JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing

JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing JeanPaul_Sartre_JeanPaul_Sartre_Basic_Writing

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Imagination and emotion95are the same or different from the conditions of possibility of a consciousness ingeneral.Indeed, the problem stated thus may appear to be completely new and even triflingto French psychologists. And, in fact, as long as we are the victims of the illusion ofimmanence, there is no general problem of imagination. Images are in fact supplied, inthese theories, by a type of existence strictly like that of things. They are rebornsensations which may differ in degree, in cohesion, in meaning from primary sensations,but which belong, as do sensations, to the intra-mundane existence. The image is asreal as any other existence. The only question concerning the image is the problem ofits relationship to other existences but, whatever this relationship may be, the existenceof the image remains intact. This is like saying that whether the portrait of KingCharles VI is or is not a true likeness, whether the king is dead or alive or even whetherhe ever existed, the portrait is nevertheless something that exists in the world. Thereis therefore no existential problem of the image.But if the image is looked upon as we have viewed it in this work, the existentialproblem of the image can no longer be sidetracked. In fact, to the existence of an objectfor consciousness there corresponds noetically a hypothesis or position of existence.Now, the hypothesis of the imaginative consciousness is radically different from thehypothesis of a consciousness of the real. This means that the type of existence of theobject of the image as long as it is imagined, differs in nature from the type ofexistence of the object grasped as real. And surely, if I now form an image of Peter, myimaginative consciousness includes a certain positing of the existence of Peter, in so faras he is now at this very moment in Berlin or London. But while he appears to me asan image, this Peter who is in London appears to me absent. This absence in actuality,this essential nothingness of the imagined object, is enough to distinguish it from theobject of perception. What then must the nature of a consciousness be in order that itbe able successively to posit real objects and imagined objects ?We must at once make an important observation, which the reader may have madehimself if he has studied the problem of the relationships between perception andimagery, as outlined in Chapter 2. For an object or any element of an object there is agreat difference between being grasped as nothing and being-given-as-absent. In aperception of whatever sort many empty intentions are directed, from the elements ofthe object now given, towards other aspects and other elements of the object which nolonger reveal themselves to our intuition. For instance, the arabesques of the rug I amviewing are both in part given to my intuition. The legs of the armchair which standsbefore the window conceal certain curves, certain designs. But I nevertheless seizethese hidden arabesques as existing now, as hidden but not at all as absent. And I grasp

96Jean-Paul Sartre: Basic Writingsthem not for themselves in trying to present them by means of an analogue but in thevery way in which I grasp what has been given me of their continuation. I perceive thebeginnings and the endings of the hidden arabesques (which appear to me before andbehind the leg of the chair) as continuing under the legs of the chair. It is therefore in theway in which I grasp the data that I posit that which is not given as being real. Real bythe same right as the data, as that which gives it its meaning and its very nature.Likewise the successive tones of a melody are grasped by appropriate retentions asthat which makes of the tone now heard exactly what it is. In this sense, to perceivethis or that real datum is to perceive it on the foundation of total reality as a whole.This reality never becomes the object of any special act of my attention, but it is copresentas an essential condition of the existence of the reality actually perceived.Here we see that the imaginative act is the reverse of the act of reality. If I want toimagine the hidden arabesques, I direct my attention upon them and isolate them, justas I isolate on the foundation of an undifferentiated universe the thing I actuallyperceive. I cease to grasp them as empty but constituting the sense of the perceivedreality; instead I present them to myself, in themselves. But at the moment that I ceaseto conceive them as continuous present in order to grasp them in themselves, I graspthem as absent. Of course they really exist over there, under the chair, and it is overthere that I think of them, but in thinking of them where they are not given to me, Igrasp them as nothing for me. Thus the imaginative act is at once constitutive, isolatingand annihilating.It is this which turns the problem of memory and that of anticipation into twoproblems which are radically different from the problem of imagination. No doubtrecollection is in many respects very close to the image, and at times we were able todraw our examples from memory to clarify the nature of the image. There is neverthelessan essential difference between the theme of recollection and that of the image. If Irecall an incident of my past life I do not imagine it, I recall it. That is, I do not positit as given-in-its absence, but as given-now-as-in-the-past. The handshake of Peter oflast evening in leaving me did not turn into an unreality as it became a thing of the past:it simply went into retirement; it is always real but past. It exists past, which is onemode of real existence among others. And when I want to apprehend it anew I pursueit where it is, I direct my consciousness towards that past object which is yesterday,and, at the heart of that object, I recover the event I am looking for, the handshake ofPeter. In a word, just as when I want actually to see the hidden arabesques under thechair I have to look for them where they are, that is, move the chair; so when I recallthis or that memory I do not call it forth but I betake myself to where it is, I direct myconsciousness to the past where it awaits me as a real event in retirement. But if I

96Jean-Paul <strong>Sartre</strong>: <strong>Basic</strong> <strong>Writing</strong>sthem not for themselves in trying to present them by means of an analogue but in thevery way in which I grasp what has been given me of their continuation. I perceive thebeginnings and the endings of the hidden arabesques (which appear to me before andbehind the leg of the chair) as continuing under the legs of the chair. It is therefore in theway in which I grasp the data that I posit that which is not given as being real. Real bythe same right as the data, as that which gives it its meaning and its very nature.Likewise the successive tones of a melody are grasped by appropriate retentions asthat which makes of the tone now heard exactly what it is. In this sense, to perceivethis or that real datum is to perceive it on the foundation of total reality as a whole.This reality never becomes the object of any special act of my attention, but it is copresentas an essential condition of the existence of the reality actually perceived.Here we see that the imaginative act is the reverse of the act of reality. If I want toimagine the hidden arabesques, I direct my attention upon them and isolate them, justas I isolate on the foundation of an undifferentiated universe the thing I actuallyperceive. I cease to grasp them as empty but constituting the sense of the perceivedreality; instead I present them to myself, in themselves. But at the moment that I ceaseto conceive them as continuous present in order to grasp them in themselves, I graspthem as absent. Of course they really exist over there, under the chair, and it is overthere that I think of them, but in thinking of them where they are not given to me, Igrasp them as nothing for me. Thus the imaginative act is at once constitutive, isolatingand annihilating.It is this which turns the problem of memory and that of anticipation into twoproblems which are radically different from the problem of imagination. No doubtrecollection is in many respects very close to the image, and at times we were able todraw our examples from memory to clarify the nature of the image. There is neverthelessan essential difference between the theme of recollection and that of the image. If Irecall an incident of my past life I do not imagine it, I recall it. That is, I do not positit as given-in-its absence, but as given-now-as-in-the-past. The handshake of Peter oflast evening in leaving me did not turn into an unreality as it became a thing of the past:it simply went into retirement; it is always real but past. It exists past, which is onemode of real existence among others. And when I want to apprehend it anew I pursueit where it is, I direct my consciousness towards that past object which is yesterday,and, at the heart of that object, I recover the event I am looking for, the handshake ofPeter. In a word, just as when I want actually to see the hidden arabesques under thechair I have to look for them where they are, that is, move the chair; so when I recallthis or that memory I do not call it forth but I betake myself to where it is, I direct myconsciousness to the past where it awaits me as a real event in retirement. But if I

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