Images in Spite of All reveals that these rare photos of Auschwitz, taken clandestinely by one of the Jewish prisoners forced to help carry out the atrocities there, were made as a potent act of resistance.

In this text, Georges Didi-Huberman responds, in letter-form, to the critical reflections about his work formulated by Jacques Rancière in “Images Re-read: Georges Didi-Huberman’s Method.” Didi-Huberman disagrees with Rancière’s analysis that images are “passive” and that the words which accompany them are “active.” Instead, he agrees with Merleau-Ponty’s view, which postulates that any analysis of images that seeks to disentangle its elements will render the image unintelligible. In opposition to Rancière’s presentation of his work, Didi-Huberman argues that his method is (...) one of tracing the mutually entangled implications of images. Furthermore, Didi-Huberman challenges Rancière to articulate what exactly “the sensible” means when he uses the phrase “distribution of the sensible.” While Rancière distrusts the reliance on pathos and emotions when it comes to analysing images, Didi-Huberman argues that “the sensible” will always involve the body with all its pathos, emotions and gestures. (shrink)

When the French edition of _Confronting Images_ appeared in 1990, it won immediate acclaim because of its far-reaching arguments about the structure of images and the histories ascribed to them by scholars and critics working in the tradition of Vasari and Panofsky. According to Didi-Huberman, visual representation has an “underside” in which seemingly intelligible forms lose their clarity and defy rational understanding. Art historians, he goes on to contend, have failed to engage this underside, where images harbor limits and contradictions, (...) because their discipline is based upon the assumption that visual representation is made up of legible signs and lends itself to rational scholarly cognition epitomized in the “science of iconology.” To escape from this cul-de-sac, Didi-Huberman suggests that art historians look to Freud’s concept of the “dreamwork,” not for a code of interpretation, but rather to begin to think of representation as a mobile process that often involves substitution and contradiction. _Confronting Images_ also offers brilliant, historically grounded readings of images ranging from the Shroud of Turin to Vermeer’s _Lacemaker_. (shrink)

When the French edition of _Confronting Images_ appeared in 1990, it won immediate acclaim because of its far-reaching arguments about the structure of images and the histories ascribed to them by scholars and critics working in the tradition of Vasari and Panofsky. According to Didi-Huberman, visual representation has an “underside” in which seemingly intelligible forms lose their clarity and defy rational understanding. Art historians, he goes on to contend, have failed to engage this underside, where images harbor limits and contradictions, (...) because their discipline is based upon the assumption that visual representation is made up of legible signs and lends itself to rational scholarly cognition epitomized in the “science of iconology.” To escape from this cul-de-sac, Didi-Huberman suggests that art historians look to Freud’s concept of the “dreamwork,” not for a code of interpretation, but rather to begin to think of representation as a mobile process that often involves substitution and contradiction. _Confronting Images_ also offers brilliant, historically grounded readings of images ranging from the Shroud of Turin to Vermeer’s _Lacemaker_. (shrink)

The article presents some notes for an anthropology of the gestures of uprising [soulèvement]. It argues that, just as sounds always come out of the mouth of the demonstra- tors, images of all kinds are also brandished at the end of their arms. Based on this the article raises the question of the very notion of a desire for uprising.

From his very earliest writings, art was always important for Georges Bataille. Rather than something static, art, for Bataille, always involves an experience and an exigency towards freedom and even the impossible. It was apparent from the very form of Bataille’s art review Documents, which juxtaposed heterogeneous images, texts and topics, that art was intended as an experience. Bataille found in Andalusia the kind of art that triggers an exigency, an excess or a form of ecstasy in the viewer or (...) the participant, from the paintings of Picasso to flamenco performances. Art that evokes the potency for interior uprising is given form in the various figures of fleeting spirits, such as the will-o’-the-wisp or the genie called duende, as described by Lorca in “Play and Theory of the Duende” and illustrated in Calderón’s La dama duende [The Phantom Lady]. Bataille, who was moved by a performance he had witnessed at the Moulin Rouge, compared the spirited dance of the performers to the will-o’-the-wisps, the spirits that suddenly appear to unsuspecting wanderers, luring them off their path. Born in the marshes where the dead are buried, will-o’-the-wisps flare up, evoking an exigency in whoever beholds them. Thus, the will-o’-the-wisp or the duende exemplifies the potency of images, their flaring and fading away, and their ability to move us. (shrink)

This article deals with the genesis of the Bilderatlas Mnemosyne, composed by Aby Warburg between 1927 and 1929 as a response to the Great War. His reaction to the war was both pathetic (even pathological) and epistemic (which is to say, methodological). If the history of culture amounted to a great psychomachia of the astra (concepts) and the monstra (chaos), as Warburg said, the war was for him a direct test of his theory (or Kulturwissenschaft). It should be no surprise, (...) then, that between 1914 and 1918 he should assemble a large iconographic collection of materials from and about the war. This essay compares that collection and its theoretical foundations with similar projects of Warburg's contemporaries in France and Germany (notably those of the historians Lucien Febvre and Marc Bloch). (shrink)

In this introduction to a Common Knowledge special issue on the Warburg Institute, the authors argue that the Institute remains today — as it has been, in different forms, for almost a century — one of Europe's central institutions for the study of cultural history. At once a rich and uniquely organized library, a center for doctoral and postdoctoral research, and a teaching faculty, the Institute was first envisioned by Aby Warburg, a pioneering historian of art and culture from a (...) wealthy Jewish family in Hamburg. Warburg rejected the traditional view that the classical tradition was a simple, purely rational Greek creation, inherited by modern Europe. He argued that it was as much Mesopotamian as Greek in origin, as at home in the Islamic as in the European world, and as often irrational as rational in its content — and on the basis of this rich vision he devised brilliant new interpretations of medieval and Renaissance symbols and ideas. Warburg's chosen associate Fritz Saxl put his creation on a firm institutional base, first in Hamburg and then, after a narrow escape from the Nazi regime, in London. For all the changes the Institute has undergone over the decades since then, it continues to ask the questions that Warburg was the first to raise and to build on the methods that he created. (shrink)