{"id":2201,"date":"2020-05-11T16:55:00","date_gmt":"2020-05-11T14:55:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.villagillet.net\/entrez-dans-la-villa\/?p=2201"},"modified":"2020-11-12T09:39:05","modified_gmt":"2020-11-12T08:39:05","slug":"de-lincertitude-par-hisham-matar","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.villagillet.net\/entrez-dans-la-villa\/de-lincertitude-par-hisham-matar\/","title":{"rendered":"“De l’incertitude”, par Hisham Matar"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\/ version fran\u00e7aise<\/div><\/div>
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\/ version originale<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n
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Traduit de l\u2019anglais par Agn\u00e8s Desarthe<\/p>\n\n\n\n

J\u2019ai perdu mon p\u00e8re il y a exactement trente ans et cinquante-quatre jours. C\u2019\u00e9tait un dissident politique libyen vivant en exil au Caire. Un matin, les autorit\u00e9s \u00e9gyptiennes vinrent l\u2019enlever. Il s\u2019av\u00e9ra plus tard qu\u2019elles l\u2019avaient remis entre les mains de leurs homologues libyens. Nous ne le rev\u00eemes jamais. Je n\u2019ai cess\u00e9 de chercher sa trace depuis lors et, \u00e0 ce jour, je ne sais toujours pas quand et comment il fut tu\u00e9, ni o\u00f9 se trouve sa d\u00e9pouille. Cela n\u2019a pas fait de moi un expert en incertitude ; qui pourrait pr\u00e9tendre l\u2019\u00eatre ? Mais c\u2019est \u00e0 travers cette exp\u00e9rience que je me suis familiaris\u00e9 avec le fait de ne pas savoir.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

J\u2019avais dix-neuf ans quand c\u2019est arriv\u00e9 et j\u2019\u00e9tais \u00e9tudiant \u00e0 Londres. C\u2019est \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque que je contractai une habitude qui ne m\u2019a pas quitt\u00e9 depuis. Je continue de me rendre au mus\u00e9e deux ou trois fois par semaine pour contempler le m\u00eame tableau durant une demi-heure, et cela chaque semaine, jusqu\u2019\u00e0 avoir \u00e9puis\u00e9 mon int\u00e9r\u00eat pour cette \u0153uvre en particulier. Au d\u00e9but, cela prenait entre sept et quinze jours ; \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent cela dure rarement moins de trois mois et il s\u2019\u00e9coule parfois une ann\u00e9e enti\u00e8re avant que je puisse passer \u00e0 un autre tableau. Mon choix n\u2019est guid\u00e9 que par ce qui me captive sur le moment. Ce n\u2019est pas une co\u00efncidence si je me tournai vers l\u2019art visuel au moment pr\u00e9cis o\u00f9 naquit en moi la souffrance provoqu\u00e9e par la disparition de mon p\u00e8re. C\u2019est \u00e9galement \u00e0 cette \u00e9poque que le lecteur occasionnel que j\u2019\u00e9tais devint un d\u00e9voreur de livres. Et cela aussi \u2013 je m\u2019en rends compte \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent – ne fut pas l\u2019effet d\u2019une co\u00efncidence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

L\u2019art a \u00e0 voir avec l\u2019incertitude. Il occupe l\u2019espace laiss\u00e9 vacant entre le su et l\u2019insu. Il s\u2019incarne dans les contradictions, permet de les suspendre, de mesurer les distances qui les s\u00e9parent et d\u2019explorer les diff\u00e9rences. C\u2019est l\u00e0 son territoire. Il serait faux de pr\u00e9tendre que je trouvais une solution ou ne f\u00fbt-ce qu\u2019un r\u00e9confort dans ces heures de contemplation. Il serait plus juste de dire que j\u2019y puisais de la vitalit\u00e9. La confrontation avec l\u2019art entamait un peu cet affreux sentiment d\u2019impuissance qui m\u2019envahissait \u00e0 l\u2019\u00e9poque. Et c\u2019est pour cette raison que j\u2019\u00e9voque tout cela aujourd\u2019hui. La crise du coronavirus a, de la m\u00eame fa\u00e7on, aggrav\u00e9 en nous le sentiment d\u2019incertitude et d\u2019impuissance. Ainsi nous trouvons-nous litt\u00e9ralement suspendus, et ce lieu d\u2019incertitude o\u00f9 nous r\u00e9sidons aujourd\u2019hui est le seul depuis lequel nous puissions reconsid\u00e9rer le pass\u00e9, le pr\u00e9sent et le futur. Nous ignorons quand et comment cette crise prendra fin, et nous ne savons pas \u00e0 quoi ressemblera le monde dans lequel nous nous retrouverons une fois de l\u2019autre c\u00f4t\u00e9.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Certaines \u0153uvres de litt\u00e9rature ou d\u2019art, des livres que j\u2019ai lus et des tableaux que j\u2019ai \u00e9tudi\u00e9s, ne cessent de me revenir en m\u00e9moire ces jours-ci. C\u2019est comme si le temps pr\u00e9sent \u00e9tait devenu un conservateur ou un \u00e9diteur, seul capable d\u2019\u00e9tablir la s\u00e9lection de ce qui est pertinent ou pas. Et ce qui me vient \u00e0 l\u2019esprit, bien souvent, me surprend. Je pense, par exemple \u00e0 Sasha Jensen, la belle et sinc\u00e8re et tragique h\u00e9ro\u00efne du merveilleux roman de Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight<\/em> (Bonjour minuit<\/em>), lorsqu\u2019elle finit par conclure que \u00ab La v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est improbable, la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 est fantasque, c\u2019est dans ce que l\u2019on croit \u00eatre un miroir d\u00e9formant que l\u2019on voit la v\u00e9rit\u00e9. \u00bb<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tout en \u00e9tant d\u00e9routante, l\u2019incertitude contient souvent en elle-m\u00eame la promesse d\u2019un \u00e9claircissement. L\u2019id\u00e9e selon laquelle la crise que nous traversons a mis en lumi\u00e8re les erreurs commises des ann\u00e9es durant dans notre fa\u00e7on de vivre est largement partag\u00e9e et percutante. Peut-\u00eatre est-elle juste, mais il se peut fort qu\u2019elle soit un effet secondaire des incertitudes dont nous souffrons \u00e0 l\u2019instant. Cette crise nous invite \u00e0 penser, comme on le fait au sortir d\u2019un songe, que le pr\u00e9sent nous montre la voie de la raison et de la v\u00e9rit\u00e9 et que ce qui le s\u00e9pare du pass\u00e9 n\u2019est pas seulement de l\u2019ordre du temporel, mais aussi du cognitif. Il semble, comme c\u2019est le cas dans une r\u00e9volution, que cette crise inspire en nous la croyance que plus rien ne sera comme avant. Elle rend \u00e9vident le fait que la fa\u00e7on dont nous avons organis\u00e9 nos villes, notre commerce et nos vies personnelles n\u2019est plus d\u00e9fendable. C\u2019est comme si nous prenions part \u00e0 une nouvelle exp\u00e9rience de vie. L\u2019incertitude a \u00e9galement la capacit\u00e9 d\u2019\u00e9veiller en nous le besoin de certitude. C\u2019est en partie la raison pour laquelle des individus d\u2019ob\u00e9diences diverses ont aujourd\u2019hui tendance \u00e0 affirmer avec insistance que la crise actuelle confirme qu\u2019ils \u00e9taient dans le vrai depuis le d\u00e9but. Il y a beaucoup de choses que nous devrions modifier dans notre mode de vie. Et peut-\u00eatre cette crise aura-t-elle le m\u00e9rite de nous aider \u00e0 nous pr\u00e9parer au danger plus vaste encore et plus existentiel que repr\u00e9sente le d\u00e9sastre \u00e9cologique.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Le portrait de Juan de Pareja peint par Diego Velasquez en 1650, est l\u2019un des tableaux qui est venu me visiter ces derniers temps. Juan de Pareja \u00e9tait un esclave maure, achet\u00e9 ou h\u00e9rit\u00e9 par Velasquez. Les deux hommes \u00e9taient apparemment devenus amis, du moins autant qu\u2019il \u00e9tait possible de l\u2019\u00eatre dans les conditions de leur association. Juan de Pareja \u00e9tait lui-m\u00eame peintre et assista Velasquez durant de nombreuses ann\u00e9es avant que ce dernier ne lui accorde sa libert\u00e9. Et sur cette toile, nous d\u00e9couvrons de Pareja, adressant un regard \u00e0 son patron, son ma\u00eetre et ami, avec la contenance empreinte de fiert\u00e9 d\u2019un \u00e9gal, juste avant qu\u2019il ne devienne un homme libre. Il s\u2019agit bel et bien d\u2019une confrontation. A partir de l\u00e0, j\u2019imagine le corps de de Pareja, sec et nerveux, pr\u00eat pour l\u2019action. C\u2019est le genre d\u2019homme prompt \u00e0 voir venir et \u00e0 pr\u00eater main forte. Un homme qu\u2019il est bon de conna\u00eetre. Un homme qu\u2019il est bon d\u2019avoir dans son entourage. C\u2019est ce que Velasquez semble penser, lui aussi. Son admiration est claire, mais elle n\u2019est pas sans sinuosit\u00e9s. Et de Pareja semble r\u00e9sister \u00e0 la r\u00e9duction et \u00e0 la simplification. C\u2019est comme si Velasquez, \u00e0 travers ce portrait, affrontait le fait que de Pareja n\u2019\u00e9tait pas destin\u00e9 \u00e0 \u00eatre un esclave, mais un homme \u00e0 part enti\u00e8re. Et lorsque je regarde ce tableau, que je ne puis contempler qu\u2019en reproduction sur le Net, j\u2019en suis amen\u00e9 \u00e0 penser que l\u2019art n\u2019est pas une technique, mais un sympt\u00f4me et une r\u00e9v\u00e9lation. Il ne nous parle pas seulement de ce qui est vrai, mais de ce qui est en germe. Et dans la p\u00e9riode que nous vivons, il a le pouvoir de nous \u00e9clairer gr\u00e2ce aux liens particuliers qu\u2019il entretient avec l\u2019impr\u00e9vu.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9 Hisham Matar 2020<\/p>\n\n<\/div>

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I lost my father exactly thirty years and fifty-four days ago. He was a Libyan political dissident living in exile in Cairo. One day the Egyptian authorities came and took him away. It turned out later that they handed him over to their Libyan counterparts. We never saw him again. I have searched for him all this time and still do not know when and how he was killed, or where his remains might be. This has not made me an expert in uncertainty; no one can be. But it is my acquaintanceship with not knowing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was nineteen when this happened and a student in London. It was then that I started what has become a lifelong habit. I continue to visit the museum two or three times a week to stand in front of the same painting for about half an hour, and do this every week until I exhaust my interest in that particular picture. In the beginning, this used to take about a week or two; now, it is rarely less than three months and sometimes well over a year before I can move on. My choice is governed only by what interests me at that time. It is no coincidence, I think, that the moment I suffered my father\u2019s disappearance, I sought the company of visual art. It was around that time too that I turned from a casual reader to a voracious one. And that too, now it appears to me, was not coincidental either.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Art is interested in uncertainty. It occupies the gap between knowing and not knowing. It inhabits contradictions, suspending them, measuring the distances between them, exploring the discrepancies. This is its territory. And it is not that I sought or found resolution or even comfort in this. It was more that I found vitality. It undercut a little that horrible sense of impotence that I felt at that time. And this is why I mention all of this here. The coronavirus crisis too has aggravated in us feelings of uncertainty and impotence. Here we find ourselves, literally suspended, and it is the only place we have from which to reconsider the past, present and future. We do not know how or when this crisis will end, and we are not sure what world we will find on the other side of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Certain works of literature and art, books I have read and paintings I have studied, keep coming to me during these days. It is as though the present has become a curator or an editor, selecting what might be relevant. And what comes is often surprising. I keep thinking, for example, of Sasha Jensen, the beautiful and honest and tragic heroin of Jean Rhys\u2019s brilliant novel, Good Morning, Midnight, <\/em>when she surrenders to the conclusion that, \u2018The truth is improbable, the truth is fantastic; it\u2019s in what you think is a distorting mirror that you see the truth.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As well as being bewildering, uncertainty often contains within it the promise of clarity. The claim that the present crisis has illuminated the error of our ways is widely shared and compelling. It may be true, but it may also be a side effect of the uncertainties we are suffering right now. This crisis invites us into thinking, like a person who has woken up from a dream, that the present is sober and true, and that the division between it and the past is not merely temporal, but cognitive. It seems, like a revolution, to inspire in us the belief that nothing will be the same again. And it makes how we have organised our cities and commerce and personal lives no longer sustainable. It is as though we are involved in a new experiment in living. Uncertainty also excites in us the need for certitude. This is partly why people of various persuasions are given to insisting that the present crisis confirms that they were right all along. There is much that we should change about the way we live. And perhaps this crisis will help us prepare for the larger and more existential danger of environmental disaster. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Diego Vel\u00e1zquez 1650 Portrait of Juan de Pareja<\/em>, is one of the paintings that has been on my mind these days. Juan de Pareja was a Moor and a slave, bought or inherited by Vel\u00e1zquez. The two men had obviously become friends, or as much as that is possible under the conditions of their association. Juan de Pareja was a painter in his own right and assisted Vel\u00e1zquez for many years before the Spanish master granted him his liberty. And here we find de Pareja looking back at his boss and master and friend with the proud continence of an equal, just before he was to become a free man. This is a confrontation. From it, I imagine de Pareja\u2019s body to be short, tightly knit, ready for action. He is the sort who would be the first to see it coming and the first to lend a hand. A good man to know. A good man to have around. And this seems to be what Vel\u00e1zquez thinks too. His admiration is clear, but is not straightforward. And de Pareja appears to resist reduction and resist oversimplification. It\u2019s as though Vel\u00e1zquez is here contending with the fact that de Pareja was not made to be a slave, but a man. And looking at the picture now in the reproductions I can find online, it makes me think that art is not technique but a symptom and a revelation. That it is about what is true but also about what is contingent. That, just as the present moment, it can enliven us with its particular contingency. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

_____________________<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Copyright \u00a9 Hisham Matar 2020<\/p>\n\n<\/div><\/div>\n <\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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