Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Nausea And Burping Stomach Virus?

Death and love in Wittkop: Necrophilia trip ...

Hans Bellmer, Doll

Today December 22, 2010 , it has been eight years since Gabrielle Wittkop left this world. Ed Wood in his Tavern and I have wanted to honor him today through our two readings Necrophile , sulfurous work, fascinating and inviting an intimate questions ...
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"This stunning radiance of heaven is that of death itself. My head is spinning in the sky. Never mind that only runs better in his death. "
(Georges Bataille, My mother, Jean-Jacques Pauvert, 1966)
Lucien N. caress the flesh cooled, brushes the edges of a face that no breath no longer comes animate, loses his fingers in a hair off, sniffs the body's subtle scent of moth before their corruption. He can only love the dead. The Necrophile , diary of a collector, opens with the unbearable. Or, what should be. Dates are scattered amidst a succession of carefully staged meetings. Indeed, Lucien is on the lookout, watching for every opportunity to satisfy what we consider as a passion against nature, this exclusive love for dead ... But never or almost word "corpse", n is employed by the narrator. These deaths are the subject of all his care, his tenderness too, and his desire. Love them after their death is a way to give them what death denied them: the contemplation of their bodies, loving attention, the touch of skin, intense feelings for what others do not consider that as a good jacket to throw at best to hide. He sees them as "companions" - the word he uses, breaking their irremediable solitude after having sought the kingdom of the dead.
Steals these remains in the burial chambers, in cemeteries, according to the information it has gathered or random circumstances. This love brings all beings that separates: Young women, old men, children, without any limitation or constraint. Anonymous, as this "girl of Ivry," the virgin whose sex was never used during his lifetime, "woman-blot" that mysteriously absorbs the seed of necrophilia, mingling with the more intimate life and death, birth and promise of Lethe, "dead-live with the quivering flesh [was] so the surrounding [his] and absorbing [its] substance." With each body he collected goes to the end of the act, inspecting every inch of the flesh, turning to look at each fold, in an intense contemplation, a fever for knowledge, but with tact and delicacy, honoring the dead rather than the layman. Their arrival in the room where he indulges his passion is organized according to a ritual adapted to each: the body is the object of a cult who seeks to establish between Lucien and death a personal and intimate relationship. Netsuke collector of the macabre, these erotic figurines featuring antics that may seem sordid and yet whose Muramato Koshi, master of the eighteenth century, is very popular works, "dead sodomized by hyenas, fellateurs succubi, masturbators skeletons, corpses entwined like knots of vipers, devouring ghost fetuses, courtesans impaling on the rigidity of a dead ... "he does not associate his quest to any horrible sensation seeking. On the contrary, it is largely what makes the strength of this extraordinary novel, the story of his antics do not repulsive, does not terrify the reader located away far beyond what he imagined withstand, transported by the words, the beauty of these phrases carved with refined precision. But the style of an author as beautiful as it is, can not explain this strange text that membership entails. We would expect that this reading feels disgust and anger, as Lucien N. us away from ourselves through the description of that passion. Mysteriously, the text takes us well beyond what we believed to be capable of withstanding.
Gustave Doré, Paolo and Francesca

It is not sympathy or even empathy. The strange relationship that develops between the reader and the novel is made of fascination, some might believe that unhealthy, but it is not. The Necrophile reached in each of us a sensitive area and secluded, situated in the shadows of our unconscious: the relationship we have with the idea of death, especially death of the body, is here challenged. Indeed, the moment of death is symbolically associated with the concept of separation of soul and body. The latter, deprived of life, is stripped of his humanity, reduced to the level of object, but, paradoxically, surrounded by an immense respect. Demonstrate his affection for this envelope and private life threatened by corruption seems moved and our societies, in fact, hide more often the sight of a corpse, seen as offensive, even obscene. Make a death subject to a sensual passion, submit to sexual intercourse is an affront to the sacred. Moreover, Gabrielle Wittkop agrees to deliver a psychoanalytic explanation for this morbid attraction: Lucien N., child, experienced her first erotic ecstasy to eight years before the remains of his mother.
grandmother sobbed. "Kiss your mother again," she said pushing me towards the bed. I shrugged to this wonderful woman lying among the white linen. I placed my lips on her waxen face, I shook his shoulders in my little arms, I breathed the smell intoxicating. It was one of the gypsy professor of natural history we had distributed to school and I raised in a cardboard box. This smell fine, dry, musky, leaves, larvae and stones, from the lips of mom, she was already prevalent in her hair like a perfume. And suddenly interrupted pleasure recover my childish flesh with disconcerting abruptness. Pressed against the hip mom, I felt myself come from a concussion delicious, while I unbosom myself for the first time.

The coincidence between the death of the mother and the first emotion prevents the narrator to desire a living body. His research, however, does not find that contact breast - which already is shocking in that it operates between the amalgam filial love and sexual desire, Oedipus realized when, precisely, the mother moved away permanently. The existence of this document begins with Necrophile both uncontrolled and founder who puts unable to find fulfillment in a natural sexuality. Yet he claims his strangeness
We talk about sex in all its forms, except one. Necrophilia is neither condoned nor approved of the government protesting youths. Necrophilic love, the only one True, since even amor intellectualism, this large white rose, waiting to be paid back. No consideration for the necrophiliac love, the gift he made of himself arouse any momentum .
Death Mask of The Unknown of the Seine

Thus, through these outrageous acts for the common man, Lucien N. is dedicated to a work impossible to achieve purity through the gift of absolute self, since there has nothing to expect from each other that no longer exists as a body that senseless, so incapable of gratitude or affection. But the narrator is sometimes surprised by the reactions of those confusing body of which he is the lover sex life of the girl of Ivry, the revolt of the little girl "vomisseuse ink putrid, mouth Suzanne opening onto beautiful teeth like pearls ... He accepts, adapts, integrates them into his ritual, and for each delay time of separation, which, again, is a source of despair. Every time or almost, is the Seine welcomes these bodies failed - the signs of decomposition, mottled purple, odors, prelude when the flesh will be finally be assimilated to nature. Separation is heartbreaking Suzanne:
When I slid into the Seine, I screamed when I heard sounded like coming from another planet. It seemed that tore my heart, you tore my sex.
The Seine had allowed his body for two weeks saturated with my sweat-soaked my seed, my life, my death, Suzanne scrimmages. In it, I went into Hades with it, I rolled into the ocean silt, m'enchevĂȘtrai in algae, I froze in the limestone, moving through the veins of coral ...
Returning home, I threw myself on a bed that smelled of carrion. I fell asleep at once, suddenly seized by a mortal sleep, lulled by the same black waves - Mare Tenebrarum - which rocked Suzanne Suzanne my love.

The Necrophile appears as one who, rather than enjoying the pleasures of forbidden love and morbid nature cons, wants to abolish the border between life and death. The protection of Hecate, goddess of night and death, accompanied by her dog ghosts seems to be granted since it often leads to those he can love, as she helped Demeter Persephone to seek to kingdom of the dead. But this ambiguous goddess turns against him, the passage of the Styx could take place in both directions. Irreparably, Lucien N. is brought to join those he like an infinite love, these "angels" who no longer belong to our world and that he wanted so much to learn ... Roman threshold, the invisible border between life and waterproof and death, romance of the unknown also The Necrophile transgresses taboos to lead us to reflect on love, devotion or expectation of reciprocity impossible.

Gabrielle Wittkop, The Necrophile , Portraits, 2001 (first published took place in 1972 published by Regine Deforges)



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