martes, 22 de enero de 2013

El pensamiento filosófico de Walter Benjamin en Neruda



Born in Berlin in 1892, Benjamin was a tragic figure: a Jew in an increasingly anti-Semitic Germany. As the son of a prosperous art-dealer he was not prepared for the confusing days ahead. He had wanted to spend a quiet life buried in a university.

The German government, however, refused to pay Jewish lecturers. He would have had to become a private lecturer, funded by his family. That would have presented no problem under normal circumstances but his father had lost much of his business during the years of hyperinflation that set in after the First World War.

Benjamin had to support himself. To do this he was ill equipped. Legend has it that he was extraordinarily clumsy, a problem that had irritated his mother beyond endurance during his youth and which seemed to predestine him for a career in thought and contemplation. When the Nazis came to power in Germany, Benjamin fled to Paris where he continued to write reviews and articles. When the Germans entered France in 1940, he wanted to escape to Spain.

On the French-Spanish Border the Spanish authorities informed him that he and the others in his group would have to be handed over to the Gestapo. He committed suicide that night. It was 1940. Hearing of his suicide, the Spanish authorities felt guilty, relented and let the others across the border. His suicide, a lonely act of despair, had heroic consequences.

Who was Walter Benjamin? And more to the point, what is he to us? Primarily he was someone who was able to look. He could 'see' with great resolution. His thought is poetically provoking, by which I mean that his interpretation of the everyday changes the goal-posts of our expectations. His writing forces you to look at problems and events in a different light, from a different angle, at a different scale.

His analysis of what he looks at is rich as well as incisive, but his writing does not obey the strictures of scholarly persuasion and rigid taxonomy. He is a poet in prose.

He undermines the landscape we think we are so familiar with by substituting new landmarks for old. In this way Benjamin forces us to acknowledge features which, veiled by the ordinary, needed to be made visible.

And when we begin to see what we think he is showing us, he tells us that it is precisely the veil of the everyday that is so full and rich in possibilities. He removes the distortions we have grown accustomed to and substitutes these for new distortions. That allows you, for good or bad, to develop fresh strategies to approach your own problems and your own interpretation of events.
 
The flaneur

http://www.othervoices.org/1.1/gpeaker/Flaneur.php
http://www.wbenjamin.org/voorthuis.html

¿Influencias en Neruda? Walter Benjamin/Paul Klee

  A rectangle, a finite and universal receptacle for the fragments of the universe in portrait format. A portrait of a city: an image, imagined. The rectangle is divided into three horizontal sections. 

The top section is demarcated by two thick, horizontal lines, which sandwich a black circle. 

Below are various bands of busy lines, roughly divided into two large sections by a broad band of lines resembling the stretcher bond pattern of a brick wall. 

What happens in these two separated sections is difficult to describe. Hieroglyphs, all of them resembling the primordial house, assemble along unbroken horizontal lines. 

Some of these hieroglyphs look like cuneiform writing, others resemble large apartment blocks with infinite subdivisions, others again look like the beginnings of a complex organogram of some mute Kafkaesque institution. 

Others look like honeycombs, or look as if they represent the logo of some business. 

The two thick lines might be Heaven and Earth, the horizon and the sky. 

The black circle (I am looking at a black and white reproduction) might be the sun. But instead of shunning our gaze because of its brightness, this sun draws our eyes into the infinity that is blackness. 

The thin horizontal lines could represent streets and the stretcher bond lines a city dividing and replicating itself by a wall. 

The lines which look like houses and institutions, might at the same time also represent the way that these institutions are settled and organized: the image of the city as an organograma or as a rich history. 

The hieroglyphs constitute an image of how both language and buildings reside in places and can thus help to enhance the division of society according to class. There again the lines may also represent a map of some intensely personal journey, some of the houses almost look like notes upon a scale, and what is a scale if it is not to distinguish and render clear the rhythm of stratification. No meaning is mutually exclusive in this painting. 

That is a definition of wealth. Looking at the drawing again, are the two outermost bands of the city form not walls, or bastions, to keep people in and out? Are the lines that connect the houses, paths? Are the curious domes crowned with their crosses and housing tree-like objects institutions, preserved like cheese under a glass bell?

From "A Leaf from the Book of Cities"(Análisis de Jacob Voorthuis)

http://www.wbenjamin.org/voorthuis.html
Google images
http://aquapunk.tumblr.com/post/5836365561/a-leaf-from-the-book-of-cities-by-paul-klee