{"id":917,"date":"2016-11-05T11:42:00","date_gmt":"2016-11-05T15:42:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/?p=917"},"modified":"2016-11-05T13:43:10","modified_gmt":"2016-11-05T17:43:10","slug":"daniela-gandorfer-deleuze-guatarris-a-thousand-plateaus-law-and-synesthesia","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/daniela-gandorfer-deleuze-guatarris-a-thousand-plateaus-law-and-synesthesia\/","title":{"rendered":"Daniela Gandorfer: Deleuze & Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus, Law, and Synesthesia"},"content":{"rendered":"

By\u00a0Daniela Gandorfer<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cHow on earth do you read Deleuze and Guattari? How on earth do you read A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>?\u201d Posed as a rhetorical question by Michael Taussig,<\/a> \u201cthe idiot question you can\u2019t get away from\u201d points to the elephant in the room. Without doubt, Deleuze and Guattari purposely evoked the elephant \u2013 whether in fact a rhinoceros or not \u2013 when writing this unique text. Indeed, when talking about A Thousand Plateaus<\/em> \u2013 a text that performs its openness and, to a certain degree, cherishes its deliberate illegibility \u2013 the question of both, reading and text, verb and noun, present and past cannot be ignored. How are we supposed to\u00a0read,<\/em> that is, to make sense, to link syntactical parts, grammar, concepts, inter- and hyper-textual references, glosses, titles, structures, letters, paper or digital pages, to move through, within, and beyond what we are used to understand as a text and a frame?<\/p>\n

Already in their introduction to the book, Deleuze and Guattari attest that \u201cwriting has nothing to do with signifying,\u201d but \u201cwith surveying, mapping, even realms that are yet to come.\u201d \u00a0The book is introduced as an \u201cassemblage,\u201d which is \u201cas such unattributable,\u201c in other words, an indeterminate multiplicity, without definable borders and exceeding its own form, and thereby bracingly rejecting subject and object alike. \u201cIt\u2019s very hard to find a consensus,\u201d Michael Taussig testifies, and this is precisely what is at stake with the form of reading Deleuze and Guattari introduce or at least adumbrate in A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>, for it links and connects, reaches out towards the yet to come and seeks to provide an open space of difference that can be peacefully (co-)inhabited without necessarily presupposing consensus. Consensus, Erin Manning writes, is \u201cthe silencing of disagreement, the impossibility of disagreement.\u201d It is \u201cprecarious precisely because it rests on the injunction not to err,\u201d since it \u201cignores the fragility of an erring movement: it pretends that its displacements are always known in advance,\u201d and thus lends itself too easily to acts of exclusion.[1]<\/sup><\/a> The readers of A Thousand Plateaus <\/em>do not need to consent to<\/em>, they need to read with<\/em> – with whoever else is reading, with whatever is read. If \u201c[a] book exists only through the outside and on the outside,\u201c[2]<\/sup><\/a> and if our focus should not lie on the question of interpretation \u2013 let alone on finding the most probable, the most agreeable, the one<\/em> interpretation, the one that is most likely to reach consensus \u2013 but rather on \u201cwhat it functions with,\u201d \u201cother multiplicities\u201d into which \u201cits own are inserted and metamorphosed,\u201d[3]<\/sup><\/a> we can no longer hold onto what we used to understand as reading<\/em>.<\/p>\n

In his foreword to the English translation of Mille Plateaux<\/em>, Brian Massumi reminds the reader that this text must be imagined as a record, to which the listener is invited to lend an ear, in case the tune is her taste. He suggests that the best way to \u201cread\u201d A Thousand Plateaus<\/em> is by reading it as a \u201cchallenge,\u201d for the question is not \u201cis it true? But: does it work? What new thoughts does it make it possible to think?\u201c and \u201c[w]hat new sensations and perceptions does it open in the body?\u201c Not without some sense of disillusionment, Massumi admits that \u201c[t]he answer for some readers, perhaps most, will be \u2018none.\u2019\u201d Seen from this angle, the missing \u201cconsensus\u201d to which Michael Taussig drew our attention might primarily manifest itself among those who are insensitive to a form of reading that not only exceeds letters, words, syntax, grammar, pages, and books, but even blurs the line(s) between subject and object, reader and text, and matter and concept. This is to say, at least in regard to A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>, which provides instructions on how to not<\/em> just read, the act of reading cannot simply be understood as making sense of a certain combination of letters, set in a specific order, presented in a syntactical formation, arranged according to a chronological order of chapters and fenced off from the outside by the book\u2019s cover, but should also be seen as a mode of sensing and perceiving the translations, intersections, and materializations of thoughts in relation to their multiplicity. Reading A Thousand Plateaus<\/em> always also means perceiving<\/em> and sensing<\/em> it, where sense, according to Manning, is \u201cto world in all directions at once,\u201d and \u201cto challenge the interstices between insides and outsides, spaces and times.\u201c[4]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

A Thousand Theories of Reading. One of Perceiving. <\/strong><\/p>\n

While A Thousand Plateaus<\/em> is certainly unique in its kind and form, its purpose is not. The question of what it means, or might mean, to read or write, has always been a burning issue across disciplines. I cannot provide a broad, chronological overview of these discussions here, but perhaps I can offer a glimpse into what is at stake in a different approach to reading at this moment in time, and especially in regard to legal theory.<\/p>\n

Similar to Deleuze\u2019s and Guattari\u2019s call to forego subject and object distinctions,[5]<\/sup><\/a> Judith Butler, in her reading of Whitehead in On this Occasion<\/em>, makes an interesting claim about the alleged one-directional understanding of the reader\/text relation. Butler describes the relation between subject and object not in hierarchical terms, but rather as a curious \u201cinteraction.\u201d Both \u201care animated in relation to one another \u2026 and in this sense the aliveness of each is dependent on a certain provocation coming from the other.\u201d Since this consequently \u201craises the question of nonhuman modes of acting or . . . [of] acting on,\u201d she suggests that \u201csuch non-human modes of acting and being acted on characterize the object \u2013 in this case, the text \u2013 and me.\u201d[6]<\/sup><\/a> Accordingly, what traditional grammar calls an object and, analogously, the text, the non-human, the book, what is subordinated and always only thought to exist in reference to the subject, is in fact also acting upon, and performing the subjects, and in this context, the readers. Reading<\/em>, then, becomes a multidirectional movement between two bodies of texts – the reader and the written – which cannot always be clearly distinguished from perceiving<\/em> and which dissolves the notion of an inside and an outside. At the same time, this also breaks with the assumption that the reader is a passive consumer of whatever the respective authority writes and thus produces. Michel DeCerteau renders this \u201ctheory of consumption\u201d \u2013 as well as the subsequent hierarchization of writing (as the production of a text) over reading as the reception of it from someone else, \u201cwithout putting one’s own mark on it, without remaking it\u201d \u2013 utterly \u201cunacceptable.\u201d[7]<\/sup><\/a> According to DeCerteau \u201cone cannot maintain the division separating the readable text (a book, image, etc.) from the act of reading.\u201d[8]<\/sup><\/a> To read<\/em> means to travel, to wander and move through a text that is multiple, for every reading modifies its object while the reader \u201cdeterritorializes himself, oscillating in a nowhere between what he invents and what changes him.\u201d[9]<\/sup><\/a> The reader\u2019s place \u201cis not here or there, one or the other, but neither the one nor the other, simultaneously inside and outside, dissolving both by mixing them together.\u201d[10]<\/a> Understanding reading as this multidirectional movement through and beyond the text, always on the blurry border between idea and matter, making sense and sensing, urges us to follow up Taussig\u2019s question about how<\/em> to read A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>, and also leads us to DeCerteau\u2019s question about who, in fact, reads: \u201cIs it I, or some part of me?\u201d[11]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

If reading is in fact always situated somewhere between making sense and perceiving, if we cannot rely on the subject\/object, producer\/consumer distinction anymore, and if consequently the book is an assemblage of material and immaterial traces of thought and matter, Henri Bergson\u2019s Matter and Memory<\/em> has a lot to contribute towards a theory of perceptual reading, especially in relation to the links it establishes between making sense and perceiving, between interiority and exteriority, part and whole, and in relation to what Bergson understands as bodies. For Bergson, the body \u2013 understood as the image at the center of an assemblage of infinite images and to which we refer all other images \u2013 is the \u201cplace of passage of the movements received and thrown back, a hyphen, a connecting link between the things which act upon me and the things upon which I act.\u201d[12]<\/sup><\/a> Thus, a body, \u201cin the aggregate of the material world,\u201d is \u201can image which acts like other images, receiving and giving back movement,\u201d which is to say that every<\/em> image, at every<\/em> given moment, is simultaneously the subject and object of movement. The distinction between interiority and exteriority is \u201cmerely the distinction between my body and other bodies,\u201d and thus between \u201cthe part and the whole.\u201d Accordingly, the separation between a thing and its environment \u201ccannot be absolutely definite and clear-cut,\u201d for \u201cthe perpetuality of their reciprocal actions and reactions is sufficient to prove that they have not the precise limits which we attribute to them.\u201d[13]<\/sup><\/a> It is perception that outlines their form and it does so according to the bodies, carved out from all the other bodies with which they can enter into relations \u201cas if with persons.\u201d This is precisely how Bergson\u2019s theory of perception allows us to take the outlined discussion of a radical (rhizomatic) form of reading (defying dichotomies such as inside and outside, subject and object, reading and writing) to the next level. If read analogically, the book and the reader become images among an infinite number of images. This allows us to imagine a reading that transcends words, pages, and books and applies to a critical perception of matter and matters alike. For Bergson, perception is always oriented towards action. It is a moving towards, a reaching out, and a setting into motion of images and bodies that are about to touch and be touched; \u201c[d]irection but not goal-directed\u201d, an \u201caffirmation of a movement toward,\u201d[14]<\/sup><\/a> sensing and thereby paving the way for what Manning imagines as a \u201cpolitics of touch,\u201d \u201cthe incommensurability of sense,\u201d and thus a synesthetic reading of matter.[15]<\/sup><\/a><\/p>\n

Perceptive Critique \u2013 Critical Perception? <\/strong><\/p>\n

It is crucial to point to the critical implications we can infer from a theory of reading as always also sensing and perceiving. Bergson calls for a necessary \u201ceducation of the senses\u201d that would be able to overcome the gaps in our perception, since \u201cbetween sounds, between odors, between tastes, there are gaps,\u201d \u201cthere are intervals of silence.\u201d This call becomes especially urgent and shows its highly political implications, when seen in relation to what Butler in Frames of War<\/em> describes as a deliberate undermining, in the course of war, of the \u201csensate democracy.\u201d[16]<\/sup><\/a> Arguing that \u201c[p]erception and policy are but two modalities of the same process whereby the ontological status of a targeted population is compromised and suspended,\u201d Butler points to the danger of our current perceptual regime, ultimately resulting from an inability or unwillingness to read<\/em> new media technologies and affect, and writes:<\/p>\n

A life is taken in through all the senses, if it is taken in at all. The tacit interpretative scheme that divides worthy from unworthy lives works fundamentally through the senses, differentiating the cries we can hear from those we cannot, the sights we can see from those we cannot, and likewise at the level of touch and even smell.[17]<\/sup><\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

This brings us back to yet another moment during the Nietzsche 4\/13 seminar, when Taussig juxtaposed the bookness<\/em> of academia with the lifeness<\/em> of fieldwork; a juxtaposition that haunts academics by invoking questions of (academic) disciplinarity as well as social and political responsibility. When Taussig refers to his fieldwork \u2013 \u201ctalking to ordinary people\u201d and \u201cfiguring out life\u201d \u2013 he emphasizes that what he is talking about is precisely \u201cnot bookwork, not reading.\u201d Here, reading<\/em> refers exclusively to the production of what is considered a book, to writing and thereby remaining inside, within the closed world of the book and consequently of the elites, who are privileged to engage in this particular kind of \u201cwork.\u201d Yes, this is the form of reading we \u2013 those who are granted the privilege to be considered and addressed as readers \u2013 are used to, a definition with which we are familiar, and against which DeCerteau has warned us. It is also an activity that neither fosters nor engenders activism. On the other hand, the mode of reading, outlined by Deleuze and Guattari in A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>, in accordance with what De Certeau understands as a \u201cpolitics of reading,\u201d sketched out by Bergson in his thoughts on perception, and put into a political context by Butler, obliges us \u2013 and not just us \u2013 to perceive and sense critically. It is rhizomatic and thus radical.<\/p>\n

Reading Law<\/strong><\/p>\n

If the book is never just a book, a text never just a text, and reading never just reading, if the clear line between subject and object, reading and writing, is in fact not that clear at all, it is inevitable that we also rethink our modes of reading law. Building on Bernard E. Harcourt\u2019s exploration of the \u201cradical potential of writing\u201d in his article<\/a> on the Nietzsche 3\/13<\/a> session, and following DeCerteau\u2019s claim that \u201c[a] politics of reading must thus be articulated on an analysis that, describing practices that have long been in effect, makes them politicizable,\u201d[18]<\/sup><\/a> I wish to draw attention to the necessary reconceptualization of what it means to read the law in its (multi-)materiality. This is precisely where the inherently political and critical potential of reading lies; a potential that is so beautifully presented in A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>, since it brings with it the reversal, and in some cases the dissolution, of the obdurate dichotomies already mentioned.<\/p>\n

Similar to what Deleuze and Guattari term \u201cbook,\u201d the law too cannot be restricted to a single form; it takes on various material and immaterial shapes, it acts on bodies and is enacted by bodies, it produces excess and simultaneously reproduces itself as this very excess \u2013 an excess that goes far beyond the written, and that nevertheless needs to be recognized as belonging to the law\u2019s text. While it is, by now, already broadly accepted that the text of law exceeds its written dimensions, its papers, documents, court decisions, law codes, and constitutions, our skills to read<\/em> and perceive<\/em> the law\u2019s texture<\/em> remains neglected.<\/p>\n

Law is both multi-medial and multi-sensual, and therefore \u2013 in principle \u2013 perceivable. This perceptibility is not necessarily restricted to the human senses, but points to the law\u2019s materiality \u2013 the often overseen, overheard, untouched, forgotten or ignored parts of law. Andreas Philippopoulos-Mihalopoulos describes what is at stake when he warns that \u201c[i]n the legal system, the withdrawal of matter is an everyday occurrence. Law presents itself as immaterial, abstract, universal, non-geographical.\u201d[19]<\/sup><\/a> As a consequence, it is important to realize that \u201cthe law is not just the text, the decision, even the courtroom. Law is the pavement, the traffic light, the hood in the shopping mall, the veil in the school, the cell in Guantanamo, the seating arrangement at a meeting, the risotto at the restaurant.\u201d[20]<\/sup><\/a> Law, for that matter, \u201cdoes not dwell on the textual (that too) but expands on the space and bodies that incorporate it and act it out.\u201d[21]<\/sup><\/a> We have to challenge a law that \u201cis quite comfortable with fiction, fabrication, abstraction, and an entirely relational dynamics.\u201d[22]<\/sup><\/a> We must rethink what it means to read the law in its multi-dimensionality, because what gets lost, what gets dispossessed, deprived, contaminated, hurt, and even killed, erased, effaced, is by no means just fiction, abstraction, words, texts and ideas, but bodies (whether human or non-human), organisms, and environments.<\/p>\n

Like the modes of reading discussed by Deleuze and Guattari as well as by Butler and DeCerteau, the question of how to read law is closely tied to the relation between (legal) subject and object, producing\/writing law and consuming or being consumed by law. Who or what reads, and to what extent is this reading active or passive? Who or what performs the reading and who is privileged enough to make sense of the text we used to call law? What can and should be read? In the name, or on behalf of whom? What can and should actually be read? How, for example, to read a drowned refugee body or the materiality of the Mediterranean Sea, which so conveniently serves as a gigantic disposal site for ungrievable \u2013 that is, in relation to reading and the book, unquotable \u2013 lives? \u00a0How to read it in con<\/em>text, in relation to the texts of law, and at the same time out of context, apart from what we are used to read and understand as law? In other words, how to read this particular assemblage \u2013 of water, temperature, depth, lack of protection, fishes, weather conditions, boats, distances \u2013 its parts, its structure, its material particles, its interrelations, its discursive practices, as what exceeds the law but at the same time is always already part of the assemblage we so confidently call \u201claw\u201d?\u00a0 To respond, or to at least attempt to respond to these questions, bears a political and critical potential for an alternative encounter with law \u2013 in theory as well as in practice.<\/p>\n

Synesthesia of Law <\/strong><\/p>\n

The Synesthesia of Law<\/em><\/a> conference that Harcourt mentions in his epilogue<\/a> and at the end of the Nietzsche 4\/13<\/a> session engaged precisely these questions: How can we read and perceive a law that constantly exceeds its material and immaterial forms? How are we supposed to respond to its acoustic, visual, palpable, hurtful, pleasurable, in short, sensible dimensions? In doing so, the conference, in which artists as well as scholars from various disciplines participated, stressed the \u201cinterdisciplinary of law.\u201d As Eduardo Cadava put it in his closing remarks<\/a>:<\/p>\n

each talk opens the law to its presumed others \u2013 art, history, philosophy, psychoanalysis, sociology, anthropology, religion, economics, literature, gender and sexuality studies, media and politics and shows that the law, always inhabited by these others can always only exceed itself. As a consequence and in the relation to the question of synaesthesia in particular it is in the oscillation between the senses, in the coupling of seeing and not seeing, hearing and not hearing, touching and not touching, smelling and not smelling, and the human and the non-human that responsibilities form.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Harcourt<\/a> also emphasizes the concept\u2019s critical and political dimension and the interdisciplinarity of law when he states that:<\/p>\n

Exposing the synaesthesia of law . . . is a radical act. It goes against the grain of the seriousness of the law, of what it means to be a legal scholar, a philosopher, a thinker. It embraces and simultaneously challenges the so-called-ness of our discipline. And that, I think, is the critical dimension of synaesthesia. It is precisely to challenge the rationality and the seriousness of law and of ourselves and nowhere is this more true and more sharp and more extreme than at the point of pain, suffering, and torture.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

In fact, it was at the end of Patricia J. Williams talk<\/a>, the very first talk of the gathering, that this critical and deeply political potential of reading<\/em> law, of reading the synesthesia of law, fully unfolded, became legible, and petrified critical minds and emphatic hearts alike. Not without hesitation, some questions were addressed to Williams, who confronted herself and the audience with perceptible atrocities of police violence and racism, and although every remark would have been worth \u201ca thousand questions,\u201d the only response possible was silence. A silence that, as Cadava describes it, awoke \u201ca world that is both opened and closed, not only to many laws but also to what cannot be assimilated to any familiar concept of law, to another law and to something other than law.\u201d A silence that, as Harcourt puts it, felt like falling into the abyss with Nietzsche again. When Williams performed a reading <\/em>of a law that tends to escape our perception, namely a reading of the material, acoustic, visual, haptic dimensions of law, a critical reading of law in its synestheticity and, in this case, a reading of brutality and violence, she read them against and with us, she read them out loud, she read all the bodies, the corpses left behind, lying on streets, in prisons, in spaces we do not yet know and with which we will probably never be forced to get acquainted. Silence \u2013 evoked by a reading<\/em> with<\/em> that invokes a language yet to come and a law yet to be perceived. In the course of his talk, the day after Williams performance, Jes\u00fas R. Velasco<\/a> helped us further understand what might had happened in this moment of utter silence. By meticulously tracing synesthesia back to Aristotle, he reminds us of its \u201cprofoundly ethical and political\u201d implications, since \u201clife is in fact perception through the senses and knowledge (in this moment).\u201d At least for Aristotle, \u201csocial life is nothing else than communality in the acts of perceiving through the senses and knowledge.\u201d Accordingly, Velasco points out that a \u201csocial and political existence require a certain communality of perception and thought,\u201d that is to say \u201ca communality that is not just about creating consensus but rather about becoming conscious of the other by trying to sense with the other senses and know with the other\u2019s thought \u2013 sensing with, or thinking with.\u201d A reading with<\/em> that, as Cadava suggests, offers the potential \u201cto invent laws anew, to invent a discipline that would be open to the future, because it would be open to its own alterity.\u201d In order to accomplish such a reading, Emanuele Coccia<\/a> reminds us that we have to understand \u201chow deeply law is embedded in sensible life, [and] how much law itself is made out of synesthetic, sensible elements and not just of written words.\u201d It is precisely a different understanding and reading of law that were encountered, explored, critically observed in the course of the conference: \u201cThe emphasis on law\u2019s relation to the senses, with each sense never just one, asks us to reread an entire lexicon of the law.\u201d[23]<\/a><\/p>\n

Conclusion \u2013 Becoming Book, Booking Law. <\/strong><\/p>\n

In the opening of Marcel Proust\u2019s Swann\u2019s Way<\/em>, the narrator of the book is introduced falling asleep while reading a book with a title that is kept secret from us. When he wakes up memory and perception intermingle, reflections and imaginations, dream and reality become inseparable, and he is incapable of making sense of his environment:<\/p>\n

I had not ceased while sleeping to form reflections on what I had just read, but these reflections had taken a rather peculiar turn; it seemed to me that I myself was what the book was talking about: a church, a quartet, the rivalry between Fran\u00e7ois I and Charles V.[24]<\/a><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

We too should be aware of the power and ubiquity of the law\u2019s texture, of the legal text that we are part of, some of us privileged enough to reside at its center, others pushed to its margins, rarely accepted as footnotes or glosses, if not redacted, or rendered unquotable form the very beginning.\u00a0\u00a0 What remains to say is best uttered as an imperative to perceive, to read critically, to not let law expand its grey zones so far that we cannot see anymore, to not overhear the calls of those whose voices are silenced; to step outside the twilight zone of law, where colors and shapes blur the images we need to keep intact, and to listen to the whisper that noise threatens to fade into mute; it is vital – on earth – that we sharpen our senses, that we read against the loss of our perception.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

References<\/strong><\/p>\n

Bergson, Henri, W Scott Palmer, and Nancy Margaret Paul. Matter and Memory.<\/em> Cambridge (Mass.): MIT press, 1991.<\/p>\n

Butler, Judith. \u201cOn This Occasion,\u201d In Butler on Whitehead: On the Occasion<\/em>, ed. Faber, Roland, Michael Halewood, and Deena Lin, Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2012.<\/p>\n

Certeau, Michel de. The Practice of Everyday Life.<\/em> Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988.<\/p>\n

Davies, Margaret. \u201cThe Consciousness of Trees.\u201d Law and Literature<\/em>, vol. 27, no. 2 (2015).<\/p>\n

Deleuze, Gilles, and F\u00e9lix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus : Capitalism and Schizophrenia.<\/em> Translated by Brian Massumi. Minneapolis; London: University of Minnesota Press, 2014.<\/p>\n

Manning, Erin. Politics of Touch : Sense, Movement, Sovereignty.<\/em> Minneapolis; London: University of Minnesota press, 2007.<\/p>\n

Proust, Marcel, Lydia Davis, and Christopher Prendergast. Swann’s Way.<\/em> New York, N.Y.: Penguin Books, 2004.<\/p>\n

Proust, Marcel. A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu.<\/em> Paris: Gallimard, 1954.<\/p>\n

Philippopoulos-Mihalopoulos, Andreas. Spatial Justice: Body, Lawscape, Atmosphere.<\/em> London: Routledge, 2015.<\/p>\n

Philippopoulos-Mihalopoulos, Andreas. “Critical Autopoiesis and the Materiality of Law.” Int J Semiot Law International Journal for the Semiotics of Law – Revue internationale de S\u00e9miotique juridique <\/em>27, no. 2 (2014).<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Notes<\/strong><\/p>\n

[1]<\/sup><\/a> Manning, Erin. Politics of Touch : Sense, Movement, Sovereignty.<\/em> Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota press, 2007, 15, 48, 70.<\/p>\n

[2]<\/sup><\/a> ATP, 4<\/p>\n

[3]<\/sup><\/a> Deleuze, Gilles, and F\u00e9lix Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus : Capitalism and Schizophrenia.<\/em> Translated by Brian Massumi. Minneapolis; London: University of Minnesota Press, 2014, 4.<\/p>\n

[4]<\/sup><\/a> Manning. Politics of Touch, <\/em>155.<\/p>\n

[5]<\/sup><\/a> Deleuze and Guattari. A Thousand Plateaus<\/em>, 3.<\/p>\n

[6]<\/sup><\/a> Butler, Judith. \u201cOn This Occasion,\u201d In Butler on Whitehead: On the Occasion<\/em>, ed. Faber, Roland, Michael Halewood, and Deena Lin, Lanham, Md.: Lexington Books, 2012, 4.<\/p>\n

[7]<\/sup><\/a> Certeau, Michel de. The Practice of Everyday Life.<\/em> Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988, 169 and xx<\/p>\n

[8]<\/sup><\/a> Certeau. The Practice ,<\/em>170.<\/p>\n

[9]<\/sup><\/a> Ibid., 173.<\/p>\n

[10]<\/a> Certeau. The Practice,<\/em><\/p>\n

[11]<\/sup><\/a> Certeau. The Practice,<\/em>173.<\/p>\n

[12]<\/sup><\/a> Bergson, Henri, W Scott Palmer, and Nancy Margaret Paul. Matter and Memory.<\/em> Cambridge (Mass.): MIT press, 1991, 151-2.<\/p>\n

[13]<\/sup><\/a> Bergson. Matter and Memory, <\/em>209.<\/p>\n

[14]<\/sup><\/a> Manning. Politics of Touch, <\/em>155.<\/p>\n

[15]<\/sup><\/a> Ibid.<\/p>\n

[16]<\/sup><\/a> Butler, Judith. Frames of War : When Is Life Grievable?<\/em> London; New York: Verso, 2009, 29 and 52.<\/p>\n

[17]<\/sup><\/a> Butler. Frames, 51.<\/p>\n

[18]<\/sup><\/a> Certeau. The Practice,<\/em> 173.<\/p>\n

[19]<\/sup><\/a> Philippopoulos-Mihalopoulos, Andreas. “Critical Autopoiesis and the Materiality of Law.” Int J Semiot Law International Journal for the Semiotics of Law – Revue internationale de S\u00e9miotique juridique <\/em>27, no. 2 (2014): 410.<\/p>\n

[20]<\/sup><\/a> Ibid.<\/p>\n

[21]<\/sup><\/a> Philippopoulos-Mihalopoulos, Andreas. Spatial Justice: Body, Lawscape, Atmosphere.<\/em> London: Routledge, 2015, 3.<\/p>\n

[22]<\/sup><\/a> Davies, Margaret. \u201cThe Consciousness of Trees.\u201d Law and Literature<\/em>, vol. 27, no. 2 (2015): 231.<\/p>\n

[23]<\/a> Eduardo Cadava. See all videos oft he Synesthesia of Law conference here: https:\/\/synesthesia.princeton.edu\/videos\/.<\/p>\n

[24]<\/a> Proust, Marcel, Lydia Davis, and Christopher Prendergast. Swann’s Way.<\/em> New York, N.Y.: Penguin Books, 2004, 3. See original: \u201c[J]e n\u2019avais pas cess\u00e9 en dormant de faire des r\u00e9flexions sur ce que je venais de lire, mais ces r\u00e9flexions avaient pris un tour un peu particulier; il me semblait que j\u2019\u00e9tais moi-m\u00eame ce dont parlait l\u2019ouvrage: une \u00e9glise, un quatuor, la rivalit\u00e9 de Fran\u00e7ois Ier et de Charles Quint.\u201d Proust, Marcel. A La Recherche Du Temps Perdu.<\/em> Paris: Gallimard, 1954. 5.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By\u00a0Daniela Gandorfer \u201cHow on earth do you read Deleuze and Guattari? How on earth do you read A Thousand Plateaus?\u201d Posed as a rhetorical question by Michael Taussig, \u201cthe idiot question you can\u2019t get away from\u201d points to the elephant… Continue Reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1641,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[52291],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-917","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-posts-4-13"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/917","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1641"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=917"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/917\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=917"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=917"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.law.columbia.edu\/nietzsche1313\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=917"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}