creative writing school
Module 8: Identity
structure
Introduction
Theory
Inspiration
Creative writing exercises
Stay grounded & motivated
Share your text with us
Theory
Inspiration
Creative writing exercises
Stay grounded & motivated
Share your text with us
introduction
Welcome to Dancing on the Edge, where we explore the delicate balance between the known and the unknown, the stable and the precarious. Our focus today is on those moments of transition and tension where meaning teeters but never falls—a space that artists and writers alike can inhabit to push their work into profound and transformative realms.
To deepen our exploration, we’ll introduce Marcel Duchamp’s concept of inframince (infra-thin), which describes the almost imperceptible thresholds between states, and Sigmund Freud’s theory of the uncanny, while drawing inspiration from Mike Kelley’s essay, Playing with dead things, where the convergence of nostalgia, disturbance, and artistic intent pushes boundaries. This lesson is a call to embrace the fragility and precision of working “on the edge,” as we probe how art and language can both destabilize and reveal.
To deepen our exploration, we’ll introduce Marcel Duchamp’s concept of inframince (infra-thin), which describes the almost imperceptible thresholds between states, and Sigmund Freud’s theory of the uncanny, while drawing inspiration from Mike Kelley’s essay, Playing with dead things, where the convergence of nostalgia, disturbance, and artistic intent pushes boundaries. This lesson is a call to embrace the fragility and precision of working “on the edge,” as we probe how art and language can both destabilize and reveal.
theory
INFRAMINCE
What Is inframince?
Marcel Duchamp coined the term inframince to capture phenomena that are too subtle to be quantified but are undeniably present. He famously avoided defining the term rigidly, instead providing examples:
The inframince is the point where two states touch or overlap without fully becoming one another. It highlights the transitional, the ephemeral, and the imperceptibly thin threshold between presence and absence. In writing, inframince can be thought of as the moment when words, ideas, or emotions hover on the edge of articulation, creating a tension that invites the reader to step into the liminal space.
How inframince relates to "Writing on the edge"?
Marcel Duchamp coined the term inframince to capture phenomena that are too subtle to be quantified but are undeniably present. He famously avoided defining the term rigidly, instead providing examples:
- The warmth of a chair that has just been vacated.
- The sound of corduroy trousers rubbing together.
- The smoke of a cigarette mingling with the air.
The inframince is the point where two states touch or overlap without fully becoming one another. It highlights the transitional, the ephemeral, and the imperceptibly thin threshold between presence and absence. In writing, inframince can be thought of as the moment when words, ideas, or emotions hover on the edge of articulation, creating a tension that invites the reader to step into the liminal space.
How inframince relates to "Writing on the edge"?
- Subtle transitions
Writing on the edge often involves exploring transitions—between coherence and incoherence, reason and madness, familiarity and strangeness. The concept of inframince underscores that these transitions are rarely abrupt but are often defined by their subtlety. For instance, in Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, the shift between external description and internal consciousness is almost imperceptible, yet it transforms the narrative’s texture. - Ambiguity as power
Duchamp’s inframince suggests that meaning arises not in clear distinctions but in the spaces where opposites overlap. This ambiguity is a key aspect of writing that destabilizes the reader, challenging them to engage actively with the text. Writers like Samuel Beckett and Anne Carson use this approach to create works that oscillate between clarity and opacity, inviting readers to interpret rather than consume. - Fragility of meaning
To embrace inframince is to accept that meaning is always fragile, hovering at the edge of perception. This fragility can be a powerful tool in writing, as it compels the reader to lean into the text, to notice the nearly imperceptible shifts in tone, rhythm, or imagery that give the work its emotional resonance. - Sensory writing and the edge of perception
Duchamp’s examples of inframince often hinge on sensory experiences—the sound, touch, or smell that is barely there. Writing can mirror this by engaging the reader’s senses with subtle, evocative details that are not immediately apparent but linger in the background. For example, Haruki Murakami often uses fleeting sensory cues, like the smell of rain or the distant sound of jazz, to evoke a mood that feels both immediate and intangible.
THE UNCANNY
Sigmund Freud’s 1919 essay Das Unheimliche (The Uncanny) is a cornerstone in the exploration of this concept. Freud defines the uncanny as a psychological experience where something familiar (heimlich) becomes strange or unsettling (unheimlich). This sensation arises when boundaries between the known and the unknown blur, destabilizing our sense of reality. Freud describes the uncanny as “that class of the frightening which leads back to what is known of old and long familiar.”
Core elements of the uncanny
The uncanny in writing
Freud’s theories provide a foundation for exploring how language and narrative can evoke the uncanny:
Freud’s uncanny and "Dancing on the edge"
Freud’s theory aligns seamlessly with the concept of Dancing on the Edge. The uncanny invites both creator and audience to confront liminal spaces—those points of tension and instability where the boundaries of comfort and understanding dissolve. Just as Dancing on the Edge suggests a balance between risk and control, Freud’s uncanny invites us to explore the tension between the familiar and the unknown.
Core elements of the uncanny
- The return of the repressed
Freud argued that the uncanny often involves the resurfacing of repressed memories, desires, or fears. These elements, though suppressed, remain latent within the subconscious. When they resurface in unexpected forms—through a word, an image, or a symbol—they evoke a sense of dread mixed with recognition. For writers, this suggests a fertile ground for narrative exploration: How can a buried truth or repressed emotion haunt a text? - Doubles and duplicates
Freud also emphasizes the uncanniness of encountering doubles—whether through doppelgängers, reflections, or recurring patterns. These instances suggest an unsettling fragmentation of identity, challenging the notion of a cohesive self. Writing that incorporates mirroring or repetition can evoke this effect, unsettling the reader’s sense of continuity. - The blurring of boundaries
The uncanny often arises when categorical boundaries dissolve: between animate and inanimate (dolls, mannequins), life and death (ghosts, revenants), or reality and fiction. Freud highlights automata and wax figures as particularly potent examples, as they evoke the eeriness of something nearly, but not fully, alive. This is closely aligned with Duchamp’s inframince, where minute thresholds hold the potential for profound shifts in meaning or perception.
The uncanny in writing
Freud’s theories provide a foundation for exploring how language and narrative can evoke the uncanny:
- Familiarity turned strange: Writers can create uncanny effects by taking familiar settings, characters, or symbols and subtly altering them. A mundane domestic scene, for instance, might become unsettling through minor, inexplicable details.
- Ambiguity and uncertainty: The uncanny thrives on the unresolved, leaving the reader suspended in ambiguity. Writing that resists closure or offers multiple interpretations can evoke this disquieting effect.
- Subversion of expectation: The uncanny often relies on breaking the reader’s expectations. A sudden tonal shift, an unexpected recurrence, or the intrusion of the fantastical into the ordinary can all elicit uncanny sensations.
Freud’s uncanny and "Dancing on the edge"
Freud’s theory aligns seamlessly with the concept of Dancing on the Edge. The uncanny invites both creator and audience to confront liminal spaces—those points of tension and instability where the boundaries of comfort and understanding dissolve. Just as Dancing on the Edge suggests a balance between risk and control, Freud’s uncanny invites us to explore the tension between the familiar and the unknown.
inspiration
Mike Kelley, "Playing with dead things", essay from The Uncanny, 1993
| mikekelly_uncanny.pdf |
Mike Kelley: An artist on the edge
Mike Kelley (1954–2012) was a pioneering American artist whose multidisciplinary work spanned performance, installation, drawing, video, and sound. He was known for his incisive critique of cultural norms and his ability to destabilize boundaries between the sacred and the profane, the personal and the public, the authentic and the kitsch. His works often explored the intersections of memory, trauma, and cultural detritus, creating spaces that were simultaneously unsettling and deeply revealing.
Kelley’s essay Playing with Dead Things was published in conjunction with his seminal exhibition The Uncanny (1993). In this text, Kelley reflects on the uncanny as theorized by Freud and explores its relationship to art, memory, and our psychological response to objects. His insights resonate profoundly with our theme, Dancing on the edge, as they delve into how art can evoke tension by straddling the boundaries of comfort and discomfort, familiarity and strangeness.
The role of objects in the uncanny
Kelley describes the uncanny as a psychological response triggered by objects that blur the line between life and death, presence and absence, animate and inanimate. He examines how everyday items, when displaced or recontextualized, take on a ghostly quality. For instance, Kelley discusses the childhood toys used in his installations—objects imbued with nostalgia but rendered disturbing by their presentation in grotesque, deformed arrangements.
This manipulation of objects parallels Duchamp’s concept of inframince. Both ideas focus on the subtle thresholds where meaning shifts—where a once comforting object becomes disquieting. Writing on the edge can similarly evoke the uncanny by focusing on language or imagery that appears familiar but carries an undercurrent of unease, inviting the reader to confront their own subconscious associations.
The edges of memory and trauma
Kelley’s essay also delves into the connections between memory, trauma, and the uncanny. He suggests that the uncanny arises when suppressed or forgotten experiences resurface unexpectedly, often in fragmented or distorted forms. This aligns with the psychological state of dancing on the edge, where one teeters between confronting and avoiding difficult truths.
In writing, this tension can be harnessed to explore moments of rupture or dissonance. By employing fragmented narratives, sensory triggers, or disjointed timelines, writers can evoke the unsettling quality of repressed memories emerging from the edges of consciousness.
Art as play and provocation
Kelley views art as a space for both playful experimentation and profound provocation. The uncanny, he argues, thrives on the artist’s ability to subvert expectations and challenge the viewer’s comfort. His essay highlights the importance of embracing risk and contradiction—qualities inherent in Dancing on the Edge.
For writers, this suggests the value of embracing ambiguity and destabilization. How can language itself become uncanny? How can syntax, rhythm, or imagery be used to evoke both familiarity and estrangement, creating a text that feels alive and unpredictable?
Writing the uncanny
Kelley’s insights open a space for deeper inquiry into the act of writing on the edge:
Mike Kelley (1954–2012) was a pioneering American artist whose multidisciplinary work spanned performance, installation, drawing, video, and sound. He was known for his incisive critique of cultural norms and his ability to destabilize boundaries between the sacred and the profane, the personal and the public, the authentic and the kitsch. His works often explored the intersections of memory, trauma, and cultural detritus, creating spaces that were simultaneously unsettling and deeply revealing.
Kelley’s essay Playing with Dead Things was published in conjunction with his seminal exhibition The Uncanny (1993). In this text, Kelley reflects on the uncanny as theorized by Freud and explores its relationship to art, memory, and our psychological response to objects. His insights resonate profoundly with our theme, Dancing on the edge, as they delve into how art can evoke tension by straddling the boundaries of comfort and discomfort, familiarity and strangeness.
The role of objects in the uncanny
Kelley describes the uncanny as a psychological response triggered by objects that blur the line between life and death, presence and absence, animate and inanimate. He examines how everyday items, when displaced or recontextualized, take on a ghostly quality. For instance, Kelley discusses the childhood toys used in his installations—objects imbued with nostalgia but rendered disturbing by their presentation in grotesque, deformed arrangements.
This manipulation of objects parallels Duchamp’s concept of inframince. Both ideas focus on the subtle thresholds where meaning shifts—where a once comforting object becomes disquieting. Writing on the edge can similarly evoke the uncanny by focusing on language or imagery that appears familiar but carries an undercurrent of unease, inviting the reader to confront their own subconscious associations.
The edges of memory and trauma
Kelley’s essay also delves into the connections between memory, trauma, and the uncanny. He suggests that the uncanny arises when suppressed or forgotten experiences resurface unexpectedly, often in fragmented or distorted forms. This aligns with the psychological state of dancing on the edge, where one teeters between confronting and avoiding difficult truths.
In writing, this tension can be harnessed to explore moments of rupture or dissonance. By employing fragmented narratives, sensory triggers, or disjointed timelines, writers can evoke the unsettling quality of repressed memories emerging from the edges of consciousness.
Art as play and provocation
Kelley views art as a space for both playful experimentation and profound provocation. The uncanny, he argues, thrives on the artist’s ability to subvert expectations and challenge the viewer’s comfort. His essay highlights the importance of embracing risk and contradiction—qualities inherent in Dancing on the Edge.
For writers, this suggests the value of embracing ambiguity and destabilization. How can language itself become uncanny? How can syntax, rhythm, or imagery be used to evoke both familiarity and estrangement, creating a text that feels alive and unpredictable?
Writing the uncanny
Kelley’s insights open a space for deeper inquiry into the act of writing on the edge:
- How do objects or sensory details in writing carry layers of memory and emotional resonance? Consider the way Kelley’s use of childhood toys evokes both nostalgia and dread. What ordinary objects could your writing imbue with similar complexity?
- What role does fragmentation play in the uncanny? Kelley’s essay emphasizes the disjointed and incomplete nature of uncanny experiences. How might fragmented storytelling enhance your ability to evoke dissonance and tension?
- How does the uncanny challenge the boundary between the personal and the universal? Kelley’s work often begins with deeply personal themes but resonates on a broader cultural level. How can your writing navigate this balance, using the personal as a gateway to the universal?
- Can playfulness and provocation coexist in writing? Kelley suggests that the uncanny thrives on contradiction. How might your writing experiment with playful, even absurd elements to heighten the unsettling or ambiguous qualities of your work?
creative exercises
- The object of uncanny nostalgia: Choose an object from your past—a toy, a piece of clothing, or a photo. Imagine it has been found decades later, distorted by time. Write a description of the object as if seeing it for the first time, emphasizing its duality of familiarity and strangeness.
- Inframince spaces: Write a short scene where two characters communicate without directly saying what they mean. Let the tension reside in the unspoken words, the pauses, and the subtle shifts in their body language.
- Uncanny encounters: Create a narrative where something familiar—a house, a friend, a mirror—becomes slightly off. Play with small details that unsettle without overt explanation.
stay grounded and motivated!
"As we navigate the edge, remember that the act of creation itself is a dance with the unfamiliar. To write is to step into uncertainty, to wrestle with the boundaries of language and meaning. Don’t fear the discomfort—it’s a sign you’re exploring new territory. When you find yourself unsettled or unsure, pause and reflect. Ask: What am I discovering here? What edges am I challenging in myself? Let these moments of discomfort guide you rather than deter you. Writing on the edge is not about finding answers but about embracing the questions that arise. So, stay curious, stay bold, and keep dancing. The edge is where transformation begins."
—Anna Ádám
Founder of the School of Disobedience
—Anna Ádám
Founder of the School of Disobedience
Photo: Mike Kelley