“…the writerly text is ourselves writing, before the infinite play of the world is traversed, intersected, stopped, plasticized by some singular system (Ideology, Genus, Criticism) which reduces the plurality of entrances, the opening of networks, the infinity of languages” -Roland Barthes
Most of the time furniture just sits there against the wall looking stupid (or beautiful, or cluttered, or un-dusted, or harrowed and long-suffering, or much too polished, or all-dressed-up-with-nowhere-to-go … ) Furniture has (at least) two states of being, as a thing to be looked at, and a thing that performs some essential function more or less efficiently, which in furniture’s case is to obscure, camouflage, cover up, support, enable … the performance of some other task. It is alternately in service and in view. There is the face (mask, appearance) it presents, and something that happens in, around, upon, or because of the thing. It is often the case with furniture that when something is happening on it, (sitting, writing, reading, eating…) the piece of furniture becomes invisible. Its appearance disappears into service. It becomes too close to see. You have to stand up from the chair to see it. You have to leave the building to look at it. This division between function and appearance (symbol and structure; form and content, what is said and what is done…) is text, the space between the lines that we read to determine if form suggests a function that it cannot deliver or presents a facade that is incongruous with its interior. This reading gives rise to thought about authenticity, honesty, belief, commitment, intention, earnestness, identity, rhetoric, meaning what you say…
Indeed, there may be nothing outside of the text, in which case reading is as inescapable as breathing, and the staging of a reading room simply invites a particular kind of attention to a structural framework in which the book in hand is simply the most obvious interpretive activity that we are all currently performing. -John Preus