One evening, disheartened by my optical research, I was returning bitter and chagrined to my native Brabant, seeking to stifle my resentment and disappointment by tramping mile upon mile sweaty and thirsty, like some journeyman carpenter or mason of old, muttering, stumbling, my long legs casting their shadows here and there on the dazzling road after attending a symposium of fashionable photographers, when
at a fork in the road on the edge of a forest, after many leagues of the limestone plateau resounding with the screech of trucks and the throb of motorbikes,
I came upon the one whom I can only call an angel, because it is impossible for me to specify either age or sex.
It is as if he changed with every sentence he spoke, at times almost with every word. Most often he seemed like a young boy, then suddenly he grew tall, his voice modulated, his beard grew before my eyes, long and flowing, then greying, then white. He wrinkled, stooped, broke, became hairless . His smile then assumed a feminine indulgence, his voice rose an octave ; and it was an ancient sorceress who rose up before me, became young once more, regained hair and breasts, slid, laughed and swayed into prepubescent childhood before plunging into the wonders of viril maturing.
It was the hour of rich russet rays, of flaming clouds after the tolling of the Angelus bell. A foreboding silence suddenly fell upon the scene. Not a car nor a motorbike, even in the distance, were to be heard. Not a house in sight. I had just sat down on a rock covered with lichen, having set down in the dust for a moment my craftsman's kit, my most optimistic estimates telling me that a good hour of walking in the gathering dusk lay between me and the inn, dinner, the station and, finally, my present life from which I had succeeded in escaping for this afternoon of meditation, but which would have me in its grasp once more by morning.
It was then that this angel spoke to me, evidently without feeling any need for a greeting, as if he had known me for a long time, as if he were quite familiar with me, and that the time had come for him to explain this familiarity. But I plunged into ever greater amazement, unable to answer him or interrupt him to request an explanation.
" I am the messenger from the other symposium, that of the Ancients. They have been deeply moved by your research and dedication and sent me to help you. Listen carefully to this message and engrave it upon your memory. It must become a part of your very sensibility and reflexes.

You will work in full light, without a darkroom. You will take the photopaper out of its box as if it were drawing paper. If in full light you dip this virgin emulsion paper in developer elixir [d] it will become black. Another paper, left just a few minutes in fixer liqueur [f], will remain white. But if you leave it only a few seconds in this liqueur [f] then immerse it in the elixir [d], it will become yellow or brown. You know that in the magical art of photography it is recommended never to soil elixir [d] with liqueur [f]. This, however, will be one of the rudiments of your art.
Photopaper exposed to intense light becomes blue or mauve ; this is called photolysis. Tinted in this way, and dipped in the liqueur [f], it will not turn white but beige or pink. You will assemble all these experiences in an album.
You will obtain bright colours by dissolving directly in chromogenous developer [d] the alchemical dyes or couplers which are usually found in colour emulsions. By reversing the traditional process you will be able to use black and white emulsions to obtain every colour of the rainbow and all their combinations.
You will use every kind of product which makes up the ingredients of painting : varnish, lacquer, resin, wax, oil, glue, eggs, etc.
These are the localizing products whose role will be akin to that of a negative but, instead of controlling the amount of light that reaches the photosensitive emulsion, they will protect it to varying degrees from the alternative or simultaneous actions of elixir [d] and liqueur [f].
In these working conditions, different localizing products will each reveal particular structures : a cellulose varnish won't be eroded in the same way as an acrylic varnish. You will be able to recognize wax, oil or grease by examining the effects they produce.
To rival the Holy Shroud in Turin, you will coat substances in apple syrup and record their imprint.
You will learn how to transfer any image (photo or drawing) onto a photographic emulsion and then treat it according to your invention, so that it may yield its secrets.
You will draw by hand the outlines of a photo or a drawing with a brush dipped in a localizing product, or use a blade, needle or small wheel to carve into a varnish which has been previously coated. You will erode, crackle and wrinkle. You will sprinkle with sugar or grains of rice.
You will discover a magic varnish which, immersed in liquid, detaches itself steadily from its support. By alternating the elixir [d] and liqueur [f] baths you will obtain, from a single incision in the varnish, an unlimited number of parallels on either side. From a hole in the varnish, concentric lines will be inscribed. From a square, squares within squares will appear while outside the incision the angles of the new squares will become progressively rounded. Triangles will be formed where the right angles and the curved angles meet.

There is no need to say more, for if you faithfully follow my instructions you will soon enter the realms of gramland, of which you will be the harbinger, discovering its shores and its riches as you carve out an immense kingdom in which you can welcome in wonder and splendour all your family and friends. "
Dumbfounded, I did not see him disappear. Suddenly he was no longer there before me. I was filled with renewed vigour. I was exquisitely possessed, I had been blessed with second sight.
Night had fallen, but I rushed with joy into dark forest pierced with moonlight, almost running, measuring my steps to the rhythm of a seemingly inexhaustible refrain or litany :
Alchemi-, amal-, amstram-, ana-, anarchemi-, audiogram...
New paths constantly opened up before me, revealing new regions :
Autochemi-, cardio-, centi-, centrichemi-, chemichromo-, chemigram...
New riches constantly opened up before me, revealing novel delights to be fathomed :
Cine-, cole-, cosmo-, deca-, deci-, dedalogram...
Still more new hills and towns, bathed in light :
Demo-, dermo-, dia-, egg-, electro-, encephalogram...
Still more tribes and entire civilizations to elucidate :
Epi-, evolu-, hecto-, hexa-, holo-, humanogram...
It all became ever more vast and the nocturnal light was as strong as the brightest day :
Hydro-, illegibili-, islam-, kilo-, leuko-, logogram...
New horizons constantly opened up before me as I lost all sense of time and space :
Lumino-, machini-, meta-, micro-, milli-, monogram...
And then I found myself in my laboratory without knowing how I had come there :
Musi-, myria-, penta-, phono-, physiogram...
To tackle the immense task of pioneer and interpreter which I had hardly begun :
Rayo-, seri-, tetra-, velo-, xylo-, zigzagram...
Although I have already drawn many alphabets, I am only at the first letters, the first fields, the first foothills, the first paths, the first approaches, the first concords, the first gardens.

 

Michel Butor
Lucinges, August 3rd 1991
Introductory text for an exhibition at the gallery "Le Miroir d'Encre", Brussels.

 

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