Showing posts with label instantaneity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label instantaneity. Show all posts

3 Feb 2014

Notes from Barry Dainton’s Time and Space for comparison with his “Sensing Change”


by Corry Shores
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[All underlining, boldface, and bracketed commentary are my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so mistakes are still currently present.]



Notes from Barry Dainton’s

Time and Space

for comparison with his “Sensing Change”



In Barry Dainton’s article “Sensing Change,” he describes his overlap model of the specious present of our phenomenal awareness.

Of course, anyone who believes that concrete reality is itself confined to what the present instant contains will find the Extensional approach problematic. If the past simply does not exist, contents located in the past cannot be co-conscious with contents located in the present. (This thought may well underlie the Retentionalist doctrine that only items that are momentary and simultaneous can be phenomenally unified.) But while this view of time—Presentism—may have some appeal at the level of commonsense, it does not sit easily with the four-dimensional space-time ontology that (many believe) Einstein’s theories of relativity require. By allowing phenomenal unity to connect contents that are separated by time as well as space, it is the Extensional approach that is more in tune with the findings of contemporary physics. (Dainton “Sensing Change” 380)

Dainton writes more about the four-dimensional space-time view of temporality in his book Time and Space. What might be implied in this is that Dainton’s overlap model is also more in tune with contemporary physics because it is extensionalist. So we will see if his writings in Time and Space might determine this.

In the first chapter of Time and Space Dainton introduces McTaggart’s distinction between A- and B-series. The temporal character of events in the A-series are understood in terms of their relation to the now-moment from which we see them. This means that events are understood as being located either in the present now, or in the future that comes after the present now or the past that happened before the present. Events understood in terms of the B-series however are not seen as though there is a origin point which can make these distinctions. An event can come before or after, or be simultaneous with another, like how we think of historical events, but the temporal character of the B-series is not one that allows for present, future, and past. (TS 11)

Dainton then makes the following distinctions.

• The Block view: all times and events timelessly coexist, and all are equally real; temporal passage is unreal.

• The dynamic view: temporal passage is real, and time is not an ensemble of coexisting times and events. In short, the block-universe view is false.

• The tensed theory: A- concepts such as past, present and future have an essential and ineliminable role to play in any metaphysically adequate account of the nature of time.

• The tenseless theory: B- concepts such as earlier than, later than and simultaneous with are all we need for a metaphysically adequate account of time. (TS 11-12)


Because the overlap model is one in which the present ceaseless passes, it would seem to observe the dynamic view and not the block view. The question is then, does the contemporary physics that Dainton refers to here also take the dynamic view? In the overlap model, it is the present which is extended and passing. Do physicist think in the four-dimensional view that there is a one second long present that passes through time?

In the third chapter Dainton looks more closely at the four-dimensional ‘block’ view of time, which might be the view he says is popular in contemporary physics and required by Einstein’s relativity theories.

Beginning the first section, titled “Time without Passage,” he writes:

Many contemporary philosophers are convinced that McTaggart was essentially correct: our world is a block-like four-dimensional ensemble, lacking a moving present, wherein all times and events are equally real. (TS 27)

A bit later he writes:

Of all the models of time that we will be considering, the B-theory is currently the most popular among philosophers and physicists, but in many respects it is also the strangest and most counterintuitive. (TS 27)

In the fourth chapter he further claims that for B-theorists time does not really have a moving now that flows with time’s passage:

But if the B-theory is true, time is not going anywhere: there is no moving “now”, no slippage into the past, no crystallization from mere possibility into present actuality. (TS 44)

In chapter 5 he formulates a particular claim that in chapter 6 he critically examines:

The world is a four-dimensional ensemble, and all times and events are equally real and coexist. (TS 63)

In the 6th chapter he examines presentism, which he mentions in the paragraph we cited from “Sensing Change”. Presentism thinks that only the present is real. Here in Time and Space he says something similar:

Once one becomes aware of the Block view, and the scientific considerations (especially Einstein’s special theory of relativity) that can be mustered in its favour, denying reality to everything but the present can easily come to seem absurd. (TS 81)

In the 7th chapter Dainton examines the phenomenology of time. He begins first with phenomenological data of the phenomena of change and persistence.

Let us start by gathering some basic phenomenological data. Our typical experience is a combination of persistence and change. You are, let us suppose, lying in a deckchair gazing at the sky, where you can see a few white clouds moving very slowly against the unvarying blue backdrop. You see the occasional bird overhead. Sometimes they circle around for a while, and often they fly right on by. When you do see a bird in flight you are directly aware of its motion: the flapping of wings; the sometimes fast, sometimes slow changes of position. You are as fully and immediately aware of these movements and changes as you are of the unchanging blue of the sky. The same holds quite generally for other modes of consciousness. We see change, but we also hear it (a rapid sequence of notes played on a piano), feel it (slowly move your finger across the palm of your hand) and imagine it (recreate in your imagination the final shot in a tennis tournament – a ball goes out, a player leaps with joy, the crowd roars). In addition, there can be changes in what we smell and taste, and in our emotional state (a surge of anger). And then there is the inner soliloquy, the conversation we have with ourselves in thought, conducted sometimes in words, sometimes in images, sometimes in neither, which rarely ceases during our waking hours.

All this is obvious: consciousness is alive with change and variation. More elusive is the subtle but distinctive sort of dynamism that is characteristic of unchanging sensations. Return to the deckchair scenario. For some moments now you have been staring at an empty region of blue sky and nothing has changed. Your inner monologue has (if only briefly) ground to a halt, you have seen no movement, your visual field is filled with an unvarying expanse of blue. But is your consciousness entirely still or frozen? Have you come to a complete stop? No. Throughout this period you remain conscious, and conscious of the blue presence continuing on; you have a (dim, background, passive) awareness of the blue constantly being renewed from moment to moment. This passive awareness of continuation and renewal is perhaps more vivid in the case of auditory experience. Imagine hearing a sustained but unwavering note played on a cello: you hear a continuous and continuing flow of sound. This feature – call it “immanent phenomenal flow” – is possessed by all forms of experience (think of the burning sensation on the tongue caused by biting on a chilli pepper), and is a dynamic feature of experience that is independent of changes of the ordinary qualitative sort (the chilli- induced burning is felt as continuing on even when its intensity and qualitative character remains constant). Phenomenal flow is especially important in the case of easily overlooked but ever- present bodily experiences: the feeling of one’s limbs being disposed one way rather than another, the feeling of being vertical rather than horizontal or upside down, the feelings of pressure on one’s skin caused by clothes, seats, shoes and so on. When we are not moving about, our bodily experience is largely unvarying in quality, and so goes largely unnoticed, but it remains a constant – and constantly flowing – presence within our consciousness. (TS 104)

Thus we may distinguish two temporal phenomenal traits, passage (change) and flow (persistence):

• our experience of change is as direct and immediate as our experience of colour or shape;

• our experiences possess the feature of phenomenal flow. (TS 104)

Phenomenal flow, by the way, involves an awareness of the newness even of persistent things in our awareness:

As well as providing an explanation of how we can have an immediate experience of change, the model provides an account of phenomenal flow, the impression we have that a qualitatively unvarying sensation is continuously refreshed and renewed. (TS 110)

We also note that again Dainton in this book, like in other writings including “Sensing Change” claims that contents in his awareness do not linger.

If the two- dimensional model were true, we could expect that:

experiences would never end abruptly, they would always linger on for a short while as they are represented in successive awarenesses as possessing diminishing presentedness;

• at each moment we would be aware of our current experience together with a constantly shifting complex of representations of recent experiences, and so our consciousness would be choked with the residues of recent experiences.

But this is wrong on both counts. As far as I can tell, my consciousness is not clogged up with fading residues of prior experiences, and experiences do not always linger; they sometimes do end abruptly. It could be objected, “Ah, but the residues are very brief. That’s why you don’t notice them. Likewise, for the shifting constellations of representations.” This reply is unconvincing. If we cannot discern the posited representations, there is no reason to suppose that they have any phenomenological reality, and hence no reason to suppose that they contribute to our actual experience of change and persistence. (TS 111)

[[Dainton also at times refers to the blur behind a fast moving object. In cases when he mentions these he does not explain why these are not instances of lingering contents, and in cases when he says we never have lingering contents, he does not mention cases of blurred moving objects in order to clarify how they are not instances of lingering.]]

We also note here that in “Sensing Change” Dainton says that what is in the extensive specious present of his overlap model is present because it has the full force and vivacity of present things.

What quality, added to a pain sensation, would make that sensation seem to be in the past rather than in the present? If I am now experiencing some sensation, won’t the experience seem to be occurring now irrespective of any peculiar qualities it might possess? Someone might say, “Presentedness is not an additional property that experiences have. It is akin to Hume’s ‘force and vivacity’. It is simply a measure of the intensity of an experience; as experiences lose presentedness they become progressively fainter, until they fade away altogether.” But this won’t work. Do some parts of the image in Figure 7.5 appear “more past” than others? [This figure shows a star-shaped image of light where the center is bright and diminishes toward the edges](112)

[[But when discussing non-extensional models, he examine a similar concept called presentedness, which is a quality that retentional contents have to diminishing degrees as they move further away from the present toward the past. He says that presentedness cannot be understood as Hume’s full force and vibrancy, because presently given weak phenomena like faint sounds or light do not now sound as if in the past. Those advocating for a diminishing presentedness might say that what makes the content seem more past is not merely its faintness as much as how much fainter it is from when it first presented itself. The faint sound now gets even fainter and as it does, and only as it does, it appears less and less present. It is also unclear how it is that Dainton’s criticism of presentedness does not apply to his concept of presence which is defined in exactly the same terms as presentedness. If a sound is currently very faint, does it seem less present than other concurrent sounds which are prominent? If not, how exactly do we make a clear distinction between presentness and presence with respect to currently faint phenomena?]]

When describing his overlap model, he explains how contents separated by others are not transitively co-conscious, and he also says that the specious present is less than a second.

Since the specious present is of limited duration (probably less than a second), the relationship of co- consciousness over time (diachronic co- consciousness) cannot be transitive. (114)

Later there is a paragraph which might help us better understand how the features of the overlap model might be in tune or not in tune with the contemporary physics understanding of time. It is not here clear if he is saying that moments outside the present are real in the same way as those inside the specious present. He only says that they are real in the present, but he puts in it a way that might suggest we cannot say something about the reality of those outside it.

However, in assessing the plausibility of what is being offered here, we must not lose sight of the model of time with which we are dealing. The overlap theory tells us that for me to experience C flowing into D, or D flowing into E, my experiencing of C must be co-conscious with my experiencing of D, and my experiencing of D must similarly be co-conscious with my experiencing of E. When two experiences are (diachronically) co-conscious, they are experienced together, in a unified temporally extended episode of experiencing. It is difficult to see how C could be related to D in this way if C is unreal when D occurs – and similarly for D and E. In order for C and D to be part of one unified experience, C and D must surely coexist. But according to the Dynamic Presentist, since C and D occur in succession, they do not coexist. (118)

[[A presentist might also say that to perceive C flowing into D is to perceive the passage between and thus to have both simultaneously in consciousness in that instant of their passage.]]

[[More generally speaking, it is not clear if the overlap model assumes time makes up a B-series, because the present has an extensive structure where successive moments co-exist, or if because the present is always in motion that it makes it not a B-series. If it is not a B-series on account of the movement of the present, then it is unclear how it is compatible with contemporary theories of physics which seem to construe time as B-series.]

Then he specifically addresses the question of whether the overlap model is compatible with other metaphysically intelligible views of time, and he says that it is “neutral” with respect to them. First he looks at the block view, which is like the B-series conception. All moments have their place, none are present, and there is no flowing now. But the way he describes it here suggests that within the four-dimensional block a stream of consciousness is like a small part that is only aware of tiny moving portion of it. It does not explain the relationship between the movement of the stream of consciousness and the non-movement of the block. So he explains why it is that the specious present is only a small part of the whole block, but he does not explain why in the block a small part of it is moving.

What of the other models of time that we have considered and found metaphysically intelligible? For better or worse, the overlap theory seems entirely neutral with respect to these.

Consider the Block view. The overlap theory tells us that co-consciousness extends over short periods to create temporally extended “phenomenal presents”, that successive phenomenal presents overlap, and that the contents of these phenomenal presents have an inherent dynamic character. That our experience is structured in this way guarantees that we will have the impression that our consciousness is confined to a forward-moving present even if, in reality, past and future experiences are just as real as present ones. From the four-dimensional perspective, a stream of consciousness is akin to a glowing filament embedded in a long glass block; the filament is aglow throughout its entire length, but this is not discernible to the subject of these experience, who is only ever aware of those tiny stretches of experience joined by co-consciousness. (119)

Dainton contrasts his overlap theory to ones which conceive of the present as durationless. He claims that such models cannot account for the phenomenon of passage. But one argument against Dainton’s position, which he does not address, is that physics understands an instant of motion as being like the smallest part of passage. In one sense it is durationless in that it is not an extent of time, but it is not the same as a lack of temporality. It in a way is greater than a zero amount of time and less than any givable finite amount of time. At any such instant of motion, we can calculate the instantaneous velocity of the motion. In a sense, the object is both in motion and at rest. It is at rest because it does not travel any extent of space or occupy any extent of time, however it is in motion because it is still in passage between locations, and thus it can have a certain rate of making that passage even though no extend of time or space transpires. Dainton in fact discusses and describe this operation in physics, and he even notes that modern scientific and technological calculations depend on it. This suggests that the instantaneous view of parts of motion are compatible with contemporary views of time in physics. What is interesting is that he does not consider this view of the instant when examining possible models of time consciousness where the present is instantaneous. Could not the present in our phenomenal consciousness be an instant which is aware off the smallest part of change? He explains instantaneous velocity when discussing the at-at account of motion, which can solve Zeno’s paradox of the arrow. An arrow in flight occupies a series of points in space coordinated to instants in time where it is found at those locations. But it is not at motion in any of the points, so it is never at any point or moment in flight. Dainton explains how those who think time and space are continuous can reply that since the arrow was at a different location prior to any in its motion, then it is changing location across time and thus is in movement. It is at certain points at certain times, and at intermediate points between them. He then looks at the calculus way of looking at this to show how even in the instant the arrow would have an instantaneous velocity, which suggests that no matter how small of a part of its motion we look at, it is at motion in that instant.

17.1 The “Arrow”

Imagine an arrow in flight. At every instant during its flight, the arrow is at some specific location, occupying a volume of space that corresponds exactly to the arrow’s own size. Since instants are durationless, and motion takes time, the arrow is not in motion at (or during) these instants. Yet the arrow’s entire flight is composed of these instants, and nothing but these instants. If the arrow is not in motion at any of the instants that jointly make up its flight, it is not in motion at all.

This is Zeno’s “Arrow” paradox. The reasoning obviously generalizes – what holds for the arrow holds for any object in motion – and so if the argument is sound, motion does not and cannot occur. The argument is sometimes taken as being directed – along with “Stadium”, which we will be looking at shortly – against the doctrine that space and time are discrete, rather than continuous. While this may well be true for the Stadium, it is not obviously true in the case of the Arrow. In any event, the Arrow reasoning certainly poses a significant problem for those who believe space and time are continuous rather than discrete, the conception of the continuum with which we are currently concerned. If space and time are composed of dimensionless points, and the arrow’s flight involves its occupying a continuous succession of different locations, we are undeniably confronted with the problem of explaining how it is possible for the arrow to have moved, given that it is not (seemingly) moving during any of the momentary stages which constitute its flight.

The at-at theory

Those who subscribe to the orthodox conception of the continuum have a response to the Arrow challenge that is widely, although by no means universally, accepted as adequate. The proposal runs as follows. Whether or not an object is in motion at a given time t does not depend on the object’s condition or state at time t. Rather, it depends on how the object behaves at those temporal instants neighbouring t. If at these neighbouring times the object is at precisely the same location as it is at t, then we say that it is not moving at t; but if it is at different locations, then we say that it is moving at t. Since everyone can agree that an object is moving if it is changing its location over time, this simple account seems to give us all we might want. Or as Russell puts it, “Motion consists merely in the fact that bodies are sometimes in one place and sometimes in another, and that they are | at intermediate places at intermediate times” (1917: 84) [Russell, B. 1917. “Mathematics and Metaphysicians”. In his Mysticism and Logic. London: George Allen & Unwin]; hence the “at-at” label for this view.

It will be useful to take a closer look at what proponents of the at-at account are proposing. Suppose we start with an interval I1, running from half a second before t to half a second after t (see Figure 17.1). We calculate the arrow’s average velocity over I1 by dividing the distance travelled over the course of this interval by the time taken, which in this case is one second. This gives us an initial, reasonably accurate, approximation of the object’s velocity at t. To get more accurate approximation we repeat the procedure for a shorter interval I2, which is also centred on t, but running (we can suppose) from a quarter of a second before it to a quarter of a second after it. By working out the average velocities over shorter and shorter t-centred intervals we will generate increasingly accurate estimates of our object’s velocity at t itself. In standard fashion we now introduce the limit-value of the series at t: it is the average velocity to which the series of ever-decreasing intervals converges as the end-points of the intervals approach arbitrarily close to t itself. We can now stipulate that our object’s instantaneous velocity at t is simply this limit-value.

This procedure can be applied quite generally to deliver the instantaneous velocities of any moving object at any time. Indeed, the procedure just outlined is essentially that used in the calculus, where velocity is the “first derivative” of change of position with respect to time (acceleration, the rate of change of velocity, is the “second derivative”). Since the day of Newton and Leibniz, calculus has been at the heart of physics and applied mathematics, and it is undeniable that much of the success of the former is due to the latter; without the methods of the calculus we would not be able to calculate the rates of change of interdependent quantities in the precise and accurate ways our science and technology require. (TS 289-290)

Dainton. Time and Space fig17.1

Figure 17.1 from page 290 of Barry Dainton's Time and Space (2010 2d ed)

As we can see, time is understood here as an extension, and this is specifically Dainton’s claim, that contemporary theories in physics regard time as extensive in their four-dimensional models. Our question is whether or not the overlap model’s other features are compatible with this four-dimensional view. We might for example wonder, do these contemporary conceptions of time think that within the extent of time there is a one second long moving present? One way Dainton might locate something like this in Einstein’s special relativity theory is in how there is no absolute simultaneity. Events that in one frame seem simultaneous might in another seem successive.

In the context of STR, simultaneity is not absolute but frame-relative. Spatially separated events that are simultaneous from the perspective of one inertial frame are not simultaneous from the perspective of other inertial frames, and since the perspectives of all inertial frames are equally valid, there is no sense in the idea that the events in question are “really” simultaneous or not. (TS 322)

So the present cannot be seen as an instant that all frames share. So we consider all possible observations. In one such comparison, there will be events that in one frame seem simultaneous and in another seem successive, and we are looking at the pairing where magnitude of the extent of time in the succession of events is greatest for any other comparison of frames. This difference in magnitude would be the extensive present, because it is the extent of time during which all other observations fit the same events. So while in the frame where the events seem maximally successive, in another they are simultaneous. The presence in the simultaneous case is extensively stretched in the successive case, and this is the extent of the present. This brings us closer to seeing how the extensive overlap model might be closer to contemporary physics and Einstein’s relativity in particular, but there is still a lot that is not clear about this account. Does that mean that because our specious present is one second long, this extent of time is the greatest possible temporal difference between all frames in the universe? And are we suggesting that when we view the specious present we are somehow perceptive of the temporally difference between reference frames of which we are not otherwise perceptively aware of? Perhaps, but Dainton does not clarity if and how this might be so.


When discussing general relativity, Dainton more specifically addresses when it is compatible with B-series conceptions of time and dynamic conceptions of time. He writes that “Nothing in GTR is obviously incompatible with the Block conception;” (381) and “A certain class of GTR models are surprisingly friendly to those versions of dynamism that posit a universe-wide tide of becoming” (TS 381). However, in this section Dainton does not clarify whether or not in any version of relativity theory that there is a moving extensive present of a second or so in duration.

Thus at least in his book Time and Space, Dainton does not give us reason to think that all the important features of the overlap model of the specious present [the present is an extent of time of about one second long where all phases or contents of that present are equally present with those outside its scope being past and future] correspond with the features of time as conceived in contemporary physics and in particular in Einstein’s relativity theories. The main point of difference would be that while both see time as extensive, it is unclear if physical theories think there is a moving present of a length of about one second long. We recall how Dainton writes in “Sensing Change:”

But while this view of time—Presentism—may have some appeal at the level of commonsense, it does not sit easily with the four-dimensional space-time ontology that (many believe) Einstein’s theories of relativity require. By allowing phenomenal unity to connect contents that are separated by time as well as space, it is the Extensional approach that is more in tune with the findings of contemporary physics. (Dainton “Sensing Change” 380)

It seems that while extensional approaches in general are compatible with the way that contemporary theories of physics portray time as being part of a four-dimensional space-time manifold, the overlap model of the specious present as a specific extensional model of time does not correspond with the way that contemporary physics understands the ‘present’ within the extent of space-time. Thus unless Dainton can maker further clarification, it does not seem safe to claim that his overlap model is compatible with contemporary theories of time in physics.

Works cited:


Barry Dainton. (2010, 2nd edition [1st edition 2001]) Time and Space. Durham: Acumen.

Barry Dainton (2008) “Sensing Change.” Philosophical Issues, 18: 362–384.

 

2 Mar 2011

The Still of Time: A-Temporal Phenomena in the Duration of Deleuze’s Bergson


by Corry Shores
[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

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[May I thank the sources of the images:
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Credits given below the image and at the end.]


The following is from my presentation at the Bergson and his Postmodern and Immanent Legacies conference.


The Still of Time:
A-Temporal Phenomena in the Duration of Deleuze’s Bergson


Deleuze is often considered an anti-phenomenologist. Yet my sense is that his critique of phenomenology is more of a constructive critique. Deleuze is not against the project of studying phenomenal appearances; he merely does so on the basis of different principles and methods. Namely, Deleuze seems interested mostly in the phenomenality of phenomena. Phenomenologists, however, often turn their attention to how phenomenal appearances become constituted throughout the flow of our internal time consciousness. But for Deleuze, a phenomenon is a flash. It could appear instantaneously. What we will explore is the possibility that a Deleuzean phenomenology need not appeal to a flow of time consciousness in order to account for the production of phenomena.

This endeavor is inspired by an article that phenomenologist Michael Kelly wrote, where he defends Husserl’s time consciousness against Deleuzean-Bergsonists. These critics charge that Husserl’s theory of internal time cannot “accommodate time’s fundamental characteristic, namely its passage.” . Yet, Kelly shows that Husserl’s later writings on temporality are immune to this critique.

We might note how Deleuze famously said of his Bergsonism book that it is a classic instance of his buggering technique. He writes, “I imagined myself getting onto the back of an author, and giving him a child, which would be his and which would at the same time be a monster. It is very important that it should be his child, because the author actually had to say everything that I made him say. But it also had to be a monster because it was necessary to go through all kinds of decenterings, slips, break ins, secret emissions, which I really enjoyed.”

So what we will explore is the possibility that one such conceptual offspring is a surprising interpretation of Bergson’s duration: for Deleuze, duration’s fundamental characteristic is not its flowing passage. Perhaps we might characterize duration by employing terms with more of an a-temporal connotation, like instantaneous, simultaneous, and eternal. But these provisional characterizations should really only serve to avert our attention away from time’s flow in order to focus more on time in its absolute immediacy.

To do this, let’s first examine Bergson’s expanding circuit diagram.



Bergson uses it to illustrate the way that the past is always contemporaneous with the present. He first has us consider what he calls an ‘after image’. They are always a part of our perception.



We look at some object, then abruptly avert our gaze to another place. For a split-second, the image of the initial object will carry-into and overlay-upon the new scene we see. The prior object remains in our field of perception, even though it is actually no longer there. Instead, it is virtually there.



The virtual past image inserts itself so thoroughly into the new actual image that “we are no longer able to discern what is perception and what is memory.” Perhaps this is why fast moving objects leave a blurry trail behind them.

According to Bergson, just while the perceived image is sent to our brain, the most recent image in our memory has already arrived-upon and overlaid our current perception, with both moving lightning fast in a continuous circuit.



But just as soon as we see something, it will already begin to appear differently to us, because we move our eyes or notice something new in what we see. Like before, the new image and its predecessor circulate immediately. Yet the even older image has not gone away; it too re-imposes itself on the present perception, but in a somewhat less vivid way. Nonetheless, this enriches the object with another layer in its appearance.



With each additional moment, another new inner circuit pushes-out the former ones.
So we see, then, that the past and present are perpetually crystallized together. “In truth,” writes Bergson, “every perception is already memory. Practically we perceive only the past, the pure present being the invisible progress of the past gnawing into the future.”



Yet even though all of our past is always interposed in the present in an implicit way, sometimes what we see causes one recollection to stand-out more explicitly among the rest. Often we observe something in our daily life that causes certain prior memories to flare-out before our “mind’s eye.” And sometimes our flashbacks can be so vivid that they drown-out the actual things we see. We then begin to feel as though we are reliving that past experience.

Deleuze illustrates these recollection-circuits with the cinematic flashbacks in Marcel Carné’s movie The Daybreak (Le jour se lève).

The film follows events happening from sundown to dawn. During this short period, a murderer flashes back into his past. Whenever we return to the present, we hear a heavy doom-filled bass and drum beat. It gives us the feeling we are moving inevitably toward a fatal end. So during the flashbacks, the past is so vibrant that it completely covers-over the actual present things standing before him in his room. As viewers, we only see what he is remembering, and not the events still carrying-on in the present while he dreams. But because upon returning we hear that fatal march toward the end, we are reminded that even while reminiscing, we never escaped the current doomed situation.






Now consider if we were to memorize a series of spoken lines for a play. Each time we practice it, we create a new individual memory. When it comes time to perform, we just start with the first word, and the rest seem to follow automatically, without our needing to recall any single rehearsal. All the previous times were contracted into that present moment of automatic habitual bodily performance. But after the show, someone might ask us about how we memorized the lines. Then we could relax and daydream about those moments, seeing them in their vivid detail.

Bergson illustrates this with his famous cone diagram. As new things enter our memory, they add to a cone.




If we are acting automatically, like when performing something we rehearsed, then we are down closer to the S point.

Being near this tip does not mean our memories have gone away. Rather, they are all contracted into our physical actions, like how a performance expresses physically all our memories of past recitals. When instead we daydream about the past, the images expand-out in our minds, as during a flashback. In these moments, we reside at a higher layer of the cone. Always we are varying somewhere between automatic action and dreamful reflection, so we might be at any of the many possible layers of expansion or contraction of our memory.

Photobucket

So during flashback scenes, the character’s memory leaps-up to a higher level. But during an action scene where he acts automatically, his memory is contracted into the present moment, down at the cone’s tip. We are always changing level, varying ‘melodically’ between our intense physical engagement in the present moment and our drifting somewhere in dream-land.

So the larger circuits are more distant memories, and the higher cone levels are increased degrees of expansion on one part of those memories.

The cone levels and the circuits are not equivalent, but we might place them in correspondence by noting that when moving to a distant circuit, we are also expanding our memories. In these slides we might correlate the movement-into-flashback with the expansions in the diagrams.

What we notice are the simultaneity of the layers. At any one moment, our consciousness is expressing, implicitly or explicitly, all our past actions and memories. We do not need time to flow in order for it to fully present itself in its immediacy. When the hero sees a memento and flashes back to an event taking place a couple months prior, he does not feel two months of time in their continuous passage. Instead, he experiences two months time in a sudden flash. So the simultaneity of the distant past with the active present becomes immediately evident to him. It is not an extent of time that he undergoes in this flash, but rather time in the form of an intensity.

To further illustrate, Deleuze discusses flashback movies made by Joseph Mankiewicz. In these films, flashbacks are the product of bifurcations. There are two dimensions to these bifurcations or forkings. The first sort we will consider is the forking as a break in a linear progress, as described by Prigogine and Stengers.

Photobucket

They describe how for certain chemical reactions, changes in one variable can be correlated to the variations of others, but then one variable will reach a point when its path is indeterminable. It could increase or decrease, but this outcome is always left to chance.



The other sort of bifurcation we find in Borges’ story ‘The Garden of Forking Paths.’ It describes a Chinese monk’s unfinished manuscripts for a novel with this same title. It went unpublished because it was incomprehensible. The chapters did not proceed just sequentially. A following chapter would be like an alternate version of the same prior one.

The Garden, then, forks-not through space but rather through time. Characters in stories normally must choose between diverging paths. In the Garden, however, the character, “chooses— simultaneously—all of them. He creates, in this way, diverse futures, diverse times which themselves also proliferate and fork.”

There is one remarkable scene in Mankiewicz’ Barefoot Contessa, which showcases both senses of bifurcation. The soon-to-be Contessa quite abruptly switches companions, taking her down a drastically different path. But this scene was remembered by two different people, each in their own way and with their own slight variations. We will place both scenes side-by-side, listening just to the audio from one.



We notice that sudden instant of the slap, that crack in the flow of time, when the next moment is completely undetermined, entirely discontinuous with the present, that moment which is truly phenomenal, that pure, intense, dramatic moment outside the flow of time.

Now, the Contessa’s forking is the reason each of these people recalled the event. We see the relation between bifurcation and flashback shown even more vividly in Mankiewicz’ A Letter to Three Wives. In this story, a woman writes a letter to three wives saying she ran off with one of their husbands, but she does not specify which one. This is a forking in their lives, and it causes them to recall prior forkings in the past that foreshadowed the current situation. In one wife’s recollection, we see her discover a possible reason her husband might have left with the other woman. Her face makes a certain expression that is almost identical with her current one, as if in her past she was already flashing forward to the future. And likewise, events in the present unfold where she gets news that seems to confirm her suspicions, and she makes that same facial expression again, linking all three moments together.





So when something happens in our lives that takes us down a diverging unexpected path, we on the one hand might flash back to another forking in the past that only implicitly hinted at the current bifurcation; yet on the other hand, we are already living the present moment as a memory given in advance of its future recollection, only we don’t know yet what future forkings will bring out the present moment’s implicit significance. In the instant of the flashback, past, present, and future are all simultaneous and immediate to our consciousness, as if we are always in a way standing outside of time’s flow and experiencing events from the perspective of eternity.



We noted at the beginning how phenomenology requires time to pass in order for phenomena to appear. This in a way gives the present moment a sort of thickness. It swells out from the present, fading into the past like a comet tail, as Husserl puts it.

And we are only able to constitute a phenomenal object by means of associative similarities that present themselves and synthesize across a span of flowing time. But for Deleuze, we need not think that appearances show themselves through time in its flowing. The phenomenon of motion, for example, might just be the diminishing vibrancy of layers of after images all showing in one instant of perception.

Deleuzean Bergsonist Depth of Time

(Thanks eyefetch)



(Thanks diagonalthoughts.com)


(Thanks marinagraham)

If ever we feel time, we feel it as a difference or a gap, like when peering in the mirror and seeing someone who looks older than we thought we were. Abruptly-noticed signs of age make us feel the depth of many years all in that sudden instant when they flash before us. Instead of an extensive thickness of time, we might think of an intensive depth of time. Each moment in our lives has the depth of all time, here and now immediately. A Deleuzean phenomenological time need not flow, and perhaps should not flow. If the flow is based on associating similarities bridging one moment to the next, then more flow would mean less difference from moment to moment, and thus less standing out, less appearing, less phenomenality.


Image credits:
http://www.marinagraham.co.uk/files/IMG_355.jpg

http://www.diagonalthoughts.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/12/idris-khan.jpg

http://www.eyefetch.com/image.aspx?ID=1193241


4 Apr 2010

A Sculpture of Time: Francis Bacon's Armature, according to Deleuze


by Corry Shores
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A Sculpture of Time:
Francis Bacon's Armature, according to Deleuze


Deleuze writes of Bacon's armature. Bacon explained he had ambitions of doing sculpture, and even described an element of his painting as being an armature. Deleuze regards the armature as one of the three principle parts of Bacon's paintings. Later I will explore the possibility that the armature is what connects two fundamentals of our experience of time: the instantaneous and the eternal.

Lauri Panopoulos is an accomplished sculptor who has graciously helped us to understand what armatures are in sculpting. Her works were recently exhibited at a showing. And you can find images for many of her incredible works here at her site. And below are just a few of her sculptures.

The Element of Delphia, 2009.

For Lord Ecco, 2009.

The Bride Of Gold And Money, 2010
(Above images obtained gratefully from www.lauripanopoulos.com)

Tyrone, 2007

Lauri explains that an armature is a support. So, it is a structure that holds-up the sculpture. Normally, she notes, it is made of metal. We should think of a skeleton that we apply our clay to. She provides this image of the armature's role in the sculpting process.

(Thanks very much Lauri Panopoulos for this image and all your help)

In the following passages, which Deleuze cites, Bacon explains his ambitions to sculpt, and how the armature would play a role similar to elements in his paintings.



Francis Bacon: [regarding the Crucifixion...] I haven't found another subject so far that has been as helpful for covering certain areas of human feeling and behavior. Perhaps it is only because so many people have worked on this particular theme that it has created this armature - I can't think of a better way of saying it - on which one can operate all types of level of feeling (Bacon & Sylvester 44, emphasis mine).

[...]

David Sylvester: Those sculptures you used to talk about wanting to do: have you more or less given up the idea now?

FB: I don't think I will do them, because I think I have now found a way by which I could do the images I thought of more satisfactorily in paint than I could in sculpture. I haven't started on them yet, but through thinking about them as sculptures it suddenly came to me how I could make them in paint, and do them much better in paint. It could be a kind of structure painting in which images, as it were, would arise from a river of flesh. It sounds a terribly romantic idea, but I see it very formally.

DS: And what would the form be?

FB: They would certainly be raised on structures.

DS: Several figures?

FB: Yes, and there would probably be a pavement raised high out of its naturalistic setting, out of which they could move as though out of pools of flesh rose the images, if possible, of specific people walking on their daily round. I hope to be able to do figures arising out of their own flesh with their bowler hats and their umbrellas and make them figures as poignant as the Crucifixion. (Bacon & Sylvester, 83b.d, emphasis mine)

[...]

DS: I've found that quite a number of the paintings you've done in the last three or four years - especially paintings of the nude - have tended to remind me that for some time now you've been talking about wanting to do sculpture. Do you yourself feel that thinking about doing sculpture has had any effect on the way you've been paintings?

Francis Bacon: Yes, I think it's quite possible. Because for several years now I've been very much thinking about sculpture, though I haven't ever yet done it, because each time I want to do it I get the feeling that perhaps I could do it better in painting. But now I have decided to make a series of paintings of the sculptures in my mind and see how they come out as paintings. And then I might actually start on sculpture.

David Sylvester: Can you give any sort of description of sculptures that you've thought of doing?

Francis Bacon: I've thought about sculptures on a kind of armature, a very large armature made so that the sculpture could slide along it and people could even alter the position of the sculpture as they wanted. The armature would not be as important as the image, but it would be there to set it off, as I have very often used an armature to set off the image in paintings. I've felt that in sculpture I would perhaps be able to do it more poignantly.

David Sylvester: Would the armature be anything like the sorts of rail which you've sometimes used in paintings - for instance, that crouching male nude of 1952 or the picture done in 1965 with a woman and a child taken from Muybridge?

Francis Bacon: Study for Crouching Nude, 1952

Francis Bacon: After Muybridge - Woman Emptying a Bowl of Water and Paralytic Child, 1965
Staatsgalerie Moderner Kunst, Munich

FB: Yes, I've thought of the rail in very highly-polished steel and that it would be slotted so that the image could be screwed into place in different positions.

DS: Have you visualized the colours and textures of the images?

FB: I would have to talk to somebody who technically understood sculpture much more than I do, but I myself have thought they should be cast in a very thin bronze - not in some kind of plastic, because I would want them to have the weight of bronze - and I've wanted to throw over them a coat of flesh-coloured whitewash, so that they'd look as though they had been dipped into an ordinary kind of white-wash, with the sort of texture of sand and lime that you get. So thatyou would have the feeling of this flesh and this highly-polished steel.

DS: And what sort of scale have you seen them as having?

FB: I've seen the armature as a very large space, like a street, and the images as comparatively small in relation to the space. The images would be naked figures, but not literal naked figures; I've seen them as very formal images of figures in different attitudes, either single or coupled. Whether I do them or not, I shall certainly try and do them in painting, and I hope I shall be able to do them in sculpture if they come off at all in the paintings. I shall probably do them in painting on the reverse side of the canvas, which might give some illusion of how they might look if they were left in space.

DS: Of course, the Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion of 1944 are clearly defined plastic forms which could almost be copied in sculpture.

Francis Bacon: Triptych, Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion, 1944.
(euroartmagazine.com Thanks Dr. Gerry Coulter)

FB: Well, I thought of them as the Eumenides, and at the time I saw the whole Crucifixion in which these would be there instead of the usual figures at the base of the cross. And I was going to put these on an armature around the cross, which itself was going to be raised, and the image on the cross was to be in the centre with these things arranged around it. But I never did that; I just left these as attempts.

DS: There's a very recent painting with a figure of a man seated in a room facing a window and outside the window a kind of phantasmal figure which is once more, you've said, a representation of the Eumenides. And that phantasm, it seems to me, is about as purely and simply sculpturalas the 1944 Eumenides [Again,

Francis Bacon: Seated Figure, 1974
Gilbert de Botton Collection
(Thank you Stampfli & Turci of eaobjets.wordpress.com and Palazzo Reale)

But it's the figure of the man in this painting, or that reclining figure with window-blinds in the background which you painted three years ago that strikes me as typical of the way the figures tend to be sculptural now.

Francis Bacon:
Lying Figure in a Mirror, 1971
It's more complex now, because now, when you create a defined sculptural form, it's qualified through nuances in the paint which create many suggestions and ambiguities. Nevertheless, those figures have a very emphatic plasticity. [Bacon & Sylvester p113d, emphasis mine]

FB: Well, I would like now - and I suppose it's through thinking about sculpture - I would like, quite apart from the attempt to do sculpture, to make the painting itself very much moresculptural. I do see in these images the way in which the mouth, the eyes, the ears could be used in painting so that they were there in a totally irrational way but a more realistic way, but I haven't come round yet to seeing quite how that would be done in sculpture. I might be able to come round to it. I do see all the time images that keep on coming up which are more and more formal and more and more based upon the human body, yet taken further from it in imagery. And I would like to make the portraits more sculptural, because I think it is possible to make a thing both a great image and a great portrait.

DS: It's very interesting that you associate the idea of the great image with sculpture. Perhaps this goes back to your love of Egyptian sculpture?

FB: Well, it's possible. I think that perhaps the greatest images that man has so far made have been in sculpture. I'm thinking of some of the great Egyptian sculpture, of course, andGreek sculpture too. For instance, the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum are always very important to me, but I don't know if they're important because they're fragments, and whether if one had seen the whole image they would seem as poignant as they seem as fragments.




And I've always thought about Michelangelo; he's always been deeply important in my way of thinking about form. But although I have this profound admiration for all his work, the work that I like most of all is the drawings. For me he is one of the very greatest draughtsmen, if not the greatest. [Bacon & Sylvester 114c, , emphasis mine] [End of interview citations.]

Michelangelo:
Studies for the Libyan Sibyl (recto);
Studies for the Libyan Sibyl and a Small Sketch for a Seated Figure (verso), 1508–12





Finally, let's look at Deleuze's understanding of Bacon's armatures. The figure and the field might be somewhat easy to discern, especially in Bacon's later works where they are 'violently juxtaposed'. It often seems that the figure is hovering in an empty abyss of color. Were it not for some support structure, we would expect it to drop out of the painting onto the museum floor. The figure also is surrounded by an enclosing shape or structure, which has an outer-boundary that Deleuze calls the contour. This enclosure is one of the few ways that we obtain some sense of a horizontal plane of extending depth in the work. So in many works, the armature would be what seems implicitly to connect the contour (demarcating the horizontal plane) with the field (providing the vertical plane). When describing this type of armature, Deleuze does not cite an example, but we might consider for instance
Triptych, Three Studies for a Portrait of Lucian Freud, 1966.
Here we see the contour of the chair-shapes jutting-out from the painting as though creating a horizontal plane. Then there is the outer contour of the carpet, which as well suggests the horizontal plate. The contour of both the chair and the carpet seem fixed to the field somehow. We might imagine these structures and their juncture providing something like the armature in sculptures.

Francis Bacon:
Triptych, Three Studies for a Portrait of Lucian Freud, 1966

(Lauri Panopoulos' armature image)

Yet, the horizontal planes that the contours create do not seem to extend further than the enclosing shape. So while there is a sense of extending depth, it is still a shallow depth, especially since the surrounding field still seems to jut-up against the shallow figures, as though it were a flat board on which the figures are pinned, rather than extend behind them like a landscape.

Deleuze writes that there are other sorts of armatures as well. It might consist of 'linear apparatuses that suspend the Figure in the field, denying all depth' as with the 1970 Triptych. (Deleuze 104bc)

Francis Bacon:
Triptych, 1970
(Once again, thank you Editions de la différence and the Estate of Francis Bacon)

Finally, the armature can be a black section near or around the figure. It might seemed confined locally, as with
Pope No. II, 1960


Francis Bacon:
Pope No. II, 1960
Private collection, Switzerland
(Still yet again, thank you Editions de la différence and the Estate of Francis Bacon)

The black section might also be flowing out of its bounds, as with

Francis Bacon: Triptych, 1973
Saul Sternberg Collection, New York
(And finally once more, thanks Editions de la différence and the Estate of Francis Bacon)

Or finally, the black armature section might in fact constitute the entire field, as is the case in

Francis Bacon: Three Studies of the Human Body, 1967
Private Collection
(Thanks very much sound--vision.blogspot.com)

Later we will discuss the armature's role in our experience of time when viewing a Bacon painting. The field is outside of time in a way, because it is eternal. When we view a panel of a triptych, we get the sense that an infinity of field separates the panels and the figures found inside them. And yet, our eyes pass from one panel to the next almost instantly. An infinity of time is contracted down to an instant. This gives us the experience of the empty eternal form of time that change fills-up. But then our eyes land-upon the figures. They were distorted and developed into a multiplicity of directions of development. Yet all these incompossible tendencies are found together as instantaneous forces or instantaneous changes or instantaneous tendencies. We are never able to make-out or recognize what we see, but the wrestling forces in the figure convince us that there is something profoundly real that we look at. It is a brute fact. So we cannot dismiss it as a mess or as being empty or as being just nothing at all. We are gripped by the figures. Each instant we sense something different. This means we have trouble connecting what we see one moment with what we see the next moment. In other words, we do not very easily experience a smooth flow of time, but rather a series of independent instants, each of which is expressed by its differences from the other moments. So each moment is difference. We do not then constitute a flowing extent of time when viewing the figures. But as we saw, we also do not experience a flow of time when our eyes pass through the fields separating the figures. We jump from the empty form of time to a time that never comes to be constituted. In other words, we move from one non-experience of time to another. What allows the two sorts of non-time to be bridged together is the structural element that links the figure to the field. Thus it is the armature in Bacon's paintings that keep us in the grips of the pure and intensive foundations of time, rather then letting us glide and flow through a synthetic extending time continuum.



Bacon, Francis & David Sylvester. The Brutality of Fact: Interviews with Francis Bacon. New York: Thames & Hudson, 1987.
More information from the publisher here:


Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation. Transl. Daniel W. Smith. London/New York: Continuum, 2003.

Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation. Paris: Seuil, 2002.



Images obtained with my deepest gratitude from:



Deleuze, Gilles. Francis Bacon: Logique de la sensation. Tome II - Peintures. Paris: Editions de la différence [Littératures], 1981.