The idea that a telluric, ideological center between two apparently irreconcilable spaces must serve as a pretext, at least, to generate, or propose, another kind of dynamic, one purer, less political perhaps, or closer to the mystical account, true radicalism, much more useful to the production of the artist than the world of the academy, the world of the letter, which entirely lacks the capacity to structure anything, as an analogy of flesh, finds its reason for being in the terrible experienc