Da bambina non riuscivo a tracciare una linea simple and clear on a drawing pad which I liked the texture and whiteness, as well as I could not cut a simple handkerchief in a new fabric ... The girl cut and trim. Would not stop cutting. "From a stone quarry is not the blood," my mother said to me in Provencal dialect to give more strength to his say. I still have vivid memories of those afternoons and burning fever which I gave my first pair of scissors in a huge piece of cloth, more elusive and treacherous of the Mediterranean ... Soon, however, that huge canvas there were only fragments. I'm still bitter, bucavo the last square, the stamp with which - so I thought - I could do even an object. Then, desperate and with their faces covered with tears, I collected all that lint and runs away. No, never, never, it would come out something! Nothing would come out of me! My mother, that I ordered was right. My eyebrows, my nails, my hair, as soon as I put the scissors, it boils down to nothing. Game tragic girl, who subsequently also rages in dressing to save face. A mother without appeal this sentence was a counterpoint to a compliment that savored the time: "This small, always manages to do something with nothing."
I really like this song and come back often to read it in " The dress and her ghost " a small sample, very dense and full of affection, which Recalcati Massimo wrote in memory of Gennie Lemoine, described as one of the most important figures of contemporary psychoanalysis. Thoughts of Lemoine serve to introduce what's called a passion Recalcati feminine, passion of the vacuum. If someone could think like Sartre in "Being and Nothingness" that the human passion to "fill", cover the gap, close gaps, it is a fundamental passion of human reality, perhaps, suggests Recalcati you can add that this passion is declined essentially to the male, the ghost is talking about Sartre is a ghost of male appropriation. And 'thanks to the work of Lemoine Gennie we know that there is a dangerous vacuum female passion, a passion that has much to do with the act of creating, with "nothing to do with." The feverish activity of the little girl trying to cut something from the vacuum, by testing its ability to generate, is accompanied by the risk you take to attend a border zone: the borders drawn by the scissors, pursued with persistence in scraps of fabric or paper smaller and smaller. Risk that brings pleasure and distress, pushing and captures the imagination (the scene where the girl gives in to tears and gives the flight with all that "lint").
E 'desire to remove the forms from the void that explains, from this position Lemoine, the concentration in which we see the kids when they dipped cut out, stick built and manufactured fragile, unstable, almost always temporary. That 's what explains their resentment when an awkwardly large, rearranging, confuses "the work" with the lint ... And maybe it's a bit 'too schematic to identify fully with the male, the vacuum with the female, perhaps a bit' extreme tie the figure of female creativity to this feeling "almost nothing" to which some psychoanalysis condemnation, but of course I recognize in this "nothing to do with" something that belongs to the women. A less do so, less saturated himself, a scholar who do often leave things unfinished, imperfect, evolving. Do that in a newspaper organizes, prepares, decorating times. Do the old, the weavers, for example, where full and empty are different ways to pass the thread, a complicated movement to organize materials, sometimes almost invisible, but strong, silky, affections, and links.
make a controversial, never innocent, even when powerful acting by subtraction. A that remains to do, even if not seen.
I think about all this by looking at the work of Beatrice, looking at his cuttings, books that become projects, landscapes, gardens, unexpected forms, "made with nothing."
Recalcati Massimo, "The dress and her ghost" in The psychoanalyst and the city. The unconscious is the discourse of capitalist manifestolibri, Rome 2007
