Lacan vs Brighella

Jacques Lacan


Mezzetin* by Watteau



I'll take the bearded one.

Brighella is a Commedia Dell' Arte character-- a crazy servant/ thief who wore a brown mask with a beard and a green suit. I found the coolest quote from Masks and Marionettes by J. Kennard in my reading today.

"... I am a great talker because my father was dumb and had left to me
an enormous number of new words which he never used. Also I am a
bastard. My shirt is a romance full of wandering soldiers; no one
will wash it for fear of soiling the river. My debts make me a star
never seen except at night."

p. 56 A quote from "Atanasio Zanoni of Ferrara... a famous
Brighella... was drowned in Venice in 1792." One of the things that caught my attention was the line about his father bequeathing him an "enormous number of new words" but since he is a "bastard," he presumably didn't get his father's name.

Which brings me to Jacques Lacan's idea of The Name of the Father. In The Unsayable, Annie writes about how when the infant starts to compromise her unconscious and acquire language, its the "father" who brings the words that differentiate the child from her mother. It is a good thing, otherwise the child would continue to think it is a part of the mother.

I also loved the line about his shirt being a "romance full of wandering soldiers." It is like his body is a book, a "romance" in the old sense of a story full of colorful characters and fantastic events. The soldiers aren't an army, they are "wandering," perhaps they are lost, or deserters.

I am starting to think that studying theater would be a lot more fun, and a little less stuffy than psychology, and I'd probably learn the same thing.

Or, studying philosophy would be a little more fun and a little less stuffy than studying theology, and I'd probably learn the same thing.

Or, studying theology would be a little more fun and a little less stuffy than studying theater, and I'd probably learn the same thing...

*Mezzetin is the French version of Brighella

Guilty Pleasure: Hack Psychology

Eleven popped by the kitchen the other day to say hello. She also recommended The Unsayable by Annie G Rogers. That evening I went by the library and checked it out. I picked it up after dinner, and I didn't put it down 'til around midnight, when I had read the final chapter. Eleven had said it was "intense" and at the time I thought she mean that the subject was heavy, but I didn't think I'd be absolutely glued to it for six solid hours.

I Might Think Twice Before I Post Another Dream

Dr Roger's premise is that language is the first trauma. When we are infants learning language, in the process we lose a big part of ourselves that cannot be put into words, and that piece becomes our unconscious. Because our unconscious is without words it uses the body, dreams, verbal slips, art, events and whole slew of other things to communicate with. Her ideas were influenced by Jacques Lacan, a French psychoanalyst, who said "the unconscious is structured like language". She worked with children and adolescents who were victims of abuse and who couldn't talk about it. She found ways of listening to the clues that slipped past the children's consciousnesses, helped them listen to themselves, and in the process they were able to heal.

The thing that Eleven and I found compelling was that in Quebec there is a Lacanian analysis program that has a high success rate for young adults diagnosed with schizophrenia. After 8 years of treatment 60% of the patients are off heavy medications and are living relatively normal lives. That is huge. My uncle wasn't nearly this lucky. He died last month, after suffering from the disease for nearly forty years. His bedroom floor was covered with loose change, and his mattress was stuffed with newspapers. I wonder what he was trying to say?

I am Intrigued for Entirely Selfish Reasons

The idea of looking for clues to my unconscious in every aspect of my life is very exciting. I can be a more sensitive and reflective reader of "Fat Camille," the floor of my room and this blog. I can begin to unravel why, at nearly every stage of my life, there has been a male person of Hispanic heritage who corrects my English grammar (I can count four at this writing). Maybe some day I'll even be able to understand why I don't want a real job and why I can't seem to date anybody longer than four months at a time. I like the idea that very little separates dreams and daily life, because on a certain level, I experience them as one continuous narrative. Of course, anything that has to do with stories, narratives, symbols and decoding the above is seductive.

This explains why English feels so awkward, as if it is not my native tongue. When I am talking, words come out backwards, in the wrong language, or they don't come at all. I am a language victim! (stop your sniggering, Cab!)