Thinking without form. On Gianni Carchia’s Name and Image (2025). by Gerardo Muñoz

At long last readers in the English speaking world will be able to read Gianni Carchia’s work in translation thanks to the publication of Name and image: an essay on Walter Benjamin (Seagull Books, 2025), which was the Italian philosopher very last book published posthumously in 2008. This is not a work of late style as such, since these four essays on Walter Benjamin serve as an oblique and angular entry point to the thinking form of Carchia’s own philosophical concerns on sensibility, the survival of the myth through aesthetic mediation, and the post-kantian elaboration of the appearance as the condition for experiencing the world. This is a project without systematic architecture that dates back to his first books of the late seventies such as Orfismo e tragedia (1979) and Estetica ed erotica (1981), both published in the Milanese publisher Celuc Libri. It must be noted that although this is a marvelous introduction to Carchia’s philosophical idiosyncrasies and recurring themes, it is perhaps not the best introduction to Walter Benjamin, who in these four essays is read against the grain of dominant hermeneutical frameworks; that is, beyond Frankfurt Critical Theory and dialectics of the image, and on the other hand, the theologico-political concerned with messianic temporality as a transformative philosophy of history. 

It does not mean that Carchia is oblivious to these constitutive elements in the corpus of the German thinker; but it does mean that the profile constructed is one that favors a critical project that has disinhibited affinity with the Platonist project of beauty as condition of the critical endeavor committed to truth. For Carchia it is at this vortex where one should locate the “brilliant degree of illumination” that awakens philosophy from its slumber, overturning the texture of thinking to an erotics of the lost detail and the enduring fragment. Citing the correspondences to Florens Rang and The Origin of the German Tragic Drama, we know that for Benjamin “without at least an intuitive grasp of the life of the detail in the structure all love of beauty is no more than empty daydreaming” (Carchia 33). The task of the critic is one capable of arresting the inexpressible, only because beauty lives in the world as a state of silence and expressed revelation (Carchia 38). And it must be said that platonism in Carchia never manages to crystallize into a doctrine of being, pivoting to persuasion as the route to an idea without form.

Carchia shows that for Benjamin the reinvention of the critical method cannot aspire to the totalization of origins and principles  – or even that of the status of the visible (Schau), as he brought to bear in his comment to Max Kommerell’s Der Dichter als Führer in der deutschen Klassik (1928) – underpinning the emergence of the idea where the seeds of truth germinate to unfold the interstices of historical sedimentation (Carchia 62). Unapologetically, Carchia suggests that Benjamin’s critical method, if there is such a thing, must be read as a “philosophy of the infinitesimal aim to shatter the prejudice that attributes to totality predominance over phenomena…at the price of their insignificance” (Carchia 61-62). In turn, this means that “the smallest cell of visualized reality outweighs the rest of the world” (Carchia 63). The infinite cuts through the world as a remnant that must be redeemed precisely because of its incongruence in the face of the triumph of immanence and the distribution of forms. And this is yet another sign that Carchia’s Benjamin must read as a thinker of a platonism of the immanence that by folding forms it is able to escape modernity’s temporalization of the sensible reality and its lethargic material objectivity [1]. This hits a hight note about Benjamin’s philosophical thought as anointed in the ancient currents of Stocism, since as Pohlenz taught us, the material forms of this world are the hurdles that neutralize the inception of the divine in a reality governed by the necessity of kakia.

Hence the confrontation with language occupies the center of every critico-historical reflection, which means how to live the immemorial language that is neither an instrument nor the “medium of prophecy or domination” (Carchia 85). Carchia reminds us that for Benjamin Karl Kraus’ language is platonische sprachliebe, or platonic love of language, which means a voice that overcomes the separations of signification and symbol, object and subject, and the consolidation of exchange through the voice of gratitude and use: “thanking and dedication – for to thank is to put feelings under a name” (Carchia 85). The word as apophantic revelation places judgement under erasure, enacting not a return to Edenic pristine nature of divinization or virtuality that attests to the figure and repetition of appearances and the medium of the “spiritual verbalization that animates reality” (Carchia 92). The abdication of an original language survives as the mythic memory of a voice porously open to translation: “All higher language is a translation of lower one, until the ultimate clarity the word of God unfolds, which is the unity of this movement made up of language” (Carchia 92). If for Benjamin the problem of translation is coterminous with that of the mystery of language, it is because it reveals the fragments of a vessel that removes the ground of rhetoric through “variation and discontinuity” (Carchia 96).  

In fact, reading Carchia one can infer that rhetoric is to language what the destiny is to human existence in its becoming. Thus, the destitution of language, its internal rhetorical and objective liquidation, appeals to the possibility of the event of happiness and bliss that is the only well illuminated path for redemption, that is, for the flourishing of the “nexus of truth and beauty” of the liberty of the soul. We are painfully aware that modernity is many contradictory elements at once, but Carchia tells us following Simmel, it is ultimately the historical project of Entseelung or loss of soul of the world, and thus “the faculty of memory as particular gift of the soul” (Carchia 121). The historical time of progress, its formal assumption and increasing autonomization, means a ritual situation that “seizes control in exteriority – as as continuum of temporal unfolding – of that entertainment, flashing, discontinuous awareness of the irrevocability of the past held firm by the image-memory” (Carchia 121). Hence, the exercise of thought and memory through the redemption of appearance is the necessary struggle against the usurpation of caducity, and thus the only promise of salvation through the dead, the defeated, and the forgotten. There are clear echoes of Hölderlin’s “Andenken” here that Carchia formulates as the necessity of memory in the repeated dispensation for the clearing of appearance. As he writes in one of the most formidable moments of the book when discussing the self-offering of the memory that guards the catacombs of the dead: 

“…for Benjamin, aesthetic temporality, as temporality of the soul absorbed in the contemplation of the nexus of truth and beauty, is the very origin of temporality’s self-offering, of temporality tour court as the space of memory. The salvation of appearance and the dimension of memory are all one: here is rooted the connection between temporality and the aesthetic dimension. The appearance constitutive of the space of redemption, and the beauty whose sacrifice would sacrifice the space of truth itself, are nothing other than memory continuously rescuing them from the space of historical time. It is precisely this connection, between the sphere of appearance as the sphere of the irremediable caducity, and the counter-movement of memory in the involuntary image, that forms the nexus that some of the most subtle passages struggle to delineate as the world of the soul, or rather the world of the past” (Carchia 120). 

Thinking the fragment becomes indistinguishable from retaining the sensible participation of the soul. It is this arresting breath (Hauch) of the soul that clears a path on which appearance is saved from the crushing weight of historical self-sufficiency. This confirms, if anything, that Benjamin’s sensibility for Carchia does not end in the confines of postromantic critique, nor in the utopia of totality and abstraction imposed by the metaphysics realized in money form over the living and the dead. As Carchia asserts: “utopia is the end of the constructive and generative ideal of knowledge” at the base of human anthropology and material conditions of social existence, but a whole “redirection underpinning what we have called thinking the informal” (Carchia 127, 135). 

What does it mean to think the informal, and what accounts a thought of the informal where Carchia posits Benjamin’s most enduring and clandestine signature? Avoiding all false exists in neopaganism of worldly immanence, Carchia connects the formless dispensation of thought with a nirvana state of para-rūpa (a hypostasis of God that does not presuppose a form, but that it is transformational),  the instance of imagination without an image and place that speaks of a chôra as the last refuge of the living. A refuge that, like the platonic cave, does not entail the accumulation or wealth of signification, but that retreats from the perils of insignificance and unhappy consciousness of nihilism. This is one way to understand what Benjamin writes in one of the glosses in “Short Shadows”: “…an image that has already crossed the threshold of the image and property, and knows only the power of the name, from which the lover lives, transforms, ages…and imageless, is refuge of all images”. An existence devoid of a central and authorized image can only prepare for the idea of justice that, because it is experienced it can retreat from the aleatory predication of the world. This enacts a descent into “an anarchy of being in this side of form”, as Carchia would beautifully call it towards the end of book; an inward saturation that is also a reservoir of sensibility because it is able to take a breath. And because it is breathing, it can assent to the external penumbra that restores the appearance of every thinking being in its very image and name.

Notes 

1. On the platonic immanence and the soul, the central reference is Gianni Carchia’s essay “Platonismo dell’immanenza: Fenomenologia e storia in Hans Blumenberg”, Hans Blumenberg: Mito, Metafora, Modernità (il Mulino, 1999), 215-26.

Vermeer’s weightless scales. by Gerardo Muñoz

Vermeer’s “Woman Holding a Balance” (1663) has been read as an allegory of the Final Judgement for very obvious reasons. The painting within the painting on the foreground embodies a traditional representation of the Last Judgement for the saved and the damned. But how are we to mediate between the painting in the painting and the activity that is taking place in the mute and contemplative woman that is holding a balance with her right hand? Advancing an interpretation that departs from the coins placed on the table, Herbert Rudlolph’s important thesis suggests that exchange and equilibrium is taken place at once; a movement that allows him to favor the narrative of vanitas that would have been immediately diaphanous to the spectators of his time, especially the growing Catholic community of Vermeer’s Netherlands [1]. 

The picture shines with religious piety and depth, and yet it is a work of interiority that Vermeer has notably chosen to deprive of an explicit iconographical assertion in its main figure. Could it just be a visual representation of Loyola’s  Exciertia spiritualia (1548) that recommended to be “like the equivalent scales of a balance ready to follow the course which is more for the glory and profuse of God, our Lord, and the salvation of the soul”? [2]. What are the instances of balance in the picture that would justify such a singlehanded transposition into the picture? If painting is anything, it is precisely what carries an excess to narrative and iconology. And this is what we should be interested when looking attentively to the picture. The vortex of depiction is the event that falls outside the concept through which we are attempting to arrest the meaning of a picture in its manifolds historical subtleties. 

If taken prima facie “Woman Holding a Balance” (1663) is representing a combination of the embodiment of justice and judgment, what remains an enigma is precisely the fact that the balances are empty, as is evacuating the act of weighting the unequal units of weight. In the graceful hands that hold up the weightless balance, Vermeer has given us something like an image of the suspension of judgement, and in this way, communicating esoterically with the Last Judgement that looms heavily on the foreground. Whereas the allegorical representation of the last judgement is reminiscent of Van Eyck’s “Last Judgement Diptych” (1430), the female figure appears to us in an experiential graceness restrained from any transcendence; as if only sub specie aeternitatis time had come to a halt at the very contemplative motion of her inexpressible being.  Her presence recalls Kafka’s assertion about the temporal fixation of judgment: “It is only our conception of time that makes us call the Last Judgement by its name; it is a kind of martial law” [3]. 

The nullification or void in the balance inscribes this ex tempore suspension in the sequence of historical time of salvation that subordinates faith to history oblivious to the fact that life without judgment is also an instant of faith. As Felix Weltsch, a theologian that was very close to Kafka, thought in an important work: faith is a process that overcomes itself by creation; it is not a force of judgement and belief, but the the subsumption of existence into what which already is [4]. Or, in the words of Kafka, closely following the steps of Weltsch: “faith means emancipating oneself: being indestructible or better: being”. Faith has been transfigured as a transmission of what now is the emergence of appearance as the event of life. Fleeting and yet irrevocably unbending, what appears is both incommensurable and sensuous.

After this detour, if one goes back to Vermeer’s picture, what does one see? Definitely, not an instance of allegorical portrayal towards the transcendental expectation; rather, this is an image where theos has become a presence because it is enacting the faith of being in the withdrawal of God. This invisible, and yet sliding retreat is rendered visible by the emptying of a balance that is no longer posited as judgement of post-Edenic life towards salvation; it is the opening of space that upholds life because it no longer surrenders to the martial court enabled by time. When judgement unfolds into the indestructible and visible ‘lunatic strength of faith’, to use Kafka’s singular expression, then we are entering a living grace that is only attuned to the eternity of its appearance. And is not this another way to define the emergence of painting, after all?

Against what contemporary jurists’ formulations about pondering and weighting of rights as the ideal of the rule of law; the figure of thought that emerges in the picture is that justice is neither scalable nor measurable, but rather a motionless state of grace that can only be contemplated in the mystery of life. The emancipated life staged in Vermeer’s “Woman Holding a Balance” (1663) holds an inconspicuous eloquence that knows neither waiting nor judging, because its imperturbable state is beyond all consolation. 

Notes 

1. Herbert Rudolph. “Vanitas: Die Bedeutung mittelalterlicher und humanistischer Bildinhalte in der niederländischen Malerei des 17”, in Wilhelm Pinder (Seemann, 1938), 410.

2. Gregor Weber. Johannes Vermeer: Faith, Light, and Reflection (Rijksmuseum, 2022), 127.

3. Franz Kafka. The Aphorisms (Princeton University Press, 2022), 82. 

4. Felix Weltsch. Freiheit und Gnade (Kurt Wolff, 1920), 10.