Filippo Fimiani

Shutter Island is a much-criticized and highly debated film. Scorsese, in fact, has been accused of distorting the facts and altering his historical sources. The depictions we see of the Holocaust are false, not based on visual documents, a mix of incompatible evidences and iconographies, an amalgam of irreconcilable informations and representations. The director has created a visual style and a sound design that vacillate between thriller and horror, drama and fantasy, while betraying the medial transparency of the reconstruction and the ethical responsibility of interpretation. The viewer sees and believes in the images of the concentration camp of Dachau which are, in reality, dialectical imaginings of another scene: in these images, constructed according to the clinical and critical vision of Scorsese as cinephile, the past and the repressed return in the present. In our present too. On the one hand, in fact, the viewer participates empathically in the mental images relived and suffered by the protagonist in his post-traumatic hallucinations; on the other hand, the viewer is prompted to recall the pictures quoted or paraphrased from the archives of the imagery of cinema and of the photojournalism of war–in which Pontecorvo, Resnais, Fuller, George Stevens and John Huston live side by side with the RKO horror films of Jacques Tourneur and Mark Robson. For Scorsese, the images of the violence of war and of the horror of extermination cannot be linked to an origin or past that have definitively been concluded. They are more than recorded pictures or concrete evidences: they are clues and symptoms. They come from a conflictual and endless descent of which cinema is the living and ambiguous memory; they are the open wounds of an original struggle between human and inhuman and of man–they still survive, here and now

“Art”—what is it? What sort of entities are artworks? “Art”—when is it? Normally, when we visit an art exhibition, when we listen to a concert or when we look at a performing art in a setting, we use to read the titles, the tags or something textual, a threshold not crafted by the author, about the exposed or executed artworks in order to grasp their subject, style, history, and author. But: how does a title, a non-fiction depiction or a pointing, and different ways of para-textual activation, entitle and unable us to such an operation and to live an aesthetic relation? This issue of “Aisthesis” explores the conditions under which it could be useful to distinguish between aesthetic objects and artworks–visual, musical, literary, performing arts– and to admit that the existence of the latter depends on a marginal and basic component of them: tags. The issue contains articles by Jerrold Levinson, Bernard Sève, Filippo Focosi, Alberto Voltolini, Giulia Alberti, Pietro Kobau, Jean-Pierre Cometti, Isabelle Thomas-Fogiel, Filippo Fimiani, Bertrand Rougé, Leardo Botti, Michel Déguy, Jean-Marie Klinkenberg, Micla Petrelli, Andrea Olivieri, Alessandro Ottaviani.