Touching the Future on its Hither Side: translation in Sandra Mara Corazza

ABSTRACT

In the geography of the thinking of Sandra Mara Corazza, the translation consists of a space in-between of appropriation and poetic recovery of tradition. Structured based on Walter Benjamin, Paul Valéry, Jacques Derrida, Haroldo de Campos, among others, the concept is a critical unfolding of writreading, neologism that suggests a transcreative way of reading and rewriting the original scientific, philosophical and artistic elements in curricular and didactic language. The connection between translation and writreading is established by allegorical montages of different times and uses of sign in text operation and in class. This peculiar know-how called artistic teaching of translation suggests a teaching image always in the midst of being formed, continually reimagined by the present of creation. As the subject of its craft, artistic teaching lives and takes on more life in transcreation, making its duty to translate an ethical and political commitment to create difference, distinguishing itself. In Sandra’s life/work, the encounter contains the rupture, a way to touch the future on its hither side.

Keywords
Sandra Mara Corazza; Teaching; Translation; Transcreation

RESUMO

Na geografia do pensamento de Sandra Mara Corazza, a tradução constitui um entre-lugar de apropriação e recuperação poética da tradição. Estruturada desde Walter Benjamin, Paul Valéry, Jacques Derrida, Haroldo de Campos, entre outros, a noção é um desdobramento crítico da escrileitura, neologismo que nomeia um modo transcriador de ler e reescrever elementos originais científicos, filosóficos, artísticos, na língua curricular e didática. O vínculo entre tradução e escrileitura se estabelece por montagens alegóricas de diferentes tempos e usos do signo na operação do texto e ocasião da aula. Esse saber-fazer peculiar, chamado didática-artista da tradução, sugere uma imagem docente sempre em via de fazer-se, continuamente reimaginada pelo presente da criação. Assim como as matérias de seu ofício, a didática-artista vive e adquire mais vida em transcriação, condição que faz de seu dever-traduzir um compromisso ético e político de diferenciar, diferenciando-se. Na vida/obra de Sandra, o encontro contém a ruptura, um modo de tocar o futuro em seu lado de cá.

Palavras-chave
Sandra Mara Corazza; Docência; Tradução; Transcriação

Introduction (Ideal Space)

‘It’s gonna hurt now’, said Amy.

‘Anything dead coming back to life hurts’

(Morrison, 2018, p. 59).

To end, as I have done, with the nest of the phoenix, not its pyre is, in another way, to return to my beginning in the beyond

(Bhabha, 2013, p. 45).

The operation of the text makes the insertion into a conceptual archive a procedure of animation and consequent variation of mode of existence. The appropriated work is animated by strange griffins, which select and move passages to the detriment of others. It is through the displacement and post-production (Bourriaud, 2009) of the chosen fractions that the present of creation, harried by the problems of its context and guided by a “rebellionary motto” (Campos, 1981, p. 180), can catch what has already been said in other framings, especially to make it slide and say it again, in a new operative space. The text against the text, or rather, text and counter-text. As long as we believe that to read and write through a previous writing is also, in a Derridean sense, to supplement it – that is, to cumulate and accumulate its presence (Derrida, 2004), it is a necessary prelude. Hence, to say again is not to preserve what has already been said, but to work for its supplementarity. The signifiers circulate, move away from the presence-absence of the author who addressed them, seek the encounter; the second-hand text is an excess, an addition of desire, the gesture in which one reads the shudder of a future making.

Finding first the gestures (phatic expressions of the body, its desire for contact), and then the idea (expression of culture, of intertext). The procedure, suggested by Roland Barthes (2003), guides our trajectory around a name that is, at the same time, mark and appetite, the preserved idea that something can be made from: Sandra Mara Corazza. From the author’s lexicon, translation touches us. An essential word for understanding the work, translation captures the body in motion and the idea that articulates its know-how: the image of a teaching-research forged in translation encounters with subjects of art, science, and thought.

If the teaching know-how is constituted as a traductory craft, translation insists as an operation in search of a theory. Translating, translating yourself: in class, between curriculum and didactics; in the text, between reading and writing. This is the hypothesis we are interested in exploring: translation as a task of understanding a teacher’s life¹. To do so, we must assume the act of translating in a broad sense, avoiding the strict sense of translation as the transfer of a verbal message from one language into another. In Sandra, translation is a way to affirm the “[…] equal circulation of the codes with which our books and our lives are written at the same time” (Corazza, 2015, p. 183), that is, the construction of equivalences between different styles of presence, a poetic way of producing comparables (Ricoueur, 2011), between the signs of theory and practice

This work of translation does not end in explanation, in the hypostasis of meaning, in the triumph of identity. What is at stake is the provisional tracing of proximities, the discursive production of correspondences without adequacy. To think of it is to have the “[…] conviction that meaning does not stop roughly at the thing said, but goes further and further, fascinated by the extra-sense” (Barthes, 2005a, p. 244). Such conviction, it seems to us, serves as an operative principle for every teacher who, by not separating the gestures from the idea, makes the comparative tension between saying and doing a way to reimagine and potentiate the craft itself, establishing unexplored zones for the actualization of thought.

A life vibrates, to the detriment of dogma. Translation, we believe, as a way of apprehending the representable object “at the rare moment when the fullness of its identity falls abruptly into a new space, that of the Interstice” (Barthes, 2005a, p. 245). Not one author or another. Not one concept or another. Not precisely the life or the work. Not now this and then that. To translate is to make something pass between heterogeneous names and signs, in the “[…] ideal space that is no longer part of history, nor is it a dialogue of the dead, but an interstellar conversation, between very unequal stars, whose different becoming forms a mobile block that one would try to capture, an inter-flight, light years” (Deleuze; Parnet, 1998, p. 14). Mirror game, echo chamber, page through page, word devouring word… It is possible to pick up these and other images to say what seems essential to us: translation is an impure form. To understand it in the geography of Sandra’s thought, it is necessary to go back not to the originals, but to their openings and their crossings, to face them at the point in which they are contaminated, desacralized, and recreated by a “reverse reading” (Campos, 1981, p. 208). To translate is to erase the origin. To rewrite, to re-chew yourself in palimpsest.

What expands, from here, through the four following sections, consists of an effort to condense this translational hypothesis by means of two complementary procedures. Appropriation, configured by the selection, displacement, and re-proposition of readings in trans-creative assemblages; and allegory, understood as a form of expression “[…] whose procedures place the teacher as critic and creator, alongside the author, because it makes the individuality of the subjects falter and shuffles the opposition between model and copy, which grounds mimetic teaching” (Corazza, 2019, p. 06). Our purpose is to think of translating through the articulation of these two procedures, resulting in a polyphonic and impure discourse, in which the sign does not fail to summon another layer of signification – if translation is a matter of thought and creation, it must traverse the educational scene from end to end. Among the sections are the Passagens (Passages): in Benjaminian fashion, each of them gathers three blocks of quotations extracted from Sandra’s work, and constitute both a research framework and a geography of encounters (traces of reading, touches, sketches of a script, say: the translator for me). The text does not comment on the Passages, and they do not illustrate the ideas of the text. It is a parallel song, in another tone, of the same writing-and-reading motif. For new readers, they are an opportunity for immediate contact - in this case, writing is to leave, through a gesture: this one, which selects and offers.

A text is always a crossing. There is no period; every word is a beginning. In one way or another, all of this was already there.

Passages (Insertion)

Although many have intended us to believe and practice our profession in a powerless attitude; although, in our training, we have been transmitted a mystique of submission; although we have been subjectivized, as dependents and tributaries of authors, books, sources; since the thought of difference, the act of educating is never considered a passive reception nor an ethereal transmission; but, precisely, a critical irruption of the new

(Corazza, 2016, p. 1320).

Teachers are, at first, profane, and magical readers and scholars; at once, critics and recreating poets, who make the link (tessera) – both complementation and opposition – between the distant past and the present; and on whose non-objective interpretation depends the directions of subjects in the future. By studying the originals, appropriating them in Syllabus and updating them in Didática, they produce new intensities, making the authors disappear in what they are reading, writing and enunciating

(Corazza, 2019, p. 06).

As historical figures, teachers derive from the Egyptian god Thoth: god of knowledge, language, and magic. As conceptual characters, they descend from the scribes, who were the masters of writing, teaching, and translation. When working with Teaching, we practice the magical task of translating, because we cannot not practice it. By means of writreading, we process the working affinity between Teaching and translation, which does not form a system, is not reception, communication, or reproduction. The teacher’s writreading translates the original matter into the singular language of the Syllabus and Didactics, which stirs and erupts in the Classroom

(Corazza, 2021, p. 07-08).

Wanting the Encounter (the Art of the Present)

Searching for the encounter is the driving force of Sandra’s life-work. The search as desire, the desire as force and necessity, the encounter as the establishment of a liminal block of space-time, the point from which something begins to make itself present. Translating is finding, that is, thinking through. The translating task of teaching establishes an encounter with the new that is not part of the continuum of past and present. Teaching, in its relational dimension, institutes the image of the new as an insurgent act of trans-creative translation. It has already been said: it is the trope of our time to place the question of culture in the realm of the beyond. Post-critical theories, postmodernism, post-humanism, post-structuralism, the author’s post-mortem reading... Not thinking of the beyond as a new horizon in the future or as the abandonment of a past in the present is a condition for understanding the place of translation as an interstice where the present becomes expanded and ex-centric. A time of revisionary experiences and forms of life, a time of “[…] touching the future on its hither side” (Bhabha, 2013, p. 28).

We always think in the present, hic et nunc, here and there, on all sides, back and forth, from yesterday to tomorrow, forward and backward and in all directions. Fort-da. We think to “[…] actively forget what is already there and affirmatively experience what is yet to come” (Corazza; Tadeu; Zordan, 2004, p. 38). Trans-creative translation – a notion that Sandra picks up from the Noigandres Group and its broad poetic paideuma – definitely links the active force of forgetting to the work of language. Through linguistic operations, through the weft of discourses that constitute didactics and syllabus, to educate is to think ex-centrically the present of tradition, that is, to reinvent tradition through translation. Forgetting as a plastic force, in the style of Ezra Pound (2016): Make it New – that is, renew, re-contextualize, and give new life to what has passed.

This process of poetic recovery of information implies “feedback”, “retro-action and re-action”, the “counter-effect of the effect on the cause” (Leminski, 2012, p. 362). We think of an interstitial space-time, by symbolic interactions, by the connecting tissue that marks the distance between different voices and discursive positions. It is always the future, as a present only-after reality, that makes the past. It seems necessary to us to agree with Homi Bhabha (2013, p. 24) when he suggests that “[…] the present can no longer be seen simply as a rupture or a link with the past and the future, no longer a synchronic presence”: our most immediate style of presence is not told by “[…] the dead hand of history that counts the beads of sequential time like a rosary, seeking to establish serial, causal connections”, but by discontinuities, ruptures, and differences from the homogeneous course of history.

The translation work, and therefore the frontier work of teaching, not only takes up the past as cultural precedent and as an archive of conceptual intercessors; it renews the past through its re-proposition and reconfiguration as a potential in-between-place, which tensions the limits of existence of the present. Through translation, the “past-present” becomes matter of work and part of the necessity of teaching know-how, rather than the dead archive of its memory and the sense of its destiny. It is Frantz Fanon (2008, p. 189, author’s emphasis) who states, we must remember, at all times, “that the real leap consists in introducing invention into existence”. It is precisely this remembrance, a certainty that is both operative and vital, that we are concerned with in this essay – simply because it was already there, in Sandra’s life and work. In the world in which we are heading, word after word, line after line, “[…] as if disassembling and reassembling the machine of creation” (Campos, 2013a, p. 14), that fragile beauty whose presence the text offers us as it moves forward.

A question: at the point where didactics meets art and translation is assumed “[…] as the central structure or operator of teaching and the main task of teachers: their duty-translating” (Corazza, 2019, p. 03), can we think our profession in the reverse of the educational doxa, thus not considering the act of educating “a passive reception nor an ethereal transmission; but, precisely, a critical irruption of the new” (Corazza, 2016, p. 1320)?

At this same point, we would do well to recall the distinction between sliding and deconstruction, proposed by Roland Barthes (2005b) in his final class: the ethical responsibility, which we assume when educating, is not tributary to the decision making between conserving or destroying portions of culture inherited by us; like a ridge line situated between the abysses of permanence and disappearance, an artist-didactics – “DidáticArtisa, phonetically” (Corazza, 2013, p. 205) – is always a filial practice: marked by a certain heredity, it appropriates and slips the old through new words, new assemblages, re-contextualizations. From this perspective, to educate, “[…] it is not a matter of repeating, copying, imitating, conserving; it is a matter of resorting to a kind of inheritance of noble values” (Barthes, 2005b, p. 354), and, from this affiliation, dedicating yourself to it, under the active figure of the work to be done.

In Sandra’s work, the creation of a critical and trans-creative distance in relation to tradition implicates the educating-artist. This distance, the result of a decision of poetic-pedagogical rigor, configures the in-between place in which the didactic language is articulated. This inventive in-between-place, which is the work to be done itself, is evoked in different ways within the work – infersphere (Corazza, 2002), geocurriculum (Corazza, 2010), EIS AICE archive (Corazza, 2017a; 2018), among other formulations –, but all the terminological variations are moved around a common problematic axis, namely: the constant tracing of unprecedented geographies for educational thought. A synthesis of this cartographic effort is presented in O que se transcria em educação?, in a chapter in which the formation – always understood as an existential dimension, and not as a stage to be overcome – of the teacher-researcher is discussed:

To realize an education that is in tune with contemporaneity, the most important thing is to ask ourselves if everything we have said, up to now, about pedagogy, curriculum, school, student, teacher is all we can say. If everything we have seen, up to now, is, in fact, all we can see; if everything we think is all we can think; if everything we feel is all we can feel; and so on

(Corazza, 2013, p. 98).

The paronomastic equation tradition/translation works as a synthesis-problem of Sandra’s investigative movements, especially because it expresses her dissatisfaction with the consensual and routine flow of ideas and discourses in the educational field. To the image of a didactic subservient to a presumed exteriority of research and knowledge production, she offers us the counterpoint of a Didática da Tradução (Corazza, 2016), which acts under the sign of critical assimilation and inventive appropriation of the materials with which she comes into contact.

It is in this sense that slipping and affiliation are two-way operations, since translation is also reimagining of tradition (Campos, 1972). The dedication to the matter of origin - the hereditary trace, whose difference marks the know-how in the present – “[…] processes a continuum of forms, which are self-determining, and which refer back to the originals, as if the teachers were working, all the time, in an infinite intertext” (Corazza, 2019, p. 07, author’s emphasis). Re-imagination as rewriting, sampler of the matter of departure via matter of arrival, “[…] eaching as an operation closely linked to the work of creation, which operates in a process of permanent translation and, in this sense, as an intensive exercise of thought” (Aquino; Corazza; Adó, 2018, p. 10).

Sandra understands didactic-artist as a way of teaching based on the absence of univocal and uncontested meanings. By extension, she performs her artistry with gestures that free teaching from a merely ancillary role – a role that would make it secondary to knowledge and its creation. This didactic knowledge and teaching are central to his theoretical path, and it is necessary to keep them within reach, to have them at the level of memory in order to avoid any misunderstandings. Because saying that “[…] educating is not reduced to transposing - from one place, from one source, from someone to another – a thought, a knowledge, a content, a form or a matter, as if they were things” (Corazza, 2016, p. 1320), does not mean turning our backs on the long teaching tradition “[…] of educating new generations; teaching them knowledge; governing their attitudes, habits, feelings; disciplining them, so that they live and survive, relatively well, in the time and space they were meant to live” (Corazza, 2005, p. 11).

Teaching has always been professing, that is, addressing the other through a particular discourse, which is both the subject of teaching and the distinctive feature of a teaching life. “A teacher both enunciates sentences and professes truths” (Lajonquière, 2011, p. 852), and in this professing one can read the impressions of his know-how amidst the signs of culture. In a class, the truth of a discourse is suggested by the sense of a research, by the mark of a planning, by the unique way the world’s archive is selected, edited, and re-contextualized by a didactic action that gives testimony of a style and a way - partial, localized and dated - of thinking the syllabus.

In education, since the “Thought of Difference” – conceptual medium through which Sandra links teaching and research as immanent and co-implicated practices – “[…] those who creates is those who adopts a creative point of view” (Corazza, 2013, p. 97), concerning the matters of their craft. Since such matters are both the part we care for and what we touch, mark, and must embody in the struggles of our time, creation is also a process of self-actualization (hooks, 2013) and self-creation; “to differentiate, differentiating yourself” (Corazza, 2013, p. 98). Thus, to dedicate yourself, in a translation fashion, to the research and reimagining of sensibilities and styles of presence in the contemporary, is also to assume as true the image of a teaching life never definitively fixed, a teaching continuously in transit, between unforeseen experiences and what it already is.

It is quite true that such ideas suggest an unlimited field to go through. Not only because of the unfathomable distance that separates what is possible from a potential know-how, but above all because to feel does not mean to make sensitive – and even less necessary. Translation, as a way of thinking through, does not grant teaching the right to a solitary game. The search for the encounter is not reduced to the use of texts: it is a common problem of the class, suggesting “[…] the vital idea of a knowledge that runs, that ‘assembles’ itself through different bodies, outside books” (Barthes, 2004, p. 420). Class as an ideal space, in-between-place, moving block, around the corner. How could it be otherwise? For us, who have teaching as a craft and problem-matter – a vital issue, therefore –, and who therefore inhabit the classroom as a translating continuum, there remains the attention and care for what we pass through, day after day, between the given and the leap. It is a principle we can take from Paul Valéry (2007, p. 192): strive “[…] never to forget that each one is the measure of things”. Always a matter of signature, to translate is to re-measure: “critical interlocution with what is alien to you” (Corazza, 2013, p. 218) and creative recovery of self through the co-reality of the chosen past.

Passages (Floating)

Teaching that is an ‘artist’: while exercising itself, it experiments and invents; it rewrites routine scripts from other times; it develops the artistry of unimaginable pedagogies. Pedagogies that undo the recognition of the same knowledge, identities, and values; that disassemble the stillness of old problems and the certainty of old solutions; that stimulate new points of view and dare unexpected machinations. Artistage of esthetic, ethical and political order, with courageous artists, who question their own limits and problematize what they do, say, and think. Artists who educate, artistically; differentiate, taking risks; enjoy the pleasure of creating, without ever considering themselves a finished work of art, but a permanent and joyful becoming-artist

(Corazza, 2005, p. 141-142).

The ‘good’ – interesting, pleasurable, thought-provoking, important, new – text is not easily appropriated, not readily digestible, not palatable to everyone. There are no pre-existent criteria, external and transcendent to it, that provide any explanatory key for its evaluation, reading, writing. The criteria are immanent, since the text itself is a case of pure immanence. Because of its singular and unique character, each text reinvents the exercise of writing, reading, and evaluation

(Corazza, 2008, p. 73).

For Valéry, culture is the work of the human spirit. The task of the spirit is to dream, that is, to overcome the given, to have an active will and to tirelessly search for a plane of reality that is not that of appearance, nor that of immediate experience, nor the solid plane of what has already been walked on. It so happens that this plane is prison, the complex of resistances of the scholars, in which every human desire is debated, in its eagerness for perfection and justice, security and certainty. The great enemy of the spirit is, thus, nature, in what it has of most immediate; for this reason, although the spirit is also nature, every work of the spirit, since there is culture in the world, is counter-natural

(Corazza, 2013, p. 50).

Learning to Look (the Virtue of the Fragile)

In one of his last texts, written for the awarding of the Archiginnedio d’Oro prize to Michelangelo Antonioni, Roland Barthes (2005a), borrowing certain aspects of the Italian filmmaker’s work, attributes to the figure of the artist the virtues of vigilance, wisdom, and fragility. If the first two are the most evident traits – the critical look to oneself and to one’s own time, within which one can perceive and desire a new world; the acuity of discernment of one who does not confuse meaning and truth, and who thus works to subtly and vacillate the meaning of what one can look at, say, feel, or think –, the last virtue is paradoxical, since, traditionally, the existence of an art form, with the gesture that establishes it, is justified by its strength and capacity to stand up in the face of the great History.

The Barthesian diagnosis takes the fragile as a sign that can be read through the work. In a precise way, it is the relationship of mutual implication between work and life that allows us to read in the latter the effects aroused by the former in its time. Suspicious activity for disarranging the comfort and security of the established senses, art establishes a special relationship with truth: its world is the space of truth taken from a bias, the establishment of its indirectness. Hence, the life of the person who signs the work is also an interstitial life, which vibrates between different modes of existence. Because a work, “always allegorical if large” (Barthes, 2005a, p. 246), also works inside the small story whose measure is the existence of each one of us. L’avventura… Like a character of Antonioni, this figure-artist navigates through a universe of signs that she reads and appropriates without pretending to exhaust any meaning, the signs with which she inscribes – ”with intelletto d’amore, with devotion and love” (Campos, 2013a, p. 14) – poetically in the world her realizations.

With cinema, in the warp between two fields, Barthes delineates the figure of someone who – artistically – looks, surprises and admires; he delineates a look that, even if critical, is not accusatory: a way of looking that knows no resentment. The gaze that subtly looks at the demands of time itself, whose changes suggest a world that incessantly dismantles and reassembles itself, that is, a plastic world that contains within itself the magnetism of the substance to be captured and translated in the work, is an artist. Perhaps the act of creation does not begin but by learning to look, by subtracting, per via di levare (Freud, 2017), the culturally hypostasized eyelids and senses. “We have too many eyelids, and deep down, and lost are the eyes” (Cortázar, 2010, p. 389)…

Stopping to look for a long time is the principle of all artist know-how. To look at things radically until they are exhausted; to look at the points where no gaze has been called upon; to see the blind points or the points steeped in history; to make the gaze a supplement of intensity. Vigilance and wisdom as principles of a risky practice, since “[…] looking for longer than the requested time […] disarranges all the established orders, whatever they may be, since, normally, the very time of the look is controlled by society” (Barthes, 2005a, p. 248); from this time worked by the gaze – when the gaze escapes this control, serving as a screen for a sliding of meaning – arises the scandalous reality of certain works, not the most explicit or ideologically engaged, but simply the most “set” (hence the choice of the point to which one will look is not indifferent, but always extremely revealing).

The fact that a pedagogy is born from all this, not solid and inflexible, in the pose of a model to be assumed and reproduced, but fragile and reprogrammable in its poetic verve, since it is configured as a parallelism of that whose truth it puts to the test, is the hypothesis that animates the Barthesian work, whose relevance is immense for the didactic-artist of translation defended by Sandra. From Barthes, for example, she learns an ethical and poetic way of adjusting herself to words, making the words – their friction and fruition on the surface of the text – lead and, in a way, create the body and the ideas. It is artistry, thus, the teaching that “[…] grasps the words that pass under its nose and makes of them a story” (Barthes, 2003, p. 169). Eyes, body, and hands become organs of capture².

The scandalous feature of this way of thinking about education is directly evoked in the book The cantos de Fouror: escrileitura em filosofia-educação, through the figure of “impure texts” and that “only exist against the grain”, texts that “[…] are not affiliated to any field and do not address any particular discipline” (Corazza, 2008, p. 48). It seems to us, even, that the book defines a turning point in Sandra’s work, establishing a distinctive feature between a previous writing practice, marked by an inventive appropriation of the teaching life by the text, and a writing practice in vita nova, detached from the management of all past movement: by the notion of writreading (Corazza, 2008); and by the acceptance of the poetic as the discourse in which the word leads the idea, it is a rigorous work of language that anticipates and sustains the teaching life.

The impact of these ideas for the fields of didactics, syllabus, and undergraduate studies seems unavoidable. Not only because reading and writing are converted into real teaching knowledge, but above all because this knowledge establishes, textually, the matter to be appropriated by thought in education. This is a thinking in parallax, not available in the form of a given to know, but present as a potential knowledge, a pulsating and unwritten knowledge, that is, an un-translated knowledge (Derrida, 2002; Corazza, 2019). Hence, the teaching life is permeated by what Sandra, in one of her final texts, called “a feeling of distance” (Corazza, 2021, p. 23): an existence inscribed by letters and phrases that organize the accumulated research while moving an unknown knowledge, whose presence imposes itself in default of every name and every origin. Whether in the class, or in the text, there will always remain the unnameable, the ungrasped excess, what does not cease to not mark History.

It is in a laconic way that this drama is summarized in the image of the present as a territory of friction between a past “that never goes away” and the future “that never fully arrives.” The search for the encounter then becomes the search for meaning, and meaning is something that must be negotiated between what has been bequeathed to us and its reimagining. Since the act of reimagining demands a know-how that has not yet been experienced, that is, a know-how without image, the gesture that establishes it, even if it is not just any gesture, could rigorously be any other. Translating, it seems to us, is to find that point of hallucination of the practice itself, the point from which a mode of existence is established as the distance that demarcates a “forced solitude” by the effort of creation. The reader is alone, cut off from others. This is a creative principle, the virtue thus synthesized in the MANIFESTO (della scrilettura cannibale):

drifiting writer-reader lost in a world they don’t understand don’t know what it means when they say they don’t know what it means nor they can be sure broken key in the lock door without (Corazza, 2008, p. 24).

The writreading is a kind of translation rack, the conceptual precursor of the idea of a trans-creative translation. When Sandra appropriates Oswald de Andrade’s anthropophagic allegory to write, “[…] we are only interested in what has not been written by us in its indomesticity” (Corazza, 2008, p. 24) and “[…] only bizarre texts are edible” (Corazza, 2008, p. 31), it is a translatory future of her work that is already being indicated. She touches, yet to name it, on what is essential in her thinking regarding translation.

The first proposal for a Didática-Artista da Tradução appears in Notebook 1: project, notes & resonances, a book organized by Ester Maria Dreher Heuser (2011), as the inaugural piece of the Coleção Escrileituras. There, already in the company of brothers Haroldo and Augusto de Campos, Sandra finds in names like Paul Valéry, Jorge Luis Borges, Jacques Derrida, Mario Laranjeira, John Milton, Paulo Rónai, Lucia Santaella, Octavio Paz, Roman Jakobson, and others, crucial theoretical support to define the work she carries out as a special kind of translation that recreates research and teaching materials. A little in the fashion of George Steiner’s (2005) translating is interpreting, this translation-art (Campos, 1986) has as its leitmotiv the idea of translation as an effort of critical assimilation of the originals proposed by different fields of creation.

It is from this perspective that the last cycle of Sandra’s research, inaugurated by the task of translation, assumes the creative power of a teacher as the act of translating, trans-creating, life itself (Corazza, 2016). Since every translating act is necessarily linked to an opening, for words and for the world, of new possibilities of existence, the educational field becomes creative through didactic actions and curricular productions³. Ultimately, to put into perspective the educational act through a translating commitment makes us have to assume, even for our most unsuspected practices, a potential of dramatization, renewal and repercussion of the encounters that define the power of thought in a formative path.

Let us evoke once again the Barthesian text, now to emphasize the ideal form of the treatment of meaning defended in it: a practice “neither dogmatic nor insignificant” (Barthes, 2005a, p. 243), the meaning worked as if in an undecided way, at a fair distance, from where it is no more than a suggestion. Let us sustain the proximity between two diverse fields, let us accept the passages that lead from one way to another of thinking-making art. A class that leaves the course of meaning open, making it oscillate between the pathetic and the insignificant? A didactic that continuously strives to subtle and suspect the meaning of what it does and says, placing it – through a phatic attribute of the body in a state of enunciation – as a sign that does nothing more than mark the entrance of an appetite, that is, the desire for creation? The sense neither imposed nor obliterated, something as present as its inexistence, would configure for us a possible or even desirable image? In addition, in it, what horizon would involve us? To suggest and make meaning vacillate between one encounter and another, here and there: obstinatum rigore. The theory of translation proposed by Sandra constitutes an immense mobile, in which we can read – in its images, in its chain of appropriations, sliding, shocks – a constant critique, at the same time painful, passionate and demanding, of this strong brand of meaning called Education.

Passages (in-Between Places)

When we educate, we translate. We translate the original materials of the arts, sciences, philosophies, in a curricular and didactic way. As amorphous, nebulous, undifferentiated, semiotically uninformed substances, we take these materials, which present themselves as originals, collected, recombined, and rearranged by the curriculum, in order to update them, invent them, compose them, and, didactically proceeding in this way, give them a little more validity of existence. Education is the human action that formalizes, for a given present, without pretension of totality, a translation of the past, written and oral word, gestures and consciousness, ethics and alphabets, dictionaries and novels, tradition and cultures, languages and national literatures, scientific knowledge and the word of God, religions and letters, authors and ideas, values and ways of existing

(Corazza, 2020, p. 51-52).

What we take as an ‘educational fact’, created by writing, is always already the result of human cognitive and interpretive activity. Therefore, the writing-artist will not fail to be, also, a form of schematization of practice, introduced by a ‘subject’, that is, by the practical need and human will to falsify the world, to impose forms to what is shapeless, to simplify what is complex, to regulate what is chaotic, to give sense to what is always non-sense, to create Being in what knows no other state but that of becoming

(Corazza, 2006, p. 24-25).

The specific task of this training is to be able to think the unthinkable, the intractable, the impossible, the unthought of the educational thought. To shuffle the syntax and organize thought in an upside down logic, constituting a thought-other of Education. Thought that ignores received truths, metamorphoses the value of established opinions, seeks to suspend and transvalue the value of all inherited values

(Corazza, 2002, p. 31).

Duty-translate (est enim magnum chaos)

For teaching, the task of translation occurs in two distinct moments: the first is the time of study, of solitary reading, of body-to-body contact with the signs of culture. This initial time, of a preparatory work (Corazza, 2012), is the time of “silent and treacherous meditation” (Santiago, 2000, p. 20) on the subject studied, and the professor, transformed into a translator, disarticulates and rearticulates it according to their own intentions, according to the meaning indicated by the teaching plan. This twisting of the subject towards the present of creation already anticipates the second moment, the time to address the critically assimilated subject to the other.

It would be a mistake to believe that translation is effective only in the transition from one time to another; in the way the expropriating reader reconfigures, in their discursive plot, the knowledge created in the encounter with the appropriated work. To think of translation within each of the different times, let us say, as Deleuze (2007) says about Francis Bacon’s painting, that within each reading, as well as in the course of the dramatic scene of the class, something happens, guaranteeing the operation of translation. Something is happening, something takes place: to translate is to constitute, via reading--and-writing, between saying and listening, in the bottom of the word, a common fact between the actions of reading and writing, addressing and finding. This common fact cannot be other than the inventive impetus (Corazza, 2019) that defines the singularity of the texts and other elements of departure. While to read in a translatory manner is to vary your own reading, to work it from within; to make it practical – a liminal reading, which is already writing –, to teach under the sign of a translatory didactics is to make the class an interstitial space, plotted in the manner of a phantasmatic displacement of the conditions of the previous time, and within which, at all times, we must be suspicious of a servile condition and of the domesticating vision of teaching.

The place of translation is the in-between place, its time, the instant of uncertainty of meaning. The neither one nor the other as an ideal space, an appropriator and reviser. From the heart of his “forced solitude,” the usurper reader senses in the writing a productive and non-representational model (Santiago, 2000). In the time of their present of creation, they approach the author through an erasure, through a gesture of inscription, overcoming the position of secondaryity traditionally reserved to them in the game with the sign. It is not a matter of influence, but of anthropophagic fever, of critical devouring as a procedure for reading tradition. The translational writreading is a strong reading (Bloom, 1991), implied as an “inversion of causality” (Lages, 2007, p. 92): in this text that is written in the present, are contained the keys – strange and differential – of reading of its precursor. Trans-creative devotion, reading-and-writing displaced from an interpretative image, and therefore auxiliary, in relation to its subjects. What do they show us? That text is always irresolution, liminality; they make writing about writing the imaginary of educational thought. There is no education without discontinuity, modes of being-in-between, re-inscriptions in the palimpsest.

The reader and the reading are not distances; they are rather edges, border existences between different times and discursive positions. The future, whatever it is, is always a dimension of translation, and every translation is an impure way of thinking, a style of thinking through. No future is given immediately. No image of future is an anticipated image, neutrally projected onto a present to which there would be no alternative but to follow it resignedly in its direction. Line by line, the future is inscribed as a beyond that which can be said, looked at, thought, and felt – it inscribes itself between myself and another, between one sense and another, in the in-between place where it is not possible to say anything except through the other.

Sandra never tires of returning to the same argument, which she presents in different ways: the writreading and the didactics of translation move through the re-inscription of the educational imaginary of the present, and this movement is effected from a border condition, plotted by the operation of the text. It is always a matter of selective appropriation – which, in her work, also means authorial – and of displacement of meanings through a hybrid discursive practice that is essentially allegorical. Both the text and the class are thought of as combinatory activities, of discursive assembly and reconstruction. From Walter Benjamin’s studies regarding allegory and translation (1984; 2018), Sandra constructs her own idea of truth, namely a fragile truth, outlined by frictions and slippages between the signifiers that compose what is being said.

In a late writing, defending the idea of a teaching that moves between the possible and impossible of transmission, she writes:

By substituting words for other words, the allegorical trope is experienced by teachers as a textual or imagetic procedure, which does not petrify the translation task, but transforms it into a mobile, in which there is no fixity of ultimate meaning

(Corazza, 2019, p. 07).

The teaching translation is established as a chaining between signifiers, so that the presence of the teacher, expressed by the class and the text, is confused with a “litany of evasions” (Corazza, 2019, p. 07) that, by playing with loss and emptiness – instances that Sandra defends as necessary to the thought and the emergence of new forms – makes that all perception and learning arising from it should also be inventive, constituted from a singular appropriation of what is put on the scene. Allegorized, the translating action of didactics emphasizes allusion, and does not intend to establish itself as the thought of representation or a communicative speech – from The Task of the Translator, a seminal Benjaminian essay, Sandra knew how to retain what is most precise in it: translation is an exercise between the lines (Steiner, 2018), plotted between the original said and unsaid. To educate, between the lines, is to deal with what insists on not inscribing itself, but whose presence is established as an indirect, a beyond all meaning, which extends “beyond culture, knowledge, information” (Barthes, 2009, p. 50).

Hence, the matter of this archive is difficult to digest. There is no other way: learning translation is a translating operation, and Sandra weaves her allegorical discourse by weaving each word between real traumatic bands of signification; discursive zones in which meaning insists as a force that oozes out from all sides, refusing the domestication of the symbol. Perhaps the difference between a “good” and a “bad” translation, from the perspective of the didactics of trans-creation, lies precisely in the point where the desire to say, without wishing to hypostatize any meaning, is divided between either having or not having a vocation for meaning. For “meaning must appeal” (Barthes, 2005b, p. 238), and the didactic of a valuable professor is a continuous allegory: moldable materials, a class and a text become impure ways of saying the other, a case of becoming.

In Sandra’s work, there are countless moments when senses enshrined in the educational context are translated into other images in other signifying chains: vertiginous sequences of research styles (“on the run”, “that-put-some-Sahara-in-the-brain”, “anargonized”, “patic”, “of the event”…); of texts (“-made-of-mist”, “-masked”, “-musical”, “-cannibalistic”, “-sans-porto”, “-who-runs-from-us”…); of curriculum ideas (“-vagabond”, “-ballistic”, “-gang”…), of intercessors; of writing fantasies; of thought images, etc., all in the name of a poetics of passages and crossings, in which the images are always conditions of possibility for other images, not yet thought.

It seems to us that this allegorical understanding is fundamental for us to read some of her most controversial theses, expressed in phrases like “[…] the teacher is not obliged to transmit the literal or considered true content of the original scientific, philosophical, artistic elements” (Corazza, 2013, p. 211), or even more provocatively, in the form of a proposition: “[…] you cannot touch the original” (Corazza, 2021, p. 08). Sandra, adherent to a Benjaminian lineage, duly appropriated and re-told by the Brazilian anthropophagic concretism, knows well that the original is worth not for what it communicates (this is its inessential content, which can be transferred here and there through time), but for what it preserves as untouchable, its un-translated face (the face in which its inexhaustible force persists, the distinctive feature of creation).

It is necessary, therefore, to follow a Deleuzian indication, and read these texts the same way we read “[…] all the authors that make up precisely this horizon of our counterculture” (Deleuze, 2006, p. 325). That means to read them laughing, because there is always an indescribable joy leaping from pages like the ones before us, pages that shuffle the codes, made of resonated, re-sounded, impossible words. Laugh, always laugh, because this is the only way we can reach what is essential in them, and therefore irreproachable: if we translate, it is to keep open, with rigor and a certain grace, the possibility of encounter, that is, the in-between place of recreation.

Passages (Enérgeia)

By bending the original languages over their own forms, the DidáticArtista sets out in search of new meanings and values, using re-imagination […]. Considering that it is the nature of translation to be unfaithful to the original, it knows that every didactic created cannot be less than the result of some artistry, dedicated to pouring out worthwhile elements

(Corazza, 2013, p. 210).

To do this, it is necessary to unlearn-lose-forget the given and the done, which have been bequeathed to us, to make of them a thing-nothing or no-given, no-done. It is necessary to unlearn what has been learned in order to be a participant in education’s force of transformation, transfiguration, procreation, and creation. To be an educator is not only to accumulate, save, conserve, use, but also to abandon, let go, spend, and, in this spending, reacquire, take up again, in order to revitalize yourself

(Corazza, 2005, p. 13).

Class-work, outlined by enchanting mirrors, foamy omens, mobile swarm. Cage furibunda. Tarantula fula. Capsule marrow. Fableula fula. Mácula pustula. Kabbalah gargoyle. Class that rides, stings the mule, and falls silent. Lesson of choked syllables. Aula dismantled in cotton threads. A class unmarginated, precipitated by shocks and bumps, parodied in painful contortions. Class submerged, jammed and viscous. Human aquarium. Tactile emotion. Blood lumps. Sarcamatous polyps. Yellowish fibers. Sharp colors. Copper pan bursting. Rotten egg in the albumen. Roaring velam. Limes flaying meats. Class in fantastic marxilárstica. Barrage of snakes. Bark, house and shell. Poisoned star. Gelatinous blackness of the sky. Stridora of granules. Breaks of astonishment. Rancid tuteum. Colossal, calloused class. Haughty and enraged. Soaked and beaten. Demented and thoughtful. Erinia and Medea. A reading-writing class, now; made in the midst of life

(Corazza, 2019, p. 19).

Conclusion (un-Translate)

In this essay, we have constructed the idea that translation is both an operative concept and a key for reading Sandra Mara Corazza’s work. More than a procedural change, its appearance, a fact that inaugurates the last research circle, allows the author to put into perspective a double task she has always taken on and never abandoned, namely, the appropriation and the trans-creation, via teaching and research, of the educational tradition. For us, none of this was given beforehand, and it was up to the very operation of the text to restructure the hypothesis, now already lost, that built its port of departure. What followed is a crossing in a sea of language, a trace of thought-word, “[…] whose roots are attached to the navel of the Sea” (Campos, 2008, p. 44).

The crossing does not engage the security of a stable end, but a possible and open text, inscribed on the shores of an archive-sea, “[…] constituted by snails of discourses, mists of reveries, saline mists, barnacles of metamorphoses, maledictions of the sun, dances of the moon” (Corazza, 2017b, p. 20). From this allegorical chain of signifiers, here is, to thus be able to end here, our collection.

Translation consists of the interweaving of different times and uses of the sign. In Sandra’s work, it is a common fact between reading and writing. The writreading, as a trans-creative operation, is not defined by the act of saying again what has been said again, but by the repetition of what is new in what is said. Thus, in the production of translations, the writer-reader considers as good “[…] those that work; that is, that attribute Vita Nuova to the originals and pass on the sensation that they still live”, and evaluates as bad “[…] those that kill the vitality to think, read, and write the translated element, making it disqualified, easy, trivial, or commonplace” (Corazza, 2013, p. 218-219). To appropriate and repeat the new in what is said and done today, in didactics and syllabus, is to inscribe yourself in the present from a disruptive trace, preserved since the re-imaginative reading of the original.

The evaluation that one makes of a translational writing-practice is closely linked to the effects of the linkage it establishes between past and present, in the form of the new for which it takes responsibility. “The elementary error,” as Sandra teaches us, “[…] is to conserve the state of one’s own educational language, without letting it be affected by other languages” (Corazza, 2013, p. 219). Hence, it is necessary to understand translation in the reverse of “crude literalism and explanatory banality”. The common fact that unites the didactic translator and the reimagined original is the re-contextualizing element of the text; the way it makes the present itself jump. If this happened in some past, making it slide in a particular way to the translation encounter, it is necessary to defend it in its strength, that is, to rewrite it with the materials offered by the present of creation. Its overvival depends on this – more than a simple survival, overvival gives the work “a little more life”, it makes the work not only live longer, but live “longer and better, beyond the means of its author” (Derrida, 2002, p. 33). Briefly – and from the Benjamin-Derrida double – the original element is never a given object, and therefore already resolved. Matter is given by modifying itself, it lives and survives in transcription. This is why “[…] readings, talks, and texts by teachers arouse the desire for more readings, talks, and texts; which leads matters to be transported by the mobility of these very translations” (Corazza, 2019, p. 08). Day after day, year after year, the journey and journal of a translation lab.

As a subject, Sandra’s work is open. A writer-reader, she has lived and worked this openness, continuously re-appropriating the archive of herself and the world - let us say, with a certain precision, the archive of herself through the world. In her life as a teacher, creation is a recurring and interchangeable theme throughout her work, linked to what she termed the educational threat against “the empire of truth and its deadly entropy” (Corazza, 2010, p. 151). Different from a change of course, translation works as a conceptual synthesis of a way of educating whose imbalances are understood as openings for new beginnings; it renames the trans-creative treatment of culture and knowledge conveyed to teaching and research – translating as a way of navigating different seas, disembarking and not colonizing. To better put the concept into perspective within the work, it seems to us that the best strategy is to go through the course in its entirety; and thus witness a translation practice being affirmed and operationalized even before its theory⁴. The didactic forms, the meaning of the syllabus, of the child, of childhood, of infanthood, of the teaching identity, the images of planning and research, all this is translated and re-versed (rediscovered through creation) by galactic and allegorical texts that weave the classes, the books, the guidelines, the public speeches, the totality of a teaching know-how⁵. Teaching that, through translation, can be seen in fieri: “[…] the final character of the work done is temporarily suspended and the doing reopens its process, remaking itself in the new dimension of the translator’s language” (Campos, 2013b, p. 81). A fragile teaching life, inscribed via direct didactic-artist, that “[…] preserves the aesthetic subtlety of fighting” (Corazza, 2010, p. 151). Against the nightmare of meaning. Against the sacredness of the origin. Against the circularity of dogma. Iterability.

Thus, it is fair, to hope that the new readings also configure, in relation to the work, a parallel corner, that makes it slide through other senses. This was our intention in this supplement. Its writing is in part the story of an interstitial experience between “[…] the love and respect for the already written, and the need to produce a new text that affronts the first and often denies it” (Santiago, 2000, p. 13). A question of coherence: translating, re-proposing, is done from an ex-centric perspective. To trace the between-place is to create a far away, read-and-write aléns. While the archive slides, the world is being made…

There remains Goya’s perro, there remain the shadows, and Rothko’s red. There remains the muffled warmth between the books on the bookshelf, a forced solitude, or a gap at least. Black scribbles unfolding into long strands of ink, there remains the same phrase in a dream or a song. There remains the edge of an immense sea, the shore of the love of a not knowing by heart. To re-verse is necessary, to forget or get lost. The erasure of the origin, the truth that is undone, exhausted, thin. A line remains, after all, un-translate.

Notes

• 1
  We think of translation through what Roland Barthes (2003, p. 146) name manna word: “[…] a word, whose burning, multiform, ungraspable and kind of sacred meaning, gives the illusion that, with this word, one can answer everything”.
• 2
  About the relations between the eyes, the body and the hand, we refer to the text Pedagogia dos sentidos: a infância informe no método Valéry-Deleuze, published in the book Devir-criança da filosofia: infância da educação, organized by Walter Omar Kohan (Corazza, 2010b); with an abbreviated title, in the book Pesquisa, políticas e formação de professores: distintos olhares, organized by Betina Hillesheim, Felipe Gustsack and Moacir Fernando Viegas, Editora (Corazza, 2011); and, finally, in O que se transcria em educação? (Corazza, 2013). In the text, greatly influenced by Paul Valéry’s studies on the works of Leonardo da Vinci and Edgar Degas, Sandra outlines an investigative method (the method of the inform), marked by a “pure” and “strange” look at the world, and able to enter into relation with “things perceived but not known, which cannot be reduced to a single law. It is through this gaze, which moves away from the usual vision toward an empty vision, that the investigated matter ceases to be “recognized” and becomes “constructed”. Thinking, thus, takes place in contact with the shapeless, and the shapeless “[…] is nothing more than the action of starting from the beginning, from a non-significant starting point of perception, through which we apprehend phenomena not yet interpreted; meanings not attributed; values not added or associated: the Zero Grade Real” (Corazza, 2013, p. 76-77).
• 3
  For Sandra, syllabus and didactics establish two correlated and irreducible translation paths. While the curricular translations obey to an effort of selection and logical assembly of portions of the culture in a series of formative principles, didactics must slide the translatory result of the curricular form to the dramatic scene of the classroom, where the cycle is forced to start again and a new curricular logos is processed. “[…] as the existing curriculum will be gradually replaced by the results of didactic translations; until these are, again, captured in a new curriculum; which will be, again, moved in other didactic scenes. From these scenes and from the curricular logos, the new translations – of tradition and cultures, of disciplines and values, of truths and subjectivities – spread out again in socius, and everything starts all over again. This cycle demarcates the civilizing value of the translations performed by teachers” (Corazza, 2016, p. 1320, author’s emphasis).
• 4
  In this essay, we take as a starting point the book Artistagens, published in 2002. The reason for this choice is because we understand that from this book on, the problem of the form of expression gains centrality in Sandra’s work, mainly due to the influence of Gilles Deleuze. The way in which the author’s thought was already critical and inventive before its publication can be verified in different texts published in the book Sandramaracorazza: obra, vidas etc. (Aquino; Carvalho; Zordan, 2022).
• 5
  On the presence of the translating and trans-creating trace in the different empirical instances and theoretical topics present in Sandra’s intellectual trajectory, see the other texts of this special issue.

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Editor in charge: Fabiana de Amorim Marcello

Publication Dates

• Publication in this collection
  28 Oct 2022
• Date of issue
  2022

History

• Received
  12 May 2022
• Accepted
  15 July 2022