Art & Psy

In 2025, the psychoanalytic office becomes a space of desaturation. Confronted with information overload and the fatigue of imposed rhythms, it restores a psychic breathing that allows the subject to regain presence, continuity and the capacity to think. Neither refuge nor performance, the office offers a threshold where language can reform and where subjectivity escapes contemporary saturation.

ZOUAVE is an untranslatable blaze—too French and too old for globalized graffiti culture. This choice is anything but trivial: it hides more than it reveals, acting as an opaque signifier, an enigma addressed to the passerby. By refusing the global norm, this blaze restores local language and becomes an act of freedom: a name seeking not identity, but resistance.

Digital softness has become a survival strategy: every word online can be archived, judged, or used against us. As language smooths itself on screens, real-life tension erupts. Logan’s Run foresaw a world ruled by harmony rather than force—a soft power that controls through calm. Even a fading stencil in Quimper points to the truth: when gentleness becomes mandatory, it stops soothing and starts governing.

Graffiti has two deaths: whitewashing, which erases the mark, and municipal recovery, which cuts the breath. The official mural turns urgency into function, desire into décor. Bruegel showed it already: some bodies dissolve, others are reused as heralds. So it is with the recruited writer—he announces but no longer desires. When breath fogs the glass, it has already crossed to the dead.

This article reexamines the archaeological metaphor in psychoanalysis by restoring its context: Freud’s monumental archaeology, Lacan’s structural rupture, and contemporary archaeology’s process-based ruins. Using the Q-Law, it reframes the psychic trace not as an original remnant but as a continually transforming form shaped by operations, returns, and reworkings.

Freud sought to universalize the tragic so desire, prohibition, and guilt could become legible. Today’s AIs lean toward universalizing the inoffensive by smoothing every rough edge. Between these opposite gestures lies a culture’s ability to symbolize its conflicts. Linking Vienna 1900 to AI 2025, this inquiry argues that a language calibrated to avoid conflict endangers the very possibility of a speaking subject.

The municipal gesture aimed to neutralize a small heart — likely made with a spray can — classified as a parasitic inscription. The single-layer coating produces a superficially smooth surface, yet its micro-variations in thickness remain detectable under rain.

When one pronounces “thirteen twelve,” something resonates — not a precise event, but a tone, the vibration of a world deciding that certain forms must cease to exist.1312 is not an isolated historical date; it is a conjunction.

Sooner or later, the Aftermade had to be fixed.Not to trap it — it would not survive enclosure — but to give it a first form, a ground, a foundation from which its apparition could finally recognize itself. The Aftermade is not a concept thrown into the air: it was born from years of observation, wandering, failed gestures, walls whitewashed too quickly, stubborn traces that refuse to disappear.

A municipal roller-erasure transforms a tiny blaze, ‘OZE,’ into a dancing diva.

Beneath the municipal blancstock laid in a single thin coat, a wall in Concarneau lets three letters rise back through: C H E. Not an effigy, not the stature of a hero, but a simple word — or rather its skeleton.

During the systematic photographic survey, a child walking past with her parents spontaneously identified the configuration: ‘Oh Mum, it looks like my bear!’ This reaction constitutes the first orally documented on-site interpretation. I had neither seen nor read this figure before the child named it.