It seems that sleep is not finding me this evening, despite the fact that I am exhausted. On occasion I have been criticized for describing my own philosophical “methodology” as a work of bricolage. The criticism seems to revolve around the idea that somehow bricolage lacks unity or organization, but is a hodgepodge of things put together in an ad hoc way that ultimately fails to cohere or hold together. Thus, if I draw concepts or lines of arguments from other thinkers, I am creating a sort of Frankenstein– and on occasion I’ve described myself as doing just this –that creates a poorly formed monster rather than anything that resembles philosophy in the exalted sense of a self-contained system that issues from first principles.
It seems to me that this line of criticism and the accompanying view that bricolage is an instance of the ad hoc represents a profound failure to understand the nature of bricolage and the work of the bricoleur. Bricolage refers to a way of working that draws on available materials in the solution of a particular problem. In clarifying this idea, we can compare two types of producers: the Bricoleur and the Ideal Engineer. The ideal engineer is someone who exists in a smooth space without any sort of constraints whatsoever, and who has unlimited power to select among the matters from which they can build and to give form to these matters in any way they might like. Indeed, we can even imagine that the Ideal Engineer even has in his possession something called Ideal Matter. Ideal Matter is truly amazing stuff. It is perfectly conductive, allowing whatever it might like to pass through it. It is gossamer and elastic, such that it can equally form flowing drapes or take on shape and return to its original form. It is absolutely pliable and plastic so that it can be imprinted in any way that we might like. But it is also stronger than diamond or steel and rigid like a Bucky tube. Armed with such an Ideal Matter, a matter with no singularities of its own, the Ideal Engineer can create truly marvelous things indeed.
read on!
The Bricoleur is not so lucky, for the Bricoleur— that is, everyone else –is situated in a world and, in producing, must contend with the local singularities of the available materials in solving the problems she wishes to solve. The consequence of this situatedness is that the product of production is not strictly what the Bricoleur envisioned because the singularities embodied in available materials must be contended with in putting these materials together. We get a sense of the Bricoleur’s mode of engagement in Jackie Chan’s film First Strike:
The pleasure of watching Jackie Chan fight, despite the generally poor quality of the plots in his films, lies in watching a bricoleur in action. Like Fred Astaire before him, Chan’s environment becomes a field of singularities both defining a problem and providing avenues towards the solution to that problem. Unlike the smooth space of the Ideal Engineer, the materiality of the field is not a matter without singularities, but rather possesses real constraints with which he must contend. On the one hand, of course, there are the very obvious constraints of the unusual jungle like environments he must navigate as he engages with his assailants. However, more interestingly, the constraints become opportunities for all sorts of surprising maneuvers. The table and ladder, for instance, become both forms of defense and weapons in their own right. In being engaged in this way, the table and ladder become something other than they were.
The biologists have a word for this: exaptation. Exaptation is a process of evolution whereby a trait that once served one function comes to serve another function. Thus, for example, it is likely that feathers first served the function of insulation. However, through processes of exaptation they took on the function of flight. Similary, in the Jackie Chan clip, the function of the table and ladder are exapted to serve another function. They come to function in a new way and pose a whole set of new problems resulting from the shift in function that must be fitted with other things in the environment.
As I was growing up one of my favorite shows on the Discovery Channel was James Burke’s Connections. What made Burke’s show so brilliant was that it read history as a series of aleatory exaptations where one type of technology would undergo a shift in function as a result of being brought into a new assemblage. Thus, for example, he shows how the fuel-injected engine was based on technology derived from perfume bottles. Clearly perfume bottles were not designed for fuel injected engines. This is the process of bricolage.
Bricolage, as a philosophical “methodology”, does not represent an ad hoc approach to philosophy, but is rather a performative enactment of a set of object-oriented theses. On the one hand, it is a methodology that recognizes situatedness in the world. Ideal Engineering philosophies that present themselves as self-contained systems are simply, as Derrida pointed out in his famous “Structure, Sign, and Play”, disguised works of bricolage. Spinoza, for example, was a bricoleur who drew together elements of the thought of the Stoics, the new physics, perhaps Plotinus, a host of medieval thinkers, Hobbes, and so on. The deductive nature of his system was a structure imposed ex post facto on the bricolage he had performed– and certainly this too had a morphogenetic role –and not something from which the system emerged like a new head from a hydra. On the other hand, bricolage as a methodology is the recognition that every object is an assemblage or that every object is born of other objects that it enlists and exapts in the production of its own endo-consistency.
To criticize a philosophy for drawing concepts from other philosophies, to insist that in borrowing concepts a philosophy must somehow endorse all the elements of the philosophy from which it is drawn, is to dream of being Baron von Münchhausen (the dream of every obsessional) and to ignore the phenomenon of exaptation common throughout the world of biology, technology, and all culture. The relevant question isn’t whether a philosophy remains true to the philosophy from which it lifts, like a pick-pocket, its concepts, but whether in lifting concepts and exapting them, it manages to form an endo-consistency that hangs together, can function, and sustain itself.
August 4, 2009 at 12:59 pm
“Bricolage, as a philosophical “methodology”, does not represent an ad hoc approach to philosophy”
Perhaps we should say that philosophy is intrinsically ad hoc, just like all speech and thought. It’s only not ad hoc in that there is no coherent contrast.
“The pleasure of watching Jackie Chan fight, despite the generally poor quality of the plots in his films, lies in watching a bricoleur in action”
And in watching him break various parts of his body during the credits.
August 4, 2009 at 1:24 pm
Ha! Yeah. He did a particularly bad number on himself in the scene from the clip above.
August 4, 2009 at 2:39 pm
“The Jackie Chan of Ontology”?
Last month I had occasion to be a stand-in lighting assistant on a martial arts movie scene. Of course this is well-known, but it’s a slow and tedious process to assemble the pieces into a coherent action sequence. Each fight segment is separately choreographed and rehearsed and tinkered with in multiple takes to make it look right on camera. At a couple of points in the shooting the director told an actress, who was struggling to get it right, that her actual kung fu skills were getting in the way of good cinematic kung fu, with its exaggerated gestures and dramatic pauses to regroup. The segment is filmed from several angles, allowing for multiple cuts to be assembled in the editing process. Then this one segment has to be assembled with all the other segments comprising the entire fight scene. The final edited piece manifests an emergent order of continuous and spontaneous fighting, carefully planned in advance and assembled meticulously from the components, yet still not being reducible to the sum of the components or perfectly predictable from them.
Filmmaking is collaborative bricolage, where each person brings his/her own tools and techniques and unique presence to the project.
August 4, 2009 at 4:51 pm
Your “ideal engineer” with their “ideal matter” reminds me of the “you create your own world” sophistry of “What the Bleep Do We Know?” and related new age tropes. That’s not an insult either, in case it could come across as one. The ideal engineer sounds uncastrated, while the bricoleur does not deny their castration but simply deals with it.
The motto of the ideal engineer would probably be that “EVERYthing is possible,” is subject to the whim and imagination of the ideal engineer. The bricoleur would reply that “ANYthing is possible,” that we shape the world with our choices, but that these choices are not-all. Hence, at the end of the above clip, Jackie Chan chooses to stop fighting when the back-ups pour in, but sits with a “hrumph” and shoulder-shurg that say “what choice do I really have?”
August 4, 2009 at 5:08 pm
This is actually one of the ways I draw the distinction between analytic & continental thought in the conclusion of my book, with the former still dreaming the dream of the ideal engineer (reason can give us Truth) while one of the defining gestures of continental thought is to accept our “thrownness” as inescapable and pervasive (truth is a thing of this world).
August 4, 2009 at 7:55 pm
I like this, but I’m not sure about the opposition of the ideal engineer and the bricoleur. I suppose the term “ideal” makes it somewhat better, but really the “true” engineer is also just a bricoleur. If anything, the bricoleur implies an engineer who doesn’t know how to.
August 4, 2009 at 10:31 pm
Is there a better illustration of bricolage than the scene in Apollo 13 (assuming this represented the reality), where the engineers are presented with a hodge podge of parts–told this is what the astronauts had available to them–and instructed to figure out how to make the filter that would save their lives?
August 5, 2009 at 8:18 pm
Back when I was a teenager and drove an old VW Superbeetle, my hippie mechanics used to refer to common repair techniques in the absence of ideal parts or tools as “Afro-engineering.” This coinage was meant, I think, as a compliment to the creative effectiveness of poor people making do. We can think also of ‘soul food’ and Scottish cuisine, both of which make virtue of the necessity of being stuck with nasty ingredients (guts, field greens like collards) by finding ways to make them palatable; or failing that, altering the cultural perception of what counts as palatable.
Lee’s point about analytic philosophy seems right to me and it’s interesting to think of Wittgenstein’s career in these terms: young Ludwig churned for just such a truth procedure, while wise older Ludwig became the philosopher of inescapable bricolage excelsior.
August 6, 2009 at 12:16 pm
I completely agree with your point about Wittgenstein, Carl. I’m presently wrapping up a book on Heidegger and Wittgenstein that goes into this at length.
Try this thought experiment: imagine that Wittgenstein had never published anything, and someone just found his papers in an attic one day. What would we make of them? Would they automatically be filed under analytic philosophy (tricky, since he shaped a lot of the history of analytic thought, but bracket this fact)? Aside from the engagements with analytic figures (Frege, Russell, Moore), would their content or style classify them as continental?
August 6, 2009 at 2:35 pm
Well, if they were written in red ink he was probably a Blood, but if they were written in blue ink he was probably a Crip.
But if they were in black ink it might be he didn’t fit in with either gang very well, which will be my serious point too.
July 11, 2011 at 10:46 pm
[…] or built from the bottom up, such as biological organisms and strategic information systems. Like Levi R. Bryan I believe that bricolage is a type of methodology, a model of engagement with the world, rather […]