I Speak Only One Language, And It

Circumcision , That's All I've Ever Talked About.

It Is To Have A Compulsive, Repetitive, And Nostalgic Desire For The Archive, An Irrepressible Desire To Return To The Origin, A Homesickness, A Nostalgia For The Return To The Most Archaic Place Of Absolute Commencement

Whatever Precautions You Take So The Photograph Will Look Like This Or That, There Comes A Moment When The Photograph Surprises You. It Is The Other's Gaze That Wins Out And Decides.

An Act Of Naming Should Quite Rightly Enable Me To Call Any-thing A Self-portrait, Not Only Any Drawing, 'portrait' Or Not, But Everything That Happens To Me, That I Can Affect, Or That Affects Me.

During The Fifteen Or Twenty Years In Which I Tried - It Was Not Always Easy With Publishers, Newspapers, Etc. - To Forbid Photographs, It Was Not At All In Order To Mark A Sort Of Blank, Absence, Or Disappearance Of The Image; It Was Because The Code That Dominates At Once The Production Of These Images, The Framing They Are Made To Undergo, The Social Implications (showing The Writer's Head Framed In Front His Bookshelves, The Whole Scenario) Seemed To Me To Be, First Of All, Terribly Boring, But Also Contrary To What I Am Trying To Write And To Work On.