“No one knows what the body can do”
Railroad. In French we say le “Chemin de Fer” : “Path of Iron”.
Deleuze, the philosopher, used to talk about a “between people geography”, links made of hard lines, supple lines, escape lines…
Well, that makes sense : we are surrounded by powers, who want us to stay on paths of iron, right? “Obey! Rules are made for you too! It’s dangerous outside!”.
But desires and grapes of possibilities transform our lives in (oh a new word!) an unremitting evolution of connections.
Paths of Iron are there : what you’re told to do (education, instruction, social obligations). We follow and we have to. Laws and contracts and pressures.
But we watch outside, by the window, we dream and play with possibilites. And about what the body can do…
Supple, subtle, little : now we talk about what happens “under”, in small moments : the small magic, the unpredictable.
In a company, under the schedules and duties, people (and bodies) never cease to dream, to change, to try, to escape control, to invent, to dig little tunnels. Lines of life! A smile, a gesture, tiny cracks (see the light?), a triangle of sun on a table, a seventeen words conversation…
Haecceity! A dance, or a resistance. Denying iron!
We are a group of different speeds and slownesses, an individual, a singularity, constantly inventing grapes of possibilities, a play of forces or encounters. Lines, new lines, inventions.
We can’t grow if we don’t escape, if we don’t walk out of the paths of iron. We all have our ways to do that : knowledge, hunting, exploring, trying…
One escape line can last one minute or two weeks or a life. An on our own becoming…
c’est toujours sur une ligne de fuite qu’on crée, certes pas parce qu’on imagine ou qu’on rêve, mais au contraire parce qu’on y trace du réel, et que l’on y compose un plan de consistance. Fuir, mais en fuyant, chercher une arme.
it’s always on an escape line that we create, not because we imagine or because we dream, but in the contrary because we trace some real life on it, and because we arrange a consistency. To flee, but in fleeing, to seek a weapon.
Thanks for reading!
(thanks to Pierre Ansay – may Deleuze’s tools spread)