The First International Deleuze Studies in Asia Conference

Paper presented in Taipei, June 1st, 2013

The First International Deleuze Studies in Asia Conference

The English Department

Tamkang University 1

1.1 The Plane of Immanence

What I aim to accomplish in this paper is simple in scope and in substance. I seek not so much to criticise or argue as to bring attention to a source that philosophers such as Deleuze have illustrated in their texts as well as in their lives, a source that we all know, but now and again pass by. Reflection, perambulation, production, these are concepts brought into our reality by the creative process.

But what is creativity?

Deleuzian philosophy holds that both nature and society function through processes that are two-fold insofar as the unseen stumbles into the seen in the same way that sound peers in from silence. In nature, Deleuze provides examples such as the wasp and the orchid1, or the shellfish and the hermit crab2, to show that co-creation in the patent proceeds from an immanent latent. The creative process functions along similar lines, uniting inspiration3 – in the original sense of a reception of breathe – and exhalation or expiration.

1 “Les noces, c’est le contraire d’un couple. Il n’y a plus de machines binaires : question-réponse, masculin-féminin, homme-animal, etc. […] La guêpe et l’orchidée donne l’exemple. L’orchidée a l’air de former une image de guêpe, mais en fait il y a un devenir-guêpe de l’orchidée, un devenir-orchidée de la guêpe, une double capture puisque ‘ce que’ chacun devient ne change pas moins que ‘celui qui’ devient.” (Gilles Deleuze and Claire Parnet, Dialogues, Paris, Flammarion, 1996, 8.)

2 “La coquille comme maison du mollusque devient, lorsqu’il est mort, le contrepoint du Bernard-l’hermite qui en fait son propre habitat, grâce à sa queue qui n’est pas natatoire, mais préhensile, et lui permet de capturer la coquille vide.” (Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Qu’est-ce que la philosophie? [“QP”], Paris, Minuit, 1991, 186.)

3 In the Nouveau Littré: “b. lat. inspiratio, souffle, inspiration”. (Paris, Garnier, 2004, 888.)

4 Deleuze sees in the myth a translation of the original state of man. “La mythologie n’est pas née d’une simple volonté, et les peuples ont tôt fait de ne plus comprendre leurs mythes. […] La littérature est l’essai d’interpréter très ingénieusement les mythes qu’on ne comprend plus, au moment où on ne le comprend plus parce qu’on ne sait plus les rêver ni les reproduire.” (Gilles Deleuze, L’Île déserte, ed. David Lapoujade, Paris, Minuit, 2002, 14-15.)

5 Orpheus was a solitary figure, but one of social importance, as we shall see in the pages that follow. His profile is summed up as follows: “Orphée donne au poète trois de ses attributs traditionnels: la puissance magique, l’aptitude à ressentir et à exprimer les sentiments les plus intimes […] et la solitude maudite.” (Alain Vaillant, La Poésie, Paris, Nathan, 1992, 12.)

6 v. Qu’est-ce que la philosophie, 40 & 87.

7 v. Mille plateaux, ch. 1.

8 “La raison n’est qu’un concept, et un concept bien pauvre pour définir le plan et les mouvements infinis qui le parcourent.” (QP, 47.)

The philosophy of Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari accounts at once for the inspired and the expired. In What Is Philosophy, these authors sniff out ancient trails to what in classical mythology4 are the Muses, the goddesses who breathe the word into the poet himself, the figure of Orpheus, incarnation of the poetic lament and the resolve of man5.

Deleuze and Guattari conjugate these figures in an unapologetic and iconoclastic text whose arsenal consists in a nonlinear and ahistorical logic which is presented as fractal6 and rhizomatous7. Much as myriad ships upon the Aegean Sea, it defies striated and arborescent planes of thought. These are of course planes of consistence; linguistic or otherwise: one may speak of a French plane of consistence, a rational plane of consistence8, even the time-space corridor itself, all ontologically opposed to the plane of immanence, which is pre-conceptual and pre-philosophical. 2

If philosophy begins with the creation of concepts, then the plane of immanence must be regarded as pre[-]philosophical. It is presupposed not in the way that one concept may refer to others but in the way that concepts themselves refer to a non[-]conceptual understanding […].9,10

9 Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari. What Is Philosophy? [“WP”], tr. Graham Burchell and Hugh Tomlinson, Paris, Verso, 1994, 41.

10 “Si la philosophie commence avec la création des concepts, le plan d’immanence doit être considéré comme pré-philosophique. Il est présupposé, non pas à la manière dont un concept peut renvoyer à d’autres mais dont les concepts renvoient eux-mêmes à une compréhension non-conceptuelle.” (QP, 44-45.)

11 This process implies the negation of the dialectic, as expressed by Julia Kristeva, in reaction to the static poles of Hegelian thought. [L]a négativité est le liquéfiant, le dissolvant, qui ne détruit pas, mais relance de nouvelles organisation, […] elle est l’enchainé au sens chorégraphique du terme […]. (Julia Kristeva, La Révolution du langage poétique, Paris, Seuil, 1974, 102.)

12 Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, tr. Brian Massumi, London, Continuum, 1987, 528.

13 “C’est la subordination de l’habitat au parcours, la conformation de l’espace du dedans à l’espace du dehors: la tente, l’igloo, le bateau. Dans le lisse comme dans le strié, il y a des arrêts et des trajets; mais, dans l’espace lisse, c’est le trajet qui entraîne l’arrêt […].” (Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari. Mille plateaux, Paris, Minuit, 597.)

14 “Le plan est comme un désert que les concepts peuplent sans le partager. Ce sont les concepts mêmes qui sont les seules régions du plan, mais c’est le plan qui est l’unique tenant des concepts. Le plan n’a pas d’autres régions que les tribus qui le peuplent et s’y déplacent.” (QP, 40.)

The plane of immanence, at once pre-conceptual, pre-philosophical, and non-philosophy, underlies the interplay of concepts in the name of this “non-conceptual understanding”. It is, to this degree, non-binary and post-dialectic11. The concept that stands alone is akin to a building without a foundation; it must be employed in some fashion towards or against, but lacks the critical mass needed to have tenancy and applicability in reality. Taken alone, it is antagonistic and auto-referential – as such it is the premise for distinction, much as the pronouns of the 2nd and 3rd person are predicated on the existence of the personal pronoun in the first – I.

In immanence, no I – Deleuze expresses this in his illustration of the qualities of the smooth and the striated – le lisse et le strié.

The dwelling is subordinated to the journey; inside space conforms to outside space: tent, igloo, boat. There are stops and trajectories in both the smooth and the striated. But in smooth space, the stop follows from a trajectory […].12,13

Deleuze opposes herein the universality of the maritime model with the particularity of the terrestrial model prevalent in the conceptual realm. The former is rendered smooth by a nomadic usage of space while the latter – filled with roadways, ditches and dykes – is striated in quality because of its sedentary usage.

In the smooth no motion occurs that is not erased – a return to 0 – much like writing on water. Poetry bears the marks of this zero in his inspired form. It may take the form of verse or otherwise, yet its expired state continually shifts upon itself in its own smoothness. The striated, on the other hand, is not inspired or self-renewing, but coagulating, conglomerating, and solidifying. It has its root in the mimetic. Its rocks and minerals that resist the flow of water are the monuments etched in a desert exposed to drifts of erosion, the deserts of the Earth as well as those of the Mind.

The plane of immanence may be likened to the sea or even a desert14 in that these two natural phenomena have in common the absence of a single form, harbouring but an illusion of form – in waves or mirages, respectively. This is also a model of man, man as a bearer of immanence, in whom unfolds poetic transcendence, be it literary, artistic, musical, graphic, concrete, gestural, or otherwise. 3

It is in this sense that immanence may be said to be the foyer of poetry. It is pre-philosophical, but it may be pulled into sight by the line of flight taken by the poet. In the co-creation, conjuncture, and collision of planes of immanence, they are collapsed (feuilleté15) unto and upon each other. There are thus planes of immanence and the plane of immanence.

15 Ibid., 53.

16 WP, 59.

17 “On dirait que LE plan d’immanence est à la fois ce qui doit être pensé, et ce qui ne peut pas être pensé. Ce serait lui, le non-pensé dans la pensée. C’est le socle de tous les plans, immanent à chaque plan pensable qui n’arrive pas à le penser. Il est le plus intime de la pensée, et pourtant le dehors absolu. Un dehors plus lointain que tout monde extérieur, parce qu’il est un dedans plus profond que tout monde intérieur : c’est l’immanence […].” (QP, 61.)

18 Elizabeth Fries Ellet, Poems: Translated and Original, Philadelphia, Key & Biddle, 1835, 71.

19 “Ainsi, quand l’aigle du tonnerre / [e]nlevait Ganymède aux cieux, / [l]’enfant, s’attachant à la terre, /[l]uttait contre l’oiseau des dieux ; [m]ais entre ses serres rapides / [l]’aigle pressant ses flancs timides, / [l]’arrachait aux champs paternels ; [e]t, sourd à la voix qui l’implore, [i]l le jetait, tremblant encore, [j]usques aux pieds des immortels.” (Alphonse de Lamartine. OEuvres poétiques complètes, ed. Marius-François Guyard, Paris, Gallimard, 1963, 33-34.)

We will say that THE plane of immanence is, at the same time, that which must be thought and that which cannot be thought. It is the non[-]thought within thought. It is the base of all planes, immanent to every thinkable plane that does not succeed in thinking it. It is the most intimate within thought and yet the absolute outside – an outside more distant than any external world because it is an inside deeper tha[n] any internal world: it is immanence […].16,17

1.2 19th Century Poetry

But precisely how does this poetry of immanence come into being?

Immanence is no stranger to man. His pure expression is a movement in and out of immanence, – not so much as a slip – which occurs when he loses grip of the planes of consistence upon which he has grounded his being.

Poetry is that slip, that moment of falling into something and falling out of oneself that Lamartine likens to an ordained kidnapping in his poem Enthousiasm.

As erst the eagle of the sky / [b]ore Ganymede to courts of Jove, / [y]earning for earth, the unwilling boy / [a]gainst the bird imperial strove; / [h]e, while more closely in their clasp / [t]he panting prize his talons grasp[,] / [s]oared upward to the immortals’ seat; / [a]nd heedless of the suppliant's prayer / [h]is captive cast, all trembling, there, / [b]efore the Thunderer’s feet.18,19

It is in this moment of abduction that the poet, in spite of himself, is infused the poetic verb. The poet is to this extent in a state of otherness, and may be seen as a deterritorialised war machine. The liminal moment whereby the inspired is exhaled occurs in an act of self-effacement.

In 19th century France, this poetic slip found collective expression in the repudiation of the norms of classic versification. These were replaced most notably by the nostalgic cries of the “Je lyrique” and the “poètes maudits”. In the words of Georges Gusdorf: 4

The romantic conscience, in its yearn for the illimited, is an eschatological conscience, given unto the transgression of the limited. […] This need to overcome the established order, the ideological order, the scientific order, answers to an imperative of extravagance.20,21

20 My translation.

21 “La conscience romantique, dans son voeu d'illimitation, est une conscience eschatologique, habitée par le souci de dépasser la limite. […] Le souci de transgression de l'ordre établi, ordre des idées, ordre de la science […], suscite un impératif d'extra-vagance.” (Georges Gusdorf, Le Romantisme I, Paris, Payot, 1993, 498.)

22 Victor Hugo, OEuvres poétiques I, ed. Pierre Albouy, Gallimard, 1964, 770.

23 Arthur Rimbaud, OEuvres complètes, ed. Antoine Adam, Gallimard, 1972, 249.

24 v. Henri Scepi, “Lautréamont et la prose critique”, Maldoror hier et aujourd’hui, Tusson, Du Lérot, 2003, p. 322.

25 François Caradec reproduces the commentary of Léon Genonceaux: “Il n'écrivait que la nuit, assis à son piano. Il déclamait, il forgeait ses phrases, plaquant ses prosopopées avec des accords. Cette méthode faisait le désespoir des locataires de l’hôtel qui, souvent réveillés en sursaut, ne pouvaient se douter qu’un étonnant musicien du verbe, un rare symphoniste de la phrase cherchait, en frappant son clavier, les [rythmes] de son orchestration littéraire.” (François Caradec, Isidore Ducasse, comte de Lautréamont, Table Ronde, 1975, 175.)

26 In the Nouveau Littré: “b.lat. revolutio, retour en arrière, du lat. revolvere, ramener. ” (1512.)

27 Stéphane Mallarmé, Selected Poetry and Prose, ed. Mary Ann Caws, New York, New Direction Books, 1982, 93.

28 “C’est le rêve pur d’un Minuit, en soi disparu, et dont la clarté reconnue, qui seule demeure au sein de son accomplissement plongé dans l’ombre, résume sa stérilité sur la pâleur d’un texte ouvert que présente la table; page et décor ordinaires de la Nuit, sinon que subsiste encore le silence d’une antique parole proférée par lui, en lequel, revenu, ce Minuit évoque son ombre finie et nulle par ces mots: J’étais l’heure qui doit me rendre pur.” (Stéphane Mallarmé, OEuvres complètes I, ed. Bertrand Marchal, Paris, Gallimard, 1998, 484.)

In the romantic movement, the poet was no longer the adept versifier of odes, but a visionary who saw beyond the manifest. Victor Hugo speaks of a “pente insensible22” whereby the poet goes from the world unto the unseen; Rimbaud speaks of a “dérèglement de tous les sens23” – a loss of all senses – by which the poet regains his sight.

Lautréamont would pioneer the poem in prose (poème en prose), a free-verse, euphonic, perambulation of the French verb with overflowing punctuation, sentences of contrasting lengths, and rhyme stuffed into prosaic form24, in a corpus known as the Chants de Maldoror. In this work, the letter is consumed in a devilish swirl into and away from immanence, rendered to the hurried tune of a lone piano25.

Symbolists such as Mallarmé brought the French language to its semantic and structural paroxysm. His syntaxical acrobatics point to the malleability of any language as the mere sum of sentence, letter, and empty space. In Igitur, his protagonist seeks emptiness under the auspices of midnight in a return to immanence, or a revolution in the full sense of the term revolutio26, a return to an original state of being.

It is the pure dream of a Midnight disappeared into itself, whose Brightness recognised and alone remaining in the centre of its accomplishment plunged into the shadow, sums up its sterility on the pallor of an open book presented by the table; ordinary page and setting of the Night except that the silence of an antique utterance it proffered still subsists, in which this returned Midnight evokes its shadow, finite and null, with these words: I was the hour which is to make me pure.27,28 5

It is in this sense that the poet is a sort of homeward-bound pioneer, who in pushing onwards, strays not from the source, returning to it – he is at once a reductionist, a traitor, and emphatic loyalist. “[L]’homme est la source qu’il cherche.”29

29 Bertrand Marchal, La Poésie au XIXe siècle, Paris-Sorbonne University, Graduate Seminar, May 2, 2012.

30 If a language may be likened to a plane of consistence insofar as it is an ensemble of norms and rules of communication, the poet smoothes out the roughness of this plane, much as water erodes a rocky terrain, and his poetry – in its pure originality –, and to the degree that it is read and diffuses itself upon a linguistic sphere, is a dunking of consistence into immanence. In this regard, the French language may be seen as a language of long consistence, guaranteed by the top-down legislators in the Académie Française, at once the guardians and striators of the language. English or Spanish however, with no formal or universally-recognised authority, federate linguistic legislation to many poles (Nation-specific dictionaries, varieties of Latino-American, Mexican Spanish, Commonwealth institutions) in both a top-down and bottom-up feeding (threading) of language into and out of immanence. It follows that health of a language is intimately tied to its points of creation, its poets, or rather the space it gives for its poets and law-givers to express themselves in tandem. In the contemporary era, the French language has seen its health wane with the posthumous canonisation of its poets (La Pléiade) to the detriment of the genesis of new poetic networks.

31 “Les sensations, percepts et affects, sont des êtres qui valent par eux-mêmes et excèdent tout vécu. Ils sont en l’absence de l’homme, peut-on dire, parce que l’homme, tel qu’il est pris dans la pierre, sur la toile ou le long des mots, et lui-même un composé de percepts et d’affects.” (QP, 163-164.)

32 Immanence is a spark in chaos. “[L]e poète, l’artiste pratique une fente dans l’ombrelle, il déchire même le firmament, pour faire passer un peu du chaos libre et venteux et cadrer dans une brusque lumière une vision qui apparaît à travers la fente, jonquille de Wordsworth ou pomme de Cézanne, silhouette de Macbeth ou d’Achab.” (Ibid., 203-204.)

The above are illustrations of plunges into immanence within a language that was tending, with its 19th century Academy and scholarship, towards an enshrined and striated consistence30. This return to immanence is the very act that allows us to liken the poet to the well-digger, as opposed to a surveyor of extant planes upon which concepts do not slide, but take root. The rhizomatic principle, to this degree, underpins poetic expression, which is invested with the same sensational endowment that gives art and music their timeless dimension.

Indeed, it is at this conceptual juncture that What Is Philosophy seems at once to reduce and expand poetry to the domains of philosophy and art.

While art deploys itself monumentally upon a plane of composition, in the language of “sensations31”, philosophy is that game of concepts, moving along its plane of immanence much like loose chess pieces, or pieces of go. What interests us, notwithstanding these apparent distinctions, is their common intersection, not only with each other, but also with the non-order that upholds them all.

Poetry is traced upon a plane of immanence, yet folds into art and its plane of composition. It moves freely upon contact with the reader, much as the observer of art, who finds himself moved by these phenomena. This is hardly an immobile block, as a sculptor would have it, but a moving and sliding mass that takes consistence in itself, albeit upon a smooth and non-striated space, much as the imperceptible strokes of the impressionist painter.

In this sense, poetry conjugates the word-concept and the composite-sensation, bringing us to the threshold of the tripartite categorisation of philosophy, art, and science; and it is this poetry-art that allows us to conjugate planes of immanence and plane of composition upon immanence itself32. 6

1.3 Poetry Is a Place

One may ask how immanence speaks to the genesis of new poetic networks today.

The notion of liminality, as expressed by Van Gennep33 is key to understanding how the poet, much as a doorman in a revolving door, continues to reach into and out of immanence, in a continual passage from the seen to the unseen.

33 “Précisément, la porte est la limite […] entre le monde profane et le monde sacré […]. Ainsi ‘passer le seuil’ signifie s’agréger à un monde nouveau. […] Je propose en conséquence de nommer rites de préliminaire les rites de séparation du monde antérieur, rites liminaires les rites exécutés pendant le stade de marge, et rites postliminaires les rites d’agrégation au monde nouveau.” (Arnold van Gennep, Les Rites de passage, Paris, A. et J. Picard, 1981, 26-27.)

34 “Hermès […] assure le voyage, le passage, entre les mondes infernaux, terrestres, célestes.” (Jean Chevalier et Alain Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles, Paris, Robert Laffont S.A. et Jupiter, 1982, 576.)

35 “La langue latine distinguait le poeta, poète-artisan du vers, et le vates, prophète inspiré par les dieux. Bien sûr, la plus grande dignité revenait au dernier : le poète, doué par les dieux de capacités surnaturelles, tenait le rôle d’intermédiaire entre le ciel et la terre.” (Alain Vaillant, La Poésie, Paris, Nathan, 1992, 25.)

36 Indeed, the posthumous canonization of poetry and the consecration of its conduits serve only to edify poetry as a moment in the contemporary desert; the postmodern pantheon is a dusty and worn edifice of erudition embedded in scholastic norms of top-down pedagogy and parallel institutions that peddle immanence from wares of consistence. That is to say, poetry cannot be taught or learnt by rote, but sampled and savoured by the poet himself, upon meetings in immanence, be these movements of rapture or sorrow. Immanence is that fickle scale that brings forth the best of our endowments be they literary or otherwise; it is the poetic trampoline par excellence, in the etymological sense of poiesis (“lat. poema, du gr. poiêma, ouvrage manuel, création de l’esprit, de poein, fabriquer, créer” (op. cit., 1303), or creation – creation out of nothing.

37 QP, 86-114.

38 Ibid., 88-89.

39 Ibid., 40.

Poetry is a corridor into immanence, even if the poet but holds the door open for his reader. It is in a shared plunge from consistence into immanence that the two meet in the absence of themselves, which makes the poet at once the prey and prodigy of the Muses. The poet, beyond his Orphic quality, acquires a Hermetic34 dimension insofar as he bears witness to the “invisible” that he restitutes by his hand. Therein lies his social function of linking man to humanity (poeta vates)35, the particular to the universal, the profane to the sacred.

It follows that the reading of poetry is an eminently dialogical act; the reader enjoins the poet to open under his display of consciousness new planes of immanence and avenues of consistence36.

This brings us to the ineffable milieu of immanence as expressed in Geophilosophy37.

The milieu is the term used by Deleuze and Guattari to describe a philosophy tied not to empire nor to emptiness – but a space in and of itself brought about by a conjuncture of circumstance (sociability, associativity, conversational propensity38) needed to bring about a flourishing of independent and collective thought in what was termed in Ancient Greece philosophy. This milieu of immanence exists within the poet and amongst poets. Our maritime and desert spaces allow for the carriage of goods from one to another without interfering upon the sovereignty or the province of the poet himself, who reterritorialises on the territory of his forefathers and his contemporaries; it is far enough removed from the empire of reason and other civilizational models to preserve an unbound tie to immanence and so to be auto-sufficient, as the plane or the ramp for concepts. “Il faut l’élasticité du concept, mais aussi la fluidité du milieu.”39,40 7

40 “Both elasticity of the concept and fluidity of the milieu are needed.” (WP, 36.)

41 The milieu of immanence is not just philosophical and nor is it simply Greek. In appropriating the ahistorical logic that inheres in its elaboration, we are not only reterritorialising accurately on Deleuzian thought, but reversing the false reterritorialisation that continental philosophy has traced upon its predecessors in its glorification of the concept. In What is Philosophy, Deleuze and Guattari note that continental philosophers have unwittingly reterritorialised on the very foyer of Greek philosophy they hold dear, while betraying its predicates, that is the idea of a consideration (consideratio) of concepts, as opposed to the modern and contemporary notion of conceptual fixation – or the having of concepts.

“La philosophie moderne se reterritorialise sur la Grèce comme forme de son propre passé. Ce sont les philosophes allemands surtout qui ont vécu le rapport avec la Grèce comme un rapport personnel. Mais justement ils se vivaient comme l’envers ou le contraire des Grecs, le symétrique inverse : les Grecs tenaient bien le plan d’immanence qu’ils construisaient dans l’enthousiasme et l’ivresse, mais ils devaient chercher avec quels concepts le remplir […], tandis que nous ; nous avons des concepts, nous croyons les avoirs, […] mais nous ne savons guère où les mettre, parce que nous manquons d’un véritable plan […].” (QP, 102.)

It follows that, by its very nature, the maritime model lends itself to a profoundly humanistic discourse. Immanence is the well, the oasis, the meeting point, the watering hole, the caravansary, a place of common understanding at once beyond and within the State of capture.

42 QP, 45.

43 Nick Nesbitt, “The Expulsion of the Negative: Deleuze, Adorno, and the Ethics of Internal Difference”, SubStance, Issue 107, vol. 34, no. 2, 2005, 79.

44 v. 2.

45 Op. cit., 75-76.

The poet creates an empire of the mind; he abhors not the concept, but maneuvers and manipulates it in his crossing of the imperceptible – the empire of thought may exalt coastal town and cities, enriching itself through land-based commerce and contact with merchants from other lands, but it is – in the end – the seamless and unseen empire of the sea that allows for such lavishness and luxury. The well-being of the mind depends on the knowledge of that which upholds it41.

If “la philosophie est à la fois creation de concept et instauration du plan42”, it follows that the ensemble of philosophy and non-philosophy, as expressed by Deleuze and Guattari, by its own logic, is beyond conceptualisation. “Being43”, as expressed by Professor Nick Nesbitt, designates this “non-conceptual understanding44” of their compossibility, not in a relationship of dialectical opposites, but a non-binary and post-causal consideration of the qualities and of the essence, but most of all, the essence. To this extent, the conceptual philosopher may be said to be a counterfeiter of essences in what Nesbitt calls the “simulacra of the One45”, a sort of idolatry in ignorance of the altar and the temple. 8

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