structure

Introduction
Theory
Inspirations
​Creative exercises
​Stay grounded & motivated
​Share your text with us

introduction

What we lack, what we yearn for, what remains beyond our grasp—these are the objects of our deepest desires. Yet, what makes desire impossible? Is it the object itself that remains unattainable, or is it the very nature of desire to endlessly defer fulfillment? Impossible desire is not simply a wish unfulfilled, but a longing that structures our existence, giving us movement, purpose, and frustration in equal measure. If desire is the motor of human existence, then impossible desire is its most potent, cruel, and generative form.

theory

Desire is born from lack—this is the fundamental premise shared by Plato, Lacan, and Schopenhauer. In the Symposium, Plato suggests that love (Eros) is the child of Poverty (Penia) and Resourcefulness (Poros). It is always striving towards something, but never fully possesses it. Desire is, by definition, an unfinished project.

Lacanian desire and the inaccessible object
Lacan extends this notion, arguing that desire is structured around the "objet petit a," the unattainable object that sustains our longing. This object is never the actual thing we think we desire—it is a placeholder for something lost, something that cannot be reclaimed. Lacan tells us that even when we obtain the object of our desire, it never satisfies us as we imagined it would. This is the fundamental misrecognition of desire: it chases an absence, a fantasy rather than a reality.

Schopenhauer’s pendulum: Between suffering and boredom
Schopenhauer frames human existence as a relentless swing between two states: suffering and boredom. When we lack what we desire, we suffer. When we obtain it, we grow bored, only to desire again. Desire is thus a mechanism of endless dissatisfaction. Happiness, in this view, is either fleeting or illusory.

Kant and the illusion of happiness
Kant warns against the pursuit of happiness as a rational goal, arguing that it remains an ideal of imagination rather than reason. True happiness, he suggests, is not in obtaining all that we desire, but in reconciling ourselves with the impossibility of doing so. If we are to desire, we must accept frustration as an inevitable consequence.

inspirations

Tracey Emin, "My Bed", 1998

​Tracey Emin’s My Bed is not just an installation of an unmade bed—it is a frozen moment of longing, collapse, and emotional debris. The installation embodies the physical traces of failed love, self-destruction, and a longing that cannot be soothed. It is a portrait of impossible desire, not because the lover is absent, but because even their presence would not resolve the deeper lack at play. The sheets are soaked in desire, but they do not resolve it. The bed, a site of intimacy and comfort, becomes instead a site of isolation and unfulfilled yearning. My Bed exposes the raw paradox of desire: the more we indulge it, the more it consumes us.

Sophie Calle, "The Sleepers", 1979

​In The Sleepers, Sophie Calle invited strangers to sleep in her bed in eight-hour shifts over a week, photographing and documenting them as they inhabited her space. Calle’s project materializes the impossibility of true intimacy: even in the closest physical proximity, the Other remains inaccessible. Her piece embodies the fundamental impossibility of merging with another, the distance that persists even in the most intimate settings.
This resonates with the paradox of impossible desire: we long for an intimacy that always eludes us. The Sleepers is not about the presence of bodies but about the absence that lingers between them. It is a choreography of solitude in proximity, desire played out through a series of missed encounters.

creative exercise

Confessional writing is a space where the raw, unfiltered truth of desire meets the impossibility of its fulfillment. To write from a place of impossible desire is to write from the wound—knowing that language itself is an inadequate substitute for the thing we long for. Below are key tools for confessional writing in this context:

1. Write from the absence
Describe what is not there. Write around the subject, sketch its outline without naming it directly. Let the reader feel the shape of the absence through what remains unsaid.
2. Use repetition as obsession
Repetition mimics the way desire loops in the mind. It reinforces longing, returns to the same images, words, and phrases obsessively, just as the mind fixates on the unattainable.
3. Expose the contradiction
Desire is never linear. It is love and hatred, wanting and rejecting, pleasure and pain. Write in contradictions. Let the desire unravel through opposing forces.
4. Write through the body
Desire is visceral. Instead of abstract longing, describe it through the body: the way the skin remembers a touch, the way absence carves into muscle memory. Avoid clichés; instead, embody the feeling through concrete, sensory detail.
5. Fragmentation as form
Impossible desire rarely unfolds in a clean, coherent narrative. It comes in fragments, moments, flashes. Write in disjointed sentences, let the structure mirror the way desire disrupts and disorients.

stay grounded and motivated!

"Writing about impossible desire can be exhausting. It forces us to confront lack, frustration, and longing in ways that can be emotionally draining. A few reminders to keep you anchored:

• Desire does not need resolution. Allow yourself to write without finding a conclusion. Sometimes, the most powerful writing lives in the unresolved.
• Distance yourself when necessary. Writing from personal experience does not mean reliving trauma. Find ways to create artistic distance—third-person perspectives, altered timelines, metaphor.
• Use desire as fuel, not depletion. If the writing drains you completely, step back. Remember that desire, even when impossible, is also what keeps us moving, searching, creating."

​​​​​​​​—Anna Ádám
Founder of the School of Disobedience

Photo: Sophie Calle, "The Sleepers", 1979