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Wed Aug 15, 2012 4:13 am
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The concepts of time and space have always played a critical role in the analysis of media. In the arts, some media (painting, sculpture, photography) seem ineluctably spatial, while others (drama, cinema, literature) seem focused on the unfolding of events in time. Spatial arts may indirectly evoke temporal dimensions-the moment captured in a photograph, the historic event recorded in a painting or memorialized by a sculpture-but this is a secondary effect. Similarly, spatial features may appear as minor or secondary elements of temporal media: the stage sets of a play, the settings described in a novel or depicted in a film. In other words, we have a rough intuition that some media are predominantly spatial, others temporal, but no exact idea of what this means. Are time and space merely qualities or characteristics of media, something that arises in the perception of mediated entities? Or are they themselves "master" or "meta" media, highly general frameworks, codes, or environments in which media take shape?

The nature of time and space has been a subject of discussion throughout the history of philosophy. Debates have raged: are they real, substantial things, or merely abstractions from experience? "absolute" dimensions of being (as Newton believed), or relative orders of coexistent objects or sequential events (the position of Leibniz)? Throughout, two conceptions of time and space (and their relationship) have seemed to dominate: objective, mechanical, and mathematical models, in which space and time are measurable quantities, and qualitative, subjective models, in which experiences-memories of the past, perceptions of the present, and imaginings directed at the future-and a sense of place constitute human consciousness. But it also seems clear that these two models are in constant dialogue with one another: technical innovations in the measurement of space and time (clocks and navigational instruments, for instance) have powerful practical effects on the human experience of space-time; and the human craving for mastery over time and space, for increased speed and mobility, for longer life and new sensations, and for access to increasingly remote regions ("space, the final frontier") drive the invention of new technologies. The mediation of time and space by the arts, symbol systems, and technical practices is thus a constantly evolving process, one that is occasionally accelerated by a notable mutation such as the invention of printing or the computer or recording devices. A technology such as writing, for instance, may originate as simply playing with marks or idly scribbling, but it can develop into a medium for the conquest of time and space, making possible records of the past and establishing communication networks that allow the control of vast empires (see Innis 2007).

There is also a strong tradition of setting the two dimensions against one another in an ideological hierarchy. Plato thought space was simply the material world, while time was the habitation of the soul. And Greek aesthetics made it clear that the arts of time were superior. The nine muses, all daughters of Mnemosyne, the goddess of Memory, are the inspirers of time arts: music, poetry, history, dance, song, and so on. There are no muses for painting, sculpture, or architecture. These are practical arts that employ the hands and muscles, in contrast to the intellectual labor of the arts of commemoration, recollection of great events, and the praise of dead heroes. The long-standing rivalry or PARAGONE (Leonardo da Vinci's term) between poetry and painting, the verbal and the visual arts, is the source of an enduring dialogue or dialectic between the temporal and spatial arts, with numerous episodes of imitation, borrowing, or renunciation. UT PICTURA POESIS ("as in a painting, so in a poem") was inflated into a synthetic principle in order to elevate the visual arts to parity with literature in the Renaissance.

But the explicit use of space and time as fundamental categories for distinguishing the arts (and, by implication, the media) probably makes its first appearance in the eighteenth century, with Lessing's Laocoon: An Essay upon the Limits of Painting and Poetry ([1766J 1984):

“Painting employs wholly different signs or means of imitation from poetry,-the one using forms and colors in space, the other articulate sounds in time,-and if signs must unquestionably stand in convenient relation with the thing signified, then signs arranged side by side can represent only objects existing side by side, or whose parts so exist, while consecutive signs can express only objects which exceed each other, or whose parts succeed each other, in time.” (95)

Lessing admits that the distinction between temporal and spatial signs is not absolute. The bodies and objects represented "conveniently" by painting "exist not only in space, but also in time," and their "momentary appearances" in the visual arts can suggest actions, motions, cause and effect, and other temporal characteristics. Phenomena of time such as "actions," similarly, "must always be joined to certain agents" that are necessarily embodied, so that "poetry describes also bodies, but only indirectly through actions," whereas painting can show actions but "only as they are suggested through forms."

Despite these concessions, Lessing is clear about the values involved. Painting's true, natural, or "convenient" vocation is the representation of bodies in space, just as poetry's essential nature is the representation of actions in time. Efforts to overcome this natural difference (descriptive poetry, allegorical or narrative painting) are unnatural, to be condemned as bad taste. Each art should stay in its natural location, in the temporal dimension of language or the spatial dimension of the visual arts:

“Painting and poetry should be like two just and friendly neighbors, neither of whom is allowed to take unseemly liberties in the heart of the other's domain, but who exercise mutual forbearance on the borders, and effect a peaceful settlement for all the petty encroachments which circumstance may compel either to make in haste on the rights of the other.” (110)

One of these "just and friendly neighbors," it turns out, is much larger and more powerful than the other. "Poetry has the wider sphere," since it appeals to the imagination; thus, "more is allowed to the poet than to the sculptor or painter." Much as Lessing admires the beauty of classical sculpture, he is firmly committed to the superiority of the temporal and verbal arts, and to the notion that the spatial arts should be confined to the representation of "beautiful bodies" and not aspire to the sublime heights and epic range that poetry achieves.

Lessing's aesthetic norms are reinforced by the metaphysical reflections on time and space by Kant and Hegel, his contemporary and his successor, both of whom emphasize the superiority of time to space. For Kant, both terms designate a priori "forms of intuition," the conditions of sensuous experience as such. Space is the intuitive framework for "outer" appearances, while time is the dimension of "inner" experience. For Hegel, the history of art is governed by a progression from the more primitive and material arts of physical space (architecture and sculpture) to the modern arts of virtual space (painting) and the disembodied, dematerialized arts of time (poetry and music). One can see in these distinctions a consistent pattern of associating time with immaterial, invisible, and spiritual values, and space with the realm of matter, outward sensation, and the body. In traditional media such as theater and performance, which inevitably mix spatial and temporal elements, there was always a strong tendency to privilege the temporal. Aristotle argued that poetry and the plot or "imitation of action" was the "soul of tragedy," while the spectacle was secondary and "incidental to the tragic effect." Ben Jonson railed against the tendency to rely on spectacle, costumes, and "carpentry" rather than poetry, the "soul of the masque." Despite the theoretical parity of space and time as abstract concepts, then, they almost invariably become associated with ideological oppositions when they are used to distinguish the arts and media. For Lessing, the contest between the temporal and spatial arts is linked with national styles; England and Germany are portrayed as literary cultures, while France is denigrated as a culture of painters, "bright eyes," and outward display. Perhaps inspired by Plato's characterization of space as a passive "receptacle" or CHORA where the Demiurge imprints the ideas or forms, William Blake boldly personified these abstractions in terms of the gender stereotypes they so often evoke: "Time and Space are Real Beings. Time is a Man. Space is a Woman."

The categories of time and space in media are radically transformed by the revolutions in media technology that occur in the nineteenth century. The invention of mass media, rapid transportation, and instantaneous communication over large distances makes for a kind of implosion of both time and space. The telegraph, the railroad, and the daily newspaper (and later, air travel, radio, television, and the Internet) seem to SHRINK time and space, or at least to make them highly malleable dimensions of human experience rather than the stable, foundational forms of intuition that they were for Kant. Photography and phonography, as Walter Benjamin (2008) notes, transform the very notion of an artwork's "presence in time and space." The "original" work is wrenched from its natural time-space location and is allowed

“to meet the beholder halfway, be it in the form of a photograph or a phonograph record. The cathedral leaves its locale to be received in the studio of a lover of art; the choral production, performed in an auditorium or in the open air, resounds in the drawing room.” (221)

The "natural" distance of objects in historical time and geographical space is shattered, along with the "aura" or sense of uniqueness that characterized traditional works of art. These developments, in Benjamin's view, both feed "the desire of the contemporary masses to bring things 'closer' spatially and humanly," and create the conditions for the emergence of modern mass society as such. The invention of cinema combines the spatial and temporal media in a new synthesis that seems to overcome their distinctiveness altogether. Erwin Panofsky speaks of the "temporalization of space" and the "spatialization of time" in film, as if Lessing's borders between the realms of space and time had now been completely erased.

This does not mean, however, that the traditional categories completely drop by the wayside, as ways of either drawing distinctions between arts and media or reinforcing certain values associated with specific art forms. Art critic Clement Greenberg, for instance, updates Lessing's Laocoon for modern art in his classic essay "Towards a Newer Laocoon," making far more radical and stringent claims for the essential “purity" of media than Lessing ever contemplated. Greenberg denounces the "confusion of the arts" imposed on painting and sculpture by the dominance of literature from the seventeenth century onward (24). "It was not realistic imitation" in the visual arts "that did the damage so much as realistic illusion in the service of literature" (27). Greenberg's remedy is not, as in Lessing, to confine the visual arts to the portrayal of beautiful bodies in space, but to banish illusion and imitation altogether. He praises the emergence of "flatness" and abstraction in painting, the frank affirmation of "pure painting" that has no reference to objects in the world, much less their actions in time:

“The arts, then, have been hunted back to their mediums, and there they have been isolated, concentrated and defined. It is by virtue of its medium that each art is unique and strictly itself. To restore the identity of an art the opacity of its medium must be emphasized. For the visual arts the medium is discovered to be physical; hence pure painting and pure sculpture seek above all else to affect the spectator physically.” (32-33)

Greenberg in effect eliminates BOTH time and space from painting, urging a pure art of self-referentiality that is able "to agitate the consciousness with infinite possibilities by approaching the brink of meaning and yet never falling over it" (33). In a sense, Greenberg seems to return the categories of time and space to their metaphysical and religious limits, the ideas of infinity and eternity, collapsing the very idea of the medium into IMMEDIATE intuitions of sensation and intellect.

It is very difficult, then, to generalize about the effect of modern media innovations on the concepts or perceptions of time and space. From some angles it looks as if the categories have been dissolved into one another, into a "space-time continuum" that is infinitely flexible and malleable. From other standpoints it looks as if radically new notions and experiences of time and space have become available, and that the categories have been reinscribed in new cultural formations. Fredric Jameson argues, for instance, that modernism was dominated by the category of time in its obsession with history and revolutionary change, while postmodernism is a period of space and loss of temporality-the "end of history" forecast by thinkers from Hegel to Francis Fukuyama. These broad-brushed attempts to use time and space as historical master terms need to be supplemented, and probably corrected, by a more nuanced account of twentieth-century innovations in media. Friedrich Kittler argues, for instance, that the three great media inventions of the modern era, cinema, phonography, and the typewriter (or keyboard interface), didn't so much transform the human perceptual world as ANALYZE it in a relatively conservative fashion - by attempting to match film and sound editing, say, to the requirements of our natural dispositions toward time and space. Kittler also suggests that, with the invention of the computer and electronic networking, we have reached the end of the age of media, entering into a new posthuman environment in which, presumably, time and space will take on quite new forms.

Kittler's prognosis for the decoupling of computers and media, of machines and human beings, instances one concrete take on a disjunction-between objective, mathematical and qualitative, experiential models of space and time-that has dominated the Western theorization of space and time from Aristotle's systematization onward. Indeed, Aristotle's difficulties in defining time objectively, as the number of movement, without recourse to the numbering (and spatializing) soul furnish eloquent testimony to the imbrication both of these models with one another and of time with space. From Aristotle on, philosophers have grappled with the question of whether time and space can be defined objectively, without recourse to human experience and distinctively human modes of perception and understanding. For Kittler and some other theorists of the digital revolution, the computer provides the medium for precisely such an objectification of time and space. Before turning to an evaluation of the assumptions and merits of this position, let us trace the trajectory of thinking about time and space across the span of the twentieth century.

Against the backdrop of the general acceleration of scientific discovery, and in particular of the revolution in physics around the turn of the century, philosophers became newly concerned with differentiating human experience of time and (to a lesser extent) of space from their merely material, that is, objective existence. In this concern, we witness a strong reassertion of the priority of time over space that characterized modern philosophical models from Descartes and Leibniz to Kant and Hegel. For the two great early-twentieth-century thinkers of time-German phenomenologist Edmund Husserl and French metaphysician Henri Bergson-time is an experiential continuum, while space is a discrete representation of an expanse of time, as if it were detachable from the continuum.

In his first book, Time and Free Will, Bergson categorically differentiates the qualitative experience of time (what he calls "duration") from both the quantitative dimension of time and its spatialization or representation as a discrete unit of temporal flux. According to Bergson, between the qualitative experience of duration and the quantitative measurement of time as space, there exists a "difference of kind." Moreover, analyses of time as space-which is to say, most if not all scientific treatments of time-cannot hope to grasp the phenomenon of change, since change occurs in the transitions or passages between the discrete units upon which rests any spatializing analysis. What is necessary to grasp change, to grasp time as change, is a qualitative modification of duration considered as a whole, what Bergson refers to (following German mathematician Bernhard Riemann) as the alteration of a qualitative multiplicity. For the Bergson of Time and Free Will (it will later be a question how much his view changes), the capacity to experience such an alteration of the whole of duration is limited to beings endowed with consciousness, which is to say, to human beings.

In his lectures on The Phenomenology of Internal Time Consciousness, delivered in 1905 and continuously revised and supplemented during his lifetime, Husserl analyzes the givenness of the world, or rather of appearances, to consciousness. Husserl’s interest in time stems from his methodological aim to "return to the things themselves," which is to say, to the conditions on which experiences are constituted. The turn to internal time consciousness-to the analysis of the content of experience constituted by consciousness in time-culminates Husserl's reduction (EPOCHE) of the so-called natural attitude. Whereas this generalized reduction, by bracketing out perception of objects in the world, allows attention to be focused on the self-evident, apodictic content of consciousness, attention to the specifically temporal mode of givenness of the content of consciousness allows Husserl to account for the constitution of the lived experiences (ERLEBNIS) of consciousness. This is why, for Husserl, consciousness, or more precisely, internal time consciousness, is not simply constituted but constituting: the temporalization performed by consciousness literally constitutes the content of the experience it generates. Husserl distinguishes between two modes of temporalization: retention and recollection. Focusing on the example of a musical melody, Husserl demonstrates how each impression, or "now moment," is inseparable from a trail of retentions, through which the formerly present now moment gradually becomes past. The impression plus the trail of retentions (and a symmetrical probe of protentions) comprises a thick present-what French phenomenologist Gérard Granel has called the "large now"-and the incessant becoming just-past of each new impression is what supports the ongoing production of new nows, which is to say, the constitution of the temporal continuum itself. Recollection, by contrast, is a voluntary act of consciousness through which a once present lived experience that has become part of the past is represented in a new present. Recollection corresponds to the function of memory as it is typically understood. Concerning space, on the other hand, Husserl says relatively little, other than to assume that temporal constitution requires an extension, which is to say, a concretization in the form of a "temporal object"-say, the musical melody-that is perforce spatial.

Husserl's student Martin Heidegger (who edited the German edition of Husserl's time-consciousness lectures) made the priority of time over space into a matter of principle. In his critical development of Husserl's work on internal time-consciousness (a development that includes a critique of Bergson's conception of duration), Heidegger differentiates between two modes of temporality that are available for the experience of human beings or, in his terminology, DASEIN (literally "there-being"). On the one hand, there is leveled or fallen, "inauthentic" time, the time of our everyday experience, of clocks and other devices by which means we experience time as a succession of regular, discrete units. (To a great extent, Heidegger's inauthentic time coincides with the spatialization of time repudiated by Bergson.) On the other hand, there is "authentic" time, the time associated with human DASEIN in its resoluteness or truth to its own inmost possibilities. This time is characterized by ecstasis (the excess of a threefold temporalization over any mere fixation of the present) and the priority of the futural mode. Later in his career, following the so-called turning, Heidegger seeks to decouple time's givenness from any correlation with DASEIN whatsoever. Like Husserl before him, Heidegger consistently subordinates space to time, although with the turn away from a DASEIN-centered conception of time, the role of (spatial) things within the givenness of time arguably becomes more central.

At roughly the same time that Heidegger was pursuing his radicalization of time consciousness, his compatriot Theodor Adorno, on his own and in conjunction with colleague Max Horkheimer, was developing a critique of the media-what the German philosophers felicitously dubbed the "culture industry"-that focused on the temporal dimensions of entertainment. According to Adorno and Horkheimer's analysis, the crux of standardized or industrialized entertainment is the homogeneity of its temporality with the time of assembly-line work. To the extent that Hollywood cinema demands a temporal conformism not essentially different from that of the industrial workplace, leisure and work time comprise a false opposition that covers over the reality of domination by a capitalist system adept at colonizing all aspects of life. Notwithstanding their virulent antipathy to the phenomenological tradition (Adorno's Against Epistemology indicts Husserlian intentionality, and The Jargon of Authenticity is a frontal attack on Heidegger's rhetoric), Adorno and Horkheimer's media theory shares with Bergson, Husserl, and Heidegger a prioritization of time over space. Even when they focus on spatial figure like the bourgeois interior (as does Adorno in his criticism of Kierkegaard) or the public space of mass experience, their thematization of space remains resoundingly negative and unrelentingly subordinated to the operation of temporal standardization exerted by capitalism in its incipient consumerist phase.

More recently, the unquestioned prioritization of time has become the object of philosophical scrutiny. In his grammatological sublation of Husserlian time-consciousness and Heideggerian onto-theology, French philosopher Jacques Derrida not only exposes the necessity for a quasi-transcendental, nonempirical origin of time and of space (what he enigmatically calls DIFFÉRANCE), but, more directly relevant to our purpose here, demonstrates the theoretical interdependence of time and space, or better, of deferring/differing and spacing. The crux of Derrida's argument-which hearkens back to Kant's need to find a content for inner sense (time) in the representations of outer sense (space) as well as to Husserl's unavoidable recourse to the temporal object as a surrogate for the directly unapprehendable manifold of the temporal flux of consciousness-is that DIFFÉRANCE, its essential reserve or resistance to the empirical notwithstanding, must manifest itself in concrete phenomena, which is to say as a temporalization that occurs in some spatially specified phenomenon.

In the last decade, Derrida's student Bernard Stiegler has developed this condition of Derridean analysis into the basis for a philosophy of technology that returns us directly to the topic of media. For Stiegler, DIFFÉRANCE must always be "technically specified," which is to say, the giving of time and space at any given historical moment is necessarily tied to the technologies that mediate human experience. For Stiegler, the institution of cinema -by which he means global, real-time televisual media-comprises the privileged temporal object through which to reflect on our being in time in the world today. Reprising Adorno and Horkheimer's main theme, Stiegler suggests that today's culture industries exert a stranglehold on our subjectivity through their hyperstandardization; by synchronizing the time of consciousness at the global level, they position commodified memories as the basis for the collective invention of the future (see chapter 5, "Memory"). Leaving aside the thoroughgoing pessimism of this position, what lies at the heart of Stiegler's work, and what distinguishes his position from Kittler's (as we shall see), is the correlation of human experience and media time: as so many technical exteriorizations of human life, media operate in a time frame that is complementary to the phenomenological time of human living.

This correlation also differentiates Stiegler from, for example, Gilles Deleuze, who, updating Bergson's philosophy of time, develops a very different account of the medium of cinema. What Deleuze calls the cinema of the "time image" directly mediates time, independent of its alleged (phenomenological) configuration with the ratios of human consciousness. According to Deleuze, postwar cinema gives us two varieties of the time image-two configurations through which time is directly presented, without being subordinated to movement through space. These varieties-"peaks of the present" and "sheets of the past" -are, not surprisingly, correlated with the two valences of Bergson's conception of the past as simultaneously past and present. Through the "spiritual automaton" of cinema, time is liberated from its subordination to human consciousness and made available to cognition in its full virtuality.

The conceptual terrain carved out by these divergent configurations of cinema and media becomes particularly salient in relation to computational time, which, in the words of geographer Nigel Thrift, forms the "technological unconscious," the material infrastructure, of experience in the world today. Cultural critical treatments of computational time-those of Jean Baudrillard and Paul Virilio, for instance-tend to emphasize its fundamental antipathy to human experiential time. Baudrillard speaks of the implosion of objects that, not unlike the V-2 bombs as imagined by Pynchon in Gravity's Rainbow, strike us in advance of our awareness of them. Virilio, for his part, has built a career on extrapolating the experiential consequences of the military-technological colonization of human functions, not least of which is the monitoring of machines in "real time." At the heart of these and like accounts lies a certain polarization of objective and subjective time. Simply put, the time of the world-and specifically, of computational objects and processes-has become fundamentally disjoined from the time of experience, with the result that we find ourselves facing a new, structurally unprecedented form of alienation: alienation from the flow of information in the world around us.

This splitting of time-into media and computational time-speaks directly to the complex argument advanced by philosopher Paul Ricoeur in his magisterial study Time and Narrative. For Ricoeur, Western thinking about time has pursued two trajectories-the phenomenological and the cosmological-which can be found together, for the first and perhaps the last time, in Aristotle's "Treatise on Time" from Physics IV. For Aristotle, time can be defined as the number of movement, which is to say, as a physical or cosmological measurement that, so it would appear, remains independent of phenomenology. Yet when he comes to the question of how this numbering is performed, he invokes the soul as the agent. Much ink has been spilled over the logic of Aristotle's argument (including whether his recourse to the soul is necessary), and the division between a physical and a phenomenological time-time as the before and after of movement versus time as differentiated into the three ecstases of past, present, and future-has even captured the attention of analytic philosophers, who, following J. M. E. McTaggart, oppose A-series time (where temporal relations hold only in relation to an act of self-reference) to B-series time (where temporal relations are independent of perspective). In our context, however, what remains most salient about this inauguration of what Ricoeur dubs the fundamental aporia of time is Aristotle's insistence on the irreducibility of measurement: there is no time that is not measured (whether the measuring be explicitly technical or a function of the organic rhythms of the human body), which is equally to say that there is no time in itself, there are only temporalizations, technico-empirical specifications of time.

That these temporalizations invariably suture time to space is a reality recognized by Aristotle himself, and one that has become altogether insistent with the development of technologies based on satellite imaging that allow for unprecedented tracking of bodies, commodities, and information as they move through time and across space. GPS, radiofrequency identification (RFID), and like technologies of ubiquitous computing bring about a concrete suturing of time and space that, in effect, makes Einstein's abstract space-time continuum a practical reality for everyday life. The uniqueness of objects in the world-where uniqueness is tied, first and foremost, to the capacity for surveillance and tracking within global networks of capital flows-stems from their singular, though dynamically evolving, space-time identities. In this context, media can be understood as configurations of space, time, and embodiment. If time is necessarily mediated by its measurement, if it is always both spatial and embodied, then we can assert a correlation among time, space, and media that returns us to our opening question regarding the generality of time and space as conditions for experience: media specify the givenness of time and space, and thereby comprise the very condition of possibility for our experience.

The recent work of Japanese media artist Masaki Fujihata perfectly captures the imbrication of space, time, and embodiment central to our contemporary society of global control and general mediation, but deploys it in the service of self-expression and decelerated negotiation of the border experiences that characterize our highly mobile lives. Fujihata merges various media technologies-the consumer digital video camera, a panoramic lens, the personal digital assistant, and GPS-in order to capture the multivalent information at issue when individuals move through space and across boundaries. In Landing Home: Geneva (2005), for example, he asks his subjects-all transplants to the international Swiss city-to walk with him from their homes to a place in the city where they feel at home, while conversing with him about their situations of living across cultures, languages, and geographic and technological boundaries of all sorts. This information is subsequently made available to viewers in installations that allow access not simply according to the linear time line of image registration, but through spatial position data as well. The images literally loom up from a positional "place line" (a trajectory through technically mapped space) as floating signatures of the body's movement through a thoroughly concrete, technically specified space-time. In Fujihata's work, the fine-scaled technological surveillance of movement within highly refined temporal and spatial networks becomes the basis for a meditation on the changing meaning of home and of being at home. Fujihata shows us how, in the midst of a rapidly accelerating surveillance society, we can use the newfound technical precision of space-time mapping as a rich and poignant means of asserting our own existential uniqueness. His media-specific configuration of time, space, and embodiment gives us the opportunity to map global space-time in relation to our own movement through it. - CRITICAL TERMS FOR MEDIA STUDIES, Edited by W. J. T. Mitchell and Mark B. N. Hansen, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2010, pp.101-113

References and Suggested Readings

Benjamin, Walter. 2008. "The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technical Reproducibility." In The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility, and Other Writings on Media, ed. M. Jennings, B. Doherty, and T. Levin. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Bergson, Henri. 1998. Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness, trans. F. L. Pogson. New York: Cosimo Classics.

Deleuze, Gilles. 1989. Cinema 2: The Time-Image, trans. H. Tomlinson and R. Galeta. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Greenberg, Clement. 1940. "Towards a Newer Laocoon." Partisan Review 7, no. 4 [July-August): 296-310.

Husserl, Edmund. 2008. On the Phenomenology of the Consciousness of Internal Time (1893- 1917), trans. J. B. Brough. Dordrecht: Kluwer Publishing.

Innis, Harold. 2007. Empire and Communications. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

Kant, Immanuel. 1998. The Critique of Pure Reason, trans. P. Guyer and A. W. Wood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Kittler, Friedrich. 1999. Gramophone, Film, Typewriter, trans. G. Winthrop-Young and M. Wutz. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999.

Lessing, Gottfried. [1766] 1984. Laocoon: An Essay upon the Limits of Painting and Poetry, trans. E. A. McCormick. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Stiegler, Bernard. 1998. “The Time of Cinema: On the ‘New World’ and ‘Cultural Exception.’” Tekhnema 4: 62-114.

BOB: I've capitalized all the words that were italicised in the original publication of the article.

Bob Dobbs
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