Does living on Earth not also for human beings mean being open to the sky? Watching day alternate with night, relying on the seasonal cycle, finding their way according to the position of the stars, humans have always been aware of their dependence on the sky and tried to understand the origin of life in relation to it. And it is up to the sky again that their imagination and thoughts fly whenever they feel cramped in their earthly habitat. Following (...) the axis of their own vertical position, the earth that is the floor for humans is seen as a ‘down here’ by opposition to an ‘up there’, the sky, towards which they turn their heads and raise their eyes. Up there is the origin of the metaphorical figure and /or dream image of the flight up into the high heavens, or the journey to other stars, or to a spiritual land beyond. (shrink)

Brazil, land of miscegenation (métisse). An indisputable fact and an unending process. But how should we understand its genesis and how should we, while respecting the requirements of a historiography worth the name, interpret it in terms of our hopes for the future? This is the horizon binding these reflections, which is to be put in perspective in the studies published in this issue of Diogenes.Foregrounding miscegenation, and understanding its origins, has been one of the constant themes among the most (...) distinguished practitioners of Brazilian thought since the 1930s, and has been accepted, indeed demanded, since the 1920s by the artistic and literary movement known as ‘modernism’, of which one of the major figures was the São Paulo writer, Mário de Andrade. Gilberto Freyre (1900–1987), who would now have been a hundred years old, comes particularly to mind, as does Sergio Buarque de Holanda (1902–1982). Freyre made history with the publication of his two first works, Casa Grande & senzala [Masters and Slaves] of 1933 and Sobrados e mucambos of 1936. The same year Buarque de Holanda published his Raízes de Brasil [Roots of Brasil]. Motivated by the desire to understand their country, its shaping and – with some kind of concern as to identity – their own origins, both had been led to pave the way for what might be called an ‘open’ sociology, which immediately acquired a strongly anthropological character with Freyre and quickly incorporated increasingly historical aspects with Buarque de Holanda. (shrink)

These are the words Achilles speaks to Hektor, whom he has just struck with a fatal blow. He reminds the son of Priam how, after stripping Patroklos’ fallen body, Hektor made off with the fallen man's armour, which is Achilles’ own.

« Qui voit ? » C’est à partir de cette question cartésienne, devenue aussi la sienne, et des transformations qu’il lui fait subir, que le privilège de la peinture chez Merleau-Ponty est à comprendre. Du même coup, et a contrario, on saisit pourquoi la musique, comme le regrette Raymond Court, n’a pas donné à penser à Merleau-Ponty, qui, dit-on, écoutait Mozart au moment où la mort l’a frappé. Or, comme la peinture n’existe qu’à prendre corps dans les œuvres des peintres, (...) il y a encore lieu de se demander quels ont été « les peintres » de Merleau-Ponty. Et que lui ont-ils fait voir ?« Who sees ? » It is on the basis of this Cartesian question, which Maurice Merleau-Ponty made his own, that we can understand the sort of « privilege » painting seems to deserve within his thought. At the same time, we can grasp why, when drawing up his ontology of the Flesh, he did not pay attention to music, despite his fondness of it. This lacuna was reproached by Raymond Court, who insisted on the intimate relationship between music and the flesh . But once we acknowledge the main reasons he had to give painting priority, we may ask what he was looking for when he considered some of the modern painters as for instance Cézanne or Paul Klee. And what indeed did they make him see ? (shrink)