11. When he saw this portrait, in which he had chosen everything for himself, he said with a kind of relief: “And now my great grandchildren will know what sort of man I was.”
18. http://www. youtube .com/watch? v=4RjLOxrloJ0 Mr. Derrida (pronounced "deh-ree-DAH") inspired and infuriated a generation of intellectuals and students with the idea of “deconstruction.” He argued that the meaning of a collection of words is not fixed and unchanging. For 17 years, from 1962 to 1979, he refused to be photographed for publication, in an effort to keep his face -- square, with a strong nose, thick eyebrows, dark skin and bushy white hair -- from becoming part of the investigation for meaning in his work. He also rejected the characterization of him as a dandy for his snappy dress, even as he said he liked the description. Language, he said, is inadequate to provide a clear and unambiguous view of reality. In other words, the fixed meaning of an essay, a book, a personal letter, a scientific treatise or a recipe dissolves when hidden ambiguities and contradictions are revealed. These contradictions, inevitable in every piece of writing, he said, reveal deep fissures in the foundation of the Western world's civilizations, cultures and creations. Jacques Derrida (1930 -2004)
19. What Did I See? Was it a game, a test, an experiment? All three, and something else too: A photographer’s quest, the desire to know how the images he makes are seen, Read, interpreted, perhaps rejected by others. In fact in face of any photo the spectator projects Something of her or himself. The image is like a springboard. I often feel the need to explain my photos, to tell their story. Only occasionally is an image self-sufficient. This this I decided To allot the task of explanation to others.
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22. John Berger talks with children about Carravaggio’s painting of the Last Supper . From Ways of Seeing (1) Carravaggio The Last Supper A Man or a Woman? Sexual Ambiguity
The next Sunday, early iin the morning, Marcel knocked at he door. He was wearing a clean, freshly ironed, black shirt. His hair was carefully combed. He had shaved. “The moment has come to take the bust. Down to there.” He indicated his waist with one hand. Below this chosen line he was wearing his working rousers and his boots covered with cow shit. Sunday or not, he still had fifty cows to look afetr. He stood in the middle of the kitchen and concentrated on the camera which was going to take his portrait.