: Micropolitica: Cartografias do desejo. GUATTARI; ROLNIK. Micropolítica cartografias do desejo Uploaded by lubuchala GUATTARI; ROLNIK. Micropolítica cartografias do desejo. Micropolitica: Cartografias Do Desejo. Front Cover. Félix Guattari. Vozes, – pages Bibliographic information. QR code for Micropolitica.
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He catrografia that we work together, offering me a gift and a theme: On one such adventure, her vitality suffers the impact of reactive forces that cause her to leave her country. In the miserable cold of a Christmas night in her town of exile, Lulu hits the streets to make some money. In the anonymity of hustling, she meets none other than Jack the Ripper, who inevitably attempts to kill her. Foreseeing her death in the image of her face reflected on the blade pointed in her direction, she lets out a piercing cry.
The timbre of her voice has a strange force that startles the Ripper to the point that, for a few seconds, he hesitates.
We too are hit by this strange force, transported by it—the pain of a vigorous life that does not want to be taken resonates in our bodies.
Her death cry is almost inaudible, it blurs with the aural landscape. The timbre of her voice conveys the pale pain of an inane life, as if to die were the same as to live.
guattari micropolitica cartografia do desejo pdf free – PDF Files
The setting is one of the Saturday afternoon singing lessons I have been taking along with two friends. The teacher is Tamia, whose repertoire is contemporary music and free jazz, an effervescent current within the Parisian s.
On this particular day, to our surprise, she asks each of us to choose a song to work with. The song that occurs to me is one of the many Tropicalismo songs I learned in Brazil.
Caetano and Gil were sent to prison and subsequently freed only on the condition that they leave the country. They went into exile in England in The regime became much more rigid and violent from onwards. A succession of generals remained in power untiland the first direct presidential elections were held in As I sing, a similar vibration takes over my own voice; hesitant at first, the timbre slowly builds up and gains body, becoming more and more crystalline.
I am overcome by a feeling of estrangement: Soft as it is, its vibration steadily perforates a tiny point in my body and takes over the space of the room. The act of perforation makes me discover, on the white surface of the T-shirt and overalls I am wearing, a compact skin that covers my body like a thick layer of plaster; what is more, it seems to me that this envelope has been there for a long time, without my ever noticing it. The curious thing is that the body reveals its petrification at the same moment when the delicate stream of voice punctures it, as if skin and voice were somehow interlocked.
Could it be that my body had become rigid just as that timbre had disappeared? Whatever the answer, the plaster became a constraint: I decide, there and then, to return to Brazil, even if I had never considered leaving Paris until then.
I went back, and never for a moment doubted the wisdom of that decision. It took me a few years to understand what had happened in that singing lesson, and then a cartogrsfia more to realize how that could, in turn, be related to the work that Deleuze had proposed to me. What the singing announced that Saturday afternoon through the reawakened memory of my body was that the the military dictatorship had caused a wound in desire, and that wound had healed enough for me to return to Brazil, if I so wished.
In a few words, I refer to three processes. After all, totalitarian regimes do not impinge only upon concrete reality, but also upon this intangible reality of desire. It is an invisible, but no less relentless, violence.
From the micropolitical point of view, regimes of this kind tend to establish themselves in the life of a society when the connections with new universes in the general alchemy of subjectivities multiply beyond a threshold, causing veritable convulsions.
These are privileged moments in which the movement of individual and collective creation becomes intensified, but which also harbor the risk of unleashing microfascisms once a certain threshold of destabilization is crossed.
When the boundaries of a certain stability are broken there is a danger that baser subjectivities tied to common sense will infer the risk of an irreversible collapse, and will begin to panic. Due to a weak will to power that limits their force of creation, subjectivities of this kind consider themselves to be constituted once and for all, and have no means of understanding such ruptures as inherent to the delineation of their own limits, which are always being redrawn as micropolitics function of a desire for new connections.
It is common to explain those ruptures as works of evil and, in the name of safety and stability, to confine them to the unknown universes that have entered the existential landscape. The solution is easy to deduce: Such elimination can go from the pure and simple disqualification of these inconvenient others, weakening them through humiliation, to their concrete, physical destruction. One expects that this will relieve, at least for some time, the unease produced by the process of differentiation unleashed by the living presence of others.
The proliferation of this kind of politics of desire develops a fertile ground for forms of leadership that embody it and provide a focal point for it: Although microfascisms do not take place only cartograia totalitarian contexts, such contexts are the main support for this kind of regime within the realm of the subject.
Anything that deviates from common sense is considered a mistake, irresponsible, or worse, an act of treason. As common sense blurs into the very idea of the nation, to differ is to betray the motherland.
It is in these moments that the conservative forces of common sense triumph over the forces of invention. The trauma of these experiences leaves behind the poisonous stain of disaffection with life and the impossibility of thought—a wound in desire that can contaminate everything, halting movements of connection and the invention that they mobilize.
One of the strategies for protecting from this poison consists of anesthetizing the marks of trauma in the affective circuit. By isolating them under the cover of forgetfulness, one prevents their poison from spreading, making it possible to keep on living. But the syndrome of forgetfulness tends to encompass much more than just these wounds; the affective circuit is not a fixed map but a continuously made and remade cartography upon which individual points can be associated with any other at any moment.
One of the darkest effects of this narcosis is a separation between speech and the sensible—its corporeal reality, the site of a living relation to the world that nurtures its poetic density. My exile in Paris had this sense of protecting me from the seismic shock that the experience of the dictatorship and imprisonment had inflicted.
It was not only an objective and concrete protection, given my geographic displacement, but also, and above all, a subjective and desiring protection, given the linguistic displacement. I entirely disinvested Portuguese, and with it the poisonous marks of the fear that froze my movements of desire.
To avoid contact with that language I avoided Brazilians entirely. I settled into French as my adoptive tongue, accentless to such a degree that people would often take me for a kicropolitica speaker. French became like a plaster that both contained and cohered an agonizing affective body: In that singing lesson, nine years after my arrival in Paris, something in me realized, before I myself did, that the poison had sufficiently receded for there to be no more risk of contamination. The soft timbre of a joy of living resurfaced and brought me back to Portuguese, less frightened than before.
But what actually happened on that day? The plaster that had until then been the guarantee of my survival, to the point where it could be mistaken for my own skin, lost its micropllitica the moment the soft, tender timbre recovered the courage to manifest itself.
What had been a remedy for wounded desire began, paradoxically, to have the effect of arresting that desire. It is probably because of this shift that, during that particular class, everything happened at once—the return of the timbre, the discovery of the hard shell that had been covering me, and the deseejo of asphyxiation it had come to give me. Like every defensive strategy, the plaster made of the French language—which micropllitica functioned as the territory within which, for a time, my life was able to expand—had also produced the side effect of being a limitation.
But the restrictive doo could only be problematized when defense became unnecessary; the various connections that I had already made in my adoptive tongue had reactivated the experimental process of desire, creating conditions for it to be resumed in the wounded tongue.
I was cured, not of the marks of pain left cartogrxfia the fury of despotism, as these are indelible, but of their toxic effects. And with it, the syndrome of forgetfulness that I had developed in order not to die, dissolved. I arrived in Paris carrying a sort of collapsed desire in my body, branded by the Brazilian dictatorship, dragging a corresponding collapse of the will to live and dessejo the creative gesture—which has that will as its origin and primary condition of existence.
Listening to Deleuze in his seminars had, in and of itself, the mysterious power of moving me further away from Brazil. This did not necessarily depend on the content of his speech—since, in the beginning, I hardly spoke any French—but on the poetic micrpoolitica of his presence and particularly his voice.
His timbre conveyed the wealth of sensible states that populated his body; the words and the rhythm of cadences seemed to emerge from such states, delicately sculpted by the movements of desire. An imperceptible transmission that contaminated whoever listened to him. This is the potency we feel resonating in our body, and her cry vitalizes it, in spite and because of the intensity of her pain.
Arising from this comparison are distinct degrees of the affirmation of life, even and above all in the face of death.
guattari micropolitica cartografia do desejo pdf free
It is a recognition that, even in the most adverse situations, it is possible to resist the terrorism against life, against its desiring and inventive potency, and to stubbornly go on living. Of course, I could not arrive at any of this when Deleuze made his suggestion to me. Perhaps it was because his figure intimidated the fragility of my twenty-four years, even if nothing in his attitude justified any kind of reverence or inhibition. However, the direction he had pointed me in with Lulu and Maria installed itself imperceptibly in my body and operated in silence, slowly oxygenating the fibers of desire, reactivating their deseoj and the vital work of thought that normally accompanies them.
I could once more reconnect my body and speak through the singing of its sensible stages in voice, song, and speech. By launching a liberating movement through a sung cry, Deleuze had, in fact, been my schizonanalyst—even if such movement would only bear fruit years later. He replied immediately, with his habitual generosity and elegant writing in which there are neither too many nor too few words to say the unsayable and nothing more.
What he was certainly saying between these words was that, in order to resurrect the will to live and the pleasure of thinking, it is always possible to bring desire carografia after it breaks down. And, what is more, that this gift appears where one least expects it—in a simple pop song.
However, if we want to sense the situations that carry such powers, it becomes necessary to remove the hierarchy of cultural values in the established imaginary cartography and, above all, to tune our hearing to the effects that each encounter mobilizes—these effects should be the privileged criterion for orienting our choices.
In any case, here is the unexpected figure of the schizoanalyst Deleuze. Although he is personally present in this small tale, the potency distilled from this narrative for combatting the intolerable transcends his person and, obviously, the hangover of the military regime. It belongs to his thought and pulsates invisibly throughout his oeuvre, offering itself to whoever may wish to take it.
Cartografias do desejopublished in five languages. She has published numerous essays in books, journals, and art catalogs in Europe and the Americas, and has lectured widely. Click to start a discussion of the article above. Your email subscription is almost complete. An email has been sent to the email address you entered. Guattri this email is a confirmation link. Please click on this link to confirm your subscription. Oil with polyvinyl acetate emulsion on plywood cartotrafia nylon mesh, plastic sheeting.
The Gulf War did not take place, as Baudrillard notoriously put it. But now something else has taken place, and it did not happen in gauttari doldrums of virtuality, but in the streets and squares of Tunis, Cairo, Benghazi, and elsewhere. It seems that the prospect of an all-encompassing condition of techno-saturated anorexia, perhaps appropriate for a time when communications networks and the tools for producing guqttari were situated in the hands of governments and telecommunications tycoons, He stands before us, large as life, the old artist in his museum.
With his right arm he holds up the heavy, purple velvet curtain so that we can cast a first glance at the wonders of the carefully arranged collection in the long, light hall behind.
On the left wall begin several rows of showcases: