In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:Citation and Modernity: Derrida, Joyce, and BrechtHarvey L. HixCitation and Modernity: Derrida, Joyce, and Brecht, by Claudette Sartiliot; xiii & 173 pp. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1993, $15.95 paper.Claudette Sartiliot argues that “the traditional definition of citation” is “inadequate and outmoded” (p. 15). It no longer applies to modernist and postmodernist writers, for whom “quotation represents a definite break with the tradition as well as a means (...) of questioning the nature of the literary text” (p. 3). The traditional definition, derived from classical rhetoric, limits quotation to the purpose of illustration and ornament. In contrast, modernist and postmodernist citational practices, having abandoned the typographical separation of the quotation from the “main” text, question “the concept of text as an autonomous entity” and replace the idea of a book “by the more unbounded word discourse” (p. 20).To illustrate her point, Sartiliot appeals first to Derrida’s Glas, which “relies on citation to such an extent that it can serve as a paradigm for a theory of quotation” (p. 35). By juxtaposing two columns of text and by extensive quotation, Derrida (a) links quotation with violence and with sexual penetration, (b) stages “a game of appearance and disappearance” through which he evades the reader’s attempts to “pin him down” (p. 42), (c) reveals that words contain within themselves other words, (d) blurs boundaries between languages and disciplines, and (e) “demonstrates how meaning is generated through an aleatory scattering of semes” (p. 57).Sartiliot also attends to Joyce and Brecht, who achieve similar ends through their citational practices: “both have elevated ‘plagiarism’ to the level of originality” and both “have shown that writing is always and inevitably quoting” (p. 75). Because everything in Finnegans Wake is a quotation—even the characters—Joyce undercuts meaning: a text without boundaries cannot be ingested. Finnegans Wake is like quantum physics: “neither intimated that God was dead, but both confronted the world with a model of representation that intimated that ‘God played dice’” (p. 84).Brecht’s characters, like those of Finnegans Wake, are quotations rather than originals: “empty signifiers” whose very names are not their own, they challenge “the bourgeois myth of the identity and continuity of the subject” (p. 130). [End Page 367] As Copernicus removes humanity from the center of the universe and Marx removes humanity from the center of history, so Brecht removes humanity from the center of theatrical representation, revealing that “the subject as a fully present identity and entity” is delusory, and humanity is “a linguistic (and thus political) construct” (p. 124). In sum, by their citational practices Derrida, Joyce, and Brecht question “the notions of origin, closure, and authorship associated with the conception of the book” (p. 124).Citation and Modernity contains moments of insight. For instance, Sartiliot says of Finnegans Wake that “while Joyce was doing away with quotation marks in his own texts, he was forcing his critics to surround most of their critical terms with quotation marks, as a sore sign [sic] of their inability to find the right word to describe what he was doing” (p. 75). In other respects, however, her book is not satisfying. The most obvious problem is that her own citational practices contradict her thesis. After writers like Derrida, Joyce, and Brecht, she says, we can no longer return to traditional quotation based on classical rhetoric, yet her own quotation is strictly traditional: it illustrates and ornaments, and maintains a clear distinction between her own words and those belonging to someone else.There are other failures to live up to the book’s own standards. Sartiliot claims that the chief purpose of quotation is to attack the authority of the quoted father, to “subvert the notions of filiation and tradition” (p. 149) and “eclipse the precursor” (p. 8), yet her own book steadfastly upholds filiation and tradition. From the cover, which makes much of her having been a student of Derrida, to the pervasive jargon (totalization, hymen, logocentrism, dissemination, etc.), the book defers all too consistently to the authority of its father, and consequently fails to challenge its readers.Harvey L. HixKansas City Art InstituteCopyright © 1995 The Johns Hopkins University Press... (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Poetics of PerspectiveHarvey L. HixThe Poetics of Perspective, by James Elkins; xv & 324 pp. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1994, $39.95.The Poetics of Perspective does not mention that Leonardo was born more than 100 years before Galileo and nearly 200 before Newton, but doing so would underscore its thesis. According to James Elkins, our anachronistic view of perspective, invented in the Enlightenment, systematically distorts our understanding of (...) Renaissance art. Instead of “tracing the outline” of the real nature of Renaissance art, our discussions (to borrow Wittgenstein’s metaphor) merely trace “the frame through which we look at it.” The actual Renaissance view, unlike the modern idée fixe, involved no concept of a unified pictorial space. In the absence of such a concept, “Renaissance authors and artists [End Page 368] thought there were many compatible perspectives, so that their writing and painting evince a ‘pluralist’ approach in strict contrast to the monolithic mathematical perspective we imagine today” (p. xi). The Poetics of Perspective attempts, in six substantial chapters and a brief envoi, to unearth this pluralistic Renaissance approach to perspective buried beneath modern preconceptions.Elkins identifies a number of differences between the Renaissance view of perspective and modern views. For instance, no longer is perspective “charged with the religious and social meanings it had for the early Renaissance” (p. 2). Why? “Renaissance artists and writers saw many techniques where we see a single discovery” (p. 8). Renaissance artists thought of perspective as a series of rules and techniques for constructing images; modern art historians, in contrast, think of perspective on analogy with tracing a scene on a pane of glass. In contrast to the “object oriented” Renaissance notion of perspective, the modern concept is “space oriented.” For the Renaissance, perspective was “a strategy for making pictures,” but for us it has become “a sign signifying a mental state, a culture, or an expressive language” (p. 17). Renaissance perspective originated as “a construction, an intellectual accomplishment rather than as a transcription of appearances” or a “revelation of optical reality” (pp. 136–38). To its contemporaries, Renaissance perspective suggested “the complicated, unfinished, and partial” rather than “the harmonious, balanced, and whole” (p. 170). We expect a uniform accuracy of perspective through an entire painting, but Renaissance practitioners were selective in their applications of perspective to passages of particular interest or significance. All these differences taken together, Elkins says, imply that our insistence on attributing to Renaissance paintings an isotropic application of perspective based on an ideal geometry is a mistake: “we are looking for something the Renaissance artists did not supply” (p. 226).Elkins’s excellent book is a corrective for the sort of thing Lillian Schwartz does in the April 1995 Scientific American. In the middle of a series of ill-substantiated conjectures, based on computer manipulations of images and ranging from the claim that Leonardo himself was a model for the Mona Lisa to the assertion that Piero della Francesca’s Resurrection of Christ, plastered over during the seventeenth century, must have been painted “in sunset colors,” she suggests that Leonardo intended The Last Supper to “appear as an extension of the refectory” in which it was painted. She explains the quirks of the painting’s perspective (“Leonardo placed Christ and the apostles up front, tilted the floor and table, designed side walls of uneven lengths and tapestries of different sizes and spacing”) by constructing a computer simulation to show that a person entering the room from what was then the main door “would perceive the supper as taking place in the refectory.” Schwartz’s conjecture may or may not be right, but comparison with her article reveals the major strengths of Elkins’s book. In contrast to Schwartz’s hasty manipulations, The Poetics of Perspective is encyclopedic; it takes scrupulous care to meet on their own ground the many [End Page 369] texts and paintings it examines, and it follows the Wittgensteinian imperative to stop thinking and look. Whatever the promise of the new technologies available to art historians, they can never replace the sort of patient attention Elkins lavishes on the works he studies.Harvey L. HixKansas City Art InstituteCopyright... (shrink)