Gustavo Chilora Ospina
We do not feel we are outside the times, but continue to make shameful compromises with them. This sense of shame is one of the most powerful themes of philosophy. We are not responsible for the victims, but for them.
Giles Delatz and Felix Qatar -- What is Philosophy?
Deleuze was very interested in screaming. When he thought about Francis Bacon, he asked about the importance of screaming. How do you describe screaming? It is about making it visible, not just a specific voice, but the intangible forces that make it visible. The same question arises in music, where Arban Berger knows how "to make music by screaming", linking the voice of screaming to the silent power of the Earth, like Mary's scream in Worcek, and the silent power of Lulu's heaven (Dretz, 2002:60). In the film, Straub and Wyler valued the scream; it was both verbal and resistance (Dretz, 1987:289). What kind of artistic movement makes screaming a resistance and brings us from the aesthetics of screaming to politics?
This paper will focus on "Treno" by Colombian artist Clemencia Echeverri. Treno comes from the Greek threnos and oide, more or less a funeral song, an audio-visual lamentation. This funeral song ended with a scream, which Deleuze called "The Shout of Death" (Delz, 2002:61). This is not about choosing an art as a model to think about the relationship between Deleuze and contemporary art so that we can comfort ourselves by applying many of his concepts to the interpretation of such works. On the contrary, the selection of The Trenos is due to the fact that the work raises a series of questions in a way that is unique to our thinking, which in turn triggers our own thinking. These issues are related to the political sphere, in particular to the concept of people. The question of screaming will be my guide to this investigation.
Deleuze noted that both philosophy and art are of concern to the people. In " What is Philosophy?
Artists or philosophers are totally incapable of creating a nation, and everyone can only summon it with their best efforts. A people can only be created by odious suffering and can no longer care about art or philosophy. But philosophical books and works of art contain unimaginable suffering and herald the arrival of a people. They have one thing in common - their resistance to death, slavery, intolerance, shame and the present. (Delz and Qatar, 1994: 110)
Dretz kept saying that artists like María, Kafka or Kerry - rather than more populist artists - insisted that art needed people, but that despite that, people were missing. As a result, they have no choice but to do their utmost to summon it, calling a people that does not yet exist, a people that is coming. This will be my theme, the special relationship between art and politics, a relationship with the missing people, and an upcoming relationship. Maybe there we can find the key to thinking about how this relationship is philosophical.
What does it mean to think about specific geographic and historical circumstances? For the reasons I will be talking about, this can be described as the politics of death. Let us stress for the time being that, as Deleuze and Guattari have said, "a people can only be created by odious suffering". It is these that have led us to write an article on the politics of death and the song of funeral, the audio-visual mourning of Clemensia Echevili. Yes, it is a sad song! But let us remain calm; if we have learned anything from the aesthetics of Deleuze, it is, as he said, "any work of art shows a path to life and a path to the cracks" (Dretz, 1995:143).
Shame on being human.
Before continuing to comment on the politics of screaming in Echvili's device, let us recognize that there is also a philosophical scream. Shame! Shame! It seems like we can hear it anywhere from the late Deleuze. In an interview with Antonio Negri, the Italian philosopher, after citing some of the problems that he considered the book "an alarming theoretical will" to be unsolved, referred to the Plateau: "I sometimes seem to hear a tragic tone, at times when it is not clear where the `war machine' is going". Deleuze replied, "You said there was a tragic or sad tone in it. I think I know why. I am impressed by all the passages of Primo Levy, in which he explained that the Nazi concentration camps " shame us on being human" (Dretz, 1995:171-2).
Let us put aside the subject of the war machine, because it might distract us, even though in his reply Deleuze said that "artism in this sense is the war machine" (Dretz, 1995:172). Levi's expression of "were ashamed of being human" has been taken from the territory of extinction by Deleuze, because we also experience it in "extremely frivolous circumstances: in the face of an excessive mediocrity of thought", because in today's capitalism we are ashamed that "we do not have a reliable way to sustain generation or, more precisely, to awaken them within ourselves" (173). At the end of chapter IV, " What is Philosophy? ", there was a repetition of the reference to Primo Levi, and the tone of the tragedy became clearer. Geographic philosophy is the relationship between philosophy and the present, because they say: "We do not lack communication, we have too many exchanges, we lack creativity. We lack resistance to the present" (Delz and Qatar, 1994:108). "Happiness for being a human being" has become a theme; we are ashamed in the face of all the circumstances that plague today's democracies, and we are ashamed in the face of "the shame of the possibility of life we have been given". On the basis of such a tragic fate, Deleuze and Guattari heroes declared: "This sense of shame is one of the most powerful themes of philosophy" (108). It is clear that in order to resist this state of affairs, what we need is creation, both of concept and of perception: "Arts and Philosophy come together on this point: to form a lacking planet and people as a link to creation" (108).
The storm of May is over, and eight years have passed between Anti-Oldipus of 1972 and the Plateau of 1980. The interview with Negri and the publication of " What is Philosophy? " in the early 1990s gave us no reason to think that this tragic tone was strange or emerging: "We are at a weak stage, a period of reaction" (Dretz, 1995:121). There is therefore a very close link between "weakness as human beings" and the missing people, all of which are surrounded by a tragic and even a melancholy atmosphere. The spirit of the times is contaminated by reactionary emotions, and we live in a conservative era. "There is no escape from being mean except in the role of animals (growing, digging holes, laughing, twisting themselves): ideas themselves are sometimes closer to a dying animal rather than a living, even democratic one" (Dretz and Qatar, 1994:108).
The interpretation of Primo Levi goes beyond any humanist commitment, because shame leads us to question our own present and not to reveal the unjust outcome of the desire for human ideals, albeit in a negative way. If that is the case, Deleuze is an undercover humanist, a critic of humanity as a value that remains a prisoner of some kind of human belief, a sad humanist. But it is in today's human condition that humanity has become, from its extremes to its minimalities, and it is the possibility that any humanism will be made possible by the distinction between human beings and non-humans, which is being eliminated, as Agambon has said. Deleuze's lifeism is actually moving away from this depression.
The Deleuze philosophy is clearly anti-humanist; it contains a rejection of any moral or political doctrine centred on human nature and valued by the human person itself. Not surprisingly, since 1975, with Gatali, Kafka: Towards Minority Literature, Deleuze has adhered to the notion of human non-human creation, especially of animals, in order to confront and replace the ancient introspective issues that have been the cornerstone of every humanist's literature, namely the relationship between human beings and animals. What is philosophy? It is expressed in a simple formula: the brain is thinking, not humans - the latter is just one of the brain crystals of the former (Dretz and Qatar, 1994:210). Similarly, we will find there aesthetics that run counter to every humanistic art theory; artistic works are not considered the highest expression of the human spirit. When Deleuze and Guattari claim that art as a form of thought is the creation of a sense of existence, emotion and consciousness, they define these terms in an anti-humanistic manner; emotions are precisely those aspects of human and non-human creation, just as the perception - including towns - is the natural landscape of non-human beings (169).
Scream and terror.
Francis Bacon wanted to paint screams, not horrors. For Deleuze, it is necessary to distinguish between these two types of violence: amazing violence, which is an order of terror and image; and perceived violence, which is an area of screaming and image, where images have been abandoned and reproduced. Choosing to scream instead of terror, Bacon is faithful to the motto of modern art as expounded by Paul Kerry: "Not to duplicate, but to make visible". With the screams, the invisible force of the screams becomes visible, the power of darkness becomes visible through the spasms they create in their bodies, and the power of death scares us. This visibility occurs "when the visible body confronts invisible forces like a wrestler" (Dretz, 2002:62). Then the power of life becomes visible, and the strength of body resistance to death becomes visible: "Life is screaming for death". The scream brought all these forces together in one operation, one that marked the struggle. Deluze described these forces, which were liberated during the fighting, as forces of the future (61). All violence in contemporary art hovers between screaming and terror, between the existence of feelings and the performance of sensoryism; however, violence in the latter is more common than violence in the former.
Let's take a look at Clemencia Echevili. Trano is an audio-visual work, with two large projection screens taking over the entire exhibition space face to face. As stated in the title, we have here experienced a sad song: a funeral song for victims of political catastrophe. Like Christopher Pandretzki's Hiroshima Sorrow, the victim was the reason for the song. In such cases, the lamentation is audio-visual; the space between the screens is full of images and voices, silence and shadows. We see images of a river whose water grows on a screen until it fills the entire screen, and then the water fills the opposite screen until it produces alternate currents and repeats them at different intervals; we hear the sound of water flows, as well as the sound of frogs and crickets, which increase and diminish as they move in gallery space. At some point we heard voices calling for names, people's names, screams being carried through the exhibition space by the river's currents. These are the calls from one side of the river (not necessarily from the other) and the voices of another (perhaps from the absentee); and finally, we see the river dyed red, as the only response to the earlier calls, and we see several clothes, like ghosts, pulled out of the river and a ghost of a suffering people. The audience position in Treno is contradictory, both on one side of the river and across it, and in the middle of the current, in the flowing water. It is there that the audience is touched by the voices called; the screams themselves echo in space and reach the dimensions of the song. Farmers use a strategy of shouting names, like a tone of speech, to communicate remotely, by which they create a sound bridge between one bank of the river and another. In Echvili's device work, the speech/singing words became a sad song, no response was found on the opposite shore, bridges were broken and the sound of the call was flooded with rivers.
Even as a funeral song, it is a mistake to try to interpret the work as a repetition of mourning or as a symbol of a particular form of violence and its harm to individuals or peoples; it is as if the atonement experience of art creates a bridge between the manifestations of conflict and the odious suffering it causes, and between understanding and feeling. In both cases, we can only get dramatization and aestheticization of the victims. This work was born of the sense of power and the inexhaustible abyss experienced in the face of violence and a unique form of violence - enforced disappearance. "I do not know what to do, ma'am. They took my son", and the artist recalls a telephone call, a woman from the banks of the Cauca, which, in her own words, clearly indicates "a noise and search without answers". The inability to speak on behalf of victims is a strong self-restraint for artists; we can no longer give this declaratory power to art; rather, it must face the impossibility of testimony itself. We will return to this later.
As we have seen, there is another dimension to the recurrence: sense. How can we avoid the wonders of violence? How can we get rid of media stereotypes about violence and its manifestations? I think Treno continues the path of bacon, but it gives a collective and political nature to screaming, which is not evident in the work of the Irish painter. In this audio-visual work, the Colombian artist placed the audience between two large images of the river, without the need to use images of terror or extreme cruelty. With the growing flow of the river, she succeeded in creating a feeling of drowning in the minds of the viewers who were at the centre of the scene. Only at the end, as an implication, did we find traces of the politics of death - the clothes - taken from the river. The key is not to avoid this expression in the name of morality, but to create something else that leaves aside the sensory stimuli and wonders of death. Treno is screaming, crying, no terror.
What we need to find now is a way to turn the screams into collective and political. Let us recall that, in order to illustrate the political nature of humanity, Aristotle distinguished between sound (phone) and speech (logos) in his Political Science. Through their voices, animals and human beings can express the feeling of happiness or suffering; and only the words that human beings have, they can express in words what is right, what is wrong, what is right and what is unjust. For Aristotle, the essence of politics lies in the ability to establish the scales of justice through words. The Trenos is a song, a funeral song, every word of which becomes a scream, and in this case, fundamentally, the whole use of art is to transform sound into a political expression. This is the politics of those who are deprived of the voice of words (logos).
On the one hand, screaming means a physical dimension, a struggle between the power of the body and that of death, as we have already pointed out. On the other hand, it implies the order of expression, calling and lamenting as words. Screams begin in mixed areas of body, in their actions and passions, but then become loud in areas of expression. We can say that it concerns two aspects of the same combination, which are not mutually exclusive, namely, visible and legible (Dretz, 1988:70-93), mechanical combinations of the body and collective combinations of expression (Dretz and Ghattali, 2004:97-98). Let us remember that for Deleuze and Gatari, expression is neither informative nor interactive. Here, the physical scream is a call, a collective clamour, which adds to its rhetoric and thus constitutes a particularly political combination. As a result, we are no longer on the Aristotle track, because screaming is a combination of bodies and noise is of a linguistic nature; rather, screaming enters words and it enters words with a strong force. The scream is not political because of its deliberative nature, but because it represents the body, which is a verbal act signed deep inside.
In Treno, several voices appeared one after another in the same stream, two men calling for Nazareno and Ofelia, and one woman calling for Victor. Each of these particular voices, begging for a single term, has turned into a protest against death, a scream containing both pain and resistance, mourning and demands. Each voice echoes many voices and each scream is a collective expression. Deleuze said that throughout the works of Straub and Whelatt, the screams were reassessed as a verbal act, a verbal act that was also a form of resistance (Dretz, 2006a:323). Let's look back at this path, which leads us from the politics of screaming like He Fa to how to scream. First of all, we are faced with issues such as the screaming of He Fa, whether in music or painting, or in film and video devices; the key is to try to make the power to produce screams felt in every field. Secondly, we have met with a scream, which in itself brings together a power relationship, the life force that resists death; the key here is to make the force that collides in such an uncertain battle visible. Finally, this scream of death, not anything else, has become a verbal act, an act of resistance.
Visible and legible
Deleuze showed how Cameron Bennet made a series of changes in the sentence. "You scare me..." In Richard III in Bené, Mrs. Anne's scream went through many changes and various verbal acts, making it "a woman of war, back to childhood, born as a young girl". It's a "singing of words." Unlike songs that try to keep the tessaitura, "in the chorus we constantly suppress it by falling or rising" (Dretz, 1979:105). Carmelo Bennet added a lot of hints to Richard III's script, reduced the importance of content and implemented a series of precise operations to describe the variables that had been experienced, making it "like a musical script", Dratz said. Text no longer constitutes text, and the theatre is no longer an actor or director but an operator in the experimental theatre (89).
Clemencia Echevili has deprived the song of the so-called communication function. In principle, it can proceed on the basis of this function, as the sound rises above the water and waits for a response, but with the failure of communication, the call becomes a lamentation that echoes throughout the room. A lamentation is a chorus, which integrates every sound. However, it is the whole work, the integration of all the different elements, not just the sound, that properly constitutes the song of mourning as an audio-visual combination of screams. In this sense, audio-visual devices create a relationship between linguistic and non-linguistic elements.
In order to talk about visible and expressive, Deleuze and Gatari used the term Yalmslev when they talked about the form and expression of content. These are some aspects of the mechanical combination of the body and the collective combination of expression, as they use. Let us pause at the content level. It is important to understand what is visible precisely, as Deleuze did to Foco, not just what we see or what we normally sense. Visibility is not in the form of an object, or even in the form of light, but in the form of light itself, which allows the object or object to exist only as a flash, spark or microlight" (Dretz, 1988:52). According to this interpretation, what is visible in artistic practice is not the reproduction of what we see, but the form in which invisible forces become visible, in which they exist as flashes, sparks or microlights. From a more general point of view, that of perception, we can say that, in one form of content, undetectable power becomes felt. This content takes the form of light and sound, visual and audio images that ultimately form a sensory complex.
Have we introduced a ambiguity? If the task of art is to make undetectable power visible in every field, how can we talk about form in this case? The relationship established is no longer one of substance and form, but of substance and power. The answer to this objection is that in the latter relationship the form does not disappear; rather, it is the result of a material-power relationship, which is more direct and profound. In the book The Snack, Dratz explained that the Barlock style was not a mold, but rather an emergence from a process of regulation or permanent formation. "Barlock style is typical of informal art... but informal is not a denial of form" (Dretz, 1993:35, revised translation). A similar thing happened to modern Barlock artists from Kerry to Dubfield. The infinity of wrinkles affects all substances and gives rise to forms, so: "In the Barlock style, the coupling of matter-power replaces matter and form" (35). On the other hand, according to the use of Deleuze and Ghattali against Yalmslev, there are intangibles of content and intangibles of expression in addition to tangible substances. We have found this expression in the arts, described by Deleuze and Gatali as "the transition from limited to unlimited and from territory to decolonization" (Delz and Gatali, 1994:180-1). The form of content or expression is subject to "the interlocking of frameworks in different directions......the frame and its connection carry the sensory complexes, supports the graphics and is interwoven with their support and their own appearance" (187). But next to the framework system, a de-framework operation is also under way, with some escape routes crossing through the territory and opening them to unlimited levels, allowing the movement of intangibles to proceed along the path of absolute de-territorialization. The coupling of matter-power moves from limited to unlimited, from the form of content or expression, from the integration of composite substances or heterogeneity elements, to the abstract composition of the plane, that is, the chart of intangibles.
We have discussed screams as a collective combination expressed in The Trano, and now we must move to the form of content to discuss the mechanical combination of bodies. Echevili's device presents a complete complex of visual and acoustic perceptions, where the device implies operating the heterogeneity of the material and experimenting with it through very precise operations. First: as we have already pointed out, viewers are placed between two giant projection screens, and in different time intervals, the same sequence of images of the river is projected onto the screen; water flows increase on one side, and the sound of the current weakens on the other side, as it circulates in space. As a combination of light and sound, we can describe it as vibration, a simple sense of "meaning a level of constitutive difference", with increased and decreased intensity (Delz and Ghattali, 1994:168). Second: the tension between the body and the body (a kind of tightness) functions between the sound strength-vibration-and the sound and visual power of the river flow, "when the two feelings cuddle together, resonating in a grip that no longer has energy" (168). Third: a space of time; a space of sound. Fourteen minutes of multiple duration coexistence, ranging from time lags between images and each other, to colour changes and nuances in the changing surface of rivers. In these ways, there is a feeling in the audience, a strange feeling of drowning, because she is in the scene where she is involved, a strange feeling because "the feeling is only about its material" (166). It's an audio-visual drowning. It's violence with a sense of complexes, not an amazing riot.
When Deleuze explained in the Foucault book how speech practice and non-verbal practice, visible and truncable, form of content and form of expression were intertwined, he claimed that such privilege had never meant a reversion, even in intellectual relationships that were more legible than visible (Dretz, 1988:49). The experiments we have already pointed out show that this is more evident in the art field. On the one hand, language has been used intensively, and on the other hand, there is no need to put what can be expressed above what is visible. However, we are not sure whether this is true for every type of contemporary practice. Stephen Zepke has shown that at least two development paths have been developed from ready-made products; either by a conceptual development that places what can be expressed above visible, by placing words above perception, or by a development modelled on the "aesthetic paradigm" of Gatali, in which ready-made goods are empowered by the power of life as a feeling. The second course of development, in which any privilege of concepts-words implies "dependable authoritarianism" and trans-dimensional inclusion, is presented as a form of resistance. From this point of view, Zepke believes that certain pioneering movements, such as the work of the Brazilian artist Eleo Oticica, are mechanisms for using ready-made products as a "sensor-body participation". Ottical attributed this expression to the strength that helped to create a nation (Zepke, 2008: 33-9).
If we want to escape both the "dependable dictatorship" and the general consensus it enforces, it is necessary to understand that there is functional independence between the form of content and the form, visible and expressive form of expression in artistic practice. As a result of resonance, convergence or separation, there is also an ongoing movement between the two, from one to the other. Dretz and Ghattali have taken this inter-relative relationship, but retain the non-retrogressible nature of the terms, known as pre-sets (Dretz and Ghattali, 2004:87). For example, in the works of Straub and Wyler, there is a separation between seeing and talking, one voice talking about something, and what we see is another: "The sound is rising, it is rising, it is rising, and what it is talking about is passing through the naked, desolate land shown to us by visual images, which have nothing to do with sound images" (Dretz, 2006a:323).
The artistic task of making unexpressable expression is what Deleuze and Gatali call fiction. Fiction has nothing to do with memory; rather, it refers to complex materials consisting of words and sound (Delz and Ghattali, 1994:171). It has no other purpose but to process the language internally and its speech, semantics and semantic components in order to produce a permanent change. Examples of this are found throughout Deleuze, including Kafka, Becket, Georgi Luca, Jean-Luc Godal, Passolini, Bene and others.
Fiction, people and art
Fiction can be summed up as a formula that "lets the language stammer", which cannot be confused with the speech barrier at the mouth. On other occasions, this formula refers to Marcel Proust, "speaking his mother tongue like a foreigner". Stammering, or speaking like foreigners, is a constant change of language. On the other hand, fiction is the creator of giants. For Bergson, this concept comes from him, and it corresponds to a visual force different from that imagined, which is responsible for "creating semi-personalized power or effective existence" (Dretz, 1979:173). Deleuze said that we need to revive the concept and give it a "political content". His proposal thus continues, and utopian ideas should be replaced by "a `fiction' in which both people and art are involved" (Dretz, 1995:174). It is precisely because of the excessive and immense power it carries, which is accompanied by abhorrent suffering, but at the same time these "effective existences" are also counterproductive to the causes of those suffering. Thus, suffering triggered a struggle against death, which became a political declaration shared by the arts and peoples.
Let's go back to the theme of missing people in art and see how it connects to fiction. Delarez and Gattali wrote: "We are not talking about pop artists or populist artists", "Malais said that books need people. Kafka said literature is a matter for the people. Kerry has said that people are essential, but lacking again" (Dretz and Gatali, 2004:381). The question of the relationship between modern art and people has changed, and artists no longer treat or summon people as "forming forces". This is still the case for contemporary art, unless the call to people is considered a reproduction of consensus. If art continues to call upon a people it lacks, it is because it is calling upon a people that does not exist, a potential people or a future people. What does this lack of people have to do with what we call art and fiction that people share?
First, if people are not a form of power, then art cannot create people, because "people can only be created by abhorrent suffering". Secondly, when art resorts to a people who are lacking, it does not mean that they do not exist, but that they do not exist and that they are in the process of formation. Thirdly, fiction is the common denominator of people and art, because they all have suffering and resistance. Thus, when the indescribable thing becomes obvious, when suffering and resistance to shame becomes a political declaration, there is a creative fiction; a life politics against death.
Let us now go back to The Motion and consider it from the perspective of the mutual preset between content and expression. In this work, the screams appear at both levels, from one level to the other, because they are both a power relationship and a verbal act. Scream means making things invisible, and things that cannot be said to be heard in a song of mourning and tuning. The perception of vision and sound consists of content and creates audio-visual space for devices. It remains to be explained how the visible and expressible relationship operates in this work. We see a river, and we see its water flow growing, and we hear its voice rising, and it rises above the surface of the water and there is a movement; it goes from screaming as a call or de-territorialization that can be pointed at, to re-growing as a moaning. What are the orders for this sport? What's this noise now? By turning words into screams/mornings, the unspoken power becomes the voice, the power that we do not see, the power of an abhorrent politics of death. Visually unattractive power becomes felt through the sound of screaming. The problem remains to capture the forces that produce the scream itself, linking the voices of the screams to the forces of darkness. In such circumstances, the screams are not a response to visible forces that can be exerted directly on themselves, but are made for the sake of others, against their forced disappearance and against the creation of bodies made invisible by rivers. That is what death politics means, namely, that a concerted organization empowers itself, takes over life, takes over life and death decisions, and implements a systematic death plan (George Agambán explores the relationship between body creation and death politics [see Agamben, 1999:85-9]). The plan makes the river an invisible place, a place where bodies disappear. Although we have seen a growing flow of water and a high volume of sound above the water, we have heard through the screams what we have not seen. But the screams not only provide us with a voice that produces its invisible (unperceptive) power, they are also a lamentation that makes the indefensible a voice of suffering and resistance, a declaration of rejection of such death in mourning. The speech-and-speech behaviour occurs in a particular context, in a space created by the composition of visual and sound images. The current of the river that we see, the sound of which we hear, is seen as an invisible medium, a hiding place that we can sense only through screaming and wailing. Only at the end will we see what we have not seen before: the body. Thus, there is a close connection between the form of content and the form of expression: there is a constant change in the sound of the room, visual images are projected at different times on one screen and then on another, and each sound falls or rises in a singing manner. In the end, everything disappeared, leaving silence and darkness surrounding the audience.
Say something that you can't say. How do you understand that? We say it's testimony. The words from the scream are true testimony to the politics of death. The main subject of the phone is a witness. He is a survivor, a Latin word used to refer to witnesses, not to any type of witness (testis), but to those who have experienced an incident and have been asked to testify on it (Aganbon, 1999:17). Survivors are a contradictory political subject, and they are those who are called to testify with their screams, and they have nothing but their screams, because they are excluded from the authorization records of Zongos and therefore from politics. Strictly speaking, "the subject without testimony... each testimony is a process or a field of power that is constantly traversed by a trend of generalization and dematerialization" (Aganbon, 1999:121).
Finally, we must ask: what is the relationship between art and testimony? We cannot pretend that the work is a symbol of odious suffering, that artists can build themselves into people who speak on behalf of others, instead of victims; and that art has given up this declaratory force. Testimony belongs only to victims who speak for themselves. Artistic works are not "admissed to..." or "on behalf of". It's "before." This is a problem that is becoming (Dretz and Gatali, 1994:109). It is the impossibility of such testimony, i.e. the impossibility of replacing..., that makes it possible to produce art. The point is not that it is about testimony, nor that it reflects testimony, but that it is about screaming and making it political. What the work is about is that, by its own means, it makes things invisible and things impossible to say. The work does not testify in itself, but rather demonstrates the possibility of screaming as testimony. It is not a conflict, it achieves a force. Thus, it demonstrates the needs of the people, even if they are lacking: "We are not responsible for the victims, but in their presence" (108). Let us remember, in the book " What is Philosophy? ", Deleuze and Gatali say that philosophical books and works of art are as resistant as people. "their resistance to death, slavery, unbearableness, shame and presentness" (110). In this sense, through this common resistance, philosophers, thinkers or artists may have a becoming, a becoming-people of thinkers. This is a question of becoming, not of identity: "People are within thinkers because it's `becoming people', just as thinkers are as infinite being within people" (109).
Translated by Juan Fernando Mejía Mosquera
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