Abstract

The fiftieth anniversary edition of the Petit Robert dictionary has an unusual feature: color inserts of paintings that attempt to depict the force fields shared by twenty-two pairs of words. This interposition is the result of a two-year collaboration between the dictionary’s editor, Alain Rey, and the artist Fabienne Verdier. Together, they are perversely resisting the usual project of dictionaries: to separate words from each other through precise definitions. Verdier’s work combines the practices of Eastern calligraphy, which she studied for ten years in China, with large-scale Western abstraction. Each of the Petit Robert paintings emerges from a long process of research, pondering, and drafting. The final painting, though, is made in an instant. In that moment, Verdier, with the full force of her body, swiftly moves a giant brush over a carefully prepared canvas. If the result does not capture the power she seeks, the canvas is discarded. There are no second thoughts or touch-ups. In a way, then, she is painting blind. Jacques Derrida’s ideas in Memoirs of the Blind apply both to painting and to writing: what comes to pass in both arts does so in the moment by means of forces that are never wholly under control or predictable. In contrast to the limiting act of a definition, the force field between words is generative, even while it must necessarily elude our understanding.