Jacqueline Hamrit: A fascinating analysis of the
notion of "touching a distant object with one'eyes " appears in Jacques
Derrida's book entitled in French _ Le toucher, Jean-Luc Nancy_ (Paris: Galilée,
2000) and translated into _On Touching_.*
Jansy Mello: Thank you for the
invaluable indication of Derrida's "Le Toucher" related
to touch a distant object with the eyes as in normal vision, so
different from V.Nabokov's "magnotack" for the blind and the issue of
"simulacra." or VN's sentiment about "we touch in silhouette."
Online resources, though, up to now, only gave me access to various pages
of Jean-Luc Nancy's "Le Corps."
On a superficial examination I found a new link to the questions that
are poetically raised by V.Nabokov, now examined from the "outside". It's
related to the act of writing novels,** particularly by V.Nabokov's
explicit avoidance of "creating a meaning" when it's bound by any
socializing or educational intent. When V. Nabokov "makes sense" (I
mean, his brand of writerly "touch"), this happens mainly in an
imagetic (pictorial and musical) way. At least, that's what I can apprehend at
this point. I wonder, though, if the ramifications that this external view
opens would have interested him in his quests as a writer...
Thank you, again, for your help to indicate the way
to the quote I couldn't locate.
...........................................................
* reply to JM's: "For example, should I
conclude that vision allows one to touch a distant object with one's
eyes (I couldn't find the original reference to this statement), my
standpoint will not be related to any direct "sensuous" input (albeit
it's dependent on the information obtained by my senses of vision and
touch), it shall be cold and objective, related to the world of
information and thought ( my arguments are highly disputable, but I'm awaiting a
contestation here to proceed...).However, when I observe that "a tactile sensation is a blind spot" together with the
recognition that now, although "nothing seemed
changed in one sense, all was lost in another", I find
myself tied to a subjective apprehension of something that is desired
but impossible to reach in its totality: it is a permanent sign of
some sort of loss and
frustration...
** - An excerpt: "...writing takes its place at the limit. So if
anything at all happens to writing, nothing happens to it but touch. More
precisely: touching the body (or some singular body) with the incorporeality of
"sense." And consequently, to make the incorporeal touching, to make
of meaning a touch. [ ]Writing in its essence touches upon the
body [ ]along the absolute limit separating the sense of the one from the
skin and nerves of the other. Nothing gets through, which is why it
touches."