A Partition of the Sensible (Un Hommage à Rancière), 2020

The objects we inhabit have a kind of temperament, a character very much defined by the purpose for which the object is made.
When I look at my living room and see the chairs, I think of their kindness and courtesy.
They seem to say: Please, sit down.
The same is true of the sofa: Relax, make yourself comfortable.
With the sofa blankets: Cover yourself and you’ll see how soft I am.
The books on my bookshelf: Come, let me tell you something you don’t know!
However, as soon as I leave the house, the kindness ends. The objects in public spaces have a rougher, more narcissistic and prohibitive character.
Traffic lights have appropriated color and shout in silence. Some have built-in sound for blind people, but most need you to look at them all the time.
“Look at me all the time. Otherwise, you won’t know when to cross the street.”
The facades of buildings are what they are. If you don’t like them, you can’t look away.
You’re forced to see them.
I’ve even seen benches that only fit one person: “Don’t expect to make many friends here.”
And benches that face a wall: “Sit and reflect on how miserable your life is.”

But what strikes me most are the fences at construction sites.
“You’re not going through here,” but “You can see what’s going on,” in fact, “I’ll give you a grid of lines so you can see what’s being planned.”
The metal mesh of the fences is almost always imperfect. The fences have suffered the rigors of transport, and almost all of them bear some kind of mark.
The lightness of the fence contrasts with the heaviness of its supports. If these supports were vertical, they would be more prone to instability.

There is no object more respected in public space than a fence.
The fences slap the ego of traffic lights in the face; who hasn’t crossed on a red light at some point?
Public space is full of remnants of broken rules: trash outside the bins, dog feces, cigarette butts on the ground, graffiti on the walls, broken lampposts.
Dear Rancière, I think a fence is perfect for starting to practice detaching the norm from the object.