Form As Remainder

In the framework adopted here, the term “remainder” does not refer to an inert residue nor to a functionless excess, but designates the operative result of a process of material or symbolic reorganization which, after its active phase of formation, remains as a functional structure as long as that functionality is maintained. Unlike a disposable leftover, the remainder is a relative permanence, a state in which matter or symbolic configuration preserves sufficient internal coherence to continue operating in the system that hosts it. Its persistence does not derive from any underlying essence, but from the capacity to respond to local compatibilities and to remain relevant in the context in which it is inscribed.

In this way, “remainder” is not equivalent to “survival” in the biological sense nor to “remanent” in the archaeological sense. It is an operative category that describes that which, after a reorganization, neither dissipates nor dissolves immediately, but temporarily stabilizes energy, form, or meaning. Such stabilization is not definitive; it is an active latency, ready to be mobilized by new reorganizations when conditions allow.

This conception breaks with the common tendency, present both in everyday language and in certain philosophical traditions, to treat the remainder as passivity or a failure of totalization. Instead, the remainder is residual potency — not by preserving intact the totality of what was, but by maintaining a possibility of operative reintegration into the flow of transformations. This possibility is not defined by the integrity of an original identity, but by the functional viability that the configuration still retains.

What distinguishes the remainder from related figures such as “vestige” or “trace” is precisely its nature as an element still active within a system. The vestige may be merely a testimony of something past; the remainder, in the operative sense defended here, is an effective presence, even if reconfigured, in the material and symbolic ecology in which it is inserted. It is this functional presence that qualifies it as an object of analysis to understand how form sediments without fossilizing as essence.

In this framework, form is not the absolute endpoint of a process, but its moment of provisional sedimentation — a relative pause in a continuous flow of reorganizations. This sedimentation results from a temporary balance between material and functional forces which, for an indeterminate interval, stabilize to the point of constituting a recognizable configuration. Form, in this sense, is less a final product and more a transitory state endowed with sufficient consistency to be operated and recognized, but always exposed to the possibility of transformation.

This approach clearly distances itself from essentialist conceptions of form, such as those inherited from Plato, where the ideal form is a permanent instance that confers identity to the particular, or from certain Aristotelian readings, in which form is a teleological principle that leads matter to its full actualization. Here, form does not pre-exist the process, nor does it guide it from a predetermined end: it emerges a posteriori as a contingent result of multiple interactions and operative excesses that find, for a moment, a sufficiently stable compatibility to sustain itself.

This provisional character implies that stability does not derive from an immutable essence, but from a local relation of forces. Such stability is, therefore, always relative and reversible: a mere alteration in the conditions that sustain its cohesion is enough for the form to dissolve, fragment, or reconfigure itself. Form is, consequently, a temporary crystallization of movement, and not its negation.

In dialogue with contemporary philosophical currents, this perspective approaches the processual conceptions of Whitehead, who sees the real as a succession of “actual occasions” momentarily stabilized before dissolving. However, the active role of form as a functional remainder is emphasized here — not just an effect of the past, but also a potential resource for new reorganizations.

To think of form as provisional sedimentation is to free it from the weight of an ontology of permanence and to re-inscribe it in the field of material operativity. Its existence is inseparable from the conditions that sustain it and, therefore, the analysis must focus less on what it “is” and more on what it “does” while it remains.

Form never arises in a vacuum, but as the result of previous processes of excess and instability. Excess, understood not as waste or noise, but as operative superabundance of matter, creates the field of possibilities in which new configurations can emerge. Instability functions as a dynamic condition that prevents the system from remaining closed in previous forms, opening space for this superabundance to reorganize itself.

It is important to emphasize that this is not about redefining either excess or instability — already addressed in other parts of the work —, but about highlighting the specific role that both play in the genesis of form. Form is not conceived as the inevitable result of these factors, but as one of the possible stabilized effects they can generate.

In philosophical terms, this view contrasts with teleological perspectives, such as that of Aristotle, in which form is the natural realization of the potency contained in matter. It also distances itself from Hegelian dialectical readings, which tend to see instability as a moment of negativity overcome in a final synthesis. Here, there is no definitive reconciliation: form is just one of many temporary solutions that can emerge from the interplay between excess and instability.

This framework finds partial resonance in authors like Simondon, for whom individuation is an open process, in which form is less a final state than a phase of provisional stabilization. However, this view is expanded by insisting on the dimension of “remainder” as an operative concept: form is not only momentary, but also surplus in relation to the process that generated it. This surplus is not causally determining, but offers a reserve of stability that can be mobilized or corroded by future processes.

The limit of form as remainder lies precisely in its non-self-sufficiency: there is no form that subsists by itself, detached from the material field and the forces that maintain it. This dependence means that the analysis of form can never be done in isolation, but always in relation to its formation process and the conditions that guarantee its duration.

Every form, as a functional remainder, carries within itself the possibility of its own dissolution. This dissolution should not be read as moral failure or ontological catastrophe, but as an inevitable consequence of the continuous variation of material conditions. The permanence of any form is a pause in a vaster flow of reorganization, and this pause only lasts as long as the structure retains the capacity to respond, without collapsing, to the variations that traverse it.

Dissolution occurs when the compatibility between the form and the environment ceases to produce positive functional effects. This may involve a gradual alteration — such as the wear and tear of an ecosystem in the face of slow climate changes — or a sudden event — such as the disintegration of a geological formation due to an earthquake. In both cases, what is at stake is not pure and simple destruction, but the reabsorption of the form into the field of forces from which it emerged.

This understanding echoes certain readings of Heraclitus and Whitehead, in which being is thought of as flow and permanence as a relative and momentary form of stabilization. However, any romanticization of this instability is avoided here: dissolving is not “returning to the One” nor “reconciling with the cosmic flow,” but entering a new phase of the material game, where other, eventually more functional, arrangements may arise.

Dissolution is not the opposite of form, but its other face: every functional remainder brings with it fragilities and breaking points which, exploited by contextual variations, open the way to new reconfigurations. It is precisely this point that differentiates this approach from an entropist conception of change: it is not about irreversible wear towards disorder, but about a process of liberation of components that can recombine into new structures.

From a symbolic point of view, this movement is equally relevant: a linguistic system, a scientific paradigm, or a set of social conventions may lose their operative effectiveness and, yet, the elements that composed them remain available to be rearticulated. Here, dissolution is also a reopening of possibilities, and not just the closing of a cycle.

Form, understood as functional remainder, is not destiny, but interval. Its permanence does not announce the end of a process, but marks a contingent pause in a vaster field of material variation. This pause is neither celebrated as the crowning achievement of a teleology nor lamented as an obstacle to change: it simply is.

"Every form is a pause in matter —
and every pause is merely the brief breath before another metamorphosis."

—— David Cota — Founder of the Ontology of Emergent Complexity ——