I'm not going to answer the question I raised last time. Because I'm too ready with the answer. Then we would just be going down that old doggy track, I'd explain my theory and what was novel about it, rehearse the arguments, reply to objections etc. Then it would be all over. You might as well just read my book. If this effort is worth anything, I, we, need to find a way to think differently. Get off the doggy track. Into the woods, maybe. Who knows what we might find there?
So let's try something completely different. The background image to this blog. Maybe you didn't notice it, which is good because that's the purpose of a background to remain in the background and not be distracting. (To see the image better, if you are on Google Chrome, Safari or Opera, zoom out the entire page to about 70%. Or just click this link.) In my essay Metaphysics of the Photograph I venture the idea of a kind of photography which achieves something akin to philosophical insight, disturbing our easy-going attitude to perception, reminding us that 'all seeing is seeing-as'.
Well, this isn't the greatest example of what I mean. In fact, there's not much that's difficult or challenging about the image at all. And yet, it conveys something emotionally (to me, at any rate). The viewer is invited to look at the people outside, enjoying their coffees and their beers. Then why show the empty room, the table and chairs? Because there is always something at the periphery of one's vision. You and I are out there but we are also in here. The world is a million miles away.
That's what I'm after. You can only catch it out of the corner of your eye, that sense of 'being in here'. When I took the picture, I had the uncanny feeling 'I know this place'. In the gap that separates 'out there' from 'in here' lies the question I have been pursuing all these years. What is that thing? What is it that I see?