pintos Peñaranda 2001, 354.
474 Stein 1989, 59.
475 San Martin & Pintos Peñaranda 2001, 355.
476 Husserl I II, § 49e.
477 Painter 2007, 101; see also Husserl I II, § 49.
might not be capable of reflective, objectifying thinking, they do hold

a special relation to their world.478
Stein defined empathy as “the whole range of phenomena in which
the other person (or living subjectivity) is announced or revealed to
my consciousness”.479 Stein wrote how the other is interpreted as a
sensing living body, and how we can emphatically obtain another im-
age of the spatial world and a zero point of orientation.480 Dermot
Moran emphasises that for Stein it was important to distinguish em-
pathy (Einfühlung) from identification (Eins-fühlung): “It is not a case
of being one with the acrobat [other], rather I am ‘with him’”.481 This
particular distinction is useful, especially when it comes to discussing
photos that could be considered to reflect a dog’s perspective. Em-
pathy does not mean being the same, but being with. But how is it
with a non-human other? Merleau-Ponty’s approach to the question
of animals seems to overstep the insistence on a human perspective.
Merleau-Ponty wrote on the topic of nature from the early The
Structure of Behavior to his final manuscripts. His Nature lectures
held in the Collège de France in 1956–1960 provide an illuminating
source. As Ted Toadvine remarks, the Nature lectures present a turn
in relation to his earlier thoughts, where animal life is only seen as
a privative mode of human existence. Toadvine points out that in
these lectures “Merleau-Ponty starts from animal life and its Umwelt to
demonstrate that Being is constitutively phenomenal. This leads him
to recognize an irreducible Ineinander of animality and humanity.”482
Merleau-Ponty writes:
We study the human through its body in order to see it emerge

as different from the animal, not by the addition of reason, but
rather, in short, in the Ineinander with the animal (strange an-
ticipations or caricatures of the human in the animal), by escape
and not by superposition — just as higher life appeared as sin-
gular points of physical Nature.483
478 Merleau-Ponty has the concept of a habitual body, corps habituel. This body
contains a timely perspective, as it is the sedimentation of habits, customs and

abilities acquired. (PP, 103/10; see also Ruonakoski 2007.)
479 Cited in Moran, 2004, 302; Painter 2007, 104.
480 Stein 1989, 69; see also Painter 2007, 106.
481 Moran 2004, 307; see also Painter 2007, 111.
482 Toadvine 2007, 18.
483 N, 214. “On étudie l’homme dans son corps pour le voir émerger différent de
l’animal, mais non par addition de raison, bref dans l’Ineinander avec l’animal
(étranges anticipations ou caricatures de l’homme chez l’animal), par échappement
Thus the attempt would be to recognise what is common in both

of us. Human and animal are approached through Ineinander, through
kinship, the intertwining of humanity and animality. Ruonakoski has
argued in her thesis how the empathic process is essentially also about
recognising the situation the other is in. This is typically done from
our own perspective: we understand the situation as it would appear
to us.484
Alien Other
I shall next examine Christian Mayer’s Another city, not my own
through the concept of movement. The dog in Mayer’s work moves
around in a cityscape, which is revealed only partially to the viewer
through the images taken by the camera. Further, if the basis of em-
pathy is in the embodiment and perception, these images show only
the margins of the other’s body.485 Nevertheless the spectator is, at
points, able to not only sense the space the animal moves in through
intercorporeality, but also to empathise with the situation the “pho-
tographer” is in. Granted, the “photographer” has a very different
body and world than we have, it is not however an absolute hindrance
for our understanding of the work.486 As Painter writes: “We must
constitute him or her as subject with felt needs and desires that may
be different from our own, which [...] makes it difficult to treat that
other as a mere thing.”487 Even though the images suggest that the
spectator takes the position of the “photographer”, i.e. the dog, he or
she would not be capable of knowing completely how the ground feels
beneath its paws or what kind of olfactory world the dog experiences.
There are also other aspects that distance the spectator from the
dog’s experience. They are both related to the medium used in this
particular work. Firstly, Mayer has used a camera instead of a video
camera. There is no live footage, but merely still images that are con-
nected with blank screens. These blanks have a certain transitional
function. The rhythm of the images is the sole source of movement —
here the stopping of movement is indeed a modality of movement —
et non par superposition) — de même que plus haut la vie est apparue comme
points singuliers de la Nature physique.” N, 277.
484 Ruonakoski 2011.
485 Taipale 2009, 126.
486 I wish to stress that for the artist it was important that the audience had
access to the knowledge on how the work was made.

487 Painter 2007, 111.
and this rhythm creates both continuity and discontinuity by joining

images into a series, creating a continuation, but also a discontinuity
by hiding the time-space in-between them. However, by cutting off
motion, the work increases the distance between the spectator and the
experience of the “photographer”. Without a moving image the dog’s
trajectories and routes remain inaccessible. The spectator merely re-
ceives glimpses from here and there, but has no way of accessing the
actual movements of the dog. It may be that through this omission
of movement, or to use Merleau-Pontian terms, by breaking the unity
of movement, the spectator would be less prone to grasp the style of
movement and less prone to experience bodily empathy.
Secondly, there is also another dominating feature in the artwork
that may similarly distract the spectator. Earlier I explained that ac-
cording to Merleau-Ponty in Cartesian space the look of the spectator
was considered possessive and the spectator’s position was strictly out-
side the images. Here, the situation is not as clear cut. It is evident
that Mayer’s work does not offer the possibility for a possessing look
at space. On the contrary, the images appear to escape our look. One
of the features of these images is a certain inaccessibility, the unsharp,
shaken photographs offer a “distorted” image of the environment. Of-
ten the unsharp images seem to be “in the way” of the seeing, as for
instance, when some object has been too close to the camera’s lens.
However, as such the images may occasionally also create impressions
of tactility, even sounds. Some of the images are haptic, so that they
evoke sensations relating to touch.488 Do these various visual cues lead
the spectator closer to the dog? Could one perhaps sense-in the dog?
I suggest that the features that might in one reading appear to be
distancing, nevertheless open the work up to new possibilities. I claim
that the omission of movement as well as the hapticity of the images
allow a certain tension: on the one hand they create a distance both
between the body of the “photographer” and the spectator, but on the
other hand, they also bring the lived experience closer to the specta-
tor by also addressing other senses than simply vision. This tension
between distancing and bringing the spectator closer might eventually
be crucial in enabling the shift in the position of the spectator.
How is the canine perspective to be seen? In his description Mayer
refers to the way in which the photos allow the spectator to perform a
488 The term haptic means relating to the sense of touch; it comes from the Greek,
haptesthai, to grasp to touch. (Paterson 2007, 4.) I will discuss the theme of the
hapticity of images in more detail in the following chapter, see section 6.3.
dérive, to perceive features, atmosphere and aspects that would other-

wise be left unnoticed in this particular urban environment. In other
words, through the dog’s perspective one may lose a certain natural-
istic attitude. This does not mean that the animal’s relation to the
surroundings is straightforwardly explained through causality. As I
pointed out earlier, in Husserl the animal is not capable of a natural-
istic attitude, but only a personalistic attitude.489 Instead, the change
of perspective offers a challenge for the spectator. It asks that he or
she be willing to alter his or her perspective: visiting another perspec-
tive the spectator is also experimenting with the limitations of one’s
own seeing. Surely, the series of photos do not truly present anybody’s
perspective on space. Yet there is something in their lack of sharpness
that invites one to imagine what this “other” perspective could be.
This experience of “alienness” is also related to the discussion of art
in Merleau-Ponty. In “Cézanne’s Doubt” he writes:
We live in the midst of man-made objects, among tools, in houses,

streets, cities, and most of the time we see them only through the
human actions which put them to use. We become used to think-
ing that all of this exists necessarily and unshakably. Cézanne’s
painting suspends these habits of thought and reveals the base
of inhuman nature upon which man has installed himself. This
is why Cézanne’s people are strange, as if viewed by a creature
of another species.490
Merleau-Ponty describes how through paintings the habitual rela-

tion to the world is suspended and it becomes strange. Also in the
case of Another city, not my own, the houses, streets and people carry
an uncanny ambience. The images are based upon a daily wandering,
repeating habits and routes of one resident of the city. However, the
surrounding world of animals is not our surrounding world and the
489 Its attitude can even be paralleled with artists, as Johnson has suggested:
“When we consider the animal milieu especially, it becomes clearer that in a certain
sense — that of inventing the visible — the animal is not unlike the artist. The
environmental situation and animal movement cannot be understood as a simple
relation of ‘push causality’.” (Johnson 2010, 176.)
490 DC, 66. “Nous vivons dans un milieu d’objets construits par les hommes, entre
des ustensiles, dans des maisons, des rues, des villes et la plupart du temps nous
ne les voyons qu’à travers les actions humaines dont ils peuvent être les points
d’application. Nous nous habituons à penser que tout cela existe nécessairement et
est inébranlable. La peinture de Cézanne met en suspens ces habitudes et révèle
le fond de la nature inhumaine sur lequel l’homme s’installe. C’est pourquoi ses
personnages sont étranges et comme vus par un être d’un autre espèce.” DC, 21–22.
relationship of the “photographer” to the space is very different from

ours. In Mayer’s work, both the body through which the world opens
up to us and the world that is seen, are strange. But that world also
includes some of the same aspects as the human world; it is simply
viewed from another point of view.
One of the things the images demonstrate is the human viewpoint
on the animal. In the images, the dog — a body we cannot see —
occasionally passes by humans. Often the people seen in the images
choose to ignore the dog. I assume that they are not conscious of the
camera attached to the dog’s collar and that they are presumably
not aware of being photographed. This is a repeated thematic within
photography. In On Photography (1977) theorist Susan Sontag writes:
“There is something on people’s faces when they don’t know they are
being observed that never appears when they do, [...] their expressions
are private ones, not those they would offer to the camera.”491
The photographs in Another city, not my own are taken uninten-
tionally. In Mayer’s blurred images people appear only occasionally
and they remain marginal figures. These are not portraits of humans.
And yet what is seen in the images approaches the thematic I already
discussed in connection with movement, namely the shift towards the
moment of perceiving, as well as the impossibility of seeing our own
seeing. Through the discussion of movement it was possible to under-
stand perception as constant movement into exteriority.
According to Merleau-Ponty “I am open to the world because I
am within my body”.492 By suggesting a shift, where the spectator is
presented with the point of view of an animal body, albeit simply in
the form of a photograph, the work challenges corporeal schema. In the
images of the work, the body that defines the actions is not human but
animal. The arrested movement of the dog or more precisely, the results
of its movements and inquiries into the cityscape, may be grasped
through the images. Through our corporeal schema we are able to
know other bodies and these other bodies are able to know me. The
relation of the body and world is a circuit, but not a closed one.493
491 Sontag 1978, 37. | The remark is presented in the footnote on a discussion
on Diane Arbus’ and Brassaï’s photography. Mayer’s work could further be linked,
albeit loosely, to a trait in photography that is exemplified in Walker Evans’ Subway
Portraits (published in Many Are Called) or Luc Delahaye’s L’autre, both series
of photographs taken secretly. Evans made his photos in the New York metro in
the 1930s, Delahaye in the Paris metro in the 1990s. (Fried 2008, 221–23.)
492 N, 217. “[J]e suis ouvert au monde parce que je suis dedans par mon corps.”
N, 279.
493 “Il est ouvert en circuit avec le monde, parce qu’il est ouvert : il se voit, il se
In relation to the discussion on movement, I pointed out already

how in the final texts of Merleau-Ponty the emphasis moved from the
perceiving I to the moment of perceiving. Further, in “Eye and Mind”,
seeing was understood as a means for being absent from myself.494
Seeing thus marked a certain divergence in the experience that also
defined subjectivity. As Barbaras argued, in order to find a ground for
embodied subjectivity, Merleau-Ponty suggested the essence of percep-
tion to be in movement, as it would provide a ground for a being that
exceeds itself.495 According to Barbaras’ reading, movement and per-
ception were understood as two dimensions of the same fundamental
event.496
Some of Mayer’s photos have the feel of a candid camera. Especially
the images in which people are either unaware of the dog or are turned
toward it (and the camera) invite the spectator to think about the
inversion of roles known from “Eye and Mind”.497 The work suggests
not only the possibility of experiencing the perspective of the other,
which here happens to be an animal, but it also presents the question
of what it is to be seen. Or further, what it is to not be seen. Not to
be seen as human. In this way, the work brings to the surface both
reversibility, a certain kinship, but also its necessary incompleteness.
This situation cannot be described in a model where subject and object
are simply to be kept apart. On the contrary, it is as if the series of
images creates a dislocation, a split between familiar and unfamiliar
corporeal schemas, so that the I could reach out for a situation where
it is no longer within the body but stretches towards shared visibility,
to the animal gaze on the world and on the human body — and yet
does this only momentarily, since the I cannot be without the body.
What joins us to the world is the sensible, as Merleau-Ponty writes:
“[...] correlations of a carnal subject, rejoined to its movement and
to its sensing; interspersed in its internal circuit [...] The flesh of the
body makes us understand the flesh of the world.”498 To illustrate the
touche.” And in a note : “Se voit voyant, se touche touchant i.e. ses mouvements
ont un dedans, son dedans a un dehors.” N 279, 279 n.b. “It is open in a circuit with
the world, but it is open. It sees itself; it touches itself.” And in a note: “Seeing
itself seeing, touching itself touching; that is, its movements have an inside, its
inside has an outside.” N, 217, 308 n.3.
494 Œ, 81/146.
495 Barbaras 2000, 86.
496 Barbaras 2006, 96.
497 Œ, 31/129.
498 N, 218. “[...] corrélations d’un sujet charnel, répliques de son mouvement et
de son sentir, intercalés dans son circuit interne [...] La chair du corps nous fait
situation further there is an emblematic passage in The Visible and

the Invisible. Merleau-Ponty writes how through the other’s look we
become visible, and eventually through this, also our seeing becomes
visible to us:
[H]enceforth, through other eyes we are for ourselves fully visible;

that lacuna where our eyes, our back, lie is filled, filled still by
the visible, of which we are not the titulars. To believe that, to
bring a vision that is not our own into account, it is to be sure
inevitably, it is always from the unique treasury of our own vision
that we draw, and experience therefore can teach us nothing that
would not be outlined in our own vision. But what is proper to
the visible is, we said, to be the surface of an inexhaustible depth:
this is what makes it able to be open to visions other than our
own. [...] For the first time, the seeing that I am is for me really
visible; for the first time I appear to myself completely turned
inside out under my own eyes.499
I suggest that Mayer’s images ease us towards a situation, a sus-

pense, where what becomes visible is not us, but exactly this, my
seeing, our own voyeurism and curiosity to see what we cannot see,
which also includes seeing ourselves seeing. This seeing, as was shown,
is de jure invisible to us. Another feature of the emphasis on the mo-
ment of perceiving is the extreme point where the I is being erased,
extracted from the image and left without ground.
So finally I argue that Mayer’s Another city, not my own opens up
a possibility of coinciding my perception to the other’s, in a way that
the perceiving I is erased into no-one. In the late working notes of The
Visible and the Invisible we read:
Here “perception” and “perceived” are inscribed together. The

“someone” of perception (the one who perceives is “no one,” and
comprendre la chair du monde.” N, 280.

499 VI, 143. “[D]ésormais, par d’autres yeux nous sommes à nous-mêmes pleine-
ment visibles ; cette lacune où se trouvent nos yeux, notre dos, elle est comblée,
comblée par du visible encore, mais dont nous ne sommes pas titulaires ; certes,
pour y croire, pour faire entrer en compte une vision qui n’est pas la nôtre, c’est
inévitablement, c’est toujours à l’unique trésor de notre vision que nous puisons, et
l’expérience donc ne peut rien nous enseigner qui ne soit esquissé en elle. [...] Pour
la première fois, le voyant que je suis m’est vraiment visible ; pour la première fois,
je m’apparais retourné jusqu’au fond sous mes propres yeux.” VI, 186.
it is as well an “other”). Differentiation with the horizons of

indifferentiation. It is the mass of sensible Being.500
The moment of being “inscribed together” may be ephemeral, but

as a suggestion for the spectator it is nevertheless powerful, as it invites
the spectator to take a step outside the habitual position, towards the
strange and the marginal.
Concluding Remarks
In this chapter I brought forth how the criticism of photography pre-
sented by Merleau-Ponty holds in its core the scientific approach he
found in Marey’s photographs of a galloping horse. Further, what
Merleau-Ponty valued in art was the expression of movement. There-
fore, in the second part of the chapter I clarified his conception of
movement. I showed how Merleau-Ponty understood movement as in-
dispensable for perception — and simultaneously something that re-
mains invisible. Interpreted in this way the challenge to address move-
ment in photography and in art in general can also be approached
anew.
There are undoubtedly several levels and aspects in Christian
Mayer’s Another city, not my own. In my interpretation I have empha-
sised one particular angle in order to present an alternative reading of
Merleau-Ponty’s remarks on animal movement, visual arts and photog-
raphy’s ability to bring forth our being in the world. Observed from
this angle Mayer’s images succeed in showing how photography can
move away from the attitude governed by pensée de survol and ap-
proach the embodied spectator, even ease itself into the body of the
spectator, bringing along with it the gazes of the other and catching
the spectator in a state of unawareness.
500 MP, 438. “Ici ‘perception’ et ‘perçu’ sont e[n]semble inscrits. On de la percep-
tion (celui qui perçoit est ‘personne,’ et c’est aussi bien ‘un autre’). Différenciation
avec des horizons d’indifférenciation. C’est la masse de l’Être sensible.” MP, 437–38.
6
The Filmic Experience: Temporality and
Rhythm
In this chapter I take up passages in which Merleau-Ponty discusses

cinema and the moving image.501 First I introduce topics that are fun-
damental for the theme, such as rhythm and temporality. Within film
studies Merleau-Ponty has influenced researchers like Vivian Sobchack
and others to develop a phenomenological approach to film. Therefore,
secondly, I present central topics used in this tradition, namely the
film’s body and the position of the spectator. Lastly, as my case study
I examine Douglas Gordon’s and Philippe Parreno’s film Zidane: A
21st Century Portrait (2006). In my reading I am interested in ex-
amining the ways in which the work addresses the spectator and how
despite its apparent linearity the film encompasses different layers of
time creating a rhythmic, radiant portrait.
Before going into the discussion of moving image, it is necessary
to once more look into the question of the medium. As is well known,
contemporary artworks often play with genres.502 This hybridisation
of forms can be traced to the art of the 1960s and 1970s and hybridis-
ation, along with the new media, is increasingly marking our own con-
501 In the previous chapters I discussed painting and photography. Although start-
ing from painting, the visual art which was closest to Merleau-Ponty, I have also
discussed other media, those which have not enjoyed a similarly privileged position
in his thinking. However, my point is not to create a formative narration of the
different media, but to demonstrate how the central thematics of Merleau-Ponty,
such as space, movement, time, touch, the other and our being in the world, can
be opened up anew.
502 Krauss remarks: “As I have argued in a series of recent essays on this phe-
nomenon, these artists do not work with the traditional mediums of painting and
sculpture, which they view as exhausted, but are instead forced to do something as
counterintuitive as inventing a new medium. Accordingly, they reach for modern,
technological mechanisms as the ‘supports’ for their own work.” (Krauss 2006, 58.)
157
158 CHAPTER 6. THE FILMIC EXPERIENCE
temporary art.503 The hybrid character has been suggested to diminish

the importance of the medium.504 This is reflected in the difficulty of
differentiating between traditional film, experimental cinema and me-
dia art or video art, like the case study of this chapter.505 Even though
Merleau-Ponty’s remarks on full-length feature films are written prior
to the radical changes in the field of arts, they contain aspects that
are also valid for the media art of our time.506 Granted, cinema cannot
be paralleled automatically with media art, expanded cinema or other
new formats. There are differences, such as, for instance, the position
of the spectator, which may differ radically between the “black box”
503 Leighton 2008, 20–21; see also Hansen 2004, 2–3. | Concerning new media art,
phenomenology seems to be necessarily engaged with technology. Mark Hansen, a

specialist in media art, has argued: “We will also need to develop a fundamentally or
‘essentially’ technical phenomenology of the body, one that takes as its primary task
the elucidation of the originary technical basis of embodied experience.” (Hansen
2006, 21.)
504 Granted, there are tendencies within video and media art that express sen-
sitivity to the medium; art works that relatively clearly address questions that
concern the means and the position of the media itself. This is seen in the early
works done with new mediums, where the medium is used to study through a very
elementary setting the aspects of perception — however, an artist may cross over
into another media to explore temporality or space; think for instance of Richard
Serra’s filmic works, such as Hands Scraping (1968) or Railroad Turnbridge (1976).
Also, it may take time before the nature of a new medium is studied: for instance,
Marks points out that video has received appreciation only in the aftermath of
digital media. It is perfectly according to the pattern that as analogue video is
threatened, its aesthetic expressions gain in esteem — like Marks suggests, the
medium receives attention only when it is threatened. This might also be due to,
as Leighton points out, the fact that video’s intrinsic properties were perhaps not
so clearly traced as those of film. (Marks 2002, 147; Leighton 2008, 22.)
505 The practices of the moving image surfaced in the 1960s and from that time
onwards, cinematic and televisual forms in visual art started to flower, and simul-
taneously blur or fragment the field. (Leighton 2008, 7, 26.) In “Modes of Film
Practice in the Avant-Garde” (2008) Jonathan Walley discusses how some regard
the relationship between film and art as a one-way relation, where artists are mes-
merised by the film. Some do not conceive any distinction between artists and
film-makers. Walley suggests using the terms “avant garde cinema” and “artists’
film”. According to Walley’s analysis and remarks on production and distribution,
Gordon and Parreno’s Zidane would be an artist film production, close to indepen-
dent art cinema, due to its collaborative mode of production. (Walley 2008.)
506 At the time, there was no established media art. The field of film studies was
also relatively young. There was an early yet unsuccessful attempt to establish a
phenomenological method for film studies. Gilbert Cohen-Séat was one of the key
persons behind the journal titled Revue Internationale de Filmologie (1947–1960).
This journal attempted to discuss the social implications of movies and found a
proper field of study for film. The publication was brought to an end in the 1960s.
On the relation of film theory and phenomenology, see Andrew 1985; Casebier 1991;
Sobchack 1993; 1997.
6.1. MERLEAU-PONTY ON FILM 159
and the “white cube”, i.e. the cinema and gallery spaces, even though
the same works can be shown in both contexts.507 However, what con-
nects various works today is their interest in the moving image. In the
following I clarify Merleau-Ponty’s insight into the moving image and
what potential it holds in the interpretations of contemporary art.
6.1 Merleau-Ponty on Film: The Cinematographical Time

Merleau-Ponty examined cinema, albeit only shortly. In particular he
discussed the mechanism of the moving image in a conference paper
“The Film and the New Psychology” (“Le cinéma et la nouvelle psy-
chologie”) in 1945.508 Interestingly, he did not start from a discussion
that might from the outset interest phenomenologists, namely the ex-
pression of time, space and movement.509 Neither did he touch upon
the question of cinema suffering from similar problems as photography,
i.e. the use of prefabricated models in the form of optics.510 In his ap-
proach Merleau-Ponty emphasised psychological questions concerning
the perception of film, but he also took up the narrative dimensions
of cinema and the distinctive potential that film has.
The first half of his paper on cinema discusses classical and new psy-
chology and the different ways of understanding the perceptual field,
the nerve systems and their relations to sensations. Here, Merleau-
507 As is also the case with Zidane. However, I have only seen the work as screened,
not installed. In general, it must be acknowledged that some moving-image installa-

tions may still prefer more traditional setting with seated spectators, whereas oth-
ers require movement. Eija-Liisa Ahtila’s multi-screen installations such as Where
is Where (2008) are a good example of movement. Ahtila is also an interesting
example because she often makes a single-channel version of her multi-screen in-
stallations. It is evident that the way in which a work communicates with the spec-
tator is different if it enables the audience to move around: “The phenomenological
presence of the viewer and the viewing space become crucial to understanding how
a work of art communicates.” (Leighton 2008, 29.)
508 “The Film and the New Psychology” (CNP) is published in SNS. The text
was originally presented in March 1945 at the L’Institut des hautes études cinéma-
tographiques, IDHEC. The Institute for Advanced Cinematographic Studies was
the main French film school. The school was restructured in 1985 and is currently
known as the École Nationale Supérieure des Métiers de l’Image et du Son.
509 Henri Bergson had presented early critical remarks in Creative Evolution
(L’évolution créatrice, 1907) on film not being able to represent time.

510 Kaja Silverman writes: “It has long been one of the governing assumptions of
film theory that the cinema derives in some ultimate sense from the Renaissance,
via intervening technologies like the camera obscura, the still camera, and the
stereoscope, and that visual field is defined to a significant degree by the rules and
ideology of monocular perspective.” (Silverman 1996, 125.)
Ponty’s interest in the work of Gestalt theorists such as William James

is especially clear.511 All in all, his early reading of film is tightly con-
nected to criticism on classical psychology. As an alternative approach,
he examines the theory of Gestalt (forme) as well as the concept of
behaviour (comportement).512 However, my focus here is on the expres-
sion and experience of time in Zidane, and thus for the purposes of
this thesis, I will not go any further into the discussion on psychology.
In the latter part of the essay Merleau-Ponty approaches film as
a totality. His reading underlines how different aspects come together
in film: images, speech and sound. He begins his analysis with im-
ages and scenes by remarking that film should not be understood as
a sum of images, but as a temporal form (une forme temporelle).513
The sense of images depends on the preceding and following images
and the duration of the scenes. Sound is treated in a similar manner.
All in all, Merleau-Ponty underlines that sound and image should not
be considered as separate; their assemblage is irreducible to their con-
stitutive parts.514 Further, when examining the union of sound and
image, Merleau-Ponty briefly discusses the use of dialogue and speech
in cinema.515 He stresses how speech is not constant in films, but there
511 Dillon 1988, 58. | From Merleau-Ponty’s paper the reader can find the basic
principle of Gestalt theory against classical psychology, namely the criticism of
the view in which the senses are conceived of as separate or the unity of senses
in relation to intelligence and memory is seen as constructed. He emphasises how
the intertwining of the senses is, contrary to what is assumed, quite common. It
is not simply an anomaly found in, for instance, blind people’s experience. To
demonstrate this, he mentions how even normal subjects speak of “hot” colours,
or “penetrating” smells and how a simple perception tries to adjust and organise
the seen (CNP, 63/50). Merleau-Ponty’s reading stresses the importance of colours
and materials belonging together (CNP, 66/52). For a discussion of cognitive film
theory and phenomenology, see Hiltunen 2005.
512 It may be debated whether or not the examples selected by Merleau-Ponty
are successful. For instance, film theorist Jean Mitry has commented on Merleau-
Ponty’s discussion of cinema. He considers that Merleau-Ponty’s example of vertigo
is poor: people who feel dizzy do not see world as swinging backward and forward
— this subjective image does not show us what the hero is thinking or seeing, but
what he is supposed to see. (Mitry 1998, 108.)
513 CNP, 69/54. | The French term forme could also be translated as Gestalt.
Merleau-Ponty discussed Gestalt theory especially early in his career (SC), but the
notion of Gestalt can also be found in his late texts (VI).
514 CNP, 70/55. | He exemplifies the idea of temporal form by referring to the
montages of Russian film director Vsevolod Illarionovich Pudovkin (1893–1953).

515 Merleau-Ponty makes use here of a distinction Malraux made in the article
“Esquisse d’une psychologie du cinéma” published in the journal Verve (1940): ex-
pository dialogue, tonal dialogue and dramatic dialogue. The first form of dialogue
aims at making the circumstances known. This kind of dialogue is, according to
is a metrics of speech and silences, and the constituted visual and sonic
metric is a complexity that surpasses the two standing alone.516
All in all, Merleau-Ponty appreciates cinema as its own unique
form. Even though it might appear that “[e]ach film tells a story: that
is, it relates a certain number of events which involve characters and
which could, it seems, also be told in prose, as, in effect, they are in
the scenario on which the film is based,”517 it does not mean that the
function of the film is only to lay out the facts or present a certain
idea. Cinema is not simply about rendering events for spectators as
if they would be present at the events. On the contrary, the story,
the facts and the ideas serve as a possibility to search for a sensuous
emblem and thus engrave it into the visible and sonic monogram:518
“The meaning of a film is incorporated into its rhythm just as the
meaning of a gesture may immediately be read in that gesture: the
film does not mean anything but itself.”519
From Merleau-Ponty’s perspective film opens up into the person’s
way of being in the world. He presents an example of vertigo: instead of
showing it from inside, from the perspective of the person experiencing
vertigo, as is often done in literature, the film lets the spectator see
it from outside, so that he or she contemplates the unbalanced body
on the screen.520 Indeed, for Merleau-Ponty a fair part of phenomeno-
logical or existential philosophy describes our paradoxical belonging
to others and to the world. In his view, cinema is particularly apt in
making this belonging visible. He writes:
Therefore, if philosophy is in harmony with the cinema, if thought

and technical effort are heading in the same direction, it is be-
cause the philosopher and the moviemaker share a certain way
Merleau-Ponty, avoided in films and novels. Tonal dialogue gives the spectator the
character’s particular accent. The last form of dialogue, dramatic dialogue, is typ-
ical of cinema. It presents the debates and confrontation of the personages. (CNP,
71/55–56.)
516 CNP, 71/56. | From his point of view, music should incorporate film, not
juxtaposing or simply commenting on or accompanying the scenes.

517 CNP, 57. “Chaque film raconte une historie, c’est-à-dire un certain nombre
d’événements qui mettent aux prises des personnages et qui peuvent être aussi
racontés en prose, comme ils le sont effectivement dans le scénario d’après lequel
le film est fait.” CNP, 72.
518 CNP, 73/57.
519 CNP, 57. “Le sens du film est incorporé à son rythme comme le sens d’un geste
est immédiatement lisible dans le geste, et le film ne veut rien dire que lui-même.”
CNP, 73.
520 CNP, 74/58. | Merleau-Ponty is following in the line of behaviour psychology.
of being, a certain view of the world which belongs to a gen-

eration. It offers us yet another chance to confirm that modes
of thought correspond to technical methods and that, to use
Goethe’s phrase, “What is inside is also outside.”521
Merleau-Ponty proposes that there is a strong connection between

the sensuous, what is perceived, and the non-sensuous, what is thought.
The shared basis for both philosopher and moviemaker is in their being
in the world.522
The references to cinema can be found elsewhere in Merleau-Ponty’s
oeuvre.523 For instance, a few years later in 1948 Merleau-Ponty com-
mented on cinema in his radio lectures:
Beauty, when it manifests itself in cinematography, lies not in

the story itself, which could quite easily be recounted in prose,
and still less in the ideas which this story may evoke; nor in-
deed does it lie in the tics, mannerisms and devices that serve
to identify a director, for their influence is no more decisive than
that of a writer’s favourite words. What matters is the selec-
tion of episodes to be represented and, in each one, the choice
of shots that will be featured in the film, the length of time al-
lotted to these elements, the order in which they are or to be
presented, the sound or words with which they are or are not to
be accompanied. Taken together, all these factors contribute to
form a particular overall cinematographical rhythm. When cin-
ema has become a longer-established facet of our experience, we
will be able to devise a sort of logic, grammar, or stylistics, of
521 CNP, 59. “Si donc la philosophie et le cinéma sont d’accord, si la réflexion
et le travail technique vont dans le même sens, c’est parce que le philosophe et le
cinéaste ont en commun une certain manière d’être, une certaine vue du monde
qui est celle d’une génération. Encore une occasion de vérifier que la pensée et les
techniques se correspondent et que, selon le mot de Goethe, ‘ce qui est au-dedans
est aussi au-dehors’.” CNP, 74.
522 Curiously, he emphasises that this experience is not universal, but belongs to a
generation. Merleau-Ponty suggests that all generations have their own experiences
that define their being in the world.
523 In “Eye and Mind”, he refers to cinema in connection with a discussion on
movement: “Cinema portrays movement, but how? Is it, as we are inclined to be-
lieve, by copying more closely the changes of place? We may presume not, since
slow motion shows a body being carried along, floating among objects like seaweed,
but not moving itself.” (Œ, 144–45.) “Le cinema donne le mouvement, mais com-
ment ? Est-ce, comme on croit, en copiant de plus près le changement de lieu ? On
peut présumer que non, puisque le ralenti donne un corps flottant entre les objets
comme une algue, et qui ne se meut pas.” (Œ, 78.)
the cinema [...] Then, as now, this viewer will be left not with a
store of recipes but a radiant image, a particular rhythm. Then,
as now, the way we experience works of cinema will be through
perception.524
Here cinematographic expression is described as a distinct form of

expression that differs from other arts, such as literature or painting.
What singles cinema out from these forms, is the concept of rhythm
that epitomises the whole beauty of cinema. I interpret Merleau-
Ponty’s emphasis on cinematographical rhythm as an appreciation of
cinema in its own terms, not merely as a story-telling machine.525
A Temporal Form
In order to understand Merleau-Ponty’s standpoint on cinema, we
need to look at the concepts of time and rhythm more closely. In
Phenomenology of Perception Merleau-Ponty discusses the question
of time in a chapter entitled “Temporality”. His description takes up
Husserl’s as well as Heidegger’s conceptions of time. Some commenta-
tors have seen in Merleau-Ponty’s elaboration on time a move beyond
the phenomenologies of Husserl and Heidegger.526
524 C, 98–99. “Car enfin ce qui peut constituer la beauté cinématographique, ce
n’est ni l’histoire en elle-même, que la prose raconterait très bien, ni à plus forte
raison les idées qu’elle peut suggérer, ni enfin ces tics, ces manies, ces procédés par
lesquels un metteur en scène se fait reconnaître et qui n’ont pas plus d’importance
décisive que les mots favoris d’un écrivain. Ce qui compte, c’est le choix des épi-
sodes représentés, et, dans chacun d’eux, les choix des vues que l’on fera figurer
dans le film, la longueur donnée respectivement à chacun de ces éléments, l’ordre
dans lequel on choisit de les présenter, le son ou les paroles font on veut ou non
les accompagner, tout cela constituant un certain rythme cinématographique glo-
bal. Quand notre expérience du cinema sera plus longue, on pourra élaborer une
sorte de logique du cinéma, ou même de grammaire stylistique du cinema qui nous
indiqueront [...] Alors comme maintenant l’ouvrage laissera dans son esprit, non
pas une somme de recettes, mais une image rayonnante, un rythme. Alors comme
maintenant l’expérience cinématographique sera perception.” C, 57–58.
525 Relating to these themes of rhythm and time, there is also a passage on cin-
ema where Merleau-Ponty discusses movement in film. This is also done in his lec-
ture course in the Collège de France entitled “Le monde sensible et l’expression”.
Merleau-Ponty writes how cinema was created in order to represent movement. He
underlined in these lectures the aptness of cinema to grasp our openness to the
world and to the other. (RC, 20.)
526 Ricoeur 2009. | It is not within the scope of my thesis to take a stand on this
wide and extensive question here. I will instead limit myself to presenting briefly
the central points that are relevant for the discussion of the moving image and my
following case study.
In Phenomenology of Perception Merleau-Ponty demonstrates how

thinking on time is defined by a tension. In order to examine time, a
phenomenologist has to avoid the limitations of idealism and realism,
i.e. not to fall into thinking of time uniquely through the subject or the
world. Instead time should be understood as belonging to them both.
In his examination of time, Merleau-Ponty describes constituted time:
it is time that objective thought presupposes, it is the ultimate record-
ing of time, but it is not time itself.527 Time is not a separate entity,
but it defines subjectivity by necessity.528 It “arises from my relation to
things”529 and yet neither time “is for somebody”.530 Merleau-Ponty
writes:
Time exists for me only because I am situated in it, that is,

because I become aware of myself as already committed to it,
because the whole of being is not given to me incarnate, and
finally because one sector of being is so close to me that it does
not even make up a picture before me — I cannot see it, just as I
cannot see my face. Time exists for me because I have a present.
It is by coming into the present that a moment of time acquires
that indestructible individuality, that ‘once and for all’ quality,
which subsequently enables it to make its way through time and
produce in us the illusion of eternity.531
As Merleau-Ponty later summarises, time “[...] has meaning for us

only because ‘we are it’.”532 In the previous chapter I discussed the
impossibility of seeing our own seeing. Here, time is something that
as such cannot be reached. Merleau-Ponty does acknowledge that the
present enjoys a particular position, since in it perception and con-
sciousness coincide. However, even though perception and conscious-
527 PP, 474/482.
528 PP, 469/476.
529 PP, 478. “nait de mon rapport avec les choses.” PP, 471.
530 PP, 490. “est pour quelqu’un.” PP, 482.
531 PP, 492. “Il n’y a de temps pour moi que parce que j’y suis situé, c’est-à-dire
parce que je m’y découvre déjà engagé, parce que tout l’être ne m’est pas donné
en personne, et enfin, parce qu’un secteur de l’être m’est si proche qu’il ne fait
pas même tableau devant moi et que je ne peux pas le voir, comme je ne peux
pas voir mon visage. Il y a du temps pour moi parce que j’ai un présent. C’est en
venant au présent qu’un moment du temps acquiert l’individualité ineffaçable, le
‘une fois pour les toutes’, qui lui permettront ensuite de traverser le temps et nous
donneront l’illusion de l’éternité.” PP, 484; see also PP, 278/280.
532 PP, 500. “[...] il n’a de sens pour nous que parce que nous ‘le sommes’.” PP,
492.
ness were one in the present and in my perception, my conscious-

ness and my perception would not be transparent to me, but opaque.
Therefore, communication with the world is also communication with
ourselves.533
Besides assigning time as a cinematic form, Merleau-Ponty also dis-
cussed the expression of time in literature, especially in Proust. Arts
are capable of approaching the escaping experience of time. Through
Proust, Merleau-Ponty demonstrated the fundamentality of time for
subjectivity. He argued that since consciousness is rooted in being and
time, it needs to unfold itself into multiplicity. Thus for Merleau-Ponty,
the explanations that understand consciousness as the multiplicity of
psychic facts and try to find causality within it, are misguided and
cannot reach the manifold nature of Proust’s characters. On the con-
trary, he underlines how consciousness is not a lifeless setting affected
by psychic facts produced from outside. Temporality can shed light
on subjectivity: “Subjectivity is not motionless identity with itself; as
with time, it is of its essence, in order to be genuine subjectivity, to
open itself to an Other and to go forth from itself.”534
In his discussion in the essay “Indirect Language and Voices of Si-
lence” Merleau-Ponty considers time in relation to the arts. He takes
up from Husserl the notion of Stiftung, meaning foundation, establish-
ment or institution. He writes:
[Stiftung] to designate first of all the unlimited fecundity of each

present which, precisely because it is singular and passes, can
never stop having been and thus being universally; but above all
to designate that fecundity of the products of a culture which
continue to have value after their appearance [...]535
Here, Merleau-Ponty considers the temporal qualities that artworks

have. He sees artworks as responses to what the world and the past
demand, and at the same time artworks continue to carry meaning
533 PP, 485/492–93.

534 PP, 495. “La subjectivité n’est pas l’identité immobile avec soi : il lui est,
comme au temps, essentiel, pour être subjectivité, de s’ouvrir à un Autre et de
sortir de soi” PP, 487. See also 486/493–94.
535 LV, 96. “pour désigner d’abord la fécondité illimitée de chaque présent qui,
justement parce qu’il est singulier et qu’il passe, ne pourra jamais cesser d’avoir
été et donc d’être universellement, — mais surtout celle des produits de la culture
qui continuent de valoir après leur apparition [...]” LV, 95.
for future generations. This process is Stiftung, institution.536 In or-

der to grasp the potentiality of artworks, they must be seen as a part
of historical process; previous works and questions contribute to fu-
ture works, and all this is needed for instituting a certain style, or a
culture.537
The concept of Stiftung is also relevant in understanding time itself.
For Merleau-Ponty, “[t]ime is the very model of institution; passivity-
activity” and “[o]riginary time is neither decadence (delay back upon
itself) nor anticipation (advance forward upon itself), but it is on time,
the time that is”.538 Merleau-Ponty again underlines the contradictory
nature of time, how all analyses of time that observe it from above
are insufficient, and how time must both constitute itself and simul-
taneously be seen from the point of view of somebody who is already
in it. To solve this problem Merleau-Ponty gropes towards words to
elucidate time. In the final notes of The Visible and the Invisible we
read:
The contradiction is lifted only if the new present is itself a tran-

scendent: one knows that it is not there, that it was just there,
one never coincides with it — It is not a segment of time with
defined contours that would come and set itself in place. It is
a cycle defined by a central and a dominant region and with
indecisive contours — a swelling or bulb of time.539
In another late note, Merleau-Ponty writes that if time can be

understood as a chiasm, “[t]hen past and present are Ineinander, each
enveloping-enveloped — and that itself is the flesh.”540 For a work
536 Merleau-Ponty held a complete lecture course in the Collège de France devoted
to the theme of Stiftung (see IP). The concept of institution was set to solve the
problems that Husserl and Merleau-Ponty encountered with the concept of consti-
tution, an active process of bestowing meaning, in the discussion of philosophy of
consciousness.
537 IP, 125/78.
538 IP, 7. “Le temps est le modèle même de l’institution : passivité-activité [...] Le
temps originaire n’est ni décadence retard sur soi-même) ni anticipation (avance

sur soi-même), mais il est à l’heure, il est l’heure qu’il est.” IP, 36.
539 VI, 184. “La contradiction n’est levée que si le nouveau présent est lui-même
transcendant : on sait qu’il n’est pas là, qu’il vient d’être là, on ne coïncide jamais
avec lui — Il n’est pas un segment de temps à contours définis qui viendrait se
mettre en place. Il est un cycle défini par une région centrale et dominante et à
contours indécis, — un gonflement ou une ampoule de temps [...]” VI, 235.
540 VI, 268. “Alors passé et présent sont Ineinander, chacun enveloppé-
enveloppant, — et cela même est la chair.” VI, 315.

of art to express time means that it would be able to address this

contradictory, paradoxical nature of time.
A Particular Rhythm
Related to time, there is another topic that Merleau-Ponty emphasises
in connection with film, namely rhythm. Traditionally, rhythm is asso-
ciated with music, but it can also be found in poetry, visual arts or in
life in general. The word rhythm comes from the Latin word rhythmus,
“movement in time”, and the Greek word rhythmos, “measured flow or
movement, rhythm”.541 Victor Biceaga explains: “Critical discussions
of the notion of rhythm often revolve around some typical features
of temporal phenomena such as periodicity and meter”, meaning that
rhythm, such as the heart beat appears rhythmic due to periodicity.
He continues: “But from a phenomenological point of view, rhythm
means not so much periodicity or meter as a characteristic of the ex-
perience of objects in so far as this experience is temporal.”542 Biceaga
clarifies that the basis for the phenomenological approach to rhythm
was laid by Husserl in his conception of retention and protention, i.e.
how every present holds a retention of what has passed, as well as
an anticipation of what is to come. Further, the Husserlian concep-
tion of rhythm involves an integration of discordance into coherent
wholes — it contributes to finding meaningful patterns.543 However,
here my interest lies first and foremost in the understanding of rhythm
in Merleau-Ponty and in the arts.
The concept of rhythm is present in Phenomenology of Perception.
Rhythm defines our being in the world: in a chapter discussing the
body, Merleau-Ponty writes “my life is made up of rhythms [...]”.544
As Johnson points out, the rhythm of life is in the margin of our
almost impersonal existence — it defines the anonymous body that is
necessary for our being alive.545 Further, as such, rhythms are present
in our experiencing and communicating with others. Merleau-Ponty
wrote, for instance, concerning the question of expression, how there is
something shared between the gesture and its meaning: how a smile or
541 Harper, Online Etymology Dictionary.
542 Biceaga 2010, 13. | In a footnote Biceaga points out that Husserl laid out the
conceptual tools for the discussion of rhythm for post-Husserlian phenomenology
(Henri Maldiney, Jacques Garelli and Marc Richir). Ibid n.17.
543 Biceaga 2010, 14.
544 PP, 96. “ma vie comporte des rythmes [...]” PP, 99.
545 Johnson 2010, 199. | In his own development Johnson connects rhythm with
the discussion of beauty.

a cheerful gesture may have in them a rhythm of an action, a certain

mode of being, which is joy itself.546 Also, there is another passage
where he writes that “[...] in the sensible a certain rhythm of existence
is put forward — abduction or adduction — and that, following up
this hint [...] I am brought into relation with an external being”.547 It
is through rhythm that we are in contact with the other, or, in other
words the sensor and the sensible are in a rhythmic relation. Their
relation is not one of two mutually external terms, where sensation
would be the invasion of the sensor by the sensible. On the contrary,
they need each other. For Merleau-Ponty it is the look of the observer,
the movement of the hand, that underlies what is observed. Before my
body synchronises with the sensible, it is simply a vague beckoning.
The sensible presents a problem to the body, and “I must find the
reply to a question which is obscurely expressed.”548 Here, the process
of encountering is understood as a temporal, rhythmic process.
In relation to the arts the concept of rhythm is likewise central. In
his description of painting and movement we may sense the presence of
rhythm. “Just as painting has created the latent line, it has made for
itself a movement without displacement, a movement by vibration or
radiation.”549 There is a certain pulsation to be found in the painting.
A similar kind of description is used in the case of cinema. In the
experience of film, the viewer is left with a radiant image, a particular
rhythm.
How does one trace the rhythm in a work of art? In her exami-
nation of pictorial space, Escoubas wrote how time is implicated in
the painting. She proposed that it was especially Italian Quattrocento
painting that added rhythm to geometry in painting. Escoubas referred
to Henri Maldiney’s definition of rhythm as a form that originates from
the Greek rhythmos and skema: the former is fluid, whereas the lat-
ter is a fixed form or shape.550 Escoubas underlined how in painting,
546 PP, 217/217.

547 PP, 248. “La sensation est intentionnelle parce que je trouve dans le sensible
la proposition d’un certain rythme d’existence, — abduction ou adduction, — et
que, donnant suite à cette proposition [...] je me rapporte à un être extérieur” PP,
247.
548 PP, 249. “[...] il faut que je trouve la réponse à une question mal formulée.”
PP, 248.
549 Œ, 144. “Comme elle a créé la ligne latente, la peinture s’est donné un mou-
vement sans déplacement, par vibration ou rayonnement.” Œ, 77.

550 Escoubas 1995, 56–57. | Escoubas clarifies how in Maldiney “[p]ainting is thus
the coming to itself of rhythm in space — or rather, the becoming rhythm of space.”
(Escoubas 2010, 252.)
rhythm coincides with the moment of appearing, painting would then

be understood as taking the place of the visible as such. In addition,
she suggested that the reverse of rhythm would be vertigo. According
to her, the manifestation of vertigo coincides with the loss of rhythm,
and conversely, the loss of vertigo gives birth to rhythm. Hence, these
two are inseparable reverse sides of each other.551
Escoubas traced the reversibility of rhythm and vertigo in the
Quattrocento paintings, especially the works of Paolo Uccello and
Piero della Francesca. She stated how Uccello does not simply paint
space but also time. The participation of time in space provides rhythm,
and Uccello’s paintings convey rhythmic plurality. Both painters have
a capability to add rhythm to their visual geometry and as such their
paintings open up the domain of visibility as the reversibility of rhythm
and vertigo.552 The expression of time in space is here a rhythmic re-
versibility with vertigo, a fluctuating movement. As I will show, similar
experiences can also be created with the moving image.
In order to understand the different implications of rhythm, it is
necessary to turn to The Visible and the Invisible:
Where are we to put the limit between the body and the world,
since the world is flesh? Where in the body are we to put the
seer, since evidently there is in the body only “shadows stuffed
with organs,” that is more of the visible? [...] my seeing body
subtends this visible body, and all the visibles with it. There is
reciprocal insertion and intertwining of one in the other.553
We already know the importance of the concept of flesh in the late

texts of Merleau-Ponty. Flesh can also be fathomed through the con-
cept of rhythm, by defining flesh as rhythmic.554 Following Merleau-
Ponty’s earlier observation that rhythm is fundamental to our being
as well as defining our communication with others, the development
of this relation is further elaborated in The Visible and the Invisible.
In a working note he writes: “[...] my flesh itself is one of the sensibles
in which an inscription of all the others is made, the sensible pivot
551 Escoubas 1995, 57.
552 Escoubas 1995, 66–67.
553 VI, 138. “Où mettre la limite du corps et du monde, puisque le monde est
chair ? Où mettre dans le corps le voyant, puisque, de toute évidence, il n’y a dans
le corps que des ‘ténèbres bourrées d’organes’, c’est-à-dire du visible encore ? [...]
mon corps voyant sous-tend ce corps visible, et tous les visible, et tous les visibles
avec lui. Il y a insertion réciproque et entrelacs de l’un dans l’autre.” VI, 180.
554 See for instance Al-Saji 2001; Leoni 2003.
in which all the others participate”.555 This is because the body is,
as we know, sensible and sentient, and yet to grasp this experience
is impossible. He continues, “the touching is always on the verge of
apprehending itself as tangible, misses its grasp, and completes it only
in a there is.”556 Flesh is thus a continuous movement back and forth
that can be understood also through the reversibility of rhythm and
vertigo, or as Merleau-Ponty himself put it, flesh is this cycle.
Against this background Merleau-Ponty’s idea of film as a temporal
form can be apprehended in a broader sense: a film or a painting or a
novel is capable of reaching time in its paradoxicality, not just as con-
stituted, but as experienced. Further, art can address our experience
of being in the world. As was shown, for Merleau-Ponty subjectivity
is defined by temporality, which is in principle marked by a certain
inaccessibility. Even though we are in time, it is, similarly to our own
seeing, not possible to grasp it, as it is not possible to touch our own
touching. And yet we may find in art ways to express these experiences
that otherwise remain beyond our reach.
6.2 Technology, Spectatorship and the Film’s Body

Besides the questions of time and rhythm, Merleau-Ponty also stressed
in his reading the aspect of technology in film. Before going into the
next case study, it is necessary to take into account some basic features
that define works of art which use moving images. I will use as my
framework the phenomenological approach to cinema, which takes as
its focus the reciprocal relation between a film and its viewer. The
bases of this approach have been laid out by the film theorist Vivian
Sobchack and elaborated by researchers such as Jennifer M. Barker
and Kaisa Hiltunen.557
555 VI, 259–60. “[...] ma chair elle-même est un des sensibles en lequel se fait une
inscription de tous les autres, sensible pivot auquel participent tous les autres [...]”
VI, 308.
556 VI, 260. “[...] le touchant est toujours sur le point de saisir comme tangible,
manque sa saisie, et ne l’achève que dans un il y a.” VI, 308.

557 Vivian Sobchack: The Address of the Eye. A Phenomenology of Film Experi-
ence (1993) & Carnal Thoughts. Embodiment and Moving Image Culture (2004);
Kaisa Hiltunen: Images of Time, Thought and Emotions: Narration and the Spec-
tator’s Experience in Krzysztof Kiéslowski’s Late Fiction Films (2005); Jennifer M.
Barker: The Tactile Eye. Touch and the Cinematic Experience (2009). Naturally,
there are many other researchers who could be mentioned, for instance Elena del
Río, who has analysed voyeurism in Peeping Tom (1960) from a phenomenological
perspective (Rio 2001).
6.2. TECHNOLOGY, SPECTATORSHIP, FILM’S BODY 171
Indeed, Merleau-Ponty did write that if philosophy is in harmony

with cinema, it is because a philosopher and a movie-maker share a
certain way of being, and this view of the world is shared by a gener-
ation.558 What did Merleau-Ponty mean by paralleling the objects of
film and philosophy and saying that modes of thought correspond to
technical methods? In the following I elucidate the different aspects
of cinematic experience, most importantly the question of technology
and the position of the spectator.
Sobchack summarises: “technology is considered here [in Merleau-
Ponty] as the means of a certain way of being-in-the-world.”559 She in-
terprets Merleau-Ponty to draw parallels between modes of conscious-
ness and technical methods in relation to cinema. In Sobchack’s view,
Merleau-Ponty’s idea of the lived body as both visible to the others
and as a means of being in the world is also reflected in cinema. She
writes how Merleau-Ponty’s thinking constantly reminds us how the
lived body, situated in between the perceptive and the expressive, is
by nature incarnate instrumentality. Sobchack understands Merleau-
Ponty’s brief remark on cinema as a view of cinema as intentional
technology.560 She writes:
This consideration of technology or “instrumentality” as inten-

tional in function and significance cannot be reduced to a dis-
cussion of mere mechanisms, of discrete apparatus designed to
fulfil single functions. Rather, the focus is on the common and
co-operative function of technology, its historical activity and
teleological accomplishment of human intentional projects and
productions — and its simultaneous, literal, and historically par-
ticular alteration of human consciousness and the latter’s possi-
ble existential projects of “being-in-the-world”.561
Sobchack argues for an understanding of technology where the new

intentional technology constitutes new modalities of consciousness,
which eventually also effect our self-consciousness. However, this does
not mean that the lived body would be passively subjected to tech-
nology. On the contrary, the lived body enables technology. Sobchack
558 CNP 75/59.
559 Sobchack 1992, 165.
560 Sobchack 1992, 165. | She refers to the essay “The Question Concerning Tech-
nology” in which Heidegger asks what is the essence of technology by making a

strict separation between technology and the essence of technology.
561 Sobchack 1992, 166.
claims that film is not merely the object of our perception and expres-
sion. She is interested in how materiality of film and cinematic tech-
nology materially embodies “perception and expression as a situated,
finite, centered and decentering lived-body that, through its commuta-
tion of perception and expression, is able to accomplish the significa-
tion of vision as significant.”562
In her discussion Sobchack does not identify film with the mech-
anisms that enable it, and yet film cannot be dissociated from tech-
nology. However, following in the lines of Merleau-Ponty, the focus of
her approach is concerned with how film appears to us or for itself,
and not in the lenses, editing, sound recording, etc. as much as they
are the necessary conditions for cinema. Sobchack therefore does take
technology into account, yet emphasises that film is visible in a way
technology can never be.563 What counts in film is the way in which
it is experienced.
Sobchack claims that “the act of viewing as commutation of per-
ception and expression is both intrasubjective and intersubjective per-
formance equally performable by filmmaker, film, and spectator.”564
She underlines how perception and expression unite not only the di-
rector and the spectator but also the film, which means that a film is
not simply a visible object, but our relationship to it is more complex.
The phenomenological approach to film focuses on the reciprocal
correlation between the film and the viewer.565 As I have already men-
tioned, the differences between full-length films and media art can be
found, among other things, in the conditions of encountering the art-
work: whereas a moviegoer is supposed to sit still, moving-image instal-
lations often encourage spectators to move around.566 The spectator-
actor, who is encouraged to move around and interact with the art
work, might appear “active”, but it is evident that also the seated
spectator is far from being a “passive” onlooker in the audience.567
562 Sobchack 1992, 167.

563 Sobchack 1992, 170.
564 Sobchack 1992, 21.
565 Hiltunen 2005, 35.
566 Leighton 2008, 29.
567 Culture critic Steven Shaviro’s contribution to film theory illustrates some
of the tendencies within the field. Shaviro situates himself in the tradition set by
Deleuze and Guattari, and opposes the Lacanian approach to film studies. Shaviro
writes: “But in any case, I do not actively interpret or seek to control; I just
sit back and blissfully consume. I passively enjoy or endure certain rhythms of
duration: the passage of time, with its play of retention and anticipation, and with
its relentless accumulation, transformation, and destruction of sounds and images.
Following Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological approach we can argue

that just like watching a painting, watching a film is not passive and
detached from the body.568 Similarly, perception and expression can-
not be told apart in film experience.
Sobchack writes “the film experience is a system of communication
based on bodily perception as a vehicle of conscious expression.”569
When watching a film, we are not detached from embodied existence,
but are instead defined by it. Sobchack refers to the Merleau-Pontian
understanding of expression and perception being interwoven: percep-
tion is a modality of expression and vice versa. These two modalities
are not separate, but complementary.570 As I pointed out previously
concerning the concept of rhythm, perception is a process where the
sensible presents a question that the body needs to find the answer
to.571
Examining the perceptual experience of film, the concept of the
film’s body becomes central. Within the tradition of cinema, films
have been understood as bodies.572 However, in the phenomenological
approach “the film’s body” is not symbolic. On the contrary, it is used
to underline that the film is not solely an object to perceive, but that
it, too, has a body: this body has its basis in cinematic technology,
yet it is not visible in film, “except for its intentional agency and dia-
critical motion”.573 Film has its own dimensions, expression and way
of being. Sobchack underlines how the camera and the projector along
with other mechanisms substantially embody film. They operate in a
There is no structuring lack, no primordial division, but a continuity between

the physiological and affective responses of my own body and the appearances
and disappearances, the mutations and perdurances, of the bodies and images on
screen” (Shaviro 2000, 254–55.) Shaviro repeatedly underlines his or the subject
matter’s interest being elsewhere than in phenomenology, for instance: “[Warhol’s]
approach to filmmaking is physiological and behavioristic rather than ontological
or phenomenological” (Ibid., 213). Or, as he later claims: “The cinematic body is
then neither phenomenologically given nor fantasmatically constructed. It stands
at the limits of both of these categories, and it undoes them.” (Ibid., 256.)
568 The question of the spectator’s position and the level of activity/passivity is
intertwined with the larger debate on vision and spectatorship. Some researchers
ague for a detached spectatorship. In their view dumbfounding experiences make
spectators unable to be critical. From another standpoint, spectators are able to
be critical even though their approach would be “hands on”. (Jay 2000; Van de
Vall 2008, 103–32; Rancière 2009, 4–5.)
569 Sobchack 1992, 9; Lannoy 2008.
570 Sobchack 1992, 13.
571 PP, 248/249.
572 MacDougall 2006, 29; Barker 2009, 9.
573 Sobchack 2004, 66 n.48.
way that exceeds the function of merely mechanical apparatuses.574

Through the concept of the film’s body one is able to reach towards
an understanding of how the notion animates perception and expres-
sion. A defining feature of the film’s body is that it always contains
movement, even before it visibly moves. Without its movement our
vision would not meet a visible image. Sobchack writes:
The film’s body, then, is radically distinguished by its motil-

ity. Its viewing-view is always in motion, even if that motion is
expressed introspectively and appears to the body-subject of an
“other” as non-movement. The most “static” of films is not static
at all.575
Here, the viewing-view refers to the idea that through the cam-
era film is, similar to an eye in that it perceives. Its counterpart is
the viewed-view, that which is perceived. Sobchack argues that: “[t]he
film’s body originally perceives and expresses perception as the very
process and progress of the viewing-view as it constitutes the viewed-
view as visible”.576 Against this background, she suggests that the
camera functions as a perceptive organ, whereas the projector is the
expressive organ.
In short, the film’s body becomes similar to our own body, since
it both perceives and expresses.577 Granted, film cannot be similarly
reversibly present for us as other human beings are. And yet through
574 Sobchack 1992, 205.
575 Sobchack 1992, 206. | Whereas the camera is privileged in its capability of
materialising embodied perception, it is thanks to the projector and the screen
that spectators gain access to these images. Yet the projector “transforms the
subjective perception to objective expression”. (Sobchack 1992, 210.) In Sobchack’s
reading the projector, as well as the screen, appear to function in a passive manner,
and yet they are both necessary in order to express the film’s body. However,
in experimental cinema this necessity has been questioned. Take, for instance,
Lis Rhodes’ Light Music (1975), which used two film projectors and smoke to
investigate the conditions of filmic experience.
576 Sobchack 1992, 206.
577 Sobchack 1992, 247; see also Barker 2009, 9. | Sobchack points to an example
of a situation where the film’s body assumes the body of a human character: the
effect is called false body. In these cases film seems to borrow the human body — not
claim it as its own, as Sobchack stresses — to give the point of view of a character.
An example of this would be a film where the body of the narrator or protagonist
is not visible, but is situated in the place of the camera. Sobchack’s example is
Robert Montgomery’s Lady in the Lake (1946). The impression is suggested by,
for instance, a cigarette and hands in the lower corner of the screen. The spectator
is supposed to have stepped in the actor’s shoes. For the medium of film, such
“subjective” or “first-person” perspectives are not particularly successful: Lady in
the concept of the film’s body it is possible to fathom a relationship

that is more than just a subject–object relation. As Barker suggests,
it is possible to be in an intimate, tactile and reversible contact with
the film’s body.578
In general, Sobchack’s reading enables understanding the seem-
ingly paradoxical situation of the spectator being both “here” and
“there” when watching a film.579 It also clarifies how the sensual lan-
guage people use to recount their experiences of films is in fact not
always simply metaphorical: Sobchack points out that “most film the-
orists still seem either embarrassed or bemused by bodies that often
act wantonly and crudely at the movies, involuntarily countering the
fine-grained sensibilities, intellectual discriminations, and vocabulary
of critical reflection.”580 She, on the other hand, wishes to critically
examine the bodily experience at the movies, instead of pushing them
aside as easy thrills. For her, the challenge is to come to grips with
the carnal foundations of cinematic intelligibility.581 In a reading of
the film Piano (1993), Sobchack describes her own experience as a
spectator:
Despite my “almost blindness,” the “unrecognizable blur,” and

resistance of the image to my eyes, my fingers knew what I was
looking at — and this before the objective reverse shot that fol-
lowed to put those fingers in their proper place [...]582
The experience portrayed above is not exceptional — what is at

stake here is a matter of prereflective bodily response to the film ex-
the Lake and its attempt to take the “subjective image” to extremes, has been
discussed, among others, by Mitry, who commented that the film fails to convince
the spectator because of the bodily, kinaesthetic difference between the two. There
is no point at which the spectator could recognise the image of his or her own
body. Thus, as Mitry argued, seeing the effect of walking in the film reminds the
spectator of walking with someone. However, video games have been successful in
presenting a first-person perspective, and there is a whole genre of “first-person
shooter” games. In video games the first person refers to the graphical perspective,
where the player has the viewpoint of the player character. Within movies, the
same phenomena of the “subjective image” is rather old. Mitry tracks down the
development of the subjective image in the camera movements of films made in
the 1920s by, for instance, Marcel L’Herbier (1888–1979). (Sobchack 1992, 230–34;
Mitry 1998, 207–10.)
578 Barker 2009, 19.
579 Sobchack 2004, 54.
580 Sobchack 2004, 56.
581 Sobchack 2004, 59.
582 Sobchack 2004, 63.
perience. It brings forth how a film is not only experienced through

the eyes, but we also comprehend it through our bodies. These sen-
sations are related to “carnal knowledge”. However, the mastery of
vision often makes it easy to forget the dimension of bodily experi-
ence in a film. And yet there are films and moments that are able to
address some common sensuous experiences, the feeling of touch and
smell, for instance. Sobchack wishes to focus on us spectators as lived
bodies, how we relate to the “things” we see on the screen. Further,
she argues that the filmic experience is able to, through reversibility
in perception, subvert the notions of onscreen and offscreen into no
longer mutually exclusive entities — the spectator can both sense and
be the sensible.583 She writes:
In the film experience, because our consciousness is not directed

toward our own bodies but toward the film’s world, we are caught
up without a thought (because our thoughts are “elsewhere”) in
this vacillating and reversible sensual structure that both differ-
entiates and connects the sense of my literal body to the sense
of the figurative bodies and objects I see on the screen.584
To conclude, I would like to point out that Sobchack’s approach en-

ables discussion on aspects that are otherwise dismissed as superficial
or beyond critical formulation. Her argumentation on the possibilities
of “fingers” to “know” is also something that will resonate with my
following case study.
6.3 The Radiant Image: Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait

As we have seen, for Merleau-Ponty the potentiality of cinema was in
its capability to address our being-in-the-world. Even though experi-
mental cinema or media art was not in his mind when he lectured on
cinema, a similar capability can be found also in contemporary art. I
will next discuss Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait (2006), a film by two
contemporary artists, Douglas Gordon (b. 1966) and Philippe Parreno
(b. 1964, for the artists’ CVs, see appendix B). Their work is a portrait
of Zinédine Zidane (b. 1972), a French football player who retired in
2006.
583 Sobchack 2004, 67. | These sensual experiences are connected to the synesthe-
sia and the intercommunication of the senses.

584 Sobchack 2004, 77.
6.3. THE RADIANT IMAGE 177
The quest in filming Zidane is, above all, an attempt to grasp a

passing moment, an effort to save the experience of his style of play-
ing, a portrait, an homage, an investigation and much more. In my
interpretation I am primarily interested in Gordon’s and Parreno’s
work in its ability to reach towards the movement and the presence of
the athlete. I examine questions such as: What kind of portrait does
the work create? What kind of temporality does it convey?
Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait

The structure of Gordon and Parreno’s Zidane: A 21st Century Por-
trait (2006, for still images, see appendix A) relies on the logic of a
football game. The length of the film is defined by one game, or ap-
proximately 90 minutes. Throughout the film the cameras are focused
on Zidane, yet there are also some shots of both the broadcast match
(on a television set) as well as shots of cameras filming the game. The
intermediate time is filled with scenes from news broadcasts and other
documentary materials from the very same day.
The match is a Spanish La liga game played in Madrid on 23 April
2005 at the Santiago Bernabéu stadium with 80,000 spectators. Real
Madrid played in whites against Villareal CF in yellow. The visual
material is mostly from the field and for most of the time Zidane is
somewhere within the frame. A distinctive feature of the work is that
instead of following the passes, the free kicks and the penalty shots,
the cameras follow only one player irrespective of his movements in
relation to the other players. By changing the traditional direction of
the cameras from the football to just one player, the film highlights
the performance of one man in the game, his waiting, successes and
frustration. This makes the football match itself difficult to assess, at
least if the spectator is holding on to habitual ways of watching the
game.
From a certain perspective the film is obviously a technical pursuit.
The crew used 17 cameras to film Zidane. In interviews the artists ex-
plained that they took advantage of a new zoom technology developed
for the US army.585 Following the discussion I presented in the previ-
ous chapter on the pursuits of early photographers’ to grasp movement,
also in Zidane we can find an attempt to record with the camera’s eye
something that has previously been unseen (i.e. the movement of a
585 Gordon & Parreno 2006. | Some researchers have argued that standards of
vision in our time are guided by the development of new computer technology.
(Crary 1992, 2; Lenoir 2004, xiv.)
horse’s legs). In this case the object is a star player.586 Yet it is clear
that the scientific perspective is not the primal object of this work;
contemporary science would surely find more effective means to study
the movements of athletes.587
However, Zidane is not a simply a direct documentation of one
sporting performance. Besides camera shots, there are also texts de-
scribing Zidane’s childhood memories and feelings while on the field.588
In addition, the film’s soundtrack is very suggestive. To use Merleau-
Pontian terms, the metrics or the rhythm of sound and vision create
together with the images a very powerful complexity. The dreamy in-
strumental music is composed and performed by Mogwai, a Glasgow-
based band. The soundscape also includes noises from the stadium.
The sounds occasionally form an overwhelming sound-wall, yet at
times the noise fades away to give way to the silence, as well as the
breathing and shouts of the players.
The subtitle of Zidane is A 21st Century Portrait. It is a clas-
sic genre of visual arts, especially painting, and generally a portrait
is considered to capture something pivotal about the person. French
philosopher and historian Louis Marin has defined a portrait as “pro-
trait”, as something which “is put forward, pro-duced, extracted or
586 A similar attempt to follow a top footballer at work has been done before.
Gordon’s and Parreno’s work has been compared with German movie maker Hell-
muth Costard’s (1940–2000) Fußball wie noch nie (Football as never before, 1970).
The protagonist in Costard’s film is George Best (1946–2005), a Manchester United
player.
587 In fact, relating to the “scientific vision”, I propose that a useful contrast
would be Harun Farocki’s Deep Play (2007). In Deep Play Farocki collected all the
available documentary and simulation material he could find on the football World
Cup final 2006 France vs. Italy played in Berlin. Deep Play consists of various points
of view on this soccer spectacle. The France–Italy game has been fragmented into
pieces: the installation’s 12 televisions show camera views of the coaches and the
game. The spectator hears the director’s orders, sees player diagrammes, computer
simulations and analyses, the stadium police at work, surveillance material, the
summer night outside the stadium in Berlin, as well as a computer animation of
Zidane head butting Marco Materazzi’s chest. The spatial organisation of the work
does not follow that of cinema, but with its multiple screens creates a totality
where the spectator has to keep shifting positions, being unable to master the flow
of information. Deep Play is, I argue, an attempt to dismantle a spectacle, to show
the massive industry behind the game. It tries to bypass mediation and go beyond.
Simultaneously it brings forth the power of media and the ways in which image
flow directs our impressions. It also explores the incident that the game is famous
for, namely the headbutt. Farocki’s work is an attempt to approach or circle this
event, which remains the blind spot of the game.
588 According to the artists, the texts are based on interviews made with Zidane.
(Gordon & Parreno 2006.)

abstracted from the individual portrayed.”589 Here, the artists have

chosen to “put forward” a footballer at work. However, there is an
ambivalence in the title of the work. One interpretation is that the
film provides a particular performance as a portrait of the star player,
and another interpretation would be to say that in Zidane, a star foot-
baller is put forward as a portrait of our century — in a sense, the
work would be a portrait of a generation.
The artists have commented that they wished to approach the
player, to get under his skin to understand what it is like to be Zi-
dane.590 Gordon and Parreno emphasised that they chose Zidane as
their protagonist years before actually starting the filming, explaining
that Zidane had certain qualities, such as an inaccessible face, that
made him the evident and only possible choice for their project. They
also commented that they were interested in his star quality.591 In
Zidane the 17 cameras observe a male body, and the directors rely on
a tension that is created by Zidane’s “inaccessible” appearance. The
player is set as the object of the spectator’s gaze, desire and admi-
ration. Indeed, there is a strong emphasis on the unattainability of
Zidane, who in the very next minute escapes from the camera’s lens.
The artists refer to Andy Warhol’s The 13 Most Beautiful Women
(1964) as their cinematographic inspiration.592 In both pieces there is
certain simplicity and a striving for intensity. The 13 Most Beautiful
Women is based on a selection of Screen tests, a series of portraits
Warhol made of his friends, lovers and people who came by his New
York studio. In Hollywood, a screen test was a way to find out about
star-quality.593 In The 13 Most Beautiful Women the models stand
589 Marin 2001, 204. | He continues: “It is a model in the epistemological sense,
but it is also what is put in the place of . . . , instead of . . . , what is substituted

for. . . .” (Ibid).
590 Gordon & Parreno 2006.
591 Still today this star-like presence is seems to be reserved for only male foot-
ballers. Along with gender, ethnicity also plays a role. As is well known, Zidane’s
parents moved to France from Algeria, and thus he has given a face to second-
generation immigrants in France. From early on his skills and success made him
an icon for a multicultural France. How and why this particular face, coming from
the “streets of Marseille” stands for both skill and “inaccessibility” in contempo-
rary football, and what role his ethnicity plays in his “inaccessibility”, would be
interesting questions that I must leave for others to discuss.
592 Gordon & Parreno 2006. | When asked about the of influence of other sports
films, the directors referred to Tokyo Olympiad (1965), a documentary film by Kon
Ichikawa.
593 Star performance is, in Mulvey’s view, the ability to strike a pose, to maintain
balance and master “the fusion of energy with a stillness of display” (Mulvey 2006,
still before the camera as their eyes slowly start to shed tears: they
attempt not to blink during the 3-minute take, the duration of one
roll of film. For Warhol the portrait was completed when the roll ran
out.594 In Zidane the length was defined by the football game, or more
precisely, as long as the protagonist stayed on the field. The filming
ended when the player left the field. As the opening text of the film
says: “From the first kick of the ball until the final whistle”. Of course,
contrary to Warhol’s project Zidane consists of editing various differ-
ent camera angles into a single-channel piece. What further connects
Gordon and Parreno to Warhol is a certain tension between the su-
perficial star image and the depths of the feelings experienced on the
field. Art historian Hal Foster identifies two different “camps” in the
interpretation of Warhol’s oeuvre: the simulacral reading and the ref-
erential view of Warhol’s art. Foster asks: “But they cannot both be
right . . . or can they? Can we read the ‘Death in America’ images as
referential and simulacral, connected and disconnected, affective and
affectless, critical and complacent?”595 I will not go here into Foster’s
own answer — a third way: traumatic realism — but I do wish to
emphasise that this tension or contradictory nature found in Warhol
relates to the project of Gordon and Parreno in terms of a tension
between surface and depth, stardom and tragedy.
If the “screen tests” were used to examine star quality, it is evident
that Zidane would have passed the “screen test” for football stardom
many years ago. Zidane brings out questions concerning contemporary
star culture and the spectacle that football is today. In many of the
shots in Zidane the technical requirements for the creation of a star
are made visible by filming lights, cameras, the football crowd, and
even during intermediate time we can spot from a newsflash footage a
boy in the crowd wearing a shirt with Zidane’s name on it.596 Simon
Critchley has commented on this aspect:
At the most obvious level, Zidane is a portrait of the 21st cen-
162). Like Warhol, Gordon and Parreno are also interested in the star culture and
aura. In one reading, for Warhol, artificial and real go hand in hand. (Shaviro 2000,
211.)
594 Shaviro 2000, 210.
595 Foster 1996, 130.
596 The modes of production of a star are tightly linked with television culture,
a theme that Parreno has investigated in many of his works. For instance the first
video work by Parreno, Fleurs (1987), was a film of a flower bouquet. The video
was sent to TV stations to be used in whatever way they wished — later on Fleurs
appeared in Canal+ as a backdrop for a weather forecast. (Macel 2009.)
tury, where reality has an utterly mediated quality. It is a world

of celebrity and commodity, a world of smooth and shiny sur-
faces, a hallucinatory reality, nothing more. The 21st century is
a portrait. Everything is a portrait. Zidane himself is a portrait,
a perfect and magical fetish, a pure commodity that inspires
desire, a product with rights owned by Adidas, Siemens or his
whole panoply of sponsors. Zidane is a spectacle. Sure. That’s
right. Point taken. We are all children of the Situationists and
the world is a world of images. Nothing more. No more reality.
But there is more to a portrait than some dumb Situationist
thesis about the society of the spectacle.597
I agree with Critchley: even though the commercialised world of

football is a reality, Zidane is much more manifold than the material
conditions of the sport as well as the star cult that nowadays is such
an elementary part of football.
In interviews the artists’ explained that they had reached towards
the experience of the footballer. This resonates with what Merleau-
Ponty has previously said about cinema’s capability to offer a possi-
bility to understand somebody better when simply seeing his actions.
But is the spectator capable of understanding Zidane? The experience
of Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait is related to the questions dis-
cussed in the previous chapter in connection with Christian Mayer’s
Another City, not my own. Here, too, we are encountering the body
of the other.
Vision in the Film

I will next examine the features of the film’s body and the vision that
it manifests. First of all, the use of close-up in Zidane is very distinct.
There are several shots of Zidane’s neck, face and feet. Within film
theory close-up has been a widely discussed topic, it has even been
called the “soul of cinema”.598 As film theorist Mary Ann Doane has
remarked, a close-up, gros plan in French, contains a binary opposition
597 Critchley 2009. | Football can draw immense crowds, and it is undoubtedly a
sport of the masses. It attracts large audiences and is therefore very much linked
to spectacle. The best players are international stars with sponsorship deals and
the world of football is a mass sport, involved with sponsor money, speculation,
historical or national debates, former stars, etc. However difficult it is to think
about football without these aspects, it is not the focus of my reading.
598 Jean Epstein cited in Doane 2003, 91.
of proximity and distance as well as large and small.599 Traditionally,

a close-up has been connected with the idea of delay: it interrupts or
slows down the narration and action. It also offers a detail, prefer-
ably the face of a star actor, for the spectator to devour.600 Because
the close-up extracts its object, it also forces the spectator to lose
an overview of the situation, and this, I argue, suggests a proximity
with the Merleau-Pontian approach, which underlines the importance
of losing the position as an outsider observer.601
In classical Hollywood films close-ups were used to highlight star
performances, especially when presenting female stars. Typically these
shots were considered to halt the action.602 On the other hand, in
sports the close-up is commonly used to show what really took place
on the field. Thus a sports close-up does “halt the action”, since mean-
while the spectator cannot see what is going on on the field. At the
same time this kind of close-up is supposedly taking the “story” fur-
ther, since it examines the action that took place. It can be said that
in the conventions of sports broadcasts, technology does constitute a
new modality of consciousness.
However, even though in Zidane close-ups are commonly used,
these shots halt the action in a different way from both sports broad-
casts and Hollywood cinema. In fact, I would suggest that in the use
of close-ups there lies a certain tension or play between femininity
and masculinity, as the shots generously present the spectator with
the object of his or her desire, tracing minutely the player’s emotions
and simultaneously presenting the performance of this extremely tal-
599 “In laying out the terms of this history of the analysis of the cinematic close-
up, I have been attempting to emphasize not only its frequent recourse to hyperbolic
rhetoric but also its insistence (outside of the case of Eisenstein) upon treating
the close-up synchronically rather than diachronically, as stasis, as resistance to
narrative linearity, as the vertical gateway to an almost irrecoverable depth behind
the image.” (Doane 2003, 97.)
600 Close-up has been seen, among other things, as a danger, an autonomous entity
(Jean Epstein), a point of entry to the optical unconscious (Walter Benjamin), or

as abstracting its object from spatio-temporal co-ordinates (Gilles Deleuze). In
addition, interestingly, especially in the use of montage in Russian cinema, close-
up was a signifying, a means for intellectual cinema. (Doane 2003.)
601 Doane 2003, 89–90, 92; Mulvey 2006, 163–64.
602 Showing a fragmented body reminds one of the common techniques of dis-
playing and objectifying the female body. (Mulvey 1989, 19–20; 2006, 166.) Laura
Mulvey, who moves in both feminist and psychoanalytic traditions, discusses in her
Death 24 x a Second (2006) two interrelated types of spectators, both related to
delayed cinema: the pensive and possessive spectator. Whereas the pensive spec-
tator is engaged with reflecting on the visibility of time, the possessive spectator is
absorbed by the image of the human body. (Mulvey 1989, 16–19; 2006, 11, 165.)
ented player.603 Zidane’s close-ups are not totally “irrational” since

they often take place in situations when the players are standing still.
However, whereas a conventional sports broadcast would aim to pro-
vide insights into special situations, Zidane brings only one player
into focus, irrespective of what happens in the match. Moreover, these
close-ups are often oriented towards the margins of the athlete’s body,
to the neck and ankles.604
Another distinct feature is that in Zidane the celebrated player is
shown in a way that he is not usually seen. For instance, there are
many idle moments when he is waiting, stretching and touching the
grass with his feet. Indeed, there are times when Zidane just observes
and waits. In the work, these minutes of observation suddenly turn into
fierce movement that ends in a special situation or simply into Zidane
passing or losing the ball. The cameras — or the viewing-view, the
perceiving eye — appear at these moments to be very human. In fact,
they repeatedly lose the sight of Zidane. But there are also moments
when the camera is inhuman in its capability of pushing itself so close
to the player’s skin. It is “alien” to our own vision in its sharpness and
ability to follow situations that often escape the untrained eye.605
Considering Merleau-Ponty’s understanding of seeing, here too see-
ing is directed away from objectifying looking. From the phenomeno-
logical perspective, the close-up calls for the body, the senses of touch
and smell, especially when the camera focuses on different textures,
such as the grass. In other words, there are scenes where the film
603 A similar kind of observation has been made also by Maria Lind. (Lind 2009,
100.)
604 In the film, there is also a certain association with a nature documentary.
This has to do with the structure of the film. By cutting the player from the sur-
roundings the film seems to underline the natural object. Marks writes: “Cinematic
conventions have a lot to do with our powers of putting ourselves in the other’s
paws. In nature documentaries, shot–reverse shot structure creates a sense of nar-
rative; quick editing makes for excitement; cutting gives a sense of simultaneous
action; eye-line matches between animals and their prey establishes intentionality;
and when the creatures gaze into the camera, their eyes seem to communicate with
the depths of our souls. The overall effect is to allow the human viewer an iden-
tification with the nonhuman subjects, a way to get into their furry or feathered
heads. A cheap way, to be sure.” (Marks 2002, 25.) Marks point is that in na-
ture documentaries the screen offers an image of the other, and thus not a mirror,
that spectators can identify with. I suggest that in Zidane, certain conventions
of nature documentaries end up maintaining the difference between the on-screen
person and the spectator. However, the film does not thoroughly follow the pattern
of mainstream nature documentaries.
605 By this I mean that the imagery in Zidane has a quality that surpasses the
visual imagery we have been used to seeing in similar situations.

presents a certain haptic vision.606 Film theorist Laura U. Marks,

whose study discusses the sensuous dimensions of media art, uses the
distinction between haptic and optic vision.607 Marks argues that one
is able to look at something with either haptic or optical vision. But
hapticity and opticity are not merely in the eyes of the onlooker, on
the contrary, artwork can also offer haptic or optic images. Often hap-
tic images do not reveal one singular and identifiable figure, but more
or less ambivalent impressions. According to Marks, these images “en-
courage a bodily relationship between the viewer and the image.”608
In Zidane the film’s body consists of a rhythm of the haptical and
optical visions. It denies a perspective where the game would be seen
as a whole, giving only glimpses of the match.609 Marks underlines
that the haptic vision surpasses distance: it encourages a tactile and
reversible contact with the film’s body.610
606 The term has not been used by Merleau-Ponty, but yet is closely related to
his approach as it focuses on the multi-sensuous quality of seeing. Another term,

which could be understood as multi-sensory, is “palper du regard”, palpating with
our look. This Merleau-Pontian term has been developed for instance by Van de
Vall in her Dutch verb tasten, to grope. She understands it as a vision that does
not take possession, but lingers as close as possible to the objects. (Van de Vall
2008, 5.)
607 The terms originate from art historian Alois Riegl (1858–1905). Marks writes:
“The early twentieth-century Viennese art historian Alois Riegl borrowed the term
from psychology, haptein, for a kind of vision that ‘grabs’ the thing it looks at. I
think it’s important that Riegl was a historian of textiles, and that he came up with
this word when he was poring over his Persian carpets. These carpets with their
endless, interleaved patterns don’t allow the eye to rest in one place; they invite
the eye to move along them, caressing their surface. Contemplating these patterns
does something to dissolve the boundaries between the beholder and the thing
beheld.” (Marks 2004; also 2000, 162; 2002, 4–6.) Beyond Marks, the term has
been established by Deleuze and Guattari, who refer to the distinction between
optic and haptic vision in A Thousand Plateaus. Capitalism and Schizophrenia
(Mille Plateaux, 1980). It appears in a passage discussing smooth and striated
space. Deleuze also discusses it briefly in Cinema as well as in his essay on Francis
Bacon. (Deleuze & Guattari 1992, 492; Deleuze 2003, 85.)
608 Marks 2002, 3.
609 Deleuze and Guattari write: “Several notions, both practical and theoretical,
are suitable for defining nomad art and its successors (barbarian, Gothic, and mod-
ern). First, ‘close-range’ vision, as distinguished from long-distance vision; second,
‘tactile,’ or rather ‘haptic’ space, as distinguished from optical space. ‘Haptic’ is
a better word than ‘tactile’ since it does not establish an opposition between two
sense organs but rather invites the assumption that the eye itself may fulfill this
nonoptical function.” (Deleuze & Guattari 1992, 492.)
610 Marks has remarked that Deleuze gives only a brief example of haptic vision
in movies: In Bresson’s Pickpocket (1959) hands are central and they evoke a sense
of touch. (Marks 2000, 171.)
The close-ups of Zidane can be seen as haptic vision, but the close-
ups and haptic vision are not identical. There are also other kind of
shots that may bring out haptic vision, such as when occasionally the
close-ups parallel the players with the virtual digitalised commercials
that surround the field. Similar effects are attained when the camera
films the game through a television set, or at those moments when the
image is out of focus and thus the player suddenly breaks into pieces,
turning the film’s body into an unrecognisable mish-mash of pixels.611
Rhythm and Spectatorship

Through the discussion of haptic vision and close-up, the question
of understanding the other appears. This is related to the Merleau-
Pontian themes of time and rhythm: film is a temporal form, but also
the encountering other is to be understood as a temporal, rhythmic
process, as described in Phenomenology of Perception. In perception
my body has to synchronise with the sensible — the look of the ob-
server, so to speak, underlies the observed.612 Similarly, in the percep-
tion of film a similar kind of reversibility is needed.613
Above, I argued that the use of close-ups makes it difficult to follow
the action. On the one hand, the images deny the spectator an overview
of the game, but on the other hand, they tend to take spectator to the
field beside the player.614 Evidently, Zidane changes the traditional
way of watching football by focusing all the cameras on one player.
Yet, by doing this, it brings the spectator closer to the lived experience
of the game. It takes the spectator into the middle of the action. The
611 Marks has suggested that among other things video’s low contrast ratio con-
tributes to the effect of hapticity. (Marks 2002, 9.)

612 PP, 248/249.
613 See, for instance, Sobchack 1992, 78, 97–100; Stadler 2002, 241; Van de Vall
2008. | Jane Stadler writes: “The relationship between audience members and the
films they engage with is [...] indicative of the mobility and fluidity of subjectiv-
ity, and the erosion or permeability of boundaries between subjects and objects
theorized in a phenomenological account of perception.” (Stadler, 2002, 238.)
614 On the one hand, considering the spectator experience, there is a difference
between seeing a match live on site and watching a broadcasted game, let alone
seeing film in a movie theatre or seeing it at home on a DVD. On the other hand,
spectators watching the game live can also be guided by cameras. Even though
sitting in the spectator stand gives direct visual access to the field, screens placed
above the stadium show replays and close-ups of players that in real life are often
very far from the spectators. In comparison, a spectator relying entirely on televised
material cannot freely follow, for instance, one particular player, but is forced to
follow the decisions made by the director.
film offers a possibility for the spectator to recognise the tempo of the
game, certain idle moments, the waiting, the fierce running, attempts,
tension, even rage felt by the players. But, it is equally true that the
spectator may not recognise these situations. Perhaps by not having
seen football or not having played it, the logic of the game as well as
the style of playing is lost to the spectator? This turns the film into a
shattered portrait of one man on the field, giving a very disconnected
impression of the whole match.
In the previous chapter I discussed the concept of empathy. Unlike
Christian Mayer’s Another city, not my own, Zidane has no lack of
visual access to the body of the other, and yet it can remain distant.
Stein has made a distinction between empathy and identification. In-
terestingly, she also discussed an athlete, and her example involved
observing an acrobat. She stressed that empathy is being with some-
body, not being somebody.615 Still, in Zidane this “being with” is made
difficult. It is as if, on a very concrete level, a part of the intercorporeal
nature of being is cut away or at least it is drastically limited. In short,
for some spectators Zidane lacks orientation points. The spectator is
not able to understand why certain movements are required, because
there is no visual access to Zidane’s relation to other players on the
field. Or, to use other terms, because there is another rhythm, namely
that of the game, which has its own challenges: a player must be ready
to respond to fellow players, to perform those movements suggested
by the others.616 Of course, if seen in a movie theatre, the sheer scale
of the images turns the player into a “larger than life” object in a very
concrete manner. This can also affect the way in which a spectator
might not be able to “be with” the player. In both cases she or he
fails to understand the other’s situation, an aspect that Ruonakoski
underlined in her interpretation of empathy.617
Failing to recognise the situation is more likely if the movements
seen on the field do not connect with anything seen or performed previ-
ously by the spectator. These problematics resonate with pre-reflective
bodily responses to the filmic experiences that Sobchack has described:
615 Moran 2004, 307; see also Painter 2007, 111.
616 There is a certain roughness to Zidane’s style of being. At points it is as if he
possesses the wrong kind of body for the game, a body that is not as flexible, agile
and smooth as it should be. It seems that Zidane has to continuously overcome
certain aspects of his body — he looks heavy, even clumsy at points — to perform
the movements of a top footballer. (My thanks to Dominiek Hoens for drawing
attention to this dimension of an “unlikely” body and Hanneke Grootenboer for
her remarks on performativity.)
617 See Ruonakoski 2011.
in those moments the body may, so to speak, know something before

the eyes actually see what is going on.618 In other words, if the spec-
tator has no lived experience, a bodily schema with which the seen
could resonate with, the impression remains scattered. In contrast, if
the spectator has more experience of the sport, he or she is more likely
to be able to understand the movements and feelings of the player.
To use Merleau-Ponty’s words, in cases where the performance of a
player appears fragmentary, the sensible has presented a problem to
the body (of the spectator), but the body fails to “answer” the ques-
tion, or simply misses it.619 Or, the use of close-up that momentarily
leads into an experience of losing a conception of what is seen, can be
understood as a failing of the spectator to synchronise what is seen,
and this produces an effect of “vertigo”, a break in the rhythm of the
bodies. On the other hand, at best, the film might create an experi-
ence of the game where the spectator “lives with” the player. In these
moments the spectator has an experience of losing oneself into the
shared sensible, to the continuous movement back and forth that is
understood as flesh.
Ronald Bogue’s has analysed Gilles Deleuze’s philosophy of art, as
well as Henri Maldiney’s philosophy in order to fathom their concep-
tions concerning rhythm. Rhythm does not mean metre — as Deleuze
and Guattari have noted, “there is nothing less rhythmic than a mili-
tary march”620 — but on the contrary, it opens into in-between spaces,
breaks, changes. For Maldiney, rhythm reveals another order of time,
that of presence,621 and, the interplay of systole and diastole that
emerge from chaos, creates rhythm. Bogue writes:
The rhythm of systole and diastole that plays through the self-
shaping activity of form in an artwork creates its own temporal
framework, and when we experience the artwork we also enter
into the implicated time of its form, a perpetual Now outside
commonsense coordinates.622
For Maldiney, the artwork creates its own space-time, it is a mo-

ment of “truth”. By following the idea of the rhythm of an artwork
618 See for instance Sobchack 2004, 63.
619 PP, 248/249.
620 Deleuze & Guattari 1992, 313.
621 Escoubas 1995, 103. | Escoubas parallels Maldiney’s rhythm with Merleau-
Ponty’s conceptions of style and expression.

622 Bogue 2003, 121.
we could suggest that Zidane can, at best, take the spectator into “a
perpetual Now”. However, it is likewise true that not all spectators
find the entry into this “Now”. Or to use Deleuzian terms, in entering
the work, the spectator fails to reach the unity of the sensing and the
sensed — Deleuze stressed the importance of sensation, noting that
Cézanne’s lesson was to show that sensation is in the body, not in the
air, as the Impressionists suggested.623
My suggestion is that the possible “failing” of a spectator is a
matter of rhythmic dissonance that has its origins in our lived bodies
and their rhythms. As I earlier described Sobchack’s experience of her
fingers “knowing” before properly seeing, it might equally be the case
that the carnal knowledge — which could also perhaps be understood
as a rhythm — does not resonate with the rhythms of the film, the
chaotic tempo of the game.
Time of the Image

What is the role of temporality in the film? In the example of Es-
coubas’ reading of Uccello’s paintings she proposed that setting time
into the space of the painting created a rhythmic plurality. Zidane
also consists of several senses of time. Firstly, there is the time of the
perception. From Merleau-Ponty’s perspective it is the perceiver who
connects both the past and the future. In film, as in temporal arts,
the spectator’s memory is challenged, since the work of art unfolds in
time.624 The meaning of the images is dependent on the images that
precede it and their succession creates a new reality. Yet this total-
ity is not simply a sum of the elements, because what counts in film
is not simply its ability to “record” time.625 The meaning of film is
incorporated into its rhythm.626
In traditional cinema there is also the time of the work of art, which
is considered fictive and often not continuous. On the other hand, the
623 Deleuze 2003, 35. | “The painter would thus make visible a kind of original
unity of the senses, and would make a multisensible Figure appear visually. But
this operation is possible only if the sensation of a particular domain (here, the
visual sensation) is in direct contact with the vital power that exceeds every domain
and traverses them all. This power is rhythm, which is more profound than vision,
hearing, etc. Rhythm appears as music when it invests the auditory level, and as
painting when it invests the visual level. This is a ‘logic of the senses’, as Cézanne
said, which is neither rational nor cerebral.” (Deleuze 2003, 42.)
624 For more on temporality in film, see for instance Hiltunen 2005, 29.
625 CNP, 69/54.
626 CNP, 73/57.
sports broadcast is obsessed with the “now”. As we know, in Zidane

time is considered to be as continuous and as “real” as possible. From
the outset, the work is supposedly linear, since it follows the clock-time
as in a football match. Of course, the time of a match is finite, as the
players are playing “against the clock”. This linearity of the game is
only broken momentarily.627
Both of the artists are interested in time.628 I mention here one
example, as it demonstrates also the use of time in Zidane. Gordon’s
installation 24 Hour Psycho (1993) slowed Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho
(1960) so that it lasted for 24 hours.629 The use of slow-motion empha-
sises the spectator’s consciousness of the different times i.e. the real
time and the time of the film. Gordon’s slowed-down Psycho creates a
feeling of suspension, highlighting the anticipation of spectators.630 In
Zidane there is no slow motion, but the intensity of filming underlines
other kinds of anticipation and suspension: as the spectator is unable
to follow the football or the game’s score, other aspects take centre
stage and create a tension between the action seen (marginal things,
idle moments) and the action on the field (scoring, special situations).
It is as if the film took place in another time.
If 24 Hour Psycho’s reference point is in the heightened awareness
of film’s time, its act of freezing as well as the dialogue with the new
techniques of watching, such as the possibilities of a VCR, Zidane is
reaching for a heightened awareness of time as well as for a dialogue
with the conventions of sports broadcasting. When there are reruns
of special situations in Zidane, they are shown distanced through a
television broadcast. Because of these shots, the conventional way of
627 For instance, intermediate time, when the film is “interrupted” by news flashes
and such from around the world, as if the world of the game were interrupted by
showing time outside the stadium — and yet in intermediate time there is also a
certain emphasis on the “nowness” of the events shown.
628 For instance, Parreno’s works often examine time and take advantage of the
format of the exhibition and the visibility time of the work. (Macel 2009, 15–16.)
629 There also other works, such as Black and White (Babylon) (1996) or 5 Year
Drive-By (1995), a work that was initially presented as a proposal to slow down The
Searchers (1956), a John Ford film so that it would last for 5 years. (Bloemheuvel
1998, 136–39.)
630 Mulvey points out that video has changed the way films are watched. Where
films were only seen in cinema at a preset speed, and repetition meant going again
to the cinema, video changed everything. Slow-motion and fast forward as well
as freezing were all just a click away from the spectator. As Gordon’s 24 Hour
Psycho draws attention to the hidden stillness, the materiality of the film — the
individual frames — it also sets the spectator back into helplessness, as there is no
way a gallery goer could affect the installation’s time. (Mulvey 2006, 101–102.)
looking at football through a television broadcast appears distanced

and mechanical, whereas the high precision zoom images of Zidane,
often shadowed by other players passing by with the sounds from the
stadium or music, appear more true, more graspable.
Zidane does not take place at the same time as the spectator is
living, but it is a devoted attempt to trace as minutely as possible
Zidane’s contribution to the game. The work is an attempt to reach
for the experience of the player, to grasp the presence of a football
player and the physical performance required of him. In short, the
film appears as an endeavor to preserve lived time. Through watching,
the spectator is wrenched into another time, namely to the “now” of
the football match. So, besides the attempt of “getting under the skin”
of the player, the film carries a characteristic that has to do with time.
It is an endeavor to preserve time, the intensity of now. The spectator
is invited, again and again, to jump into the lived time, the now of the
game, which could be called, to use Merleau-Pontian terms, originary
time, the time that is.
However, there are also several “flashbacks” and interruptions that
distract the linearity and intensity of now. For instance, there are texts
that are extracts from interviews with Zidane. From these texts the
spectator can read, for example, how Zidane remembers games only
fragmentarily and that he is not really present, or in other moments he
can hear the tiniest sounds from the crowd. This creates a tension: the
spectator sees the player on the screen, but we cannot be sure if the
person we see is really there. In addition, the use of sounds and music
emphasises the temporality of the work. For instance, in a scene where
the players of both teams are fighting over the ball, the sudden silence
and the barking of a dog together with some shouts from the players
as well as the kicking of the ball create an instantaneous displacement
to the backstreets of Marseille, or any other city, for that matter. Like-
wise, the soundscape is also used to build up anticipation: even though
there is no voice-over or a commentator guiding our view, the sound-
track, i.e. music and noises from the stadium, is very suggestive. At
points it functions in the same way as a commentary, raising excite-
ment in the spectator or directing us towards melancholy reflection
when nothing significant seems to be happening on the screen.
The inscribed passages from the interviews further confuse the time
and space of the film. Besides breaking a certain illusion of the presence
of the player, they also direct the spectators towards their own pasts.
In one of the texts there is a description of a childhood memory: a
boy — Zidane as a child — watching and listening to a football game
from a television set, trying to get closer to see what happens to the
star player. This childhood memory is very present in Zidane. Because
what is this film if not an attempt to turn that memory of following
one’s star-player into reality? This would imply that the spectators
are in the position of a small child, who is trying to get closer to the
pixelated screen and the hero he is following. At the same time the
spectator of the film may perhaps remember his or her own memories
of past sports heroes or become conscious of the fact that the star-
player of the past is now present on the screen, as Zidane undoubtedly
belongs to the history of football.
Besides an attempt to underline the now of the game as well as the
nostalgic past, the temporality of the film has a strong cyclic character.
What necessarily shadows the film is the infamous headbutt incidence
of the final in 2006: Zidane headbutted an Italian player in the chest
and received a red card. France lost the championship to Italy. It
was Zidane’s final game before his retirement.631 The spectator who
is familiar with the history of Zidane looks for signs of the future
outburst. Indeed, also in this film, Zidane loses his temper because one
of his team-mates has been fouled. As a result of the brawl, Zidane
is again given a red card and is sent off in the final minutes of the
match. As he exits, the filming stops.632 This final event, which in itself
is already dramatic, is difficult to see without hindsight, or without
considering similar earlier events where Zidane lost his temper. Here
time is not linear, but creates loops where the now of the game is
shadowed by an incident that took place much later than the filming,
and yet before the moment of watching the film. Here, the radiant
image of the film compresses into it a cycle of the future, the past and
the present. Time in Zidane is not there, and if it was there, the viewer
never coincides with it.
Even though the film invites the spectator into the tempo of the
game, into the lived experience of a footballer, it does not offer any final
explanations. Repeatedly, what we see escapes our comprehension. The
momentous cut, or disorientation, when Zidane flew into a rage and is
sent off is left without explanation, just like all the explanations trying
to find a causality that would “explain” Proust’s characters are in
vain.633 More than “revealing” the player himself, what Zidane brings
631 For an interpretation of this incident, see Pourriol 2010, 11–33.
632 Even though a match is not scripted, I claim that the filming affected it. Our
seeing can be traced from the screen: the presence of the cameras also affect the
match and the behaviour of the players.
633 Related to the discussion is another interpretation by Simon Critchley. Con-
to the surface is our own voyeurism. Zidane draws out a moment when
our own looking, our desire to look, is mirrored back to us, exposed.
The film is able to turn back on us as spectators, showing our own
voyeurism, our own desires and hopes which support the film. Indeed,
the film is an inscription of our look: the technology is an adjunct to
our desire to see, but the technology also turns against us, making us
hesitate and wonder whether we can find signs of ourselves on the field,
whether our urge somehow changes and affects what we see. The film
draws a portrait of a talented and celebrated footballer, but it also
turns its gaze back to us, to ask what are our own wishes, dreams and
desires: what are we looking for when watching Zidane?
Concluding Remarks
In this chapter I have elucidated what Merleau-Ponty held as the par-
ticular potential of cinema, namely the emphasis on film as a temporal
form and the idea of a rhythmic image. I further illustrated how the
central concepts of Merleau-Ponty, time and rhythm, are indivisible
from perception and our experience of being in the world. Within film
studies the phenomenological approach has underlined the importance
of the embodied spectator and the experience of film. In it, the relation
between the spectator and the film can be seen as reciprocal, as Barker
put it: “[w]hat we do see is the film seeing: we see its own (if humanly
enabled) process of perception and expression unfolding in space and
time.”634
In my reading of the case study, I examined in particular Zidane’s
ability to address the spectator. I suggested that Zidane creates a
rhythm of different visions that may take the spectator to the field
— or respectively, only creates a shattered and distanced impression
of the player if the rhythm of the image does not resonate with the
spectator’s own experience. Further, I showed how the film contains
different layers of time that are merged into an image of cyclic time.
cerning Zidane, Critchley asks: is Zidane a puppet or a god? Critchley attempts to

understand the magic of Zidane, to find a hint that could explain why this tragic
figure did as he did, destroyed himself. He writes: “Is Zidane a puppet or a god? I
couldn’t possibly say. What he has is grace. Which means that he could be both.
It is the grace of Zidane’s movement that astonishes: an utter containment and
repose broken by bursts of controlled power.” What Critchley’s reading underlines
is a certain tension in Zidane, and how “[t]he true hero is possessed of fragility and
solitude. Most of all, and here is where Zidane comes closest to the figure of the
hero, he is wedded to self-ruination.” (Critchley 2009.)
634 Barker 2009, 9.
As a final note, I refer to an interview in which Zidane commented

on the film. He mentioned — with a certain amazement in his tone —
how he could recognize himself on the field, how to him “it was me”.635
Louis Marin had presented the idea of a portrait, where something is
put forward, produced, extracted or abstracted from the individual.636
Jacques Derrida on the other hand has suggested that a (photographic)
portrait could capture the gaze, the one thing that is out of reach
of the subject.637 Merleau-Ponty also underlined the impossibility of
seeing our own seeing. Evidently it can be concluded that the film
as a portrait is successful in its ability to approach the limit of this
invisibility, to open to the footballer himself his own seeing, his own
movement.638
635 “C’est bien moi.” Interview, Gordon & Parreno 2006.

636 Marin 2001, 204.
637 Derrida 2010, 31.
638 VI, 303/254.
7
Positioned into Space: Touch, Reversibility,
Passivity
In the previous chapters I have examined the themes of space, move-

ment and time in respect to artistic expression. In the following I will
study closer the relationship between the spectator and the artwork.
At the same time I will also inquire into the limits and conditions of
“seeing with”, and thus further clarify this concept. I will pay special
attention to the structures of passivity and reversibility, which both
contribute to an understanding of our participation in the world. In
close connection to these topics, I will also study the relations be-
tween the sense of touch and the sense of vision.639 Within the scope
of my thesis, I will confine my treatment to Merleau-Ponty’s discourse
on touch and vision, but I will also take into account the critiques
presented by Jacques Derrida and Luce Irigaray.
The case study of this chapter is Fountain (2006), a site-specific
installation by Monika Sosnowska.640 Before proceeding to the inter-
pretation of her work, I will discuss the key features of site-specific
art and installation art. For instance, how the bodily presence of the
spectator and the reciprocal relationship between the artwork and the
639 The topics of touch and tactile sensation are broad and have been dealt with by
various philosophers from Antiquity to contemporary philosophy, most recently by

Jean-Luc Nancy, but earlier already by classical and existential phenomenologists,
such as Husserl and Merleau-Ponty.
640 Before proceeding to the discussion, let me indicate one diverging feature of
this chapter’s case study. All the artworks I have discussed in previous chapters
can still be experienced at first hand in one way or another. Even though I have
observed all of the discussed works, including Fountain, at first hand, I wish to
underline that the following case study is a site-specific installation and it is now
inaccessible — the work was taken down in 2006. However, as vital as the physical
experience of a work of art is, it is equally true that within this thesis none of the
artworks is present before us.
195
196 CHAPTER 7. POSITIONED INTO SPACE
beholder are both central in the experience and phenomenon of art.

In my discussion of Fountain, I pay special attention to the sensory
features of the artwork, and ask how — in what sense — the work can
be said to reach the spectator by “touching” him or her, and how it can
“hide” from the spectator by challenging his or her sensory capacities.
I am especially interested in examining the possible confines of our un-
derstanding of the encounter with a work of art. What happens when
the work of art refuses to “do its part”, and when it “hides” from the
viewer? Does the experience of “seeing with” include the activities of
meaning-giving and taking control of the work? Or is this experience
passive in the more radical sense of proceeding sense-giving acts or
functioning independently of them? Can artworks challenge our abil-
ities of reception and interpretation to the point in which the idea of
“encountering” them would be frivolous or misleading? What role and
sense can passivity have in the experiences of art works?
7.1 From Vision to Touch: Reversibility and Passivity

Merleau-Ponty explicated and developed his concept of encountering
especially in his mid-career, in the monograph manuscript The Prose
of the World and in “Eye and Mind”. In the third chapter of my
thesis, I drew attention to the fact that in The Prose of the World
Merleau-Ponty makes a strong parallel between two different types
of encountering: the encounter with a work of art and the encounter
with another person.641 In his view, both encounters include, besides
familiarity and closeness, strangeness and alienness: “But if the book
really teaches me something, if the other person is really another, at
a certain stage I must be surprised, disoriented.”642 The spectator’s
attitude, his or her alertness and openness, plays a significant role in
Merleau-Ponty’s analysis of art. A crucial shift in the attitude of the
spectator enables the experience of “seeing with”, otherwise the work
would remain an object, something we merely look at (voir ceci). In
other words, we categorise and consider the work as something we al-
ready know, and there would be no possibility for a genuine dialogue.
But what kind of presence is demanded from the spectator?
641 Seesection 3.3.

642 PM, 142. “Mais, si le livre m’apprend vraiment quelque chose, si autrui est
vraiment un autre, il faut qu’à un certain moment je sois surpris, désorienté [...]”
PM, 198.
7.1. FROM VISION TO TOUCH 197
As we have seen, Merleau-Ponty emphasised the corporeal nature

of our relationship to the world and to other subjects. For him, the
shared anonymous corporeality forms the basis of all communication.
In other words, a certain familiarity is required or presupposed in order
to understand both other persons and artworks. Merleau-Ponty’s early
descriptions of communication stress the reciprocity of the situation
of the two subjects. In Phenomenology of Perception, he writes for
example: “[t]he communication or comprehension of gestures comes
about through the reciprocity of my intentions and the gestures of
others, of my gestures and intentions discernible in the conduct of
other people.”643 Further, in the chapter “Other Selves and the Human
World” he emphasises the role of language and especially the dialogical
relation, in which the thoughts of two people are “inter-woven into a
single fabric”.644 In this situation, “the other is for me no longer a
mere bit of my behaviour in my transcendental field, nor I in his; we
are collaborators for each other in consummate reciprocity.”645
Towards the end of his career Merleau-Ponty gave more empha-
sis and specification to his concept of reversibility. In Phenomenology
of Perception reversibility was characterised by symmetrical dialogue,
but in the later works it is defined by divergence and by the impos-
sibility of total symmetry.646 Lawrence Hass argues that reversibility
and écart are “different aspects of the same relation: the opening-
divergence and the accompanying overlap.”647 Reversibility is a mani-
fold or multifunctional concept. First, it describes the relationship that
a person has to himself. This aspect of reversibility can be clarified by
643 PP, 215, “La communication ou la compréhension des gestes s’obtient par la
réciprocité de mes intentions et des gestes d’autrui, de mes gestes et des intentions
lisibles dans la conduite d’autrui.” PP, 215. | On reciprocity and reversibility in
Merleau-Ponty, see Adams 2001.
644 PP, 413. “un seul tissu” PP, 407.
645 PP, 413. “autrui n’est plus ici pour moi un simple comportement dans mon
champ transcendantal, ni d’ailleurs moi dans le sien, nous sommes l’un pour l’autre
collaborateurs dans une réciprocité parfaite” PP, 407. | In The Prose of the World
he writes about communication. In his opinion, an expression is able to constitute
a shared situation that is no longer merely “a community of being” (communauté
d’être) but “a community of doing” (communauté de faire), creating together some-
thing new. (PM, 195/140.)
646 Merleau-Ponty writes on reciprocity: “In the absence of reciprocity there is no
alter Ego, since the world of the one then takes in completely that of the other, so
that one feels disinherited in favour of the other.” PP, 416. “Sans réciprocité, il n’y
a pas d’alter Ego, puisque le monde de l’un enveloppe alors celui de l’autre et que
l’un se sent aliéné au profit de l’autre.” PP, 410.
647 Hass 2008, 132.
an articulation of the phenomenon of two hands touching, in which it

is not possible to make a fixed or stable distinction between sensing
and the sensed. Further, reversibility defines the person’s relationship
to the other, as well as his relationship to the world in general. In The
Visible and the Invisible, reversibility is assimilated with chiasm and it
is claimed to characterise our relation to our own bodies, our sensing,
and our being in the world with others.648
In the essay “The Philosopher and His Shadow” Merleau-Ponty
gives his mature interpretation of Husserl’s phenomenology of embod-
iment. He addresses the problem of solipsism and studies touch and
tangible relations in particular. Merleau-Ponty emphasises the fact
that what was at stake for Husserl was the constituting of man for
man, and not just mind for mind. Touch does not play a special role
in these inquiries, not just because it reveals our bodies as “perceiving
things”, “sensible sentients”, and “subject-objects”, but also because it
is crucial in the constitution of others and their world of experience. In
chapter 5, when discussing photography, I mentioned Merleau-Ponty’s
example of a handshake and how it accentuates our permanent inter-
corporeality and intertwining: in a handshake I and the other are “like
organs of one single intercorporeality”.649 Reversibility in its different
forms is the central topic of The Visible and the Invisible. In the chap-
ter “The Intertwining — the Chiasm” Merleau-Ponty describes the
double nature of the body as the seen and the seer, the touched and
the touching, but he argues that these two experiences, the touching
and the being touched, are not simultaneous or coinciding. The two
hands that touch one another always remain separate and allot the
roles of touching and of being touched between them. Reversibility is
“[...] always imminent and never realized in fact.”650 Rejection of total
coincidence equals divergence.
By focusing on the idea of reversibility, it is possible to understand
Merleau-Ponty’s conception of perception and flesh. As I have already
emphasised, reversibility does not only take place within our bodies
and it is not a matter of only one sense, but reversibility also takes
place between different senses and between the self and others. The
description of my hands touching one another can be applied to inter-
subjective relations: “Now why would this generality, which constitutes
648 Dupond 2008, 24–25.
649 S, 168. “[...] comme les organes d’une seule intercorporéité [...]” S, 274. | See
also section 4.2.
650 VI, 147. “[...] d’une réversibilité toujours imminente et jamais réalisée en fait.”
VI, 191.
the unity of my body, not open it to other bodies? The handshake too
is reversible”.651 At the same time a similar relation of intertwining is
discovered at the heart of perception, between touch and vision.652 In
The Visible and the Invisible, we read:
Hence, without even entering into the implications proper to the

seer and the visible, we know that, since vision is a palpation
with the look, it must also be inscribed in the order of being
that it discloses to us; he who looks must not himself be foreign
to the world that he looks at. As soon as I see, it is necessary that
the vision (as is so well indicated by the double meaning of the
word) be doubled with a complementary vision or with another
vision: myself seen from without, such as another would see me,
installed in the midst of the visible, occupied in considering it
from a certain place.653
Here, Merleau-Ponty uses the expression “palpation with the look”

to articulate the tangible and experimental nature of seeing, i.e. the
“certain groping” or “fingering” by vision, or as he himself said, “prox-
imity through distance”.654 Here, seeing is paralleled with touching.
In “palpation” the look does not know what is seen, but only feels
its way. However, as Merleau-Ponty proposes, since vision is palpation
651 VI, 142; also in MPR, 402. “Or, cette généralité qui fait l’unité de mon corps,
pourquoi ne l’ouvrirait-elle pas aux autres corps ? La poignée de main aussi est
réversible” VI, 184. | Flesh is understood, as emphasised in famous passage, as not
only matter, but also an element, a general thing, “midway between the spatiotem-
poral individual and the idea” (VI, 139; also in MPR). “à mi-chemin de l’individu
spatio-temporel et de l’idée” (VI, 182). Some commentators consider flesh to be
the final turn on the path started in The Structure of Behavior: from phenomenal
structure to proper body and to the flesh. (See Flajoliet 2003.)
652 Merleau-Ponty’s chapter “The Intertwining — the Chiasm” starts by pointing
out that vision seems to be formed at the heart of the visible. He argues that the
blending or indistinction between the seer and the seen is not possible — “for then
the vision would vanish at the moment of formation” (VI, 131; also in MPR, 393.
“car alors la vision s’évanouirait au moment de se faire” VI, 171) — but that it is
exactly the challenge, the intertwining of the seer and seen, that he then sets to
address.
653 VI, 134; also in MPR, 396. “puisque la vision est palpation par le regard, il
faut qu’elle aussi s’inscrive dans l’ordre d’être qu’elle nous dévoile, il faut que celui
qui regarde ne soit pas lui-même étranger au monde qu’il regarde. Dès que je vois,
il faut (comme l’indique si bien le double sens du mot) que la vision soit doublée
d’une vision complémentaire ou d’une autre vision : moi-même vu du dehors, tel
qu’un autre me verrait, installé au milieu de visible, en train de le considérer d’un
certain lieu.” VI, 175.
654 VI, 128. “proximité par distance” VI, 168.
with the look, the seer is also exposed to the palpation of the others’
looks. For Merleau-Ponty the body is twofold; on the one hand it is a
thing among things, but on the other hand it is our access and means
of grasping all things. “It cannot be by incomprehensible accident that
the body has this double reference; it teaches us that each calls for the
other.”655 He thus argues that my vision is constantly “complemented”
by the other’s vision of me. So there is a permanent movement from
the self to its outside. Merleau-Ponty writes:
Thus since the seer is caught up in what he sees, it is still himself

he sees: there is a fundamental narcissism of all vision. And thus,
for the same reason, the vision he exercises, he also undergoes
from the things, such that, as many painters have said, I feel
myself looked at by the things, my activity is equally passivity
— which is the second and more profound sense of the narcis-
sism: not to see in the outside, as the others see it, the contour
of a body one inhabits, but especially to be seen by the outside,
to exist within it, to emigrate into it, to be seduced, captivated,
alienated by the phantom, so that the seer and the visible recip-
rocate one another and we no longer know which sees and which
is seen.656
For Merleau-Ponty, there are at the same time three different reg-
isters — the seer, the observer, and the actor or agent. This funda-
mentally threefold activity is merged with another experience, that of
passivity and being looked at. This experience implies the possibility
of other perceivers as well as the structure of the flesh in which every-
one is necessarily part of the same tissue, the element of the world. He
emphasises that at the heart of vision there lies a certain narcissism,
a willingness to be seen by others, or by the phantom, as he calls it.
655 VI, 137; also in MPR 398. “Si le corps a cette double référence, ce ne peut être
par un hasard incompréhensible. Il nous enseigne que chacune appelle l’autre.” VI,
178–79.
656 VI, 139; also in MPR, 400. “De sorte que le voyant étant pris dans cela qu’il
voit, c’est encore lui-même qu’il voit : il y a un narcissisme fondamental de toute

vision ; et que, pour la même raison, la vision qu’il exerce, il la subit aussi de la
part des choses, que, comme l’ont dit beaucoup de peintres, je me sens regardé par
les choses, que mon activité est identiquement passivité — ce qui est le sens second
et plus profond du narcissisme : non pas voir dans le dehors comme les autres
voient, le contour d’un corps qu’on habite, mais surtout être vu par lui, exister en
lui, émigrer en lui, être séduit, capté, aliéné par le fantôme, de sorte que voyant et
visible se réciproquent et qu’on ne sait plus qui voit et qui est vu.” VI, 181.
To put it in more exact terms, the fundamental narcissism of all vi-

sion is not about the interest of seeing the outside of ourselves in the
way others see it, but it is rather in the interest of staying, existing,
lingering in vision, being seduced by visibility. Merleau-Ponty argued
that we all belong to or take part in anonymous visibility, the flesh
of the world that is shared. At the heart of seeing there is the fun-
damental consciousness of our participation in the visible: “we situate
ourselves in ourselves and in the things, in ourselves and in the other,
at the point where, by a sort of chiasm, we become the others and we
become world.”657
In On Touching — Jean-Luc Nancy (Le toucher, Jean-Luc Nancy,
2000), Jacques Derrida examines critically the philosophical history of
tactility. He devotes a whole chapter to Merleau-Ponty’s account on
touch and starts his interpretation from Merleau-Ponty’s reading of
Husserl.658 He states: “Although Merleau-Ponty seems to follow Ideas
II and seems to begin with touch, all too soon, he associates with
it, on the same plane, the example of sight”.659 Derrida argues that
Merleau-Ponty’s reading of Husserl does not manage to make sense of
the privileged position of touch in the constitution of the lived body
and, thus, he does not manage to be faithful to Husserl’s philosophical
task, but actually misreads him. From Derrida’s viewpoint Merleau-
Ponty is especially careless in his description of the other and our
possibilities of accessing the other’s experience. Whereas Husserl un-
derlined the eidetic fact that I cannot have access to or control over
the other’s lived body, Merleau-Ponty theorises an intertwining be-
tween the two. In short, Derrida accuses him of falling into the very
pitfall that he attempted to avoid: Merleau-Ponty’s elaboration on the
Husserlian conception of the other ends up nullifying the alterity of
the other.660
657 VI, 160. “Nous nous plaçons [...] en nous et dans les choses, en nous et en
autrui, au point où, par une sorte de chiasma, nous devenons les autres et nous
devenons monde.” VI, 210.
658 Christopher Watkin describes this text by Derrida as a decisive intervention
in the ongoing French debate on both reassessing the relation of phenomenology

and deconstruction, as well as the growing and renewed interest in the work of
Merleau-Ponty. (Watkin 2009, 13.)
659 Derrida 2005, 186.
660 Derrida 2005, 191. | Derrida further writes: “It is necessary to watch over the
other’s alterity: it will always remain inaccessible to an originally presentive intu-

ition, an immediate and direct presentation of the here. It is necessary to watch
over this, even if, for a phenomenology that is faithful to its intuitionistic ‘principle
of principles,’ it is difficult to assimilate — the very principle that governs hapto-
centeredness in Ideas II. I do know or feel that there is another here, and since
However, towards the end of his discussion, Derrida moves on to

analyse The Visible and the Invisible. Here, he acknowledges a certain
affinity between his own thinking and a late manuscript by Merleau-
Ponty. Derrida writes: “And more hospitably now, it is the threshold of
the sense of touch that is openly greeting noncoincidence, interruption,
all that makes reversibility or reflexivity always inaccessible, and only
immanent”.661 My intention is not to take a definitive stand on Der-
rida’s criticism, but I wish to point out that Merleau-Ponty’s descrip-
tion of the phenomenon of touch and especially his parallel of touch
and vision is far from unproblematic. It is important to acknowledge
that Merleau-Ponty’s thinking on touch and his concept of reversibility
did not remain the same throughout his career.662 In his later works
Merleau-Ponty increasingly emphasised noncoincidence and interrup-
tion and moved away from the ideas of fusion and simultaneity. This
suggests that, contrary to post-phenomenological criticism, Merleau-
Pontian reversibility is not a closed system or an abolishing of all
limits, but an opening to what is alien and other to the self.663
Indeed, as was already shown, increasingly after Phenomenology of
Perception Merleau-Ponty considered the element of lacunae or sur-
prise as a pivotal point in the process of encountering the other. This
meant that reciprocity must also include a difference. I stress: a break,
disorientation and losing one’s sense of direction lie at the core of en-
countering another person as well an the artwork.664 It is first and
foremost the moment of surprise that confirms the difference, the ali-
enness that is necessary for the recognition of the other.665 This mo-
ment is described by Merleau-Ponty with the term écart, which refers
this is our theme, the other here of a touching-touched [...] but this other ‘here’
presents itself as that which will never be mine.” (Derrida 2005, 191–92.) A similar
line of critique has been presented by Luce Irigaray, who also accused Merleau-
Ponty of privileging vision: he was unable to understand how reversibility between
the tangible and the visible is not complete, and he also failed to acknowledge oth-
erness. In her reading of Merleau-Ponty in An Ethics of Sexual Difference, Irigaray
underlines how the visible and the tactile do not obey same laws or rhythms of the
flesh. She argues that Merleau-Ponty fails to take into account that even though
the visible needs the tactile, not all that is tangible can be rendered visible — this
includes, for instance, the pre-natal experience. Further, Merleau-Ponty ignores
sexual difference. (Irigaray 1993, 151–84; Weiss 1999, 199–23; Chanter 2000.)
661 Derrida 2005, 208. | Derrida uses the expression “réversibilité sensible”.
662 See also Johnson 2010, 38.
663 Irigaray 1993, 172; see also Chanter 2000, 220.
664 PM 198/142.
665 As Dastur remarks, the experience of one’s own body is not that of an object
or subject, but something of a third kind, in between. (Dastur 2008, 29.)

to an experience of divergence or dispossession. Previously I discussed

Escoubas’ reading of Merleau-Ponty in which écart marks the differ-
ence that enables us to “see with” the work of art, in distinction from
looking at something. I also showed how écart does not only belong to
the experience of the other person or a work of art, but also defines
our relation to ourselves. Thus we ourselves are marked by a special
form a divergence.666 As we saw in chapter 3, Michael Yeo underlines
that experiences of surprise and disorientation also have ethical im-
plications.667 He stresses the fact that the experience of losing one’s
track or getting lost does not eliminate difference, but on the contrary
affirms it, in so far as the new disorientating is not classified as non-
sense or incoherent. To sum up, reversibility defines our participating
in the generality of the sensible; it is this anonymity which is innate
to our bodies and which Merleau-Ponty calls the flesh.668
At this point I would like to pay attention to the notion of partic-
ipation. Not only because it defines our being in the world, but also
because it is a central notion in the discourses of site-specific and in-
stallation art, where physical participation is highlighted, as the works
address the different senses. In Merleau-Ponty’s discourse, the concept
of participation referred primarily to our participation in (and kinship
with) the visible, i.e. the sensible. This participation is experienced
or made visible in the situations I have already described above, for
instance in sudden situations of being looked at. As is well known, the
notion of participation has also been widely used within the tradition
of aesthetics.669 It was central in Heidegger’s phenomenology of art,
and was developed further by Hans-Georg Gadamer, who coined the
idea of an artwork which engages the spectator in play.670 Within con-
temporary phenomenological aesthetics Arnold Berleant has developed
a theoretical model on participation. He writes in Art and Engagement
(1991):
In landscape painting, a traditional genre in an art of great tradi-

tions, aesthetic participation leads us to reshape our understand-
ing of how paintings can function in appreciative experience. Par-
ticipation transforms what may appear as a distant and gentle
666 See the discussion on écart in sections 3.2 and 5.2.

667 Yeo 1992, 48.
668 VI, 181/139.
669 On the subject of participation in contemporary visual arts, see Bishop 2006.
670 Haapala 2006; see also Gadamer 2004, 102–10.
pastoral into an active scene which requires the involvement of

the viewer to render it complete.671
Further, Berleant underlines how there is a continuum of the hu-

man body and the perceptual world. “The perceptual awareness of
environment has become central here. Space floods our awareness
kinesthetically through muscle tension and movement, as in walking
or in driving.”672 He, too, in the wake of Merleau-Ponty, underlines the
multi-sensuous aspects of the experience: “We grasp space tactually as
well, from its subtle presence to the skin over the entire body. At times
we detect spatial regions through sounds heard and uttered. There is
even olfactory space [...].” In his reading of the phenomenological aes-
thetics of space Berleant underlines that our spatial world appears
through an “environmental sensibility that blends sensory modalities,
just as it fuses person and environment.”673 Berleant describes a sit-
uation where both the different sense perceptions are difficult to tell
apart from each other and where the surrounding space encompasses
the spectator in a manner that he or she becomes a participant in it. In
short, our being in the world that is defined by the reversible relation
to ourselves, to others and to the world, can also be described as a
form of participation.
Merleau-Ponty’s discussion on reversibility as well as the idea of
participation both have important connections to the phenomena of
passivity. Seeing already implies a certain passivity, namely a possible
submission to the other’s gaze. To participate does not require activity:
The chiasm, reversibility, is the idea that every perception is dou-

bled with a counter-perception (Kant’s real opposition), is an act
with two faces, one no longer knows who speaks and who listens.
Speaking-listening, seeing-being seen, perceiving-being perceived
circularity (it is because of it that it seems to us that perception
forms itself in the things themselves) — Activity = passivity.674
A new understanding of passivity is elementary in apprehending

this situation. It is likewise necessary to understand the encounter-
671 Berleant 1991, 54–55.
672 Berleant 1991, 94.
673 Berleant 1991, 94.
674 VI, 264–65. “Le chiasme, la réversibilité, c’est l’idée que toute perception est
doublée d’une contre-perception (opposition réelle de Kant), est acte à deux faces,
on ne sait plus qui parle et qui écoute. Circularité parler-écouter, voir-être vu,
percevoir-être perçu (c’est elle qui fait qu’il nous semble que la perception se fait
dans les choses mêmes) — Activité = passivité.” VI, 312.
ing with an artwork, since it holds similar conditions: both the phe-
nomenon of surprise and our ability of abstaining from positioning or
setting the perceived artwork as an object are linked to passivity. And
so is the idea of an icon-painting, a work of art that “contains” the
spectator and “looks back”. As Merleau-Ponty remarks, consciousness
is not merely a constant process of “donating senses,” and therefore
we must also discuss our relation to the world beyond positioning and
defining.675
The descriptions of perception and expression presented in Phe-
nomenology of Perception showed how the oppositions of active and
passive are dissolved. In Merleau-Ponty’s reading it is not possible to
pinpoint or determine where perception ends and expression starts:
perception is expressive, but it also carries a level of anonymity.676
As a theme, passivity interested Merleau-Ponty especially in the mid
1950s. He wanted to find a third solution which would liberate us from
the compulsion of choosing between the two opposites: the world en-
tirely made or the subject who makes the whole world.677 In the lecture
course “The Problem of Passivity: Sleep, the Unconscious, Memory”
(“Le problème de la passivité. Le sommeil, l’inconscient, la mémoire”)
given at the Collège de France in 1954–1955 Merleau-Ponty worked to
define a passivity that would not exclude all activity, thus a passivity
that is still active.678 In the course notes, he addressed the questions
of dream, unconscious and memory and comments, for instance, on
Sartre’s understanding of the imaginary and Freud’s conception of
the unconscious, as well as presenting a close reading of the Case of
Dora.679
The distinction between passivity and activity was already cru-
cial for Husserl. He clarifies their relation especially in his Analyses
Concerning Passive and Active Synthesis (Analysen zur passiven Syn-
675 IP, 267/206, also in RC 67.

676 PP, 249/250. See also section 2.3.
677 Saint Aubert 2006, 31.
678 Published in IP. The summary of the course is also published in RC.
679 The passivity lectures can also be seen as an attempt to provide a phenomeno-
logical answer to the psychoanalytical discussion that was at that time emerging
in France. Jacques Lacan had started his weekly seminars some years before. It
has been suggested that the psychoanalytic counterpart for the écart would be the
unconscious, which for Freud formed the uniting feature, whereas for Lacan it only
appeared in the breaks and cuts. The relationship between Merleau-Ponty and La-
can is a complicated one. See, for instance, Alexandra Renault’s “Merleau-Ponty
et Lacan: Un dialogue possible?” (2003) and Félix Duportail’s Les institutions du
monde de la vie. Merleau-Ponty et Lacan (2008).
thesis. Aus Vorlesungs- und Forschungsmanuskripten, 1918–1926).680

The lecture series itself is a phenomenological-genealogical investiga-
tion of the origin of truth. To sum up those aspects of Husserl’s dis-
course on passivity that are relevant for Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy of
art, Anthony J. Steinbock’s explication of three central ideas is useful.
First, he states that in Husserl “passivity suggests a sphere of experi-
ence in which the ‘ego’ is not active, i.e., does not creatively participate
or actively orient itself in the constitution of sense.”681 This means
that passivity is primarily opposed to the active life and the meaning-
giving acts of the ego. Second, Steinbock points out that passivity is
equivalent to pre-predicative perceptual experience. Third, passivity
is a necessary part of experience, and is not a deprivation, since all
activity presupposes the foundation of passivity.682
For Merleau-Ponty the analysis of passivity was again an attempt
to avoid the dichotomies by which the body is either considered to be
just one of the objects in the world or the world is turned into a part
of our consciousness. He writes:
In sum, one attempts to pull me toward idealism or toward mon-

adology, whereas my goal was to affirm the identity with being
of the perceived world as such. In order to make this project —
and therefore the surpassing of the activity (idealism) — passiv-
ity (finality) problem — understood, it is only necessary to enter
once more into the elucidation of the world and the subject.683
Merleau-Ponty states that from the point of view of the world, the
problem is to avoid limiting it to a static image of perceived reality.
The perceived world should be taken up as being more than the reality
given in sensory experience. On the other hand, from the subjective
point of view, Merleau-Ponty sets as his goal to examine the lived body
of the subject in all its aspects. Thus the body is more than a material
thing or a natural reality. Besides the fields of sensation, it also has
680 The German original is published in Husserliana XI. Steinbock’s English
translation, however, contains certain additions as well as a partial reorganisation

of the text.
681 Steinbock 2004, 23.
682 Husserl APA, § 49; Steinbock 2004, 23.
683 IP, 124. “En somme on essaye de me tirer ou vers idéalisme ou vers mona-
dologie alors que mon but était d’affirmer l’identité avec l’être du monde perçu
tel quel. Pour faire comprendre ce projet — et donc le dépassement du problème
activité (idéalisme) passivité (finalité) — il faut seulement entrer davantage dans
l’élucidation du monde et du sujet.” IP, 166–67.
imaginary, ideological and mythical fields. This involves an examina-

tion of sleep and the unconscious, for instance, as internal possibilities
of consciousness.684 All in all, in the lecture course Merleau-Ponty tries
to find a solution to the problem of phenomenologically dealing with
worldly relations in which the person is not consciously or intentional-
ity doing something, e.g. dreaming. So the Merleau-Pontian approach
to passivity is to study the intertwining of passivity and activity in
concrete experiences, not as reverse sides or as separate aspects of hu-
man life. Moreover, passivity is linked to a “good negativity”, to the
incompleteness and dynamism of perception, and as such it is found
at the heart of sensuous experience. Being conscious is not equivalent
to actively positing meanings, but it involves the structure of écart,
divergence from and variation of meanings already instituted.685
To live, for humans, is not merely to impose significations per-

petually, but to continue a vortex of experience which is formed,
with our birth, at the point of contact between the “outside” and
the one who is called to live it.686
Merleau-Ponty describes how the difference between what is real

and what is dreamlike is not merely a distinction between conscious-
ness full of meaning and consciousness restored to its proper empti-
ness, and claims that our relationship to others and other people is in
principle of a dreamy character.687
Merleau-Ponty’s account of passivity thus helps us to understand
his thesis about the ontological priority of the perceived world. How-
ever, in that world “It is a matter of finding, in the world of which we
have experience, [an] other being and [an] other sense, from which ob-
jective being is concealed, of which objective being is ‘idealization’.”688
I argue that artworks are crucial for our experience of the world
since they are able to open up for us another being, another sense
684 Already in Phenomenology of Perception, Merleau-Ponty argues that all dif-
ferent variations of consciousness — the mythical, the primitive, the infantile, and
the pathological — must be included in the phenomenology of perception.
685 IP, 267/206; also in RC, 67.
686 IP, 206. “Vivre, pour un homme, n’est pas seulement imposer perpétuellement
des significations, mais continuer un tourbillon d’expérience qui s’est formé, avec
notre naissance, au point de contact du ‘dehors’ et de celui qui est appelé à le
vivre.” IP, 267; also in RC, 67.
687 IP, 194/147.
688 IP, 126. “Il s’agit de trouver dans le monde dont nous avons l’expérience
[un] autre être et [un] autre sens à l’égard duquel l’être objectif est dérobé, est
‘idéalisation’.” IP, 170. Square brackets in the original.
— dream-like and imaginary — in short the perceived world beyond

the sensible nature. Passivity is the key concept in the attempt to
understand how our dreams, memories, and the past are present in
our encountering with the art work, how the work of art can surprise
us and disturb us, and how this happens without the spectator simply
“giving senses” to what he or she perceives.689
7.2 On Installation and Site-Specific Art

Before proceeding to the last case study, it is necessary to look at the
tradition of installations and site-specific art, as it helps us to contextu-
alise Sosnowska’s Fountain as well as show how the phenomenological
approach has influenced these art forms. I mentioned earlier how phe-
nomenology has inspired artists, theorists and curators, such as Ros-
alind Krauss’ influential readings of minimalist art.690 Phenomenology
enabled one to pay attention to the intertwined and reciprocal relation-
ship between the spectator and the work.691 This relation is underlined
not only in minimalism but also in installation art and site-specific art.
Installation art and site-specific art are connected to each other. They
share, for instance, in their early stages a certain anti-institutional urge
689 Mauro Carbone has drawn attention to a passage in “Eye and Mind” where
Merleau-Ponty uses the term voyance: “Thus, the mental image, the visualization
[voyance] which renders present to us what is absent [...]” (Œ 132. “A plus forte
raison l’image mentale, la voyance qui nous rend présent ce qui est absent [...]” Œ,
41). He interprets Merleau-Pontian voyance to be a means to bring together the
intelligible and the sensible. Further on, Carbone suggests that voyance complies
with a definition of seeing in which passivity and activity are indistinguishable. In
Carbone’s reading voyance would be a description of an attitude: thinking about
reading, it would refer to a kind of reading that does not merely decipher sig-
nifications of words, but would be directed towards the layers and aspects that
escape deciphering and unequivocal interpretation. It would also emphasise how
the reader or spectator is both active and passive, not only imposing meanings, but
also exposing his- or herself to the work. Carbone underlines how voyance would
be seeing that cannot separate existence and essence, and neither would it be in-
terested in separation into sensory fields. He writes on voyance: “[it is] a vision that
sees the invisible in the visible and thus allows us to find, within the very veil of
music or of literary speech, the invisible of the idea that shines through.” (Carbone
2004, 35; see also 33–38.)
690 See section 2.3; Krauss 1977.
691 Later on the demand for reciprocity can be seen to have developed into interac-
tive work. Some of these works depend heavily on new technology, but interactivity
is by no means only a feature of art made with new media — one can find forms of
interactivity in all arts. (For more on interactivity and technology, see for instance
Van de Vall 2008, 146.)
7.2. ON INSTALLATION AND SITE-SPECIFIC ART 209
to challenge the position of museums and galleries.692 I will first touch

upon certain aspects of site-specific art and thereafter explore instal-
lation art, even though it is difficult to keep the overlapping aspects
separated.
On Site-Specificity
In recent years, the nature of site-specific art has changed along with
the general understanding of place and space.693 Indeed, the field seems
to be in the process of transformation. Art historian Miwon Kwon has
researched the question of site-specificity in art in One Place After An-
other (2004). According to her, the change is signalled, for instance, by
a whole new terminology that expresses the different aspects and views
of site-specificity, such as site-conscious, site-related, site-determined,
etc. The gamut of terms reflect, among other things, how the rela-
tion to space is undergoing transformation and that the relation to
the tradition of site-specific art of the 1960s, whose primary concern
was to present an anti-institutional and anti-commercial statement,
has changed. Kwon’s analyses show how site-specific art has been un-
critically adopted by art institutions and art discourse.694
Kwon sketches out the history of the art form, and how its early
works rose in the tradition of minimalism, drawing inspiration from
phenomenology and an understanding of site through the physical
attributes of the location. These works were connected with being
grounded and subject to the laws of physics, considering the site no
longer as a tabula rasa but as a precondition which formally deter-
mined the work itself. Artists aimed at creating an indivisible rela-
tionship between the work and its site. This thinking was perhaps
most famously exemplified by Richard Serra’s Tilted Arc (1981–1989)
on Federal Plaza in New York, a work of art that epitomises the phe-
nomenologically orientated works in Kwon’s analysis.695 In short, phe-
nomenologically orientated works were considered to be place-bound
692 In Miwon Kwon’s study on the nature of site-specific works (2004) as well as
the studies by Claire Bishop (2005) and Julie H. Reiss (1999) which discuss the
history of installation art, emphasis is laid on the anti-institutional character of
both movements.
693 For shifts in the thinking of space, see Casey 1993; 1997. For the meaning of
globalisation and space from the angle of geography, see Massey 2005.
694 Besides One Place After Another (2004), I refer to Kwon’s article “The Wrong
Place” published both in Art Journal and From Studio to Situation (2004b).
695 The curving wall of raw steel launched a fierce discussion on public and site-
specific art in the USA. (Potts 2000, 265.)

and bodily experienced. Later on these works were criticised as be-

ing isolated from the community, stable, non-communicative, imposed
from above, and disconnected from the surrounding society. Artists
like Robert Smithson and Daniel Buren, who were inspired by the
contextual thinking of minimalism, the different forms of institutional
critique and by conceptual art, started to question the “innocence” of
space, and the idea of a universal viewing subject and instead wished
to take into account the cultural framework along with physical and
spatial aspects.696
Lately site has been conceived as a network of interrelated spaces
sustaining art’s ideological system. Kwon sums up the development:
“The mobilization of site-specific art from decades ago, and the no-
madism of artists in recent site-orientated practices, can be viewed
alike as symptomatic of the dynamics of deterritorialization as theo-
rized in urban spatial discourse [...]”.697 She also notes, how “[w]ithin
the limited critical discussions concerning present-day, site-orientated
art, one tendency has been to valorize the nomadic condition”.698 As
a term “nomadic condition” refers to site understood not as grounded
and fixed — theoretically this approach draws from Deleuze and Guat-
tari to whom nomadism was set in contrast to the rigid and static
state.699 As an example, Kwon points to artists such as Andrea Fraser
and Mark Dion, who are moving towards site as an intertextually coor-
dinated, multiply located, discursive field of operation.700 The reasons
behind the nomadic condition of a site are complex and imply both
theoretical and practical changes. For instance, on the practical side we
find not only new technology that allows us to be in contact with peo-
ple living on the other side of the globe but also, as Kwon writes, the
increase in travelling and how a sense of self-worth could be measured
by the accumulation of frequent flyer miles. This is not unattached
from the development that since the late 1980s more and more art-
696 Kwon 2004, 11–13. | Critics claimed that the spectator or beholder suggested
by the work was considered to be a neutral and universal spectator, and thus had
no gender or ethnic background. The artworks themselves were also criticised for
being disconnected from their cultural surroundings, relating merely to the physical
features of a particular site.
697 Kwon 2004, 157.
698 Kwon 2004b, 29.
699 For a reading of nomadism in the art world, see for instance James Meyer’s
“Nomads: Figures of Travel in Contemporary Art” (2000).

700 Kwon 2004, 156–59. | Naturally, “nomadic nature” is not a term that would
refer to a single unitary group of works, as travelling can be nomadic in many

different ways.
works have been nomadic in their nature, creating a completely new

genre of travelling site-specific art.701 All in all, Kwon sums up this re-
cent development by commenting that artists are seen to abandon the
phenomenologically orientated mode of site-specific art as a grounded,
fixed, singular event.
In Kwon’s reading the speedy embracing of site-specific art can be
seen as the domestication of politically committed art. If the political
dimension of site-specific art has become insignificant, it is due to insti-
tutional and market forces.702 Conversely, artists and curators wishing
to bring a new edge to politically committed site-specific works have
introduced terms such as context-specific and community-specific. Ac-
cording to Kwon, these terms signal an attempt to bring forth both
the complex possibilities of the art-site relationship and the change
within the concept of site.703
Installation Art
Installation art shares in many respects the same theoretical and his-
torical framework as site-specific art. My intention is not to cover
installation art as such, but merely to outline some basic features that
will help to set my case study into a context. My outline relies on
Julie H. Reiss’ From Margin to Center: The Spaces of Installation Art
(1999) and Claire Bishop’s Installation Art: A Critical History (2005).
In addition, a survey by Nicolas de Olivera, Nicola Oxley and Michael
Petry entitled Installation Art in the New Millennium: The Empire of
Senses (2004) concentrates on the multi-sensory aspects of installation
art.
Reiss points out that the term “installation art” is relatively new.
It was preceded by, for instance, Allan Kaprow’s “environment”, but
also by such terms as “project art” and “temporary art” used by crit-
ics.704 Later on the diversity of the works produced under the title
“installation art” has led to a situation where the term is almost pre-
cluded from having any meaning. The early phases of the art form are
connected with a critical attitude towards the prevailing conditions in
701 Kwon 2004, 31.
702 Julian Stallabrass is one of the disenchanted voices. He has suggested that
installation art is a way for art to remain exclusive and site-specific and therefore
visitable, generating more on-site visitors, and expensive, requiring more fundrais-
ing. (Stallabrass 2006.)
703 Kwon 2004, 1–2.
704 Reiss 1999, xi. | Kaprow was developing the environment aspect in the late
1950s.
the art world. For instance, in the 1960s and 1970s USA installation
artists wanted to protest against museums, which were seen as the
embodiment of political evil, receiving finance from institutions which
were involved in the Vietnam war.705 However, nowadays installation
art is by no means marginal — it has an indisputable place within the
contemporary art scene, i.e. in biennales, museums and galleries.
Bishop writes how installation art refers to a type of art into which
the viewer physically enters. She states that the key characteristic of
installation art is its capability to address the viewer directly as a
literal presence in space and thus to presuppose an embodied viewer,
whose senses of touch, smell and sound are as heightened as their sense
of vision.706 Reiss emphasises: “There is always a reciprocal relation-
ship of some kind between the viewer and the work, the work and the
space, and the space and the viewer. [...] The spectator is in some way
regarded as integral to the completion of the work.”707 To put it sim-
ply, in installation art, reciprocity underlines the fact that the work
always already implies our position as the observer as well as the one
who is observed.
Bishop’s approach does not rely on the historical account of in-
stallation art. On the contrary, she takes as her point of departure
the viewing experience. She proposes a categorisation of the works
by looking into the viewer’s experience. Based on this, she suggests
four different approaches to installation art. I will not go into the
details of the classification and would like to stress that there are sev-
eral ways to approach installation art. However, Bishop’s analysis is
helpful in structuring the manifold field of installation art. Firstly,
there are artworks that plunge the viewer into a psychologically ab-
sorptive, dream-like environments, such as Ilya Kabakov’s theatre set-
like installations. Secondly, there are works of art that are inspired
by Merleau-Ponty’s thinking and the phenomenological model of the
viewing subject, resulting in either minimalist installations or the im-
mersive tactile and sensory environments of Brazilian artists such as
Ernesto Neto. Thirdly, works that create confusing, obscured spaces,
such as Yayoi Kusama’s mirrored installations. In Bishop’s categorisa-
tion these works draw inspiration from the Freudian tradition through
Lacan and Barthes, discussing libidinal withdrawal and subjective dis-
integration. Lastly, the fourth type of installation aims in activating
705 Reiss 1999, 70.

706 Bishop 2005, 6.
707 Reiss 1999, xii.
viewers as political subjects, such as in the works of Santiago Sierra

or Thomas Hirschhorn. As a theoretical background Bishop sees these
works to refer to the different ways in which post-structuralist critiques
of democracy by Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe, among others,
have affected installation art’s conception of the viewer.708
As previously suggested, the categorisation above does not cover
all installation art. Yet it helps in finding certain features and pos-
sible emphases in this eclectic field. In Installation Art in the New
Millennium: The Empire of Senses the authors Nicolas de Olivera,
Nicola Oxley, and Michael Petry propose some themes. Their list in-
cludes such titles as: “Escape”, “Author and Institution”, “Exchange
and Interaction”, “Time and Narrative”, and “The Body of the Au-
dience”. The titles aim at analysing the various themes brought up
by contemporary installation artists and as these titles suggest, there
are similar elements in Bishop’s categorisation. Olivera’s, Oxley’s and
Petry’s discussion in the chapter “Escape” suggests that these works
aim at submerging the spectator in a space that is then transformed
into psychological space. This clearly links with Bishop’s psychologi-
cally absorptive works. Also, “The Body of the Audience” along with
the works in “Author and Institution” connect with Bishop’s themes:
they present works that activate viewers as political subjects and show
that new installation art increasingly reaches out towards the questions
of community and politics.
What is central to the works? Bishop highlights that the history
of installation art’s relationship to the viewer is underpinned by two
ideas: firstly, there is the idea of “activating” the viewing subject, and
secondly, the idea of the de-centring of the subject. The first point
refers to the experience of bodily participating in the work. Installa-
tion does not represent elements of texture and size, but presents them,
and thus encourages viewers to be more aware of the space and situa-
tion of the work and their own body and its movements. However, as
Reiss remarks, even though the essence of installation art lies in spec-
tator participation, the nature of the participation varies from piece
to piece. Reiss writes: “[p]articipation can mean offering the viewer
specific activities. It can also mean demanding that the viewer walk
through the space and simply confront what is there [...] the viewer is
required to complete the piece; the meaning evolved from the interac-
tion between the two.”709 The participation can thus also be something
708 Bishop 2005, 10.

709 Reiss 1999, xiii; see also Bishop 2005, 10.
quite subtle.
The second point concerns the de-centring of the subject. The idea
of a spectator who has the ultimate viewpoint, as in a Renaissance
perspective, has been criticised many times over.710 In installation the
immersed viewers cannot really take the position of an outside spec-
tator — there is no one single point of view that is designed to be the
right one. Instead, in order to experience the work, one needs to move
around: the position of the viewer is de-centred, as the place simply
has to be circumnavigated and seen through multiple perspectives as
opposed to a single perspective that implies patriarchal ideology.
As mentioned, the viewer’s experience is central when discussing
installation art. So much so that it may appear to be more difficult
to write about installations than to write about other arts, such as
painting or photography. But one should not be misguided into think-
ing that a reproduction could be a substitute for the lived experience
of an artwork. Nonetheless, installation art is phenomenological by
nature in the sense that it is tightly dependent on the viewers’ first-
hand presence in the work, i.e. the lived experience. One has to have a
multi-sensuous experience of the work in order to grasp it, and simul-
taneously, there is no single point of view from where the work could
be completely grasped. In a sense, installation invites the spectator
in but simultaneously it may resist him or her by denying a proper
over-view.
With this brief discussion I have shown how both installation art
and site-specific art are problematic and complex fields. In my discus-
sion I have sketched out how the works can be divided into different
categories and groups, depending on what aspects are emphasised.
This can be helpful in structuring the manifold field of art. However,
I shall not commit myself to this categorising in my reading, and wish
to point out that occasionally categories might appear be too restric-
tive, if, for instance, they distract the spectator so that he or she only
considers certain chosen features of a work of art, but leaves out many
others. On the whole, I have illustrated how both the discussions on
installation art as well as site-specific art connect to the tradition of
phenomenology and to the thinking of Merleau-Ponty.
710 See chapter 4.

7.3. TOUCHING BACK 215
7.3 Touching Back: Monika Sosnowska’s Fountain

By focusing on Monika Sosnowska’s (b. 1972, for the artist’s CV, see
appendix B) Fountain (2006) I want to approach the question of non-
communication, the possibility of stretching the relationship between
the viewer and the work of art to the limit, where the reciprocity
between art and its viewer is questioned, but where there is still a
strange feeling of intimacy.
Sosnowska’s works are not easy to define. They seemingly relate to
various different traditions, all of which can be found to have influenced
the birth of installation art, namely architecture, sculpture, set design
and performance. Even though the connection with installation art
is relatively clear, Sosnowska is persistent in avoiding categorisation.
Her works are often described as interventions in architectural reality,
and they are placed somewhere between installations, sculptures and
architecture.711 Looking at her artistic career one can find the influence
of minimalism as well as that of 1960s artists such as Bruce Nauman
and Gordon Matta-Clark.
Fountain is a site-specific installation made for the ARS 06 exhi-
bition held at the Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma in 2006 in
Helsinki (for images, see appendix A).712 The work is subtle in its
form. The installation consists of a passageway, about 3 metres high
and 2.5 metres wide, that encloses the spectator inside a white, well-lit
space furnished with a soft wall-to-wall carpet of no particular colour.
The corridor is situated on the fifth floor of the museum and it links
the last gallery space to the high and asymmetrical main gallery hall
of the fifth floor, and thus is accessed from both ends, as well as from
one of the sides where the lifts are situated. The ceiling of the corridor
has been made many meters lower than that of the normal height of
the surrounding exhibition space. There is a stain on the ceiling which
is leaking water, and the carpet below is slowly absorbing the water.
The leakage causes a growing wet stain on the floor and the tramp-
ing around of the spectators spreads the stain even further, causing
an impression of untidiness. Words that might characterise the space
could include “bureaucratic”, “clumsy”, “anonymous”, and “disturb-
ing”. The space creates a clinical feel, giving a somewhat old-fashioned
and claustrophobic impression, as the immediate sensation is that the
corridor is slightly too small to be actually part of the original plan
711 Harbison 2005; Hirvi 2006; Thorsteinsdottir 2006.
712 ARS 06 — Sense of the Real, Jan 21–Aug 27 2006, Helsinki, Finland. (Kar-
jalainen & Sakari 2006.)
of the museum building. There is also quite a lot of movement in the

space: people are constantly coming and going to and from lifts as
well as searching to visit the last niches of the fifth floor. Fountain
may make close contact with the spectator by dropping more or less
unexpectedly some water on the visitor, thus entering the personal
sphere of the body. The drop of water creates a change from the field
of sight to the sense of touch, an intimate sense.
Undoubtedly, Sosnowska’s work carries a number of levels. Think-
ing about the possible art historical and cultural connotations con-
tained in the work, a necessary reference point is the space where this
site-specific work is located. Kiasma is a museum designed by Ameri-
can architect Steven Holl, and completed in 1998. As an architect Holl
has a strong interest in phenomenology, especially in Merleau-Ponty’s
thinking, and this influence can also be found in his works. Kiasma
has features that are inspired by, on the one hand, a phenomenologi-
cal emphasis on lived experience and especially tactility — there are
details such as the rough feel and rounded forms of the handles or
the velvety blue wall of the theatre’s foyer —, but on the other hand,
it also has some modernist principles — from the outside, the build-
ing communicates with the other surrounding buildings and especially
with Alvar Aalto’s Finlandia Hall (1971). Further, Holl’s design cre-
ates an intertwining of two “lines”, the curving, organic line of nature
and the geometric line of culture. This idea is reflected in the design of
the space, as each floor of the museum has a very different atmosphere.
There is a crossing, a “chiasmatic” point in the building where the two
lines meet. In short, one immediate backdrop for the piece is a very
distinct gallery building with its own rhythm.713
Into this context, inside a fluctuating and asymmetrical white mu-
seum space Sosnowska has implemented a (temporary) white cuboid.
Fountain is in stark contrast to the surrounding space with its care-
fully designed details, such as lighting and choice of materials. Foun-
tain brings clumsy no-nonsense 1970s aesthetics into the middle of
aestheticised museum architecture. The work also carries a hint of
Soviet-aesthetics. Sosnowska has pointed out in interviews that in her
childhood she lived in Poland, where she came to see many unorthodox
architectural solutions: large, old apartments were divided into smaller
units in order to better fit into the communist ideal of living.714
713 For more on Kiasma, see the website of Steven Holl Architects,
http://www.stevenholl.com/project-detail.php?type=museums&id=18&page=1.
714 Thorsteinsdottir 2006.
However, Fountain turns architecture into a representation.715 Sos-

nowska creates ambiguity with her sense of camouflage, in which a
wall is not so much a wall but a sign or a representation of a struc-
tural element.716 The work is both acting as a continuum similar to
architecture — there is no frame — and yet it is distinct from it. The
work plays with the border between real and representation, aims at
denying both representation and presentation, and thus also the place
of the spectator becomes even more confused.717
The title of the work directly alludes to Marcel Duchamp’s Foun-
tain (1917). Indeed, even the aesthetics of the work carries a certain
ready-made feel, following the logic of being unaesthetic and unin-
teresting.718 By definition, objects chosen to be ready-mades are not
supposed to be interesting; they are not supposed to produce aesthetic
enjoyment of any kind. Interestingly, Duchamp’s work and the tradi-
tion of ready-mades have inspired very dissimilar traditions, namely
both minimalist art and pop art.719 Sosnowska’s work shares similar
715 Architecture has been characterised as able to bring together sign and form
through a form, for instance a wall is a wall, and thus a structural element, but it
is at the same time a sign of the structural element. (These distinctions by Peter
Eisenman are cited in Hansen 2006, 192.)
716 Sosnowska takes on architecture through mimicry and camouflage, and blurs
the limits between what is real and representation.

717 In comparison to Sosnowska, it is illuminating to observe Finnish sculptor
Markus Kåhre (b. 1969), whose works were installed in the same space after Sos-
nowska. Kåhre is interested in questioning perception and presentation. He builds
works that often demand that spectators reorient themselves. His carefully planned
illusions form an interesting contrast with Sosnowska’s work: where Kåhre builds
installations discussing the boundaries of perception that people can enter often
in a predetermined way, Sosnowska’s Fountain has dropped the framework, and
offers merely a space. To see it as illusion or representation — is there a trick,
hocus-pocus here or not? — is left for the spectator to decide. There are no guide-
lines how to “encounter” or “not encounter” the work, and thus freedom of choice
appears as a possible source of ambiguity and, occasionally, anxiety. Often Kåhre’s
fascinating works are available for one spectator at a time, as for instance Untitled,
a piece with a mirror and a table. For images, see
http://www.forumbox.fi/fi/jasenet/markus-kahre-2/.
718 Duchamp defined that when making readymades, the objects chosen are not
supposed to interest oneself: “Duchamp set guidelines for is selection of readymades,

which were primarily to be ‘un-aesthetic’ — objects free from potential aesthetic
value — in order to go against conventional notions of beauty.” (Gale 1997, 100.)
719 As Krauss remarks, minimalism shares with pop art the interest in the
Duchampian ready-made — it is interested in objects which do not have a specific

in-built content, and thus it considers more its structural rather than its theatrical
implications. As we know, pop artists were interested in advertisements and im-
agery, whereas minimalist artists worked on a more structural level. (Krauss 1977,
249.)
aesthetics with Duchamp’s evaluation of ready-mades and minimalist

tradition. The white walls and beige carpet produce an anonymous
look and even though the fluorescent lights are very common, they si-
multaneously contain a hint of bygone aesthetics. All in all, it looks as
if the work expresses nothing out of ordinary. It is as if the materials
and colours of Fountain, the floor, walls and ceiling, are holding on
to the whiteness and beigeness of a whole set of materials in Western
office spaces.
There is also another artist with whom the work may be connected.
The leaking room reaches not only to Marcel Duchamp, but also to
an artist inspired by him, namely Bruce Nauman. Along with many
artists working on installations or sculptures, Nauman’s work exam-
ines spaces or aspects that are otherwise unseen. He, too, has been
interested in the idea of passage.720 There is a whole series of corridor
installations, that originally started as a prop or theatrical setting for
Nauman’s performances he made for the camera at his studio. Later
on the artist decided that the prop could itself be a work of art and ex-
hibited it, opening the space for spectatorial participation. Nauman’s
corridor pieces raise questions concerning the viewer’s body and inter-
action.721 However, besides these corridor works, I would like to bring
up yet another work, namely Self-Portrait as a Fountain (1966). This
artwork presents the artist himself as an art object and, as the critics
described, the work suggestively mocks the tradition of male sculp-
tures and simultaneously presents the artist as a fountain, a source.
During the same period Nauman produced a text “The true artist is an
amazing luminous fountain”, and “The true artist helps the world by
revealing mystic truths”, which later evolved and became an emblem
seen in his exhibitions: The True Artist Helps the World by Reveal-
ing Mystic Truths (Window or Wall Sign) (1967). Nauman’s ironic
work comments on Duchamp and offers a counterpart to Sosnowska.
Even though the artist’s body is removed from Sosnowska’s work, the
audience’s body is very much present in the space, along with the
“fountain of wisdom”, the tiny leakage that is ready to drop its water
on the spectator.
Looking further at the works by Sosnowska, we can find an interest
in the theme of decay. Like Fountain, The Hole (2006), a work made
for The Museum of Modern Art in New York, consisted of pieces of
ceiling that had fallen down. Moreover water and the idea of a foun-
720 Krauss 1977, 282.

721 Kuutti 1998, 40; Warr 2000, 79; Blocker 2007.
tain can be found in her other works, for instance, A Dirty Fountain
(2006) made for an exhibition Ideal City — Invisible Cities in Pots-
dam, Germany and Zamość, Poland. This fountain was much more
explicit in its “fountainness” and in its nature as an object. In the
exhibition catalogue, her work is described thus: “For Ideal City —
Invisible Cities she designed an imperfect fountain for the perfect city.
In a simple, square format water basin on a concrete base slightly out
of the vertical, spouts dirty black water”.722 Equally, a black square
and its simple aesthetics allude most obviously to Kasimir Malevitch’s
The Black Square (1936), yet environmental questions are also present.
The fountain is situated in Staudenhof behind the University of Ap-
plied Sciences building in Potsdam, and its gloomy position in garden
leads one to think of the history of the site and raises questions con-
cerning pollution. The pair of the fountain is located at Water Market
in Zamość, Poland. From the city of Zamość runs a railway that leads
to the coal and sulphur mines of upper Silesia. Both the Fountain in
Kiasma and the fountains made for the exhibition Ideal City — In-
visible Cities are “fountains-gone-bad”: they carry features of anxiety
and insecurity as well as dirtiness and the uncanny in opposition to
the purifying, refreshing and virile associations usually connected with
water fountains.
Spectator Participation
Sosnowska’s large installation works often create an interplay between
sculpture and architecture, containing the possibility of being looked
at both from the inside as well as from the outside. This play between
object and spatial shape has been central to her works, yet it is absent
from Fountain, where the outside and inside are only implied by the
awareness of the spectator, not by the actual possibility of seeing the
work from the outside.
Thinking about Fountain one can see that it does what many instal-
lation works have done during the last few decades: it turns spectators
into participants and actors.723 In Fountain the proscenium is removed
722 Ideal City — Invisible Cities 2006.
723 The theatricality that art historian Michael Fried so vigorously criticised in
the 1960s is an unavoidable theme in this work: “Literalist [minimal art] sensibility
is theatrical because, to begin with, it is concerned with the actual circumstances
in which the beholder encounters literalist work.” (Fried 1998, 153.) He adds: “But
the things that are literalist works of art must somehow confront the beholder —
they must, one might almost say, be placed not just in his space but in his way.”
(Fried 1998, 154.)
and the division between artwork and audience is dissolved. The spec-
tators simultaneously view the work and participate in making it as
they enter the space. Returning to Bishop’s classification previously
presented, the piece could belong to the category that aims to be psy-
chologically absorptive, but it also encourages the viewer to adopt a
heightened awareness of the situation. Alternatively, the work itself
could be seen to use the strategies of camouflage and mimicry.724 In
short, it is not easy to place the work under a certain heading. Sos-
nowska herself has remarked that she is interested in creating a mental
space, wishing to affect the viewer and stimulate certain emotions.725
The limit between inner and outer would then be dissolved in this work
as the physical surrounding affects the spectator without him or her
knowing.726 However Fountain is much subtler work than some other
installations by Sosnowska, such as Corridor, a narrowing passage with
a trompe l’oeil effect created for the Venice Biennale in 2003. As a re-
sult Fountain might not appear very strong in its utopian tendencies,
and could on the contrary be claimed to be too plain, a bypassable
work.
This work is not placed in the way of the beholder, but perhaps in
his or her space, or, spectators are nonchalantly placed in its space.
Whether the work was noticed or not depend on the spectator’s at-
tentiveness. To some visitors, the space of Fountain appeared to be an
exclamation mark, as it produced a visible rupture in the surround-
ing, carefully designed museum space. These spectators felt instantly
that the space had been manipulated. However, there were also many
visitors who simply passed by without noticing anything special, with
possibly a vague feeling of untidiness or clumsiness caused by the corri-
dor. This disconnection with the audience is interesting. If the work is
724 In connection with this category Bishop pointed to Roger Caillois’ article on
insect camouflage “Mimicry and Legendary Psychasthenia” (1935). Mark B. N.

Hansen also mentions Caillois and discusses how psychasthenia has been used to
describe a setting where space defined by the body and the space represented are
confused — this mixing has been seen as emblematic of the new technology, and
some have blamed this new media culture for making people lose perspective on
all external images. (Caillois 1935; Bishop 2005, 84; Hansen 2006, 126–37.)
725 Thorsteinsdottir 2006.
726 Edward S. Casey has described the relationship between space and person:
“Where we are has a great deal to do with who and what we are [...]. Where some-
thing or someone is, far from being a casual qualification, is one of its determining
properties.” He adds: “But my own changes may be funded back into the very
places that have been so formative for my identity in the first place. Given this
reciprocity of person and place, place-alienation is itself two-fold: I from it, it from
I.” (Casey 1993, 307.)
missed, does it mean that it fails? Was not one of the points of instal-
lation art to make people more aware of the actual viewing situation?
The theatrical space of the installation is clearly changed if the view-
ers passing through it are not thinking of themselves as spectators or
performers, but rather as nonchalant or indifferent strollers in a trivial
in-between space between one work and another. On the other hand,
there were other people who recognised the space as a work of art and
the passers-by as performers.
Here, the differences of spectatorial experience can be related to
the issues examined in the previous chapter: In connection with my
discussion of the moving image as well as the experience of Zidane, I
refer to the “carnal knowledge” that a spectator of film may experience,
or to use Sobchack’s description, he or she may “know” something
with one’s fingers. Transferred from the sphere of a movie theatre
into encountering an installation, it perhaps could be said that the
spectator of Fountain may, without being able to determine the specific
reasons, sense that the space he or she has entered is not in its usual
state. In the case of Sosnowska’s installation, the possibilities of the
spectator to recognise the space as a work of art is related to his or
her experiences — the spectatorial experience is tightly connected to
the personal histories and “carnal knowledge” of the visitors: these
experiences shape the way visitors perceive their surroundings. This
may, of course, also happen if the spectator has visited the museum
before, but then the observation of difference within gallery spaces is
based on a different kind of knowledge.727
The nature of Fountain’s presence created a suspense, which at
times was manifested in the anger some visitors expressed as, after
briefly standing around, they became aware of the nature of the sur-
rounding space. Possibly their reaction was connected to the fact that
they had been exposed to something — or better yet, something had
invaded their personal space — without noticing, without their choos-
ing to “look at” it differently? Perhaps the irritability stemmed from
the feeling that one had been secretly disoriented? All in all, Sosnowska
continues the tradition set by Duchamp and Nauman by casting an
audience. Olivera, Oxley & Petry write in the chapter “The Body of
the Audience” about the public’s role and position in experiencing the
work:
727 I propose that without prior experience of the particular spaces of the museum,
one may able to see that something has been done to the gallery. This sensitivity
is also something that may depend on the cultural background of the spectator,
which is again a wide topic that I will not take up here.
The body of the audience is caught between action and stasis,

the viewer is effectively trapped. The ability to walk around the
space occupied by the work and the possibility of close exam-
ination are no longer seen as being sufficient as an experience.
The audience expects to play a significant part in the work, its
creation and reception. The artist’s promise of participation, and
its subsequent withdrawal, creates anxiety in the audience.728
It appears as if Sosnowska has chosen a strategy where the promise

of participation is dissolved, yet is visible to an attentive eye. It is also
a potential source of anxiety: is there something here or not? Olivera,
Oxley & Petry point out that being conscious of participating in a work
of art includes consciousness of being looked at. This is essentially a
Merleau-Pontian statement: one cannot see without being seen. But
besides “conscious participating”, it is clear that Fountain also offers a
possibility of complete ignorance or passivity. It does not aggressively
demand our look or interaction. The space itself does not invite one
to hang around. This raises questions. When an artwork evades our
look, does it also affect our consciousness of our own being in space?
If our attention is not demanded, are we then more inclined to think
that we are not observed? On the other hand, if the work does not
communicate, can we then not “see with” it? Does passing through
the work qualify as a failure to create an unthematised relationship,
or is it exactly what the spectator is encouraged to do?
As I pointed out previously, Merleau-Ponty’s writings encouraged
early installation artists to create spaces where the spectator becomes
more aware of the situation of perceiving the work. Moreover, the work
and the beholder depend on each other and there is no way for the
beholder to simply step outside the work and still observe it. In Sos-
nowska’s case the corridor is an arena or a transition space for people
who observe it and others, are being themselves observed or some-
thing in between. Thus, referring back to Merleau-Ponty’s analysis of
encountering a work of art, Fountain is able to, at least occasionally,
avoid a typical subject-object relationship, where a work of art is sim-
ply posited as an object of our look. Instead, it pursues a setting where
the work surrounds the spectator in all directions. Here, despite the
“passivity” of the spectator, the work manages to address the senses
and memories of the spectator, without the spectator simply actively
“donating senses” to what is perceived.
728 Olivera, Oxley & Petry 2004, 166–67.
Liquidity, Touch, Reversibility

Finally, I would like to examine the themes of touch and reversibility as
well as liquidity in Fountain. Above, I mentioned Duchamp and Nau-
man. Both artists were critical towards the traditional idea of a male
artist. Their works can be interpreted as questioning the dominant
(masculine) imagery within the visual arts, taking the clichés of mas-
culinity to absurdity or dissolving the elements of masculinity.729 For
instance, Duchamp’s Fountain ironically addresses the male spectator,
but the work can be read as playing with femininity and gender in gen-
eral, creating male–female reversals.730 In Nauman’s self-sufficient “lu-
minous fountain” the liquid is present in the playful or virile spurting.
Sosnowska continues to take the thematics in yet another direction. In
her Fountain the liquid is a tiny leakage smudging the environment.
There is no vital or playful spurting here but simply a dripping that
reminds us of a rupture or a structural failure, rather than an energetic
source.731 Verticality, the unavoidable force of gravity adds a certain
temporal aspect to the work. It perhaps makes the spectator more con-
scious of the passing of time, which is “ticking” away drop after drop,
as if the space with its leakage has been forgotten and abandoned.
Fountain exposes the visitors to water, but does this in circum-
stances where it has lost its purifying implication as a life-giving force.
Granted, the fountain of life is an important metaphor and water has
various symbolic meanings in different cultures. However, in Fountain
water appears to be misplaced, even suspicious, as the spectator can-
not really know where the liquid is coming from. The slowly dropping
— lactating? — liquid tampers with the environment. The carpet be-
comes sticky and dirty.732 Indeed, an important role is played by the
729 For instance André Lepecki has presented a reading of the treatment of mas-
culinity in Nauman’s studio performances. (Lepecki 2006.) David Hopkins has done
a reading of Duchamp’s strategy to adopt an alternative female persona Rrose
Sélavy. (Hopkins 1998.)
730 Hopkins writes on Duchamp: “[...] an object [Fountain] which, on one level,
clearly addresses itself to male ‘needs’ [...]” Later on he continues: “If, as stated
earlier, the urinal evokes at once the forms of Buddha and the Holy Virgin, the
object (like Freud’s Mut), clearly has hermaphroditic connotations.” (Hopkins 1998,
304–306.)
731 The mechanics of the work were constructed by the museum engineer and a
group of students. The challenge to get the water dropping slowly and evenly as
possible, was somewhat different from the traditional fountain mechanics, where
pressure is built up to get the water high in the air.
732 An interesting reading of the nature of viscosity or stickiness and how “stick-
iness” has started to represent certain physical unities, is presented by Jean-Paul

beige carpet that slowly absorbs the water, forming an unattractive

wet stain on the floor. During the exhibition this stain gets larger and
dirtier.
Colour, as Merleau-Ponty writes, is not separable from thickness,
from the supporting texture.733 In the case of Fountain the work’s
neutral, unnoticeable beige colour as well as the “colourless” water
become visible as they mix together. It is through the stain that the
work itself eventually becomes visible to many of the spectators.734 I
suggest that through the dripping water and sodden, sticky carpet the
work thematises certain feminine qualities, such as ambiguity, form-
lessness and fluidity. In her reading of Merleau-Ponty Luce Irigaray
writes about the fluidity of colour: “[colour] pours itself out, extends
itself, escapes, imposes itself upon me as the reminder of what is most
archaic in me, the fluid.”735 Here, Irigaray underlines that fluids are
the source of life as well as being the element that surrounds humans
in their pre-natal lives.736 The touch of this kind that defines the child
inside the mother’s body cannot be rendered visible.737
Sartre in his Being and Nothingness: An Essay in Phenomenological Ontology

(L’être et le néant. Essai d’ontologie phénoménologique, 1946). For Sartre, viscous
or sticky material is somewhere between liquid and solid; it sticks to us, and thus
threatens the boundary between me and other. (Sartre 2001, 650–62; see also Grosz
1994, 193–95.)
733 VI, 172/132.
734 Especially towards the end of the exhibition the stain grew larger — thus,
the visitors who returned to the exhibition could witness the change that took
place in the work. The wet spot in the ceiling and floor can indeed reach uncanny
dimensions, but also ironic or hyperrealist dimensions, depending on the specta-
tor. Sosnowska allegedly had no knowledge of the history of Kiasma having had
problems with leaks.
735 Irigaray 1993, 156.
736 Relating to liquidity, in the chapter “Volume — Fluidity” in Speculum Irigaray
writes: “And the flow of some shameful liquid. Horrible to see: bloody. Fluid has
to remain that secret remainder, of the one. Blood, but also milk, sperm, lymph,
saliva, spit, tears, humors, gas, waves, airs, fire ... light. All threaten to deform,
propagate, evaporate, consume him, to flow out of him and into another who cannot
be easily held on to. The ‘subject’ identifies himself with/in an almost material
consistency that finds everything flowing abhorrent. And even in the mother, it
is the cohesion of a ‘body’ (subject) that he seeks, solid ground, firm foundation.
Not those things in the mother that recall the woman — the flowing things. He
cathects these only in a desire to turn them into the self (as same). Every body of
water becomes a mirror, every sea, ice.” (Irigaray 1985, 237.)
737 Elizabeth Grosz writes: “For Irigaray this metaphorics of fluids, emblematic
of femininity in This Sex Which is Not One (1985) and Marine Lover (1991),
signifies not only the ‘formlessness’ of feminine jouissance but more particularly
the amniotic element that houses the child in the mother’s body and continues to
be a ‘watermark’ etched on the child’s body.” (Grosz 1994, 104.)
In Fountain water brings forth the role of the senses in an unex-

pected way. Visitors could get an occasional drop of water onto their
body and thus be suddenly invited to change the sense from sight,
associated with objectivity, to touch, intimate sense that implies that
one is already involved, stained by the work. As a result, there is a
change from the sphere of mere looking into being immersed in the
work, being literally touched by the work. However, the “touching” of
the water drop is not of course touching in a sense that the spectator
could touch back. It is better described as a quick stroke or as touching
only on the verge of touching.738
Previously, I explained how vision can be “palpating” and can op-
erate in an analogous way to tactile perception. “Tactile palpation”
does not mean that vision takes possession of what is seen, or that
it would know beforehand what it touches. On the contrary, Merleau-
Ponty stresses the kinship of touch and vision: both involve movements
which respond to the features of the environment. Similar to touching,
our vision can “grope” and fumble and feel its way into something.739
Merleau-Ponty argues that already simple touching involves three ex-
periences, all subtending each other, overlapping and yet distinct:
[A] touching of the sleek and of the rough, a touching of the

things — a passive sentiment of the body and of its space —
and finally a veritable touching of the touch, when my right
hand touches my left hand while it is palpating the things, where
the “touching subject” passes over to the rank of the touched,
descends into the things, such that the touch is formed in the
midst of the world and as it were in the things.740
Considering Fountain, the touch that takes place within it is dif-

ficult to situate and characterise. Clearly it is not an active touching
738 My discussion concentrates on Merleau-Ponty. Considering the limit of touch-
ing, it is interesting to consider Nancy’s conception that one always only touches
the limit or border, whereas the “inside” remains out of reach of the touch. (Der-
rida 2005, 103.) Martta Heikkilä writes: “[Nancy’s] conception of touch implies a
thinking of separation, dislocation, or ‘effraction’ as he calls it.” (Heikkilä 2007,
249.)
739 Van de Vall writes about the tactile palpation, see Van de Vall 2008, 64–68.
740 VI, 133–34. “un toucher du lisse et du rugueux, un toucher des choses —
un sentiment passif du corps et de son espace —, et enfin un véritable toucher

du toucher, quand ma main droite touche ma main gauche en train de palper les
choses, par lequel le ‘sujet touchant’ passe au rang de touché, descend dans les
choses, de sorte que le toucher se fait du milieu du monde et comme en elles.” VI,
174.
(of the sleek), but closer to sensing or receptivity, as the spectator

is unable to actively feel into the sleekness of water before it already
changes its form. However, I argue that it can be understood as a
“touching of the touch”. Despite the obvious asymmetry of the rela-
tion, the drop of water is able to draw attention to the tangibility of
our own touching body; and thus for a moment the “touching subject”
passes over to the touched object. This illustrates Merleau-Ponty’s idea
that all that is visible is cut out in the tangible, i.e. that there is an
encroachment of the tangible and the visible without fusion. Here, I
would like to return to Irigaray’s comment on Merleau-Ponty’s idea
of the visible and the tangible belonging to the same world.741 She
writes: “The look cannot take up the tangible. Thus I never see that
in which I touch or am touched. What is at play in the caress does
not see itself. The in-between, the middle, the medium of the caress
does not see itself.”742 According to Irigaray, this structure of touch
is similar to that of vision: I can never see that which allows me to
see. She also suggests that, as the two parts cannot be superimposed
one upon the other, the reciprocity is only partial and not total: vision
may depend on the tangible, but the tangible does not need vision —
the relation is not that of mutual dependency.743 Here, Fountain uses
a similar strategy: the caress cannot be seen. Nor can the unexpected
caress be repeated. The spectator cannot touch back and yet he or she
carries the trace of this touch on the body.
However, I argued above that Merleau-Ponty’s idea of reversibil-
ity is never total: the touch never takes possession, it never coincides
totally with itself or with the other. My suggestion is that on a fun-
damental level, Fountain brings forth this rupture in our experience.
Firstly, it draws attention to our everyday forgetting of our own visi-
bility, of the fact that our bodies are twofold by nature, partaking nec-
essarily in the visible and tangible world. An impersonal corridor that
carries nothing special, only certain impressions of unfitting and tem-
porary space may encourage a questioning of the surrounding space,
but it might as well urge the passer-by to indifference. If there are no
works in the corridor that demand our attention, does not also the
741 As we know, her point of criticism is the inability of Merleau-Ponty to take
into account the other. I will not take a stand whether her reading is a misreading
or is justified, but I have wished to turn to this particular reading of touch. (For an
interpretation of Irigaray’s reading, see, for instance Chanter 2000; Sjöholm 2000;
Cataldi 2004; Lehtinen 2010.)
742 Irigaray 1993, 161.
743 Irigaray 1993, 162; see also Grosz 1994, 105.
observing I become “invisible”, since there is no-one to “look back”

on it? Through a sudden turn — the touch — Fountain brings forth
the essentially twofold nature of our existence, the fundamental nar-
cissism of vision, our need to be seen by others, and the fact that we
are seduced by visibility.
Secondly, and related to the point above, when we try to look at this
particular work, we realise that it is physically impossible to see it from
the outside, to understand what happens in it without being inside it,
and then participating in it. There is no possibility of perceiving it from
outside, and we notice that without making any conscious decisions we
are already in it, stained by the work. In Jenny Slatman’s words, the
spectator “[...] no longer stays outside of the spectacle, he no longer
has the position of an aerial view. The spectator is not a voyeur, but
he is implied in the visible world of the artwork.”744
Thirdly, Sosnowska’s work sets up a situation where the spectator
is lured into a deeper kind of passivity than mere receptivity. This
challenges Merleau-Ponty’s conception of seeing with, the perceptual
attitude in which we do not posit the seen as an object. Can we see
with something that does not show itself? Inside the passage there are
seemingly no works that demand our attention, and yet the work as
a whole turns the spectator’s attention to the process of encountering
art. Thus Sosnowska’s Fountain highlights our own alertness to the
surroundings and at the same time puts forward the question how is
it possible to see with something that evades our look? Through this
effect the work underlines a certain aspect of passivity: the work evokes
reactions even without “active spectatorship”.
To sum up, Fountain submerges the spectator by reversing the roles
of the subject and the object, the seer and the seen. Indeed, the work
experiments with one of the key concepts in the history of and research
on installation art, namely participation. Earlier I examined how in
the tradition of installation art the work is claimed to thematise our
position as observers as well as the ones who are observed. Sosnowska’s
work studies the principle of participation and its limits. It plays with
the idea of reciprocity between the viewer and the work as well as
with the theme of attentiveness. Moreover, it shows that mental spaces
and physical spaces can interact in very subtle ways. In this work,
participation is taken to the limit, so to speak. Passivity plays a crucial
744 “[...] il n’est pas en dehors de spectacle, qu’il n’a pas une position de survole. Le
spectateur n’est pas un voyeur, il est impliqué dans le monde visible de l’œuvre
d’art.” Slatman 2003, 191.
role here: whether we consciously open ourselves up to the impressions

or not, something of the work gets to us. One of the final notes of
The Visible and the Invisible aptly describes the nature of this work.
Merleau-Ponty writes:
[...] for the body is not simply a de facto visible among the vis-
ibles, it is visible-seeing, or look. In other words, the fabric of
possibilities that closes the exterior visible in upon the seeing
body maintains between them a certain divergence (écart). But
this divergence is not a void, it is filled precisely by the flesh as
the place of emergence of vision, a passivity that bears activity
— 745
Concluding Remarks
In this chapter, I have discussed the themes of touch, reversibility and
passivity and their relevance for the experience of “seeing with” an
artwork. My goal was to examine what happens in our encountering
an artwork in cases in which the work hides from the spectator. Is a
specific type of active passivity a prerequisite for such an encounter?
By choosing an installation work as my case study, I wanted to
illuminate the multi-sensuous character of perceptual experience. This
multi-sensuousness has interested artists, especially those working in
the tradition of installation art. Sosnowska’s Fountain differs from my
other case studies in several ways: in fact, it may at first seem that
this work is indifferent to the reactions of the spectator, uninterested
in whether it gets his or her attention. However, I have argued that
this work reaches the spectator through less articulated and less con-
ventional means. The fact that art works affect us without our noticing
and without our conscious attention is of course well-known. As much
as one can observe an artwork and study it actively, it also involves as-
pects that may have an affect on us without our noticing. But possibly
our persistent wish to “see with” includes a danger of believing that
we already know or we can decide how our gaze is directed, what it
aims at and what it is about to find. I would like to suggest that Foun-
tain is not indifferent to our states of consciousness or the direction of
745 VI, 272. “[...] le corps n’est pas simplement un visible de fait parmi les visibles,
il est visible-voyant, ou regard. Autrement dit, le tissu de possibilités qui referme

le visible extérieur sur le corps voyant maintient entre eux un certain écart. Mais
cet écart n’est pas un vide, il est rempli précisément par la chair comme lieu
d’émergence d’une vision passivité qui porte une activité. —” VI, 320.
our gaze, but more importantly also, that we should not be indifferent
to the more subtle ways things arrive to us. In fact, this is what the
work to my mind addresses: it gives space to the unnoticeable. The
unexpected, unthematised in a work of art demands openness from
the spectator — and sometimes even openness is not enough, since it
is revealed to be limited by consciousness and its schemata. The situa-
tion, in which the spectator becomes part of the work, or is subjected
to the work, shatters our notions of art and our expectations of its ef-
fects. This, I argue, helps us to understand why passivity is a genuine
element of the encounter with a work of art.
8
Conclusions
At the beginning I described my approach to be twofold. Firstly, I set

out to critically examine Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology through a
selection of case studies of contemporary art. Secondly, I wanted to de-
velop phenomenological readings of these artworks. Through the case
studies my aim was to test Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenology. Most im-
portantly, my choice of artworks was motivated by certain restrictions
or lacunae in his phenomenological readings of visual arts. Further,
my twofold approach formed a demonstration of what I propose to be
a Merleau-Pontian approach to art, with its resources and limitations.
All in all, both the general motivation for and the structure of the
thesis is inspired by Merleau-Ponty’s own style of doing philosophy.
For him the rigorous examination of art was a consequential step in
his philosophical endeavour to take seriously the ontological primacy
of the perceived world and to examine our being in the world. Thus,
as I have demonstrated, for Merleau-Ponty art was not a marginal
sub-field of philosophy, but genuinely a practice of inquiry that shared
interests with phenomenology and could also offer a model for doing
philosophy.
Method: Principles of Seeing With

In chapters 2–3 I laid out the methodological and conceptual points of
departure of Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological approach to percep-
tion as well as the features that determined his discussion on encoun-
tering art: I presented the principles of phenomenological method and
Husserl’s influence on Merleau-Ponty and also examined the role of the
spectator in the phenomenological approach. Further, I illuminated his
reading of Descartes’ conception of seeing. I showed how his interest in
Descartes is motivated by both the criticism of dualism and also by a
231
232 CHAPTER 8. CONCLUSIONS
wish to find a solution to the problems that dualism causes in Western

ontology.746 When examining Merleau-Ponty’s own conception of see-
ing and especially that of encountering an artwork, I highlighted the
idea that one must be able to “voir selon”, see with or along the work
of art. The expression “voir selon” opens itself to an attitude that does
not contain an object in a traditional sense, it describes the first step
that one has to take in order to encounter an artwork. I agree with
Éliane Escoubas’ suggestion that “seeing with” would mark the écart,
the divergence required in seeing the work as an artwork. This small,
but decisive change in attitude poses a challenge to the spectator.
Having illustrated Merleau-Ponty’s phenomenological method and
his conceptions of seeing as well as his idea of encountering art, I de-
veloped his analysis further and extended it to cover my case studies
in contemporary art. This approach has its roots in Merleau-Ponty’s
own philosophy. On the one hand, I followed his strategy of read-
ing past philosophers’ texts and thus took into account the limitations
and traced the unthought of Merleau-Ponty’s own works. On the other
hand, I followed the example he himself gave in addressing domains
outside philosophy, such as the domain of the sciences and the domain
of the arts. For Merleau-Ponty such case studies from other fields were
crucial since they helped to develop descriptions and analyses of phe-
nomena and also presented challenges for philosophy.
My aim has been both to show the potentiality of Merleau-Ponty’s
phenomenology and to engage in the critical task of addressing the
possible limitations of his approach. Merleau-Ponty valued painting
highly, but he also had reservations when it came to avant-garde art.
Through the choices of my case studies I wanted to challenge standard
readings of his philosophy. For instance, in choosing the artworks, I
was motivated by a quest for many-sidedness and plurality of artis-
tic approaches. From the beginning it was clear that I would address
works that use different mediums. Here I both followed the example
of Merleau-Ponty, who studied different art forms widely in order to
grasp their living essence, but also challenged his views and his formu-
lations, since the variety of visual arts has radically widened from the
days of Merleau-Ponty.
For Merleau-Ponty the visual arts were fundamentally corporeal
practices and philosophical inquiries. His approach to the visual arts
was genuinely fresh: his interest in the working process of the artist
set weight on the materiality of the work and on its genesis or be-
746 NC, 166.

233
coming. But how could his approach be carried further, how to set it
into a dialogue with contemporary art? This question was a crucial
part in my examination of Merleau-Ponty. In other words, I did not
remain perfectly faithful to the examples Merleau-Ponty had. On the
contrary, the preferences and choices of examples also motivated me
to read him anew. To participate in the contemporary discussions on
art it does not suffice to limit oneself to Cézanne’s paintings. By look-
ing into the various fields of visual arts, I have been able to point out
new ways of reading and developing his phenomenology. For instance,
I suggested with my case study how the philosophical discussion on
painting’s space need not attach itself to the binary oppositions be-
tween Renaissance painting and Cézannian painting. Or, concerning
his critical remarks on photography, I proposed that Merleau-Ponty’s
reservations can be read as statements which reject the scientific atti-
tude, not the medium itself. Through these various case studies I hope
to have shown that Merleau-Ponty’s own examples do not have to re-
strict our readings — and yet simultaneously we should not overlook
his examples but can be inspired and motivated by them in our choice
of new, philosophically challenging examples.
Interlinked with the question of materiality, my discussion empha-
sised the relation between the spectator and the work of art, i.e. I
wished to examine how the work appears to the spectator. In my in-
terpretations of the artworks I have taken into account the embodied
spectatorship and the different multi-sensuous aspects of the works.
However, I acknowledge that the emphasis on the medium of the se-
lected works can at points be problematic. Moving within the field
of contemporary art in such a large scope raises questions: why bring
together the thought of Merleau-Ponty with the eclectic field of con-
temporary art? To this I would reply that from my perspective the
phenomenological philosophy of art is still an aesthetics that is find-
ing its form and thus it is our task to set it against contemporary art
in order to narrow the gap between the traditional perspectives and
present-day discussions.
In bringing together philosophy and art, the main question was
how to make them resonate in a way that could do justice to both.
Undoubtedly, the commitment to the thinking of Merleau-Ponty has
directed my interests in choosing the works of art to be discussed, and
has also guided my interpretations of the pieces. However, I have let
the works influence philosophy, in a sense that the art has directed my
reading of Merleau-Ponty into directions that have then shed light on
the interpretations.
Case Studies: The Multiplicity of Art
In chapters with case studies (4–7) I have taken up different themes:

I have addressed space, movement, time and touch. All of the themes
were interlinked with the examined works of art. For instance, I took
up the theme of space in the discussion of painting, and I addressed the
theme of expressing movement in photography, etc. These individual
topics are related to each other as well as to different artworks. How-
ever, there were also topics and aspects that I kept returning to, for in-
stance, the notion of écart and the question of encountering the other.
I would describe my strategy of reading Merleau-Ponty as a “double
exposure”: each case study opens up new topics but also forced me to
return to the central notions of Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy, opening
up a different angle to his thinking.
I started my discussion from Merleau-Ponty’s conception of space
and spatiality in painting. In chapter 4 I showed how Cartesian space
and Cézannian space do not form such a clear-cut opposition as is
often assumed. Moreover, the debate concerning culturally constructed
vision and primordial vision in Merleau-Ponty was unravelled in the
light of these conceptions: for him we are always both linked to nature
and culture. Further, using Renée van de Vall’s definition, there is
no painting that represents or expresses brute perception, instead it is
something that is staged by the painting. This meant that the emphasis
is moved from the canvas to what takes place in the encountering of
the artwork and the spectator.
However, concerning spatiality, I wanted to show how understand-
ing depth is involved in understanding the painting’s space. For Mer-
leau-Ponty depth was not the third dimension; rather it was the re-
versibility of dimensions. Depth is at the same time something that pre-
vents one from seeing and yet it also enables seeing. Later on, through
the concept of depth Merleau-Ponty also addressed the “voluminos-
ity” of the world, another kind of vision that opens into the texture
of Being. Interpreted in this way, depth is related to the structure of
the visible space and at the same time it radically transcends visibility
and belongs to Being.
I further suggested that by focusing on encountering the work and
on the painting’s ability to stage “brute vision”, we can radically recon-
sider the phenomenological approach to contemporary painting. In my
case study I presented a painter who uses found images as her starting
point. My interpretation of Tiina Mielonen’s paintings emphasised a
certain entanglement of perceptions, the intertwining of looks, which
235
can be connected through depth to an experience of the voluminosity

of the world. Based on this, I proposed that her paintings addressed
the “haunting” of others’ looks and thus opened the spectator to the
experience of dispossession.
In chapter 5 I illustrated how Merleau-Ponty’s short critical re-
marks concerning photography involve a question of attitude. In cer-
tain discussions, the phenomenological approach has been understood
as being critical towards lens-based arts. I suggested instead that
Merleau-Ponty’s criticism draws a parallel between the early photo-
graphic experiments of photographing moving objects, such as a gallop-
ing horse and the attitude of natural sciences to living beings. However,
from the contemporary perspective it is clear that not all photography
is carried out in a scientific manner or with documentary interests.
Further, what was at stake in the Merleau-Pontian criticism of
photography was its suggested incapacity to express movement. From
the outset, photography was able to artificially slice time into pieces,
but, as we can read from Merleau-Ponty, movement is not simply about
changing places. Following Renaud Barbaras’ reading of Merleau-
Ponty, the challenge in movement is to understand it as connected with
embodied subjectivity: “the essence of perception consists of move-
ment.”747 Barbaras argues that Merleau-Ponty’s notion of the invisi-
ble, i.e. the transcendence of perceived being is not to be correlated
with a conscious being. Instead, Merleau-Ponty searched for a defi-
nition of being which exceeds itself, is different from itself. Here, he
found subjective movement. It is something that remains inaccessible
to us — since the I cannot rejoin its own movement.
Interpreted in this way, movement marks the limits of our percep-
tion and it includes the impossibility of seeing ourselves seeing. I also
connected this idea with the possibilities of encountering the other. In
my reading of Christian Mayer’s Another city, not my own, a series of
images “taken by” a dog, I proposed that the work presents a ques-
tion concerning the limits of empathy and encountering the other.
I suggested how the blurred, unintentionally taken images omit the
spectator from the position of an aerial view and instead push the
spectator closer to the point of view of the non-human animal body.
Moreover, the images challenge the spectator’s corporeal schema and
its openness: the work asks not only the possibility of experiencing the
perspective of the other, but also poses the question of what it is to
be seen by the “other” and beyond, what is not to be seen, namely as
747 Barbaras 2000, 86.

a marginal figure the “photographer” is rarely looked at or addressed

in the images. Thus the series of images could be seen to address the
question of how we become visible through the other’s look and how
in this relation also our own seeing becomes visible to us. Observed
from this angle, Mayer’s images succeed in showing how photography
can move away from the attitude governed by pensée de survol and
approach the experience of the embodied spectator and the intersub-
jective experience.
I addressed the theme of time together with the topic of the moving
image in chapter 6. In general, Merleau-Ponty valued film especially
in its ability to address our being in the world. In his view the genuine
expressive potential of cinema was to be found in the way film brought
together different sensory and perceptual aspects to create a temporal
form and how film formed a cinematographical rhythm, a radiant im-
age. I further illustrated how both time or temporality and rhythm or
rhythmicity are indivisible from our experience of perception and be-
ing in the world. Merleau-Ponty underlined the contradictory nature
of time, i.e. how all analyses of time that observe it from above are in-
sufficient, and how time must both constitute itself and simultaneously
be studied from the point of view of somebody who is already in it.
The expression of this experience of temporality in all its complexity
could then be found in cinema. I also studied the theme of rhythm. For
Merleau-Ponty, there is the rhythm of life and rhythm defines our com-
munication with others. In art rhythm or pulsation is likewise central,
because through rhythm and conversely, loss of rhythm, a vertigo, a
work of art creates a fluctuating movement.
We have seen that phenomenology has inspired art research and
film studies in a dynamic way. In the phenomenologically oriented
approach to film, for instance in Sobchack’s studies, the embodied
spectator has been taken into account. These readings show that the
spectator is not simply a pair of eyes, let alone a passive receptor.
Moreover, within phenomenological film studies the notion of “film’s
body” is also central. Through it the idea of film’s vision can be ad-
dressed and the situation of encountering the film can be understood
as a reciprocal relation. Even though my thesis does not belong to
the field of film studies, I, too, emphasised the lived experience of the
spectator and the reciprocal relation between the spectator and the
film with the help of phenomenological concepts.
My interpretation of the case study illustrated how Douglas Gor-
don’s and Philippe Parreno’s portrait of a footballer had a particu-
lar rhythm: Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait brings together different
237
rhythms and layers of time. The rhythm of the work may, so to speak,
take the spectator to the field, in so far the rhythms of the game res-
onate with his or her bodily schema. Conversely, if the spectator can-
not recognise the rhythms, the work gives a shattered and distanced
impression of the player. Moreover, in my discussion I laid out how in
Zidane the different layers of time are all merged into an image of cyclic
time. In the first place the film is linear and follows the clock-time of
one game of football. However the work is also an attempt to grasp real
time, to preserve a moment and one sport performance. The intensive
“now” of the film was intersected with different elements: the portrait
of a star was mixed with childhood memories of bygone sports heroes
and it pointed forwards in time to a significant incident that took
place after the filming. These temporal transitions were connected to
the spectatorial experience, e.g. memories awakened by the film could
suddenly send the spectator into his or her own childhood. Besides the
several cinematic times and rhythms that this piece brought together,
I also underlined how as a portrait the film approaches a limit, namely
the invisibility of seeing our own seeing: at least momentarily Zinédine
Zidane, the footballer whose portrait the film shows, could reach his
own seeing, his own movement.748
Finally, in chapter 7, I examined the themes of touch, reversibility
and passivity. I showed how the relationship between vision and touch
evolves in Merleau-Ponty. Reversibility defines both ourselves — as
Merleau-Ponty described, reversibility takes place between our senses
— as well as our relations to others and to the world. I elucidated how
in the late texts of Merleau-Ponty the concept of reversibility remains
asymmetrical, and thus always involves noncoincidence. Reversibility
also draws attention to passivity, how one’s activity is always also a
passivity and vice versa.
As concepts reversibility, touch and passivity were especially im-
portant in the examination of the case study: I discussed a site-specific
installation that addressed the multi-sensuous situation of encounter-
ing an artwork and the centrality of the reciprocal relationship estab-
lished between the work and the beholder. In order to contextualise
my case study, I looked closer into the traditions of site-specific art
and installation art, both which, in their early days of development,
shared a critical stance towards the practices of art exhibition and art
museums and held a particularly physically participatory relationship
to the spectator.
748 VI, 303/254.

In my interpretation of Monika Sosnowska’s Fountain I pointed at

the materiality of the work and how in this piece liquid functioned as
a mediating element, suggesting a change from the sense of sight to a
sense of touch. It created a situation, where the spectator could not
stay “outside” the work, but became involved, stained by it. Moreover,
through this work I was also able to examine the preconditions of “see-
ing with” an artwork. I suggested how in the attitude of seeing with,
also characterised as unthematised seeing, there is already a demand
for specific positions, a role for the one that looks and a role for the one
with whom we see. Fountain can be interpreted as a work that did not
demand the attention of the spectator but on the contrary encouraged
the beholder to be passive. Yet, I proposed that the work addressed
the spectator, drawing attention to the unnoticed in order to address
us. Understood in this way, we can conclude that the Merleau-Pontian
concept of passivity is crucial for the understanding of an encountering
with an artwork, since it captures a specific way of attending in which
it is possible to “watch over the other’s alterity” and avoid positioning
the seen as an object.
Phenomenology and Aesthetics

Above, we have seen how Merleau-Pontian phenomenology allows us
to understand our relation to contemporary art as an open dialogue
with the multiplicity of very different works. What is emphasised in my
interpretations of the artworks is a certain approaching of the limit: all
of the readings bring forth the écart, the experience of dispossession or
divergence that defines our being in the world as well as our experience
of the other. In connection with the artworks I discussed the various
ways in which this dispossession is to be found within the spectator
and the works. On the basis of the idea of “seeing with”, the objective
is not to set the écart aside but to take it under examination, and so
to speak, watch over it.
Further, together with the individual artworks I have addressed
themes that are relevant not only for the discussion within aesthetics
or art, but for the project of phenomenology itself. As Merleau-Ponty
argued, the sphere of art has a particular capability to address our
being in the world in a manner that is not and cannot be done else-
where. Therefore, I want to suggest that my work contributes to a
larger discussion concerning the scope of aesthetics and phenomenol-
ogy. So finally I would like to turn back to the question concerning the
relationship of aesthetics to phenomenology.
239
The discussion concerning the scope of aesthetics is of course an

extensive topic with long historical roots. However, I suggest that the
Merleau-Pontian approach contributes to the contemporary discourses
which express both a renewed interest in aesthetics as well as a chal-
lenge to the traditional role of aesthetics.749 Next, I propose a concrete
connection to certain contemporary debates, of which I am only capa-
ble of presenting certain hints here. The purpose of this brief account
is to show possible openings for new discussions for contemporary phe-
nomenology and continental philosophy in general. Jacques Rancière,
for example, uses the expression “the common anti-aesthetic consen-
sus” in order to describe the current situation in today’s academic
world.750 For Rancière, the problematic tendency within aesthetics is
due to the modernist tradition, where aesthetics is reserved for prob-
lematising what is proper to art, and its field is seen as autonomous:
“Aesthetics is charged with being the captious discourse by which phi-
losophy, or a certain type of philosophy hijacks the meaning of art-
works and judgements of taste for its own benefit.”751 From Rancière’s
perspective there is no isolated discipline dedicated to the identifica-
tion of art; one of the challenges of aesthetics is to address the manifold
field of art.752 There are also other reactions to the current situation of
aesthetics. A more critical line of philosophy wishes to dissociate itself
from the tradition of aesthetics and turn towards something completely
new. This schema is represented most clearly by Alain Badiou in his
inaesthetics. According to Badiou the main problem in the relation of
art and philosophy is that art is always either condemned or treated as
an instrumental fashion, bypassing the artwork itself. To answer the
problems, Badiou creates his own schema, where art is arguably not
an object to philosophy, but an independent truth procedure.753
I will not go further into these debates, but would like to remark
as a final note that Merleau-Ponty’s thinking is relevant to the cur-
rent discussion on the state of aesthetics. As I have illustrated with
my interpretations of the artworks, in the Merleau-Pontian approach
questions concerning perception, the experience of the artwork and the
possible interpretations of the work are linked with themes that are
at the heart of phenomenology. Questions occupied with “proper” or
“pure” art can be set aside, but certain fundamental questions con-
749 Seefor instance Rancière 2004; 2009; Badiou 2005; During 2008.
750 Rancière 2004, 218.
751 Rancière 2009, 1.
752 Rancière 2009, 6.
753 Badiou 2005, 2–5.
cerning the visual arts coincide with those of philosophy. Therefore, as

I proposed in the introduction, the phenomenological approach allows
us to see the subject matter of aesthetics and the relation between aes-
thetics and philosophy in a fruitful way. The claim is not a new one,
for instance Jenny Slatman writes how for Merleau-Ponty aesthetics
comprises the project of phenomenology in its totality, as phenomenol-
ogy that aims to return to the things themselves cannot be anything
else than aesthetics.754 Further, she points out that the strength of
Merleau-Pontian aesthetics is not only in its ability to combine the
sensible-perceptual and the ontological analysis of the work, but also
in its paralleling of artistic and philosophical expressions.755 Under-
stood in this way, the new aesthetics comes near to phenomenology.
I have argued that Merleau-Ponty did not develop a comprehen-
sive aesthetic theory in a traditional sense and that phenomenological
aesthetics is still in the making. But Merleau-Ponty proposed a new
understanding of the relations of art, perception and philosophy and
this opens new ways to consider the tasks of aesthetics. This could
also be formulated in other words: in Merleau-Ponty’s philosophy it is
possible to find a new aesthetics that contributes to the contemporary
discussion concerning the ontological status of art. To examine this
dialogue closer, we certainly need further investigations.
754 Slatman 2003, 269.

755 Slatman 2003, 272–75; see also Escoubas 2008, 43.
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A
Images
Figure A.1: Tiina Mielonen, Rider, 2005, oil on plexiglass, 100 x 76

cm. (Image: Museokuva.)
271
272 APPENDIX A. IMAGES
Figure A.2: Tiina Mielonen, Trailer, 2005, oil on plexiglass, 76 x 67

cm.
273
Figure A.3: Tiina Mielonen, Terrace, 2007, oil on plexiglass, 67 x 76

cm. (Image: Museokuva.)
Figure A.4: Christian Mayer: Another city, not my own, 2007, digital
slideshow.
275
slideshow.
slideshow.
277
slideshow.
slideshow.
279
slideshow.
Figure A.10: Douglas Gordon & Philippe Parreno: Zidane: A 21st Cen-
tury Portrait, 2006. Anna Lena Films.
281
283
Figure A.17: Monika Sosnowska: The Fountain, 2006, installation, Mu-

seum of Contemporary Art Kiasma. (Image: Finnish National Gallery
/ Central Art Archives / Sanna Ikäläinen.)
285


B
Artist Resumes
Tiina Mielonen
Born in 1974, Helsinki, Finland. Lives and works in Helsinki.
Education
2003 Master of Fine Arts, Finnish Academy of Fine Arts, Helsinki,
Finland
Selected Solo Exhibitions

2009 Galleria Ama, Turku, Finland
Korjaamo Galleria, Helsinki, Finland
2007 Le Petit Salon, MKgalerie, Berlin, Germany
tm•galleria, Helsinki, Finland
Galleria VISU, Kokkola, Finland
2006 MKgalerie, Rotterdam, Netherlands
2005 Cat Cellar, Stichting Kaus Australis, Rotterdam, Netherlands
2004 Galleria Huuto, Helsinki, Finland
Selected Group Exhibitions

2011 Mazzano! Amos Anderson Art Museum, Helsinki, Finland
2010 It’s a Set-Up, Museum of Contemporary Art Kiasma, Helsinki,
Finland
Virtually Real, Helsinki Art Museum, Helsinki, Finland
Cool Water, Korjaamo Galleria, Helsinki, Finland
2009 Beauty in Seduction, MKgalerie, Rotterdam, Netherlands
Dialogues — IX International Biennial of Contemporary Art,
Manege, St. Petersburg, Russia
287
288 APPENDIX B. ARTIST RESUMES
Minun Pohjoiseni, Nordic Art Association in Finland, Jetty

Barracks Gallery, Helsinki, Finland
2008 Smart, Korjaamo Galleria, Helsinki, Finland
Taiteilijat 2008, Finnish Artists’ 113th Annual Exhibition,
Kuntsi Museum of Modern Art, Vaasa, Finland
Moscow International Biennale for Young Art, National Cen-
tre for Contemporary Art, Moscow, Russia
Circle of Differences, MKgalerie, Rotterdam, Netherlands
New Painting, Lahti Art Museum, Lahti, Finland
Art of Inhabitation, Pictura, Dordrecht, Netherlands
Mongolia: Perception and Utopia, Kerava Art Museum, Ker-
ava, Finland; Rovaniemi Art Museum, Rovaniemi, Finland;
Pärnu Museum of New Art, Pärnu, Estonia
2007 The Family, La Sala Naranja, Valencia, Spain
2006 L’Esprit du Nord, Galerie Le Besset, Saint Jeures d’Andaure,
France
Mongolia: Perception and Utopia, Union of Mongolian Artists
Gallery, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Art Camp 2006, Zanabazar Fine Arts Museum, Ulaanbaatar,
Mongolia
Mazzanon aika 3, Forum Box, Helsinki, Finland
Colour Addiction, Taidekeskus Ahjo, Joensuu, Finland
Fragile! 17 artists from Finland, Konstnärshuset, Stockholm,
Sweden
2005 1,2,3 — 12 Künstler aus Helsinki / 12 artistes de Helsinki, Pro-
duzentengalerie im Artforum, Offenburg, Germany and Aula
du Palais Universitaire, Strasbourg, France
Made In Rotterdam, MKgalerie, Rotterdam, Netherlands
Landscape as Perception and Utopia, Union of Mongolian
Artists Gallery, Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia
Transparencies, Galleria Rajatila, Tampere, Finland
Christian Mayer
Born in 1976, Sigmaringen, Germany. Lives and works in Vienna.
Education
2005 Diploma Academy of Fine Arts Vienna
2004 Glasgow School of Art
CHRISTIAN MAYER 289
2000 Academy of Fine Arts Vienna

1997 Academy of Fine Arts Saarbrücken
Since 2002 Co-Editor of the art magazine that changes its title with
each issue, depending of the font that is used. Released issues by 2011:
Chicago, Times, Plotter, Helvetica, DIN, Techno, Löhfelm, RR_02,
Univers, Tiffany, Circuit, Memphis, Gringo, Zeus, The Mix, Princess
Lulu, Pigiarniq, Paper, Libertine, Trixie.
Solo Shows
2011 Scenic, Galerie Christian Nagel, Berlin
Apartment 2, Los Angeles
Kunstraum Ursula Werz, Tübingen
2010 Kunstraum Ursula Werz, Tübingen
2009 Gizmo, Galerie Mezzanin, Vienna
2008 flotsam and jetsam (Les Vues d‘Amérique du Nord), FIAC,
Paris
2007 flotsam and jetsam, Galerie Mezzanin, Vienna
Another city, not my own, Österreichisches Kulturforum, War-
saw
2006 Serious Immobility, Thomas K. Lang Gallery, Vienna
2005 New Talents, Art Cologne 2005
2003 Venedig in Wien in Venedig, Castello 3271, Venice
Christian Mayer kommt aus Wien und bringt was mit aus
Berlin, Atelier Just, Düsseldorf
Christian Mayer, Kastanienallee 82, Berlin
Group Exhibitions and Projects

2011 Fruits, Flowers and Clouds, Museum für Angewandte Kunst,
Vienna
2010 The invisible play, Kadirga Art Center, Istanbul
Pro Choice in Schattendorf, Kunstverein Schattendorf
Paradise lost –– Holiday in hell, CCA Andratx, Mallorca
Bare House, Art Museum, Pori
Walls, Rooms, Illusions, temporary gallery, Cologne
da bao, Anni Art, Bejing
Forschungsbericht, COCO, Vienna
2009 Figure/Ground, Galerie Transit, Mechelen
Gastspiel, Hetjens Museum, Düsseldorf
Weltpanorama, 6th Biennale of Photography, Poznan

en vue... des manières de voir — la nature mise en images et
en vitrine, Centre d’art Passerelle, Brest
Bulletin Board Blvd, pro choice, Vienna
Miete Strom Gas oder Brasilien Wax, freiraum, Museum-
squartier, Vienna
Sleepwalking, temporary gallery, Cologne
2008 Manifesta 7, Trentino–South Tyrol, Italy
Elseworlds (with Sonia Leimer), Öffentlicher Raum, Laa an
der Thaya
Bass Diffusion Model, Fieldgate Gallery, London
Manual CC, uqbar, Berlin
Utopia and Perception, Kerava Art Museum, Finland
zoomandscale, Akademie der Bildenden Künste/Kunsthalle
project space, Vienna
Missing Scene, Galerie Thomas Schulte, Berlin
Missing Scene, Galerie Georg Kargl Fine Arts, Vienna
2007 This is happening, Georg Kargl Fine Arts, Vienna
+10/2007, Columbus Art Foundation, Ravensburg
Images, Intoposition, Vienna
Toposcapes, Pavelhaus, Laafeld
groupshow, Tanzquartier, Vienna
Logbuch, Galerie 5020, Salzburg
2006 for example F, N, G, L, B, C, Shedhalle, Zurich
Klartext Berlin, Kunstraum Niederösterreich, Vienna
Mongolia: Perception and Utopia, Union of Mongolian Artists,
Ulaanbaatar
Pigment Piano Marble, Maipu 327, Buenos Aires
Société des nations, factice et scindée en elle-même, Circuit,
Lausanne
Christian Mayer, Julia Willms, Space Invasion, Vienna
Describing the booth, ViennaFair 2006, Vienna
Artsessions, Kunsthalle Wien, project space, Vienna
mehr nicht, AUTO, Vienna
Zur Zeit, Künstlerhaus Thurn und Taxis, Bregenz
for example TEU: 8 feet x 20 feet, Shedhalle Zurich
2005 Kolonialismus ohne Kolonien?, Shedhalle Zurich, Zurich
Marlene Haring/Manuel Gorkiewicz/Christian Mayer, Galerie
Mezzanin, Vienna
Computerprints of whales/too, Galerie der Stadt Wels, Wels
PERFORMANCE, Flaca gallery, London
CHRISTIAN MAYER 291
Best European Design 2005, Design Museum, London

ViennaFair, International Art Fair, Vienna
Exhibition for an art lover, project room, Glasgow
Videoscreening, Galerie Antik, Berlin
Lassie in Frankfurt, Projektraum, Frankfurt
The Thomas Ender Expedition-Reconsidered, Akademie der
bildenden Künste, Vienna
2004 Offspace, Ass Peep and Champagne, Musterraum München,
Munich
Manuel Gorkiewicz, Christian Mayer, Mandla Reuter, Dres-
den
The Thomas Ender Expedition — Reconsidered, Sao Paulo
Biennial 2004, Sao Paulo
living room, Kunsthalle Exnergasse, Vienna
10th International Festival of Computer Arts, Gallery Media
Nox, Maribor
CONSTRUCTa, Galerie 5020, Salzburg
2003 Christian Mayer kommt aus Wien und bringt was mit aus
Berlin, Atelier Just, Düsseldorf
Vorführung der Ausstellungspraxis, Café am Park, Vienna
21er, 20er Haus Wien, Vienna
ABCity, Trafo Galleria, Budapest
Kontext, Form, Troja, Secession, Vienna
Videoscreening, Galerie Martin Janda, Vienna; Galerie der
Stadt Schwaz
Total motiviert invited by Michael Beutler, Kunstverein
München, Munich
Curatorial Works
2006 Société des nations, factice et scindée en elle-même (with
Christian Egger, Manuel Gorkiewicz, Yves Mettler, Magda
Tothova, Ruth Weismann, Alexander Wolff), Circuit, Lau-
sanne
2005 PERFORMANCE (with Alice Chauchat, Christian Egger,
Manuel Gorkiewicz,
Yves Mettler, Magda Tothova, Ruth Weismann, Alexander
Wolff), Flaca gallery, London
2004 living room (with Yves Mettler), Kunsthalle Exnergasse, Vi-
enna
Douglas Gordon
Born in 1966, Glasgow, Scotland. Lives and works in Glasgow and New
York.
Education
1990 The Slade School of Art, London
1988 Glasgow School of Art, Scotland
Solo Exhibitions1
2011 Douglas Gordon: k.364, Gagosian Gallery, London
2009 Douglas Gordon, Galerie Eva Presenhuber, Zurich
2008 Douglas Gordon, Garage Centre for Contemporary Culture,
Moscow
Retrospective. Gagosian Gallery, New York
Archetypes and Icons. Gagosian Gallery, New York.
Douglas Gordon. Gallery Hyundai Company, doArt Bei-
jing/Seoul.
2007 Douglas Gordon: self-portrait of you + me, after the factory,
Gagosian Gallery, New York (980 Madison).
Douglas Gordon (curated by Rudolf Frieling), San Francisco
Museum of Art, CA.
Douglas Gordon, Yvon Lambert, Paris.
2006 Douglas Gordon: superhumanatural, National Galleries of
Scotland, Edinburgh.
Douglas Gordon: Black and White (Babylon), Patrick Painter
INC, Los Angeles.
prettymucheverywordwritten,spoken,heard,overheardfrom
1989... (curated by Giorgio Verzotti and Mirta D’Argenzio),
Museo di arte moderna e contemporanea di Trento e Rovereto
(Mart), Italy.
Douglas Gordon: Self-Portraits of You+Me, Gagosian Gallery,
New York.
National Gallery, Edinburgh, Scotland.
Museo d’Arte Moderne e Contemporanea, Trento, Italy.
1 Fora CV with group exhibitions, see

http://www.gagosian.com/artists/douglas-gordon/.
DOUGLAS GORDON 293
Douglas Gordon: Timeline (curated by Klaus Biesenbach), The

Museum of Modern Art, New York. Traveled to: the Museo de
Arte Latinoamericano de Buenos Aires, Colección Costantini.
Douglas Gordon: The Rules of the Game, Galer’a Estrany-de
la Mota, Barcelona.
Douglas Gordon: What do you want me to say? I am already
dead, Fundació Joan Miró, Barcelona.
Kunstmuseum Wolfsburg, Germany.
2005 Douglas Gordon’s The Vanity of Allegory, Deutsche Guggen-
heim Museum, Berlin.
Croque-Mort, Usher Gallery, Lincoln, England.
Lisson Gallery, London.
2004 Douglas Gordon: Fog, Gagosian Gallery, Beverly Hills.
2003 Douglas Gordon: Blind Star, Andy Warhol Museum, Pitts-
burgh, PA.
Spotlight on Douglas Gordon, Q Gallery, Derby, England.
Play Dead; Real Time, Gagosian Gallery, New York (Chelsea).
Douglas Gordon, Galerie Yvon Lambert, Paris.
24 Hour Psycho, Rooseum Center for Contemporary Art,
Malmö, Sweden.
2002 What Have I Done? Hayward Gallery, London (through 2003).
Confessions of a Justified Sinner, Kunsthaus Bregenz, Austria.
Sleeper, 6 Darnaway Street, Edinburgh, Scotland.
What you want me to say, University of Brighton Gallery,
England.
2001 Douglas Gordon, MOCA at the Geffen Contemporary, Los
Angeles. Traveled to: Vancouver Art Gallery, Canada; Museo
Rufino Tamayo, Mexico City; Hirshhorn Museum and Sculp-
ture Garden, Washington, D.C. (through 2004).
Feature Film, Meeting House Square, Dublin.
Douglas Gordon, Lisson Gallery, London.
thirteen, Gagosian Gallery, New York (Chelsea).
Five Year Drive-By, Twentynine Palms, California.
K21 Kunstmuseum, Düsseldorf.
2000 You’ll get a bang out of this, Galleri Nicolai Wallner, Copen-
hagen.
black spot, Tate Liverpool, England.
Sheep and Goats, ARC Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de
Paris.
Double Cross: The Hollywood Films of Douglas Gordon, The
Powerplant, Toronto.
croque-morts, Yvon Lambert, Paris.

1999 pretty much every video and film work from about 1992 until
now. to be seen on monitors. Some with headphones. Others
run silently and all simultaneously, Galeria Foksal, Warsaw,
Poland.
Neue Nationalgalerie, Berlin.
through a looking glass, Gagosian Gallery, New York (SoHo).
Stan Douglas and Douglas Gordon: Double Vision, DIA Center
for the Arts, New York.
Douglas Gordon, Centro Cultural de Belém, Lisbon, Portugal.
Harmony, Moderna Museet, Stockholm.
Feature Film, Artangel, Atlantis Gallery, London. Traveled to:
Kölnischer Kunstverein, Cologne, Germany; Centre Georges
Pompidou, Paris; Cinéma Max Linder, Paris.
1998 Douglas Gordon, Kunstverein Hannover, Germany.
Dvir Gallery, Tel Aviv.
1997 Galleri Nicolai Wallner, Copenhagen.
Bloom Gallery, Amsterdam.
Galerie Micheline Swajcer, Antwerp, Belgium.
Galerie Mot & Van den Boogaard, Brussels, Belgium.
Douglas Gordon, Gandy Gallery, Prague, Czech Republic.
Douglas Gordon, Biennale de Lyon, France.
5 Year Drive-By. Overnight: #1, Kunstverein Hannover, Ger-
many.
Leben nach dem Leben nach dem Leben..., Deutsches Museum
Bonn, Germany.
Douglas Gordon, Côté-Rue — Yvon Lambert, Paris.
1996 Douglas Gordon & Rirkrit Tiravanija, FRAC Languedoc-
Roussillion, Montpellier, France.
24 Hour Psycho, Akademie der bildende Künste, Vienna.
...head, Uppsala Konstmuseum (part of “Sawn-Off”), Sweden.
Galleria Bonomo (part of British Art Festival), Rome.
Canberra Contemporary Art Space, Australia.
Museum für Gegenwartskunst, Zurich.
Galerie Walchenturm, Zurich.
Cinema is dead, museum in progress, Vienna.
1995 Bad Faith, Kunstlerhaus, Stuttgart, Germany.
The End, Jack Tilton Gallery, New York.
Douglas Gordon/Graham Gussin: a collaboration, the Agency,
London.
Entr’Acte 3, Stedelijk Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven, The
DOUGLAS GORDON 295
Netherlands.
Fuzzy Logic, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris.
Rooseum Espresso, Malmö, Sweden.
1994 Douglas Gordon, Lisson Gallery, London.
1993 24 Hour Psycho, Tramway, Glasgow and Kunst Werke, Berlin.
Migrateurs, ARC Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris.
1991 Roderick Buchanan/Douglas Gordon, Orpheus Gallery,
Belfast.
1988 40 years (collaboration with Craig Richardson), Royal Scottish
Academy, Edinburgh.
From Cradle to grave (collaboration with Craig Richardson),
Royal Scottish Academy, Edinburgh.
4th Avenue Festival (collaboration with Craig Richardson),
Arnhem, Netherlands.
The Puberty Institution (collaboration with Craig Richard-
son), Midland Street Car Park, Glasgow, Scotland.
The Puberty Institution: Refuse — consumption — decay —
survival (collaboration with Craig Richardson), N.R.L.A. @
Third Eye Centre, Glasgow, Scotland.
1987 Experiments under Nostalgia’s Umbrella (collaboration with
Craig Richardson), Third Eye Center, Glasgow, Scotland.
N.R.L.A. (collaboration with Craig Richardson), Riverside
Studios, London.
Curatorial Projects
2005 Vanity of Allegory, German Guggenheim, Berlin.
Commissions
1998 “Empire”, Visual Art Projects for the Merchant City Civic
Society, Glasgow, Scotland.
1994 Bookworks, London.
Philippe Parreno
Born in 1964 Oran, Algeria. Lives and works in Paris, France.
Education
1989 Institut des Hautes Etudes en arts plastiques — first session
— Palais de Tokyo, Paris
1988 Ecole des Beaux-Arts de Grenoble
1983 Math sup/Math sp
Solo Exhibitions2
2010 Irish Museum of Modern Art, Dublin
Walker Art Center, Minneapolis
2009 Serpentine Gallery, London
May, Kunsthalle Zurich, Zurich
Musée national d’Art moderne — Centre Georges Pompidou,
Beaubourg
2008 Suicide in Vermilion Sands, Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New
York
October, Pilar Corrias Ltd., London
2007 Philippe Parreno, Esther Schipper, Berlin
What do you believe, your eyes or my words, Haunch of Veni-
son, London
Stories are Propaganda, Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York
Stories are Propaganda, Air de Paris, Paris
2006 Interior Cartoons, Esther Schipper, Berlin
Again for Tomorrow, Royal College of Art Galleries, London
Briannnnnn & Ferryyyyyy/Law Creativity, collaboration with
Liam Gillick, Kunsthalle Zurich
2005 The Boy From Mars, Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York
Air de Paris, Paris
You and Me, Me and You (w/ Douglas Gordon), Fondazione
Davide Halevim, Milano
Atlas Of Clouds, Brian Butler/1301PE, Los Angeles
Briannnnnn & Ferryyyyyy, collaboration with Liam Gillick,
Vamiali’s, Athens
2004 Fade Away, Kunstverein, Munich
2 For a CV with group exhibitions, see http://www.airdeparis.com/parreno.htm.
PHILIPPE PARRENO 297
Anna Sanders Films, Worldwide Video Festival, Filmmuseum,

Amsterdam
(Rider): Law & Creativity (w/ Liam Gillick), Konsthalle, Lund
2003 Sky of The Seven Colors, Center for Contemporary Art, CCA
Kitakyushu, Japan
Alien Season, Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York
TV Channel, Yvon Lambert, Paris
2002 El Sue–o de una cosa, Portikus Museum, Frankfurt
Alien Season, Musee d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, Paris
Anywhere out of the world, Kunstverein Munchen, Munich
a smile without a cat (Celebration of Annlee’s Vanishing), a
fireworks project (with Pierre Huyghe), inaugural night of the
Art Basel Miami Beach, Miami
2001 Mont Analogue, Air de Paris, Paris
Mont Analogue, Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York
Mont Analogue, Rirkrit Tiravanija’s Studio, Bangkok
In Many Ways the Exhibition Already Happened, ICA Institute
of Contemporary Arts, London
El sueno de una cosa, Museet Project, Moderna Museet, Stock-
holm
One Thousand Pictures Falling from One Thousand Walls,
Friedrich Petzel Gallery, New York
About (with D. Gonzalez-Foerster, P. Huyghe), Contemporary
Arts Center, Cincinnati
Anywhere Out of the World, Institute of Visual Culture, Cam-
bridge
2000 No Ghost Just a Shell: Anywhere Out of the World, Air de
Paris, Paris
No Ghost Just a Shell: Anywhere Out of the World, Schipper
& Krome, Berlin
One Thousand Pictures Falling from One Thousand Walls,
MAMCO Musée d’art moderne et contemporain, Geneva
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Philippe Parreno, Pierre
Huyghe, Kunstverein, Hamburg
Pierre Huyghe, Philippe Parreno, Tramway 2, Glasgow
06.00 PM, San Francisco Art Institute, San Francisco. With
Pierre Huyghe.
1999 Ynglagatan, Stockholm
1998 Listen to this Picture, Gallery Schipper & Krome, Berlin
Blue Almost Transparent, Kunstverein Ludwigsburg, Ludwigs-
burg
Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster, Philippe Parreno, Pierre

Huyghe, ARC, Musée d’art moderne de la Ville de Paris, Paris
INOVA, Milwaukee
Le Procès de Pol Pot, Magasin, CNAC, Grenoble (with Liam
Gillick)
La Table, Air de Paris, Geneva
1997 Postman Time, On art and its places open to 21 C, Kunsthalle,
Nürenberg
Air de Paris, Paris
Vitrines des artistes, Nina Ricci, Paris
Speech Bubbles, Galerie Sous-sol, Geneva
1996 Ou, Air de Paris, Paris
While, Snow dancing, or The merlin disease, A birthday tree,
Robert Prime, London
Happy Ending Sweden, 1996, Ynglagatan, Stockholm
Vicinato, Raum Aktueller Kunst, Wien, Austria (with Carsten
Höller and Rirkrit Tiravanija)
1995 Snow Dancing, Le Consortium, Dijon
Possessions NZET, Air de Paris, Geneva
While . . . , Hamburg Kunstverein, Hamburg
Werktische, Schipper & Krome, Cologne
1994 Vicinato, Studio Guenzani, Milan (with Carsten Höller and
Rirkrit Tiravanija)
Innocent et emprisonne: Mais ce que vous zvez contre moi,
c’est que j’ai oublie mon premier amour, Air de Paris, Paris
(with Carsten Höller) SE*
No More Reality versus Zukunft, Galerie Nicolai Wallner,
Copenhagen (Carsten Höller)
Cette culture qui nous vient de la rue..., Galerie Municipale,
Vitry-sur-Seine, France. Curated by P. Restany
La nuit des heros, Salle Garance, Centre Georges Pompidou,
Paris
La nuit des heros, Espace FRAC Poitou Charente, Angouleme
1993 Gegenüber von Bucholz & Bucholz, Daniel Bucholz, Köln
Plaidoyer, Galerie Esther Schipper, Köln
L’Imitateur, Magalerie, Paris; Emmanuel Perrotin, Paris
No More Reality, Black Box, Munich (conference)
1992 Galerie Claudine Papillon, Paris
1991 Try Snacking, Air de Paris, Nice (with P. Joseph)
1989 Ozone, APAC, Nevers (with D. Gonzalez-Foerster, B. Joisten,
P. Joseph); Köln Messe, Esther Schipper,
Cologne; FRAC Corse, Corte

Galerie Intelligente, Galerie des Archives, Paris (with P.
Joseph)
Les Ateliers du Paradise, Air de Paris, Nice (with P. Joseph,
Ph. Perrin)
1987 Fleurs Video, Canal+
Collaborations
2005 Rirkrit Tiravanija: Une rétrospective (Tomorrow is another
Fine Day), Couvent des Coedeliers, Paris —F
jsq. 20.03.05
Briannnnnn & Ferryyyyyy/ Law and Creativity, with Liam
Gillick, Kunsthalle Malmö, Malmö —SW
2004 Rirkrit Tiravanija : No vitrines, no museums, no artists, just
a lot of people, with Pierre Huyghe and Maurizio Nannucci,
22.05.04, Telecom Italia Future Center, Venise —I
2003 Sodium Dreams , with D. Gonzalez-Foerster & P. Huyghe,
Center for Curatorial Studies Museum, Bard College,
Annnandale-on-Hudson, New York —USA
Pardo/Parreno, galerie Air de Paris —F
No Ghost, Just a Shell, Pierre Huyghe and Philippe Parreno,
Eindhoven, Van Abbemuseum
2002 No Ghost Just a Shell, Pierre Huyghe and Philippe Parreno:
Institute of Visual Culture, Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge
—UK
No Ghost, Just a Shell, Kunsthalle Zürich, Zurich
No Ghost, Just a Shell, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art,
San Francisco
A smile without a cat, Philippe Parreno and Pierre Huyghe,
cur. S. Antelo-Suarez, night 04.12.02, Art Basel Miami Beach
—USA
Jorge Pardo, Philippe Parreno, 1301 PE, Los Angeles —USA
2001 No Ghost Just a Shell, Pierre Huyghe and Dominique
Gonzalez-Foerster, Museum Boijmans van Beuningen, Rotter-
dam —NL
In many ways the exhibition already happened, Pierre Huyghe,
M/M, Philippe Parreno, R&Sie, Institute of Contemporary
Artsa, The mall, London —GB
EGOFUGAL, Tokyo Opera City Art Gallery, Tokyo
Animations, PS1, Long Island City
Dominique Gonzales-Foerster, Philippe Parreno, Pierre

Huyghe, Kunstverein in Hamburg, Hamburg —D
Cafe Costes, Cafe design with M/M Paris and Pierre Huyghe
Canal Bourgogne, architectural project with François Roche
Annlee, proposal for a TV series with Pierre Huyghe
2000 Kunstverein Hamburg. With Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster,
Philippe Parreno, Pierre Huyghe.
Ann-Lee in Anzen Zone, Galerie Jennifer Flay, Paris. A film
by Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster presented by Pierre Huyghe
and Philippe Parreno.
Tramway, Glasgow. With Pierre Huyghe and Philippe Par-
reno.
06.00 PM, San Francisco Art Institute, San Francisco. With
Pierre Huyghe.
No Ghost Just a Shell: Annlee, a project with Pierre Hyughe.
1999 D’Apertutto, Biennale de Venise, Venice. With Pierre Huyghe
and Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster. Curated by H. Szeemann.
Vicinato 2, with Liam Gillick, Douglas Gordon, Carsten
Höller, Pierre Huyghe and Rirkrit Tiravanija.
Le Pont du trieur, documentary written and directed with
Charles de Meaux, film 35mm, 70 minutes.
1998 Le Procès de Pol Pot, CNAC Magasin, Grenoble. With Liam
Gillick.
Group Monography, Musée d’art moderne de la Ville de Paris,
Paris. With Pierre Huyghe, Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster,
Philippe Parreno.
What A Strange Game Where The Only Winning Move Is Not
To Play, project for a public site with François Roche.
1997 X-squared, Anna Sanders magazine, Wiener Secession, Vienna.
With Pierre Hyughe. Curated by A. Spiegl.
1996 Vicinato, Raum Aktueller Kunst, Viena. Film with Carsten
Höller and Rirkrit Tiravanija.
Temporary School, Université de Paris VIII, Paris, and Ulmö.
With Dominique Gonzalez-Foerster and P. Huyghe.
La Dolce Utopia, CAPC Bordeaux. With Maurizio Cattelan.
Curated by Nicolas Bourriaud.
1995 Vicinato, Studio Guenzani, Milan. Film with Carsten Höller,
Rirkrit Tiravanija.
Cinemascope, Biennal, Johannesburg. With Rirkrit Tira-
vanija. Curated by Kendell Geers.
The Moral Maze, Le Consortium, Dijon. With Liam Gillick.
1994 No More Reality versus Zukunft, Galleri Nicolai Wallner,

Copenhagen. With Carsten Höller.
Innocent et emprisonné: “mais ce que avez contre moi, c’est
que j’ai abandonné mon premier amour”, Air de Paris, Paris.
With Carsten Höller.
1992 Publico di merda, Magazin, Grenoble. With P. Perrin.
Snaking, Air de Paris, Nice. Film and exhibition with Pierre
Joseph.
1991 La Vérité: L’Amour de l’Art, Biennale, Lyon, France. With P.
Joseph, D. Gonzalez-Foerster and B. Joisten.
Try Snaking. with P.Joseph, Air de Paris, Nice —F
1990 Ozone, FRAC Corse, Corte. With D. Gonzalez-Foerster, B.
Joisten and P. Joseph.
Les Ateliers du Paradis, Air de Paris, Nice. With P. Perrin and
P. Joseph.
Once upon a time in City Bild . . ., Esther Shipper, Köln. With
P. Joseph.
1990 How We Gonna Behave, Galerie Max Hetzler, Köln. With B.
Joisten and P. Joseph.
Composit, XVILe Biennale, Prigioni, Venice. With B. Joisten
and P. Joseph. Curated by Bourriaud.
1989 Ozone, APAC Nevers, France. With Dominique Gonzalez-
Foerster, B. Joisten and Pierre Joseph.
Ozone, Köln Messe and Esther Schipper. With Dominique
Gonzalez-Foerster, B. Joisten and Pierre Joseph.
Smart Gallery, Galerie des Archives, Paris. With Pierre
Joseph.
Video Ozone, Centre National des Arts Plastiques, Paris. With
D. Gonzalez-Foerster, B. Joisten & P. Joseph.
Hyper Hyper, Port d’Austerlitz, Paris. With D. Gonzalez-
Foerster, B. Joisten and P. Joseph.
Composit, CREDAC, Ivry sur Seine. With B. Joisten and P.
Joseph.
Siberia, CNAC Magazin, Grenoble. With B. Joisten and P.
Joseph.
Interventions
1997 Postman Time, On art and its places open to 21 C, Kunsthalle,
Nurnberg
Monika Sosnowska
Born in Ryki, Poland, 1972. Lives and works in Warsaw, Poland.
Education
2000 Rijksakademie van Beeldende Kunsten, Amsterdam
1998 Academy of Fine Arts, Poznan, Poland
Solo Exhibitions
2011 Tamayo Museum, Oaxaca, Mexico
2010 Herzliya Museum of Contemporary Art, ‘Stairway’, Herzliya,
Israel
Hauser & Wirth New York, New York NY
Herzliya Museum of Contemporary Art, ‘The Staircase’, Her-
zliya, Israel
Artpace, ‘Monika Sosnowska’, San Antonio TX
K21 Ständehaus, ‘The Staircase / Die Treppe, 2010’, Dussel-
dorf, Germany
2009 Capitain Petzel Gallery, Berlin, Germany
2008 The Modern Institute, Glasgow, Scotland
Primrose Hill, Public art for London’s Parks, ‘The Wind
House’, London, England
2007 Talbot Rice Gallery, University of Edinburgh, Edinburgh,
Scotland
52nd International Biennale of Venice, Polish Pavilion, ‘1:1’,
Venice, Italy
Kunstmuseum Lichtenstein, ‘Loop’, Vaduz, Lichtenstein
2006 Museum Dhondt Dhaenens Deurle, ‘Picture This!’, Deurle,
Belgium
Museum of Modern Art, ‘Projects 83’, New York NY
Galerie Gisela Capitain, ‘Display’, Cologne, Germany
Sprengel Museum, ‘Interventionen 41’, Hanover, Germany
Musac Museo de Arte Contemporaneo de Castilla y Leon,
Leon, Spain
Arsenal Gallery, ‘Instalacja/Installation’, Białystok, Poland
Kronika Gallery, ‘Display/Wystawa’, Bytom, Poland (Travel-
ling Exhibition)
2005 Foksal Gallery Foundation, ‘Display/Wystawa’, Warsaw,
Poland (Travelling Exhibition)
MONIKA SOSNOWSKA 303
OPA Office for Art Projects, Guadalajara, Mexico

Freud Museum, ‘The Tired Room’, Vienna, Austria
Galerie Gisela Capitain, Cologne, Germany
2004 Serpentine Gallery, London, England
Künstlerhaus Bethanien, Berlin, Germany
De Apple Gallery, Amsterdam, Netherlands
The Modern Institute, Glasgow, Scotland
Stella Lohaus Gallery, Antwerp, Belgium
2003 Laura Pecci Gallery, Milan, Italy (with Wilhelm Sasnal)
2002 Display Gallery, Prague, Czech Republic (with Wilhelm Sas-
nal)
Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw, Poland
2001 Laboratorium Gallery, Center for Contemporary Art Ujaz-
dowski Castle, ‘Little Alice’, Warsaw, Poland
2000 Rijksakademie, ‘Bon Voyage’, Amsterdam, Netherlands
Rijksakademie, ‘Additional Illumination’, Amsterdam,
Netherlands
Rijksakademie, ‘Non-existent Room in a Part’, Amsterdam,
Netherlands
1999 Rijksakademie, ‘Double Reality’, Amsterdam, Netherlands
Rijksakademie, ‘Shift’, Amsterdam, Netherlands
Group Exhibitions
2011 Venice Biennale, ‘Illuminations’, Venice, Italy
2010 LABoral Centro de Arte, ‘Passages. Travels in Hyperspace’
from the Thyssen-Bornemisza Art Conteporary Collection, Gi-
jon, Spain
Daimler Contemporary, ‘Ampersand — A Dialogue of Con-
temporary Art from South Africa & the Daimler Art Collec-
tion’, Berlin, Germany
Centre Pompidou, ‘elles@centrepompidou’, Paris, France
2009 Centre Pompidou — Musée National dÁrt Moderne,
‘elles@centrepompidou, artistes femmes dans les collections du
Centre Pompidou’, Paris, France
2008 Kurimanzutto, ‘Nos cambiamos de domicilio’, Mexico City,
Mexico
Schaulager, ‘Monika Sosnowska / Andrea Zittel, Munchen-
stein, Basel, Switzerland
Kurator. Ein Förderprogramm der Gebert Stiftung für Kultur,
‘Susan Philipsz, Monika Sosnowska’, Rapperswil, Switzerland
Stadtisches Museum Abteiberg, ‘Delusive Orders’,

Mönchengladbach, Germany (Travelling Exhibition)
2007 South London Gallery, ‘STAY FOREVER AND EVER AND
EVER’, London, England
Muzeum Sztuki w Łodzi, ‘Delusive Orders’, Lodz, Poland
Sommer Contemporary Art, ‘XXS (Extra Extra Small)’, Tel-
Aviv, Israel
2006 Foksal Gallery Foundation in collaboration with Kurimanzutto
gallery, ‘Koniec egzotycznej podróży/ The Exotic Journey
Ends’, Warsaw, Poland Center for Contemporary Art Zamek
Ujazdowski, ‘W Polsce; Czyli gdzie? / In Poland, That Is
Where?’, Warsaw, Poland
Grieder Contemporary, ‘START’!, Küsnacht, Zurich, Switzer-
land
Zamość, ‘Ideal cities — invisible cites’, Potsdam, Germany
Charlottenborg udstillingsbygning, ‘Phanton’, Copenhagen,
Denmark
Kiasma Museum of Contemporary Art, ‘ARS 06 — Sense of
the Real’, Helsinki, Finland
Witte de With, ‘Satellite of Love’, Rotterdam, Netherlands
Center fro Contemporary Art Zamek Ujazdowski, ‘W samym
centrum uwagi / At the Very Center of Attention’, Warsaw,
Poland
Green Light Pavilon, ‘Longing Balloons are Floating Around
the World’, Berlin, Germany
2005 Compton Verney Art Gallery, ‘Only Make-Believe: Ways of
Playing’, Warwickshire, England
Villa Manin Centro d’Arte Contemporanea, ‘Il Teatro
dell’Arte and Luna Park. Arte Fantastica’, Passariano, Italy
Bonner Kunstverein, ‘DER KUNST IHRE RÄUME’, Bonn,
Germany
Andrew Kreps Gallery, ‘We Disagree’, New York NY
2004 episode 3, BAK, ‘Who if Not We. . .? Cordially Invited’,
Utrecht, Netherlands
Galerie du TBN, ‘Ce qui reste’, Rennes, France
Galleria Continua, ‘Barraque D’Dull Odde’, San Gimignano,
Italy
Den Haag Sculptuur, Den Haag, Netherlands
Galleria Civica di Arte Contemporanea, ‘Dimension Folly’,
Trento, Italy
Le Plateau, ‘Distances?’, Paris, France
MONIKA SOSNOWSKA 305
BWA Gallery, ‘PRYM’, Zielona Góra, Poland

Foksal Gallery Foundation, ‘Parallel Action’, Cieszyn, Poland
Basis Voor Actuele Kunst, ‘Cordially Invited’, Utrecht,
Netherlands
2003 Zacheta National Gallery of Art, ‘Spojrzenia 2003 — Nagroda
Fundacji Deutsche Bank / Views ‘2003 — Deutsche Bank Cul-
tural Foundation Award’, Warsaw, Poland
Intercross Creative Center, S-AIR Show 2, Sapporo, Japan
Zachęta Gallery, ‘Sztuka współczesna dla wszystkich dzieci /
Contemporary Art for All Children’, Warsaw, Poland
Migros Museum für Gegenwartskunst, ‘Bewitched, Bothered
and Bewildered. Spatial Emotion in Art and Architecture’,
Zurich, Switzerland (Travelling Exhibition)
Łaznia Centre for Contemporary Art, ‘Bewitched Bothered
and Bewildered: Spatial Emotion in Contemporary Art and
Architecture’, Gdańsk, Poland (Travelling Exhibition)
Prague Biennale 1, Prague, Czech Republic
Sculpture Center, ‘Architectures of Gender: Contemporary
Women’s Art in Poland’, New York NY
Nordenhake Gallery, ‘Pale Fire’, Berlin, Germany
50th Venice Biennale, ‘Clandestine’, Venice, Italy
Foksal Gallery Foundation, ‘Hidden in a Daylight’, Cieszyn,
Poland
8th International Istanbul Biennial, ‘Poetic Justice’, Istanbul,
Turkey
Galerie Gisela Capitain, ‘Splendor Geometrik’, Cologne, Ger-
many
Villa Arson, ‘Re:Location 6’, Nice, Italy (Travelling Exhibi-
tion)
Łaznia Center for Contemporary Art, ‘Re:Location 6’,
Gdańsk, Poland (Travelling Exhibition)
Galleria Continua, San Gimignano, Italy
Kurimanzutto, ‘Labyrinth’, Mexico City, Mexico
International Biennial of Contemporary Art, Israel Museum,
‘Art Focus 4’, Jerusalem, Israel
2002 La Capella del Antic Hospital de la Santa Creu, ‘POLES: The
New Art of Poland’, Barcelona, Spain
Sony Center, Art Forum, Berlin, Germany
Royal College of Art, ‘Fair’, London, Germany
4th Kwangju Biennale, ‘Project 1’, Kwangju, South Korea
Manifesta 4 — European Biennale of Contemporary Art,
Frankfurt, Germany
Kunsthalle Basel, ‘In Capital Letters’, Basel, Switzerland
2001 Raster Gallery, Warsaw, Poland
Gelerie du Jour, ‘Il y a toujour quelq’un qui veux quelque
chose’, Paris, France
1st Biennale of Tirana, Tirana, Albania
Bielska Gallery BWA, ‘Painters’ Competition’, Bielsko-Biala,
Poland
Leon Wyczółkowski Museum, ‘Oikos’, Bydgoszcz, Poland
2000 Centre de Solai, ‘Escape’, Bamako, Mali
Hans Brinker Hotel, ‘The Double Room’, Amsterdam, Nether-
lands
Outline Foundation, ‘Painted Image Limited’, Amsterdam,
Netherlands

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Divergencies of Perception

Academic dissertation to be publicly discussed,

ISBN 978-952-10-7605-3 (paperback)

Typesetting: Jonne Savolainen

Academy Research Fellow, Senior Lecturer Sara Heinämaa

Professor Renée van de Vall

Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1908–1961) has been known as the philoso-

examined works include paintings by Tiina Mielonen, a photographic

As a student, I chose to study philosophy thinking that eventually it

comment on and discuss both academic and non-academic issues, phi-

Hanna Maria Anttila, Eeva-Mari Haikala, Henriikka Tavi, Hanna Ti-

2 Phenomenological Method and Art 19

4 Phenomenology of Painting: From Space to Depth 85

5 Photographic Explorations: Perception, Movement,

6 The Filmic Experience: Temporality and Rhythm 157

7 Positioned into Space: Touch, Reversibility, Passivity 195

B Artist Resumes 287

This thesis has a twofold approach. On the one hand, I examine

3 The term “Merleau-Pontian” refers here to my interpretation of Merleau-

Ponty’s phenomenological approach.

as a monograph by Gallimard in 1964.

The Primacy of Perception

dissertation, The Structure of Behavior (La structure du comportement, 1942).

it makes present as a certain absence.”15

The Phenomenological Method and Works of Art

faudrait, pour la désigner, le vieux terme d’ ‘élément’, au sens où on l’employait

cristallisation du temps, un chiﬀre de la transcendance” VI, 258.

ventions developed by art institutions, and these conventions can be challenged.

ing, photography, media art or experimental cinema, and installation.

Phenomenology, Art and History

is, however, an ungenerous interpretation, and nowadays many com-

the Color and Tenor of Contemporary ‘Theory’” (1996).

Jorella Andrews’ article “Vision, Violence, and the Other: A Merleau-Pontean

search, as well as artistic research, sometimes referred as practice based

& 2009; Badiou 2005; During 2008.

aesthetic theory, at least not one in a traditional sense where aesthetic

Literature on Merleau-Ponty and the Arts

separate aesthetics that could be presented in an uncontroversial manner. Here

image, space, or empathy. Further, in connection with the analysis

as a painting/picture, or even the diﬀerence between representational

37 Escoubas 1995, 15.

38 Slatman 2003, 275–76.

ning of the chapter I examine Merleau-Ponty’s conceptions of painted

sarily layered and entangled. It shows how the experience of time in a

In this chapter I sketch out the theoretical context of Merleau-Ponty’s

2.1 The Theoretical Contexts of Merleau-Ponty’s Thinking

gence de conscience” PP, xvi.

l’existentialisme de Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1951) traced Merleau-Ponty’s aes-

through which Merleau-Ponty’s (later) thought can be seen to bring phenomenology

as a creator with complete freedom, as Jean-Paul Sartre did. In general,

45 Originally published in Action No 97, 12 July 1946, and reissued in Parcours

1936–1951 (PI). Emmanuel de Saint Aubert presents a detailed account on the

Merleau-Ponty’s Holistic Conception of Art and the Human Body

raphy were somewhat limited, as I will clarify in chapter 5.

relation to the philosophy of Husserl, whose Sorbonne lectures, Carte-

as Raymond Aron, Simone de Beauvoir, Jean Hyppolite, Jean-Paul Sartre, among

and unstable, or else it subjects this relationship to the models of cog-

The body is to be compared, not to a physical object, but rather

plutôt à l’œuvre d’art. Dans un tableau ou dans un morceau de musique, l’idée ne

We must ask what Merleau-Ponty seeks when he compares the