Edward S. Casey

Are emotions internal episodes – psychical or neurological – as is often claimed? Some certainly are; but I maintain that an important class of emotions are “peripheral”; by this I mean that they consist in what we pick up from others’ expressions of their emotions in words, gestures, or actions – or from surrounding circumstances of various sorts. These expressions and circumstances contain affect clusters that manifest themselves to us exophanously, literally “showings-forth.” I explore both of these basic situations of “the transmission of affect”. I also present an abbreviated periphenomenological description of various ways in which emotions have their own peculiar edges, thereby correcting and supplementing the common conception that edges inhere only in physical objects.

This essay explores two topics in Leonard Lawlor’s work: the role of space and the place of emotion. Lawlor’s early and middle works offer a complex and subtle discussion of time, with occasional adversions to space. I attempt to draw out what he says, or should say, about space and place in an effort for it to be given its due in the face of the temporocentrism that is endemic in continental philosophy since Bergson. From there I explore the role of affect and emotion in Lawlor’s more recent writing, arguing for its centrality in his promising and productive idea of “speaking out.”

I write here about how the visible and the invisible intertwine in painting: in theory and in praxis – primarily the praxis of my own painting. Philosophers are rarely asked to discuss, much less to show in public, what they do avocationally rather than professionally. I was drawn to the invitation of the Merleau-Ponty Circle to exhibit my painting and to talk about what I do when I am not writing or teaching philosophy. It has offered a rare chance to catch up with myself – with the painter in me. I started in art long before I turned to philosophy. It was my first love and is still my intermittent passion. I have not hidden it from others altogether – I have shown my work in various group shows– but it would be more accurate to say that I have hidden it from myself. Talking about my art work in the context of this Circle comes at a very welcome moment in which I am in the process of determining where I shall go with the rest of my life as it shortens down: ars longa, vita brevis.J’écris ici à propos de la manière dont le visible et l’invisible s’entrelacent dans la peinture : en théorie et en pratique, prioritairement dans ma propre pratique de la peinture. On demande rarement aux philosophes de discuter, et encore moins de montrer en public, ce qu’ils font en amateurs plutôt que professionnellement. J’ai été entraîné par l’invitation du Merleau-Ponty Circle à exposer ma peinture et à parler de ce que je fais lorsque je n’écrit pas et n’enseigne pas la philosophie. Cela m’a offert une chance rare de me retrouver moi-même, le peintre en moi. J’ai commencé dans l’art bien avant de me tourner vers la philosophie. C’était mon premier amour c’est encore ma passion intermittente. Je ne l’ai pas caché, puisque j’ai montré mon travail dans plusieurs expositions collectives. Ce serait plus juste de dire que je l’ai caché de moi-même. Parler de mes oeuvres d’art dans le contexte du Merleau-Ponty Circle arrive à un moment tout à fait bienvenu, où je suis en train de réfléchir à la suite de ma vie, puisqu’elle raccourcit : ars longa, vita brevis.In questo articolo tratto di come il visibile e l’invisibile si intreccino in pittura, nella teoria come nella pratica, e in particolare nella mia pratica di pittura. Raramente ai filosofi viene chiesto di discutere, e ancor più raramente di mostrare pubblicamente, ciò che essi fanno in ambito amatoriale e non professionale. Sono rimasto molto colpito dall’invito del Merleau-Ponty Circle a esporre i miei dipinti e a parlare dell’attività che svolgo quando non scrivo o non insegno filosofia. Questo invito mi ha fornito un’opportunità rara per riprendere contatto con me stesso – con il pittore che è in me. Mi sono avvicinato all’arte molto prima di rivolgermi alla filosofia. L’arte è stato il mio primo amore ed è ancora la mia passione intermittente. Non l’ho mai tenuta nascosta agli altri – ho presentato il mio lavoro in numerose mostre collettive; forse sarebbe più corretto dire che l’ho nascosta a me stesso.La possibilità di parlare della mia arte in occasione del Merleau-Ponty Circle si è presentata in un momento molto propizio, in cui mi trovo a domandarmi quale strada percorrere in quello che resta della mia vita che a mano a mano si accorcia: ars longa, vita brevis.

It is remarkable how much we can understand about an environmental problem at a mere glance. By means of a glance - at once quick and comprehensive - we can detect that something is going wrong in a given environmental circumstance, and we can even begin to suspect what needs to be done to rectify the situation. In this paper I explore the unsuspected power of the glance in environmental thought and practice, drawing special lessons for an ethics of the environment. Specific examples are analyzed, and authors as diverse as John Dewey and Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari are invoked in an effort to develop a coherent vision of how the human glance helps to locate and remedy environmental crises.

The destiny of philosophy is indissociably linked with the destiny of man. Whatever its ultimate aspirations, philosophy remains rooted in man and his self-questioning. It is not merely a reflection on man, but one of his vital activities: an intellectual enterprise which is created and sustained by living philosophers and which is addressed, implicitly or explicitly, to other men. Even if its outer horizons encompass more than the strictly human, its insights remain valid only for humans. Human beings alone can grasp and extend philosophical truth. It is in view of this fundamental fact that Heidegger asks: “What is the meaning of the expression ‘to philosophize’ if the philosophical problematic is such that it finds its abode and its center in the essence of man?” Within the confines of this paper, we shall not attempt to determine what philosophizing is; instead, we shall concentrate on the question of the role of man and self in truth, of which philosophical truth is a paradigm case. We should observe at the outset, however, that it is one thing to hold that philosophical truth is grasped as valid by individual human beings alone and quite another thing to assert that such truth is exclusively the truth of or about such individuals. It may be one of the conditions of philosophical truth that it be true for someone—for the philosopher himself, or for his actual or potential interlocutors—but this does not mean that the scope of philosophy is restricted to explicating man's essence or the sense of a singular human life. Philosophical method itself transcends the particular content of philosophy, as we see clearly in the effort of metaphysics to systematize insight. Yet it remains the case that philosophy finds its primary origin and support in man.

Yet such a contrast fails to provide an adequate account of the full scope of either philosophy or psychoanalysis. On the one hand, philosophical inquiry is not wholly pre-empted by the question of reality; it may also extend into the realm of phantasy, as can be seen in Plato's effort to determine the epistemological value of eikasia or in Husserl's consideration of Phantasie as a basis of insight into essences. On the other hand, psychoanalysts are as concerned about reality as they are about phantasy. Indeed, one of the key phrases of psychoanalytic therapy is "adaptation to reality." The reason for this concern with reality is clear: if phantasies are modifications or distortions of the real, it is imperative to discern what the character of reality is, especially since it is held out as the standard of a sound state of mental health.

This book is at once the most definitive and the most comprehensive book of its kind ever written. No other study begins to rival this splendid assessment of the many sides and sorts of the imagination, its unending vicissitudes, ramifications, extensions, and applications. Lucidly composed, carefully thought out, and forcefully presented, the eight hundred pages of this treatise are as informative as they are witty, as concise as they are expansive, as precise as they are suggestive. For anyone who wants to know how imagination has been regarded in Western philosophical and psychological, literary, and religious thought, this text is an indispensable resource, a treasure-trove of insight and knowledge.

EVER SINCE Plato declared imagining to be mere pseudo- or shadow-knowing—a form of eikasia, the lowest species of mental activity—Western philosophers have striven to put imagination in its place: a strictly subordinate place. With the exception of isolated figures such as Vico, Collingwood, and Bachelard, philosophers have denounced imagining for its digressiveness and excoriated it for its evasiveness, though sometimes surreptitiously admiring it for these very qualities. At the same time, and as part of the same deprecatory tactic, invidious comparisons have been instituted between imagining and supposedly superior psychical activities. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, for example, the paradigm was pure thinking, over against which imagining appeared as deceitful and mendacious—as "the mistress of falsehood and error" in Pascal’s classic complaint. Even Kant, for all of his attention to imagination as a source of synthesis, considered the image to be "a mere set of particular qualities, determined by no assignable rule"—in contrast with the determinacy and rule-bound character of pure concepts. Kant, as much as Descartes or Pascal, Malebranche or Mersenne, Spinoza or Leibniz, would agree with Heidegger’s stern verdict that philosophical thinking is "charmless and image-poor."

What happens when we glance around a room? How do we trust what we see in fleeting moments? In The World at a Glance, Edward S. Casey describes how glancing counts for more of human perception than previously imagined. An entire universe is perceived in a glance, but our quick and uncommitted attention prevents examination of these rapid acts and processes. While breaking down this paradox, Casey surveys the glance as an essential way by which we acquaint ourselves with the world. This experiential tour-de-force reveals what happens in a blink of an eye. It will become a landmark study in phenomenology, philosophy, environmental philosophy, and the philosophy of mind.