> That's to say, if you weren't a mathematician when you started, you will be when you finish.
❤🔥9
The concept of a sheaf was conceived in the German camp for prisoners of war called Oflag XVII where French officers taken captive during the fighting in France in the spring 1940 were imprisoned.
Among them was the mathematician and lieutenant Jean Leray. In the camp he gave a course in algebraic topology (!!) during which he introduced some version of the theory of sheaves.
https://www.uio.no/studier/emner/matnat/math/MAT4215/v15/notes1.pdf
Among them was the mathematician and lieutenant Jean Leray. In the camp he gave a course in algebraic topology (!!) during which he introduced some version of the theory of sheaves.
https://www.uio.no/studier/emner/matnat/math/MAT4215/v15/notes1.pdf
❤5
я машина по переработке здоровья сердечной мышцы в изучение теории категорий
⚡8❤4😢3
we regret to inform you that your abstract was not selected for the conference.
😢11😱3🕊1
Empty Name
30:25 – я полчаса пытался найти версию этого выступления, но не получилось(((
Честно сказать, сомневаюсь, что это хоть кто то оценит, но тем не менее
Спустя два часа я нашел и это выступление в очень редком сборние "Музыка поэзии" Сильвестрова, которого нет нигде
там куча произведений Сильвестрова начиная от стихов Ахматовой и заканчивая Пушкиным
(кто хочет оценить альбом, пишите в лс)
Спустя два часа я нашел и это выступление в очень редком сборние "Музыка поэзии" Сильвестрова, которого нет нигде
там куча произведений Сильвестрова начиная от стихов Ахматовой и заканчивая Пушкиным
(кто хочет оценить альбом, пишите в лс)
🔥4
Empty Name
https://youtu.be/TTFoJQSd48c
Daily Nous - news for & about the philosophy profession
Daniel Dennett (1942-2024)
Daniel Dennett, professor emeritus of philosophy at Tufts University, well-known for his work in philosophy of mind and a wide range of other philosophical areas, has died. Professor Dennett wrote extensively about issues related to philosophy of mind and…
😢6💔2
There Lacan was striding and talking to the forest of microphones; behind him was a blackboard on which was written: “The essence of psychoanalytic theory is a discourse without words.” Precisely as I entered the room, Lacan launched into a disquisition about mustard pots, or to be precise, the mustard pot, l’pot d’moutard’. His delivery was irregular, forceful, oracular. The first sentences that I managed to jot down despite my postprandial stupor are the following:
This pot, I called it a mustard pot in order to remark that far from necessarily containing any, it is precisely because it is empty that it takes on its value as a mustard pot. Namely that it is because the word “mustard” is written on it, while “mustard” means here “must tardy be” [moult me tarde], for indeed this pot will have to tarry before it reaches its eternal life as pot, a life that begins only when this pot has a hole. Because it is in this form that throughout the ages we find it in excavation sites when we search tombs for something that will bear witness to us about the state of a civilization.
Here I was, facing an aging performance artist (Lacan was sixty-seven then) whose very garb had something of the cabaret comedian’s outfit, with a dandiacal Mao costume, a strange shirt, and the most tortured elocution one could imagine, broken by sighs, wheezes, and sniggers, at times slowing down to a meditative halt, at times speeding up to culminate in a punning one-liner. Curiously, he was being listened to in utmost silence by an audience intent on not missing one word.
I did not not know that Lacan came from a dynasty of vinegar makers and that one of their specialties was fine mustard. Much later, I found out that Lacan had punned not only on mustard and vinegar but also on the broader conceptual category of “condiment,” a word he would always use with the demonstrative ce, thus uttering “ce condiment,” a phrase which could be heard as ce qu’on dit ment: what one says is lying, we only say lies.
This pot, I called it a mustard pot in order to remark that far from necessarily containing any, it is precisely because it is empty that it takes on its value as a mustard pot. Namely that it is because the word “mustard” is written on it, while “mustard” means here “must tardy be” [moult me tarde], for indeed this pot will have to tarry before it reaches its eternal life as pot, a life that begins only when this pot has a hole. Because it is in this form that throughout the ages we find it in excavation sites when we search tombs for something that will bear witness to us about the state of a civilization.
Here I was, facing an aging performance artist (Lacan was sixty-seven then) whose very garb had something of the cabaret comedian’s outfit, with a dandiacal Mao costume, a strange shirt, and the most tortured elocution one could imagine, broken by sighs, wheezes, and sniggers, at times slowing down to a meditative halt, at times speeding up to culminate in a punning one-liner. Curiously, he was being listened to in utmost silence by an audience intent on not missing one word.
I did not not know that Lacan came from a dynasty of vinegar makers and that one of their specialties was fine mustard. Much later, I found out that Lacan had punned not only on mustard and vinegar but also on the broader conceptual category of “condiment,” a word he would always use with the demonstrative ce, thus uttering “ce condiment,” a phrase which could be heard as ce qu’on dit ment: what one says is lying, we only say lies.