Modern art and popular culture :

readings in high & low

Edited by Kirk Varnedoe, Adam Gopnik, with essays
by John E. Bowlt ... [et al.]

Date
1990

Publisher
The Museum of Modern Art; Abrams

ISBN

0810924668, 0870703552

Exhibition URL
www.moma.org/calendar/exhibitions/1764

The Museum of Modern Art's exhibition history—

from our founding in 1929 to the present—is
available online. It includes exhibition catalogues,
primary documents, installation views, and an
index of participating artists.

MoMA © 2017 The Museum of Modern Art

MODERN ART AND H
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READINGS IN HIDHSLOW •
MODERN ART
AND
POPULAR
CULTURE
READINGS IN

HIDH S LOW
MODERN ART
AND
POPULAR
CULTURE
READINGS IN

HIGH S LOW
 EDITED BY THE MUSEUM OF MODERN ART

NEW YORK

KIRK VARNEDOE
HARRY N. ABRAMS, INC.

ADAM GOPNIK PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

WITH ESSAYS BY

JOHN E. BOWLT

LYNNE COOKE

LORENZ EITNER

IRVING LAVIN

PETER PLAGENS

ROBERT ROSENBLUM

ROGER SHATTUCK

ROBERT STORR

JEFFREY S. WEISS
 Editor: Mark Greenberg
HoKjA Designer: Elissa Ichiyasu
Photo Researcher: Joan Pachner

Published in conjunction with the exhibition High and Low: Modern Art and Popular
Culture, organized by Kirk Varnedoe, Director, Department of Painting and Sculpture,
The Museum of Modern Art, New York, and Adam Gopnik, Art Critic, The New Yorker
magazine, and shown at the Museum October 7, 1990-January 15, 1991.
The exhibition is sponsored by AT&T.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Modern art and popular culture : readings in high and low / edited by Kirk Varnedoe and
Adam Gopnik.
p. cm.
Includes index.
Contents: High and Low before their time / Irving Lavin- Subjects from common life in the
real language of men / Lorenz Eitner- Picasso, collage, and the music hall / Jeffrey S.
Weiss-Cubism as pop art / Robert Rosenblum-A brazen Can-Can in the temple of art /
John E. Bowlt —No joy in Mudville / Robert Storr-The independent group / Lynne Cooke-
Golden days / Peter Plagens-The last cause / Roger Shattuck.
ISBN 0—8109—2466—8 (Abrams: pbk.). —ISBN 0—87070—356—0 (Museum of Modern Art:
pbk.)
1. Art, Modern —19th century —Themes, motives.
2. Art, Modern —20th century —Themes, motives.
3. Popular culture.
I. Varnedoe, Kirk, 1946-
II. Gopnik, Adam.
III. Museum of Modern Art (New York, N.Y.)
N6447.M63 1991
700'.9'04 —dc20 89-61091
CIP

Copyright © 1990 The Museum of Modern Art, New York

All rights reserved
No part of the contents of this book may be reproduced
without the written permission of the publisher

Published in 1990 by
Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
A Times Mirror Company
100 Fifth Avenue
New York, N.Y. 1001 1
and
The Museum of Modern Art
11 West 53 Street
New York, N.Y. 10019

Distributed in the United Kingdom, Europe, and the British

Commonwealth by Thames and Hudson, Ltd, London

Printed and bound in the United States of America

On the cover:
Gerald Murphy
Razor, 1924
/sx36V2"
5 Oil on canvas, 32 (82.9x91.4 cm)
Dallas Museum of Art, Foundation for the Arts Collection;
gift of the artist

UY* Museum of Modern Art Library

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 7 CONTENTS
CONTRIBUTORS 8

KIRK VARNEDOE AND ADAM COPNIK ID

INTRODUCTION

IRVING L A VIN I 8

HIGH AND LOW BEFORE THEIR TIME:

BERNINI AND THE ART OF SOCIAL SATIRE

LORENZ EITNER 52

SUBJECTS FROM COMMON LIFE IN THE REAL LANGUAGE

OF MEN: POPULAR ART AND MODERN TRADITION IN

NINETEENTH-CENTURY FRENCH PAINTING

JEFFREY 5. WEISS 82

PICASSO, COLLAGE, AND THE MUSIC HALL

ROBERT RDSENBLUM 118

CUBISM AS POP ART

JOHN E. BOWLT 1 34

A BRAZEN CAN-CAN IN THE TEMPLE OF ART:

THE RUSSIAN AVANT-GARDE AND POPULAR CULTURE

ROBERT STORR 1 GO

NO JOY IN MUDVILLE: GREENBERG'S MODERNISM

THEN AND NOW

LYNNE COOKE I 9 2

THE INDEPENDENT GROUP: BRITISH AND AMERICAN

POP ART, A "PALIMPCESTUOUS" LEGACY

PETER PLACENS 2 f 8

GOLDEN DAYS

ROGER SHATTUCK 2 3

THE LAST CAUSE: ATTHE B E T H A N Y T H E AT E R

UNTIL JUNE 23

INDEX
244

ILLUSTRATIONS follow 256

PHOTOGRAPH CREDITS AND SOURCES follow illustrations

This book resulted from a joint effort of The Museum of Modern ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Art and Harry N. Abrams, Inc., and we are grateful to many peo
ple on both sides for their contributions of talent and hard work. At
the Museum, Ellen Harris, Deputy Director, Financeand Auxiliary Activi
ties, was instrumental in furthering the arrangements for the publica
tion; and Paul Gottlieb, President of Harry N. Abrams, Inc., was
tremendously supportive in the project, which he helped to bring to
fruition despite the demands of a shortened production schedule.
Harriet Bee, Managing Editor in the Department of Publications at
the Museum, aided in select ways with the editing and organization of
the texts. The principal work of reviewing, coordinating, and editing the
texts was undertaken, though, by Mark Greenberg of Abrams, and we
are very grateful for his thoroughness and sensitivity in this task. The
book was designed by ElissaIchiyasu, to whom we owe a great debt
of thanks for responding with grace to the constraints imposed both
by the schedule and by the diversity of demands the different essays
posed.
Mary Beth Smalley,Curatorial Assistant in the Department of Painting
and Sculpture at the Museum, helped receive and coordinate the man
uscripts and illustrations. With regard to the final labor of searchingout
illustrations, compiling the captions, and organizing with all the authors
the technical changes made in the texts, a very special expressionof
gratitude is owed to Joan Pachner,doctoral candidate at the Institute
of Fine Arts, New York University,who stepped in at a crucial moment
and—by dint of terrific resourcefulness—saved the book from crippling
delays.
Finally,we wish to thank, with great warmth, the authors whose es
says appear here, for their willingness to participate, for the pleasureof
working with each of them, and for the quality of their work.
For the model he provided in his engagement with modern popular
culture, and with admiration for his work, we dedicate this volume to
the memory of ReynerBanham.
Kirk Varnedoe
Adam Gopnik

7
- CONTRIBUTORS JOHNE bowlt isProfessorof RussianArt and Languagein the
Departmentof SlavicLanguagesand Literatureat the Universityof Southern
California, LosAngeles.Educatedin Great Britain and the Soviet Union, he
received his Ph.D. in Russianliterature and art from the Universityof St.
Andrews, Scotland,in 1971. Among his many books and articles, Dr.Bowlt
has published the only major documentary source book in English on
Russianrevolutionary art, RussianArt of the Avant-Garde: Theory and
Criticism, 1902- 1934, aswell asthe cataloguefor a retrospectiveexhibition
of PavelMansurov.

lynne Cooke receivedher doctorate from the Universityof London

in 1989. Since1979 shehasbeena lecturer in the Historyof Art Department
at UniversityCollege,Universityof London.In addition to articlesfor Parkett,
Art in America, and Burlington Magazine, Dr. Cooke has contributed to
many exhibition catalogues,including an essaytitled "Between Image and
Object" in A Quiet Revolution: British Sculpture Since 1965.

lorenz eitner holds the Osgood Hooker Chair in the History of

Art at Stanford University,where he was Chairmanof the Art Department
and Director of the Art Museum from 1963 to 1989. He received his
doctorate from PrincetonUniversityin 1952. Dr. Eitner has published the
source book Neoclassicismand Romanticism,1750-1850 and An Outline
of 19th CenturyEuropeanPainting,as well as Gericault: His Life and Work,
which was awardedthe Mitchell Prizein 1984 and the RufusMorey Prizein
1985.

IRVING LAVIN is Professorof Art History at the Institute for Ad

vancedStudy in Princeton,New Jersey.His publicationsinclude Berniniand
the Unity of the VisualArts, which was awardedthe PremioDariaBorghese
in 1981. Hewas electedto the AmericanAcademyof Arts and Sciencesand
the Accademiadei Lincei,Rome,and is a former Presidentof the Interna
tional Committee for the History of Art.

PETER PLAGENS is a painter and critic. He exhibits regularlyin New

York and Chicago and is represented in public collections in Baltimore,
Buffalo, Washington,D.C.,SantaFe,and Kyoto, Japan.Hewas a contribut
ing editor to Artforum from 1966 to 1976. Mr. Plagens'spublications
include The SunshineMuse: ContemporaryArt on the West Coast and

B
Moonlight Blues:An Artist's Art Criticism. He is currently the art critic for
Newsweek magazine.

ROBERT rosenblum teachesat New York University,where he is

the Henry Ittleson Jr.Professorof Modern EuropeanArt at the Institute of
FineArts and a Professorof FineArts at the Collegeof Arts and Sciences.
ProfessorRosenblum'smany articles and books include Cubismand Twen
tieth Century Art, "The Typographyof Cubism" (in Picassoin Retrospect,
edited by John Golding), Transformationsin Late Eighteenth CenturyArt,
Modern Paintingand the Northern RomanticTradition:Friedrich to Rothko,
aswell as TheDog in Art from Rococoto Post-Modernismand TheRomantic
Child from Runge to Sendak. His Paintings in the Musee d'Orsay was
published in 1989.

ROGER 5HATTUCK is UniversityProfessorand Professorof Modern

Foreign Languagesat Boston University.His many books include The Ban
quet Years,an introduction to Marcel Proust, and The Innocent Eye. Pro
fessor Shattuckwas the recipient of the LiteraryAward from the American
Academy of Arts and Sciencesin 1987.

Robert storr is an artist and writer. He is a Contributing Editor to

Art in America and publishesregularly in Art/Press and Parkett. Mr. Storr's
interviews with Robert Ryman, Robert Mangold, and Brice Marden ap
peared in Abstract Paintingof America and Europe,and his monographon
Philip Guston appeared in 1986.

Jeffrey 5. WEISS is completing his doctoral dissertation on

PabloPicassoand Marcel Duchampduring the years 1912 to 1917 for the
Institute of FineArts, New YorkUniversity.Mr.Weisshaswritten on the work
of VasilyKandinskyand PaulKlee, as well as an article titled "Scienceand
Primitivism: A Fearful Symmetry in the Early New York School" in Arts
magazinein 1983.

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INTRODUCTION
This KIRK
book was conceivedas a part of the preparationfor the exhibition
"High and Low: Modern Art and PopularCulture," held at The Mu
seum of Modern Art, New York, in the autumn of 1990 (and at The Art
Institute of Chicagoand the Museum of ContemporaryArt, LosAngeles,in
VARNEDOE
the spring and summer of 1991, respectively).That exhibition had two
purposes.First,and most simply,its aim was to bring together as many as AND
possibleof the modernist masterpieces-from Picasso'sand Braque'scol
lageswith their fragments from the daily newspapersto the paintings of ADAM
Elizabeth Murray with their inspirations from cartoon styles-that had
expandedthe languageof art in this century by drawing on contemporary Q Q p | K
vernacularsources.But we hoped that the rewardsof the exhibition would
be intellectual as well as sensual. We wanted not just to chronicle and H
celebratebut alsoto understandin greaterdepth the dialoguebetween high
modern art and certain aspects of popular culture, such as advertising,
graffiti, comics,and caricature-to graspthe origins of that interchange,its
development,and its recurring structures, in order to seewhat that history
might tell us about modern life.
Although an enormous body of writing about "mass culture" and the
avant-garde already existed, this corpus seemed disproportionately
weighted by the work of commissarsand scholiasts.Thepronouncementsof
the theorists appeared all too frequently to be engaged, at best, in the
skillful juggling of abstract concepts; and seemed, at worst, to insist on
imposing dogmatic, narrow, and historically untenable (not to say untest-
able) categorieson the complex realities of modern history. We felt that
most of this literature—despite its claimsto be engagedwith "modernism"
asa historicalproject—was depressinglyunconcernedwith the basicstuff of
history: the particular facts of how modern paintings, sculptures, and
drawingsactuallygot made,the individualpeoplewho madethem, and the
similarlycomplexcircumstancesand personalitiesinvolvedin shapingpopu
lar culture in areas such as the comics and advertising.
We felt that another and a better way of looking at these issuescould be
found in the work of certain scholarsand critics,young and old, who (almost
of necessity)form no coherent school and advanceno all-purposetheory,
but whose work offers an original senseof the shape of particular things
and moments.Theseauthors providedwhat we were hungry for: informed
history,written in a clearfashion, free from jargon or pedantry.We felt that
the framework of this alternative,antiauthoritariantradition of approachto
the subject could be found both in scholarlypractice—exemplifiedby such
seminalworks as Meyer Schapiro'sessay"Courbet and PopularImagery"—
and in a humane critical tradition embodied in figures like the poets
Baudelaireand Apollinaireand the architecturalhistorian ReynerBanham.A
senseof history in all its peculiarity,a respectfor vernacularart that did not

i i
 spill over into perversepop worship, above all a feeling for detail, for the
irreducibleacts, decisions,and creative misunderstandingsof a particular
moment- theseelementsseemedto usthe distinguishingmarksof the kind
of scholarshipand criticism that we wanted to emulate and, if possible,to
stimulate.
Acutely awareof the necessarygaps,blind spots,and telegraphicconden
sationswithin the long synopticchronicleof modern art and popular culture
that we had ourselvesundertaken in the catalogueof the exhibition (High
and Low: Modern Art and Popular Culture. New York: The Museum of
Modern Art, 1990), we set out to assemblea complementaryanthology of
readingson the subject by writers we admired. Eachcontributor agreedto
take up a focused moment in either the origins or the development of
modern art's engagement with popular culture-with an eye, always,to
ward a larger understandingof how the dialogue between private imagina
tions and public codeshad affected the world we live in and the way we live
in it.
This book is the consequenceof that ambition. Three of the essaysit
contains representa summing up or a recapitulation of seminal investiga
tions by a well-establishedscholar.Irving Lavin's"High and Low BeforeTheir
Time. Berniniand the Art of SocialSatire"is a revisedversionof his essayon
Bernini and the invention of caricature, previously available only in an
exhibition catalogue.Against the stereotyped view that still seeslow satiric
imagery as the historical opposite of high ceremonialand aristocratic art,
Lavindemonstratesthat caricature-for centuriesthe Western "low" form
par excellence-emerged originally only in the most refined circlesof the
high Baroque. He shows, too, how caricature assumed a new equality
between artist and patron and reflected an extreme self-consciousness
about styles,aswell asa sophisticatedset of argumentsabout the nature of
representation.Lavins essay,in effect, isthe Genesisstory of discrete"high"
and low categoriesin Westernart; and, far from narratingthe first stirrings
of a battle between opposed or alien realms,it shows us that from its very
beginningsthese categorieswere provisional, mutable positions within a
large circle of creation. Lavinshows not only that "low" art as a separate,
identifiable realm could be defined only against the example of a secure
fine-art tradition, but that the high tradition was itself the begetter of that
low tradition; high needslow, as Lear needshis Fool. Fromthe beginning,
Lavindemonstrates,the relationshipbetween high and low hasbeen one of
danceand dialogue rather than one of opposition and contamination.As a
consequence,what look to us like bold modernist transgressionsof the
familiar decorum of high and low often turn out to represent the long-
postponedrepossessionof forms and visualstrategiesthat had belongedto
the high-art tradition all along. What may seem the invasionof an alien
visitor can often turn out to be the return of a prodigal.

f 2
 Lorenz Eitner'sessayon popular imagery in nineteenth-centuryart is in
part a summary and critical evaluationof the flood tide of scholarshipthat
has illuminated this subject since Meyer Schapiro'sfamous essayon the
source of Courbet's compositional ideas in popular prints-the images
d'Epinal. Eitner,however,wants to draw our attention not just to discrete
momentsof influenceand stylisticborrowing, but to the nineteenth-century
inventionsof larger transforming patterns of creation. He emphasizes,for
example,the generativerole of parody in making art modern. The familiar
low-comic form of the high-art pastiche, Eitner points out, became in the
hands of Daumier and Manet the meanstoward a profound imaginative
revolutionin style.When Daumiersendsup the idealizingpretensionsof the
academicnude, or when Manet parodiesthe Titianesquenude in his Olym-
pia, both artists reclaimthe ossifiedenergiesof a motif or style through an
affectionate and revivifying satire; by mocking the decadent form of an
entrenchedmotif, we reinvokeits original vitality. Suchgambits of humor in
modern art, Eitner suggests,play a role like that of "parodic" recyclingof
motifs in Renaissanceand Baroque musical composition, where the par
simonioustransposition and reuse of familiar motifs and themes always
becomethe engine of new invention. If Lavinshows that "low" has often
been in some way a subset of "high," Eitner shows that the artificial
separationof stylescould itself,through parodicjuxtapositions, generatea
kind of magnetic field in which new creation takes place.
Robert Rosenblum's"Cubism as PopArt" is an extensionand revisionof
hisseminal1973 essayon the meaningsof popular imagery,and particularly
of typographic fragmented headlines,in Cubist collage.Theforce of Rosen
blum's argument transcends his discovery of puns and rebuses in these
images, important as that discoverywas. If Eitner's high and low inter
changes recall the Bach who used parody as a way of making new and
seriousthings, Rosenblum'sstory (which begins with the stenciled name
bach on a Braque canvas)recalls instead the Bach of The Art of Fugue.
Cubism,Rosenblumshowsus, inventeda new tempering for modern art, as
potent for its time as linear perspectivehad been in the quattrocento, and
created a counterpoint between high metaphysicsand punning mischief.
The Cubist grid, as Rosenblumrevealsit, was lessthe grill on which repre
sentation was martyred and more like a net stretched taut between the
world and sight, catchingthe heraldryof modern existence—a seinewhich
captured news of distant wars and ads for ladies' lingerie side by side.
Rosenblum'sessayis also, self-declaredly,a document in the history of
taste. It was the experienceof American Pop art of the sixtiesthat made
Rosenblumlook again at what Picassoand Braquehad done half a century
before, and reconsiderthat Adamic style not just as a step on the path
toward abstraction but as a complex, multipart system of many-voiced
reference. But if Pop brought Rosenblumback to Cubism, the spiraling

i
 movement of his scholarship led him not merely to some voguish rein-
z terpretation of the familiar forms but insteadto a set of precise,empirical
a
questions about objects he had looked at so often before: Why these
u
particular words, why these headlines,and why thesejuxtapositions?An
2
< sweringthose questionsled him to realand inarguablediscoveriesabout the
original intentions of Braqueand Picasso.Rosenblum'sCubism had always
<
beenavailableto be seen,but it requiredthe impetusof a new engagement
Z with popular culture in contemporary art to become articulated. His
< influential essay,here revisedto addresstwo decadesof subsequent re
ui
search,remindsus that for scholarsas much as for artists, new ideascome
UI
into being by paying attention to things that a moment before seemed
z almost too familiar.
c
< The essaysby Jeffrey Weiss,on Cubism and the cabaret and music hall
> revue,and by John Bowlt, on popular imageryand the Russianavant-garde,
* both extend the new attention to popular culture in early modern art that
c
Rosenblumpioneered.The Russianstory is, inevitably,different from all the
others, for it takes place not as a series of responsesto the forces of
modernization but as a heroic attempt by artists to create those forces
almost out of thin air. Likethe Marx BrothersGrouchoand Chico searching
for a stolen painting in their film Animal Crackers(Groucho: "Suppose
nobody in the house took the painting?" Chico: "Go to the house next
door." Groucho: "That's great. Supposethere isn't any house next door?"
Chico: "Well, then of coursewe gotta build one."), the Russianavant-garde
had to construct a modern culture in order to havea habitation in which to
make modern art. As Bowlt shows, they used the indigenous folk-art
stylizationsof shop signsas replacementsfor the Cubist headlinesand ads.
The Russianstory, as Bowlt chronicles it, suggests that the attention to
popular culture that filled early modern painting was less the reflexive
responseto an unavoidablenew thing than a complex structure of inven
tion, which searchedfor those new things as necessaryelements of style.
In the "High and Low" exhibition we tried to focus on the passagefrom
like to like, showing for example how popular graphic and painterly and
poster styles passed into high painting. But we recognize as well that
another kind of inquiry might ask about the dialoguesbetween, say,dra
matic or theatrical art and modern painting and assemblage.In the past,
such inquirieshavetended to the hopelesslyvagueor undemonstrable;but
Jeffrey Weiss makes this approach credible by looking at a specific ex
change,between Cubistcollageand the satiricalrevuesof the Parisianmusic
halls.Weissshows us that the revueshad alreadyon hand a seriesof satiric
devices- the punningocclusionsof headlines,the absurdistmix of dire daily
newsand farcicaltrivia -that, passinginto the handsof Picassoand Braque,
could become the meanstoward avant-gardeadvance.Here, as so often
elsewhere, jokes became elegies—a structure of entertainment

f 4
was made into the template for a new kind of expressivelyricism and
hermeticpoetry. By recognizingthe convergenceof the worlds proposedby
the music hall revue and the collage, Weissalso asks us to reconsiderthe
originsof Cubist innovations,not in a narrow or pseudo-technicalresponse
to semiologicalproblemsin representation,but asa living response,formed
in the crucible of popular culture, to a new world. Weiss,beginning from
Rosenblum'soriginal insight about the ludic nature of Cubist collage,shows
that the particular kind of gamesthat Picassoand Braquewere playingwere
alreadyavailableas a fully developedlanguagein popular entertainment -
and that the artists' act of genius was to pay attention to it and to see its
possibilitiesas a form of lyric expression.
If Weiss'sessay,and those of Lavin,Eitner,and Rosenblum,representsthe
extensionand critique of the tradition of Schapiro,the essaysby RobertStorr
and Peter Plagensextend the critic's inspectionof pop culture that began
with Baudelaire.Storr addressesClement Greenberg's1939 essay"Avant-
Garde and Kitsch," from which many automatic assumptionsabout the
nature of popular culture and modern art continue to flow. Storr offers a
detailed reconstructionof the backgroundof that essay,both within Green
berg'sown work and within the broaderdebatesof the art world in its time.
He examinesthe sources of its extraordinary polemical force —and also
demonstratesits reliance on what was at best an innocently ill-informed,
and at worst a purposefullyincurious,readingboth of the historyof modern
art and of the art of Greenberg'sown time. Greenberg'sterms turn out to be
arbitrary constructionsof a moment's need. They serveda combative pur
posethat enrichedand helpedto fortify a great moment in modern art but
were nonethelessbuilt atop a dubious vision of history and were propelled
by mandarinforms of arbitrary judgment. Explodingthe flawed "dialectic"
of high and low, Storr offers in the end a seriesof reflectionsthat ask us to
transcend the absurdity of authoritarian criticism on art and to put in its
place not a nihilism but a genuine engagement with the particulars of
history and the contradictions of modern experience.
Peter Plagens'sessayon California Pop is different in kind from all the
other contributions. It is a first-person account of things seen and experi
enced at a crucial moment, in a special locale, in the development of
Americanart. Plagensasksusto look at the work of EdRuschaand other Los
Angeles artists who emerged during the sixties in a new way, not as a
pendant of New York Pop but as a separateactivity with an original aes
thetic. But he asks us also to broaden our senseof vernacularelements in
contemporaryart, so that the Zen purity of abstractartists like LarryBelland
John McCracken can also be seen as responsesto the pop culture that
surrounded them, in areas like the exquisite lacqueringof custom cars.
LynneCookealsoconcentrateson the sharplydifferent inflectionsderived
from popular culture in the contexts of different cities and countries,

1R
 comparing the origins and expressionsof an engagement with similar
sources—advertising,commercialpackaging,pulp magazines,and so on —
in Britishart of the 1950s and 1960s and in Americanart of the sameperiod.
Cooke helps us to understand the complex nature of transatlantic inter
changesin the domainsof both high and low culture during the formative
period of postwar art; and she opens a window onto the contentious
internal dynamicsof a Britishart scenein the 1950s that is too often treated
by American writers as a mere training ground for the Pop sensibility.The
differing visionsof the modernisttradition, and of the potentialsto be found
in the languagesof pulp magazines,car reviews,and comic books, are here
examined in the light of the special circumstancesof both the British art
world and Britishpoliticsat a keymoment when a youngergenerationbroke
with the modern establishmentand found its tongue in the slang of a new
consumer society.
The innovation of these essays,taken all together, may paradoxically
involvea recuperationof ideaslong extant. "Backto Baudelaire"is the cry,in
effect, at the end of Storrs essay—back,that is,to a critical approachwhich
surrendersambitions for historical system-plotting and claims to final au
thority, and which instead "enters modernity in all its enduring ambiguity."
And if this is the critic's lesson,it might be supplemented by a historical
approach almost as venerable, and similarly misunderstood in recent
years—the investigationof iconography imagined originally by Aby War
burg, which has so often been caricatured or degraded into the mere
decoding of visual allegories. Warburg proposed to follow the
transmission of symbolic motifs and stylistic habits through history, as
the unfolding of tropes and props that somehow seemednecessaryto the
imagination, but which migrated from social place to place, from antique
sarcophagito Renaissance portraits to contemporaryadvertisements,to be
used-like the systemof numbers or any other rich structural system-in
new ways in new places.Thestory of high and low might be seenas only an
aspect of the larger,authentically Warburgian vista of art history-an art
historythat beginswith the closestudy of motifs and structures,and follows
their evolution and reuse without surrendering either to a narrow social
determinismor to a metaphysicalidealism.Thechangingforce and meaning
of shop signs, or puns made from occluded headlines,demonstrate the
ways in which our cultures language of images operates truly as all lan
guagesare empowered to do—that is, not just as imprisoningstructures,
but as all-purpose codes that have no essenceand are constantly and
unpredictably kept in play to reveal new possibilitiesand new uses.
If the parental figures of this enterprise are found predominantly in the
lineage from Baudelaireto Banham, of astute observersof imagery and
styles,historiansof books and ideasare equallycrucial. RogerShattuck-to
choosean exampleimmediatelyat hand—hasbeenconcernedfor his entire

f
careerwith describingthe choreographythat governsthe endlesscircular
pavane between the elements of our culture. The modernism he has
mappedfor us is conceivednot asthe inexorablemarchtoward a fixed goal,
or as a set of exclusionsand prohibitions, but as the complicatedbranching
relationship of acts and clubs and activities, where burlesque banquets
produce profound cultural seismicshifts. Shattucksupplieshere a coda for
the whole enterpriseof "High and Low: Modern Art and PopularCulture" -
appropriately,in the dual form of an entertainment and of a critical response
to it. Shattuckoffers an imaginary review of an imaginary play—almost, a
kind of revue- in which many of the actorsof the modernist drama, artists
and writers, high and low, appear. Their farcical and at times poignant
bumps and collisions and misunderstandingsoffer a poetic vision of the
interweavingsof seeminglydisparatestrainsof modern experience.Harpo
Marx and TristanTzara,Marcel Duchampand Ring Lardner—modern art in
all its complexityand popular culture in all its vitality—suggestfor Shattucka
world like that found in a Frenchboulevard farce, a comedy of mistaken
identities(which leadto the discoveryof real lost brothers),misunderstand
ings, suddenly pledged oaths of permanent friendships, episodesof high
dudgeon, and other moments of common recognition and soft-shoe ami
ability.Theplayends,Shattucktells us, unresolved.Perhaps,indeed,the lack
of a final reconciliationis just what such a comedythrives on. The possibili
ties for near-misses,strange alliances, and odd bedfellows are not yet
exhausted,and this nagging open-endednesswith its lure of surprisewill
keepdrawing us, the audience,backto our grumbling, and befuddlement,
and criticism—and pleasure—when the curtain goes up and the action
resumesthis evening.
 H I G H A N D LO W B E FOR E

THEIR TIME: BERNINI AND THE

ART OF SOCIAL SATI R E

 odernism nowadays is so closely identified with formalism that a IRVING
new social awareness,which was a fundamental aspect of the
modernist movement sincethe late nineteenth century, is often forgotten.
Thisnew socialconcern,in turn, engendereda new appreciationof popular
LAVIN
culture, and of unsophisticatedculture generallyin all its manifestations.The
thoroughnessof modernism'srejectionof traditional cultural values,and the
intimacyof the associationmodernism establishedbetween that rejection
and socialreform, were unprecedentedsincethe coming of Christianity.The
association,however,had a long prehistoryto which the modern movement
was deeply indebted, but which we tend to overlook. We tend, instead,to
think of the development of culture in Darwinian terms, as a progressive
evolution leading inexorablyif not necessarilyto improvementthen at least
to increasedsophisticationand facility. The exceptionsto this principleare
just that, exceptions—cases in which, owing to special circumstances,a
primitive cultural state is preserved accidentally,as in certain "remote"
cornersof the globe; or perseveresincidentallywithin the domain of high
culture in certain extra-, preter-, or noncultural contexts,as in the art of the
1 untutored (popular and folk, including graffiti), of children, of the insane.
Without presuming to challenge the biological theory of evolution as
such,my view of the matter in art-historicalterms is quite different. I would
arguethat man haswhat might be describedasan "unartistic" heritagethat
persists,whether recognized or not, alongside and notwithstanding all
developmentsto the contrary. "High" and "low," the sophisticatedand the
naive, are always present as cultural alternatives—in all societies, even
"primitive" ones—exerting opposite and equal thrusts in the history of
human awarenessand self-revelation.They may appear to exist, develop,
and function independently,but in fact they are perennialalter egos, which
at times interact directly. High and low art, like Beauty and the Beast,go
hand in hand.
A striking and surprising case in point is offered by a seriesof mosaic
pavementsfound in a great and lavishly decorated house at Olynthus in
2 Greece,dating from the earlyfourth century b.c. Herethe figural composi
tions with concentricbordersdisplayall the order and disciplinewe normally
associatewith Greekthought (fig. 1).Tracesof this rationalityare discernible
in certain of the floors where largegeometricmotifs are placedin the center,
abovefinely lettered augural inscriptions,such as "Good Fortune" or "Lady
Luck," while various crudely drawn apotropaic symbols—circles, spirals,
swastikas,zigzags—appearhereand there in the background(fig. 2). Finally,
the entire composition may be dissolvedin an amorphouschaosfrom which
the magical signs shine forth mysteriouslyhelter-skelter,like stars in the
firmament —the random arrangementis as deliberateand significant asthe
signsthemselves(fig. 3). Theentire gamut of expressiveform and meaning
ful thought seems here encapsulated,at the very apogee of the classical

19
 period in Greece, when the great tradition of European high art was
inaugurated. The Olynthus mosaics reveal the common ground-man's
senseof the supernatural-that lies between the extremesof high and low
to which we give terms like "mythology" and "superstition "
Thesubsequentdevelopmentof Greco-Romanart alsoaboundsin various
inds and phases of radical retrospectivity-Neo-Attic, Archaistic
Egyptianizing—in which the naturalistic idealsof classicalstyle were thor
oughly expunged. Virtuoso performancesby artists of exquisite taste and
re med technique recaptured the awkward graceand innocent charm of a
distant and venerablepast. The retrospectivemode might even be adopted
in direct apposition to the classicalstyle, as in the reliefs of a late-fourth-
century altar from Epidaurus,where the archaisticdesign of the figure on
the sidecontrastswith the contemporaryforms of those on the front (fiqs 4
and 5).3 a'
A conspicuousand historicallycrucial instanceof such a coincidenceof
artistic opposites occurred at the end of classicalantiquity, in the arch in
Romededicated in a.d. 315 to celebratethe emperor Constantine'svictory
over his rival, Maxentius. Partsof earlier monuments celebrating the em
perorsTrajan,Hadrian,and MarcusAureliuswere incorporatedin the sculp
tural decorationsof the arch,along with contemporaryreliefsportraying the
actionsof Constantinehimself(fig. 6).Therondelsdisplayall the nobility and
grace of the classicaltradition, while the friezes below seem rigid rough
and ungainly,culturally impoverished.It used to be thought that the arch
was a monument of decadence,a mere pastiche in which Constantine's
craftsmen salvagedwhat they could of the high style art of their pre
decessors,using their own inadequatehandiwork only when necessary.In
fact, there is ample evidenceto show that the juxtaposition was deliberate
intended to create a complementary contrast that would illustrate Con
stantines intention to incorporatethe grandeur of the Empireat the height
of its power with the humble spirituality of the new Christian ideal of
dominion. The latter mode may be understood partly in contemporary
terms, as an elevationto the highestlevelof imperial patronage of "vulgar"
orms whether native to the indigenous populace of Romeor imported
rom the provinces."It has been suggested,however,that the vulgar style
which was destined to play a seminal role in the development of medieval
art, was also a consciousevocation of Rome'sremote, archaic past, when
simplicity,austerity,and self-sacrificehad first laid the foundation of a new
5 world order.
An analogousphenomenonhasbeen observedin the context of medieval
art itself, at the height of the Romanesqueperiod. Many churchesof the
eeventh and twelfth centuries, including some of the most illustrious,
displaymore or lessisolatedreliefs executedin a crude, "infantile" manner
6 and illustrating grotesqueor uncouth subjects(fig. 7). Although they were

2 O
 formerly dismissedas reused"debris" from a much earlier,pre-Romanesque
period, recent study has shown that such works are in fact contemporary
with, often part of the very fabric of the buildings they adorn. They might
even proudly display the inscribedsignature of the sculptor, and the bold
suggestionhasbeen madethat the sameartist mayalsohavebeen responsi
ble for the more familiar and more sophisticated parts of the decoration.
Suchstylisticand thematic interjectionsmust be meaningful,especiallysince
they inevitablyrecallthe real spolia, bits and piecesof ancient monuments,
with which manymedievalchurchesare replete.Thesedeliberatelyretrieved
fragments, often discordantly incorporated into the new masonry, bore
physicalwitnessto the supersessionof paganismby Christianity.Perhapsthe
substandard Romanesquereliefs expressa similar idea in contemporary
terms.
The particular subject of this paper may thus quite properly be viewed as
one episodein the general history of the phenomenonof cultural extremes
that sometimestouch. The episode, however,is an important one in the
developmentof Europeanculture because,despite the many antecedents,
somethingnew happenedin the Renaissance. Theclassicalidealsof natural
ismand high culture were not only retrieved,they were also revived,refined,
regularized,and embedded in a theoretical framework. This philosophical,
mathematical,eventheologicalstructure,which culminatedtoward the end
of the sixteenth century in a treatise by Gian Paolo Lomazzo with the
significant title L'idea del tempio delta pittura (1590), served not only to
explainand justify the classicalvaluesthemselves;it also raisedtheir practi
tionersto the levelof liberal,and therefore noble artists.The classicalideals,
albeit in manyvariations,were thus enshrinedin a code of visualbehavior,as
it were, that had every bit the force of —indeed, it was often directly linked
to —a code of personalbehaviorin socialterms. Tothis unprecedentedidea
of a pure, high art, elevatedto the apex of an explicit theoretical and social
scale of values, there was an equal and opposite reaction, on the same
terms. Oneof the productsof this reactionwas the creationof caricature,an
art form that we still today think of as peculiarly modern.
Bernini'scaricatureof PopeInnocent XI (fig. 8) is one of the few tracesof
the artist's handiwork that havecome down to us from the very last yearsof
his life. Bernini was seventy-eight and had only four years to live when
BenedettoOdescalchiwas electedpope, at the age of sixty-five,in 1676. As
a work of art, the drawing isslight enough—a few tremulous, if devastating,
pen linessketchedin a moment of diversionon a wisp of paper measuring
7 barelyfour and a half by seveninches. Despiteits modest pretensions—in
part actually because of them, as we shall see—the work representsa
monumentalwatershedin the history of art: it isthe first true caricaturethat
has come down to us of so exalted a personageas a pope. Signifyingas it
does that no one is beyond ridicule, it marks a critical step in the develop-

2 1
 merit, perhaps the beginning, of what can properly be called the art of social
satire, a new form of visual expression in which the noblest traditions of
European art and society are called into question. The forces here unleashed
would ultimately, in the modern period, challenge the notion of tradition
itself.
By and large, before Bernini there were two chief methods of ridiculing
people in a work of art. The artist might poke fun at a particular individual,
independently of any setting or ideological context, if the victim occupied a
relatively modest station in life. Such, evidently, were the informal little
comic sketches of friends and relatives by Agostino and Annibale Carracci,
described in the sources but now lost. These ritrattini carichi, or "charged
portraits," as the Carracci called them, were certainly among the primary
inspirations of Bernini's caricatures (fig. 9). Alternatively, the victim might be
grand, and he would be represented in a context that reflected his position
in society. The artists of the Reformation, for example, had made almost a
specialty of satirizing the popes as representatives of a hated institution and
its vices (fig. 10). In the former case the individuality of the victim was
8 important, but he was not; in the latter case the opposite was true.
The differences between Bernini's drawing and these antecedents have to
do, on the one hand, with the form of the work —a particular kind of
drawing that we immediately recognize and refer to as a caricature —and,
on the other, with its content —the peculiar appearance and character of a
specific individual who might even be the Supreme Pontiff of the Roman
9 Catholic Church. I shall offer my remarks under those general headings.
Much of what I shall have to say was already said, at least implicitly, in the
accounts of Bernini's caricatures given by his early biographers, who were
well aware of the significance of his achievement in this domain. Filippo
Baldinucci reports that Bernini's "boldness of touch" (franchezza di tocco) in
drawing was

truly miraculous;and I could not saywho in his time was his equal in this ability. An
effect of this boldnesswas his singularwork in the kind of drawing we call caricature,
or exaggerated sketches,wittily malicious deformations of people's appearance,
which do not destroy their resemblanceor dignity, though often they were great
princeswho enjoyedthe joke with him, even regardingtheir own faces,and showed
10 the drawings to others of equal rank.

Domenico Bernini, the artist's son, gives the following formulation:

at that time [under Urban VIII] and afterwards he worked singularlyin the kind of
drawing commonly referredto ascaricature.Thiswas a singulareffect of his spirit, in
which as a joke he deformed some natural defect in people'sappearance,without
destroying the resemblance,recording them on paper as they were in substance,
 although in part obviouslyaltered.The inventionwas rarelypracticedby other artists,
it being no easymatter to derive beauty from the deformed, symmetryfrom the ill-
proportioned. He made many such drawings, and he mostly took pleasure in
exaggeratingthe features of princesand important personages,sincethey in turn
enjoyedrecognizingthemselvesand others, admiring the great inventivenessof the
11 artist and enjoying the game.

The explicit definition of caricature given in these passages—a comic

exaggeration of the natural defects of the sitter's features —focuses on what
might be called the mimetic nature of the genre. It is essential that an
individual, preferably of high rank, be represented, and that with all the
distortion he remain individually identifiable. The formal qualities are ex
pressed implicitly: the drawings were independent works of art, conceived
as ends in themselves and appreciated as such; they were also true or pure
portraits, in that they depicted a single individual, isolated from any setting
or narrative context; and they were graphically distinctive, in that they were
drawn in a singular manner (reflecting Bernini's franchezza di tocco), specifi
12 cally adapted to their purpose.
On all these counts Bernini's drawings are sharply distinguished from the
tradition most often cited in the prehistory of caricature, physiognomies.
The scientific or pseudoscientific investigation of ideal types as they relate to
moral and psychological categories originated in antiquity and enjoyed a
great florescence in the Renaissance. Leonardo's studies of grotesque heads
as expressions of the aesthetic notion of perfect or beautiful ugliness (fig.
11) are one familiar case in point. Another major aspect of the tradition was
the comparison of human and animal features, on the theory that the
analogies revealed common psychological qualities: human facial traits
were assimilated to those of various animal species to bring out the sup
posed characterological resemblances. The first comprehensive tract on the
13 subject was published in 1586 by Giambattista delta Porta (fig. 12). Bernini
was certainly aware of the physiognomical tradition, both the association
between exaggeration and character analysis and the link between human
and animal types. Yet, such studies never portrayed specific individuals, they
were never drawn in any special style of their own, and they were never
sufficient unto themselves as works of art.
It is well known that in the course of the sixteenth century drawing had
achieved the status of an independent art —that is, serving neither as an
exercise, nor a documentary record, nor a preparatory design —in a limited
variety of forms. One was what may be called the presentation drawing,
which the artist prepared expressly for a given person or occasion.
Michelangelo's drawings for his friend Tommaso Cavalieri are among the
earliest such works that have come down to us (fig. 13).14Another category,
especially relevant in our context, was the portrait drawing, which by
 * Bernini'stime had also become a distinct genre. In the early seventeenth
> century there was a specialist in this field in Rome, Ottavio Leoni; he
J portrayed many notablesof the period, including Bernini himself (fig. 14),
n who also made "regular" portrait drawings of this sort (cf. fig. 17).i s (|
- Bernini'scasethe complementarityand contrast between the two indepen-
E dent graphic forms extend even to the identifying inscriptions: on the
caricatures,a coarsescrawlwith the name and professionalgualification in
the vulgar language; on the formal portrait, a humanisticLatin epigraph in
calligraphicminuscules,but not the noble majusculesof classicalepigraphy.)
A common characteristicof these early autonomousdrawings is that they
were highly finished, and the draftsman tended to invent or adopt special
:
16 devices which distinguish them from other kinds of drawings
Michelangelo'sfamous stippling and rubbing is one example, Leoni'smix
ture of colored chalksis another.Theseworks are carefullyexecuted,rich in
detail, and complex in technique. The artist, in one way or another,created
an independentform midway between a sketchand a painting or sculpture.
We shall explore the peculiar graphic qualitiesof Bernini'scaricaturespres
ently. For the moment it is important to note that they incorporate two
interrelated innovationswith respectto this prior history of drawing as an
end in itself. Berninis are the first such independentdrawings in which the
technique is purely graphic, i.e., the medium is exclusivelypen and ink, the
forms being outlined without internal modeling; and in them the rapidity,
freshness, and spontaneity usually associatedwith the informal sketch
17 become an essentialfeature of the final work of art.
Within the specificcontext of the autonomousportrait drawing, Bernini's
caricaturesalso stand apart. The prevalent convention in this genre, and
indeed in that of the painted portrait generallysincethe early Renaissance,
was to show the sitter in three-quarter views, whereasBernini'scaricatures
are invariablyeither full-face or profile (figs. 15 and 16). The effect seems
deliberately archaic, but his preference may also be seen in the light of
another,equallystriking fact: among Bernini'sown portrait drawings (other
than caricatures) those that are independent are three-quarter views
(fig. 17),while those that can be identified asstudiesfor sculpturedportraits
18 are in strict profile (fig. 18). We know that the very first studies he made
from life for the famous bust of LouisXIVwere two drawings,one full-face,
19 the other in profile. Bernini,of course,astonishedhis contemporariesby
also making manysketchesof the sitter moving and talking, and these must
20 havebeenextremelyvarious. In actuallypreparingthe sculpture, however,
the full-face and profile were evidently primary,perhapsbecausethe sculp
2 tor beganby tracing them on the sidesand front of the block. 1We shallsee
that other factorswere involvedaswell, but it seemsclearthat in this respect
Berninis caricatures transfer to the final work conventions proper to a
preliminary stage.

24
 Bernini'scaricatures have a distinct graphic style that marks them as
caricaturesquite apart from what they represent.Theyconsist,as we have
noted, entirely of outlines, from which hatching, shading, and modeling
havebeen eliminated in favor of an extreme, even exaggeratedsimplicity.
Thelinesarealsooften patently inept, suggestingeither bold, muscle-bound
attacks on the paper, or a tremulous hesitancy.In other words, Bernini
adopted (or rather created)a kind of lowbrow or everyman'sgraphic mode
in which traditional methods of sophisticateddraftsmanshipare travestied
22 just as are the sitters themselves.
If one speculateson possible antecedents of Bernini'scaricature tech
nique, two art forms —if they can be called that —immediately spring to
mind, in which the inept and untutored form part of the timeless and
anonymousheritageof human creativity: children'sdrawingsand graffiti. It
is not altogether far-fetched to imaginethat Berninimight havetaken such
things seriously,as it were, in making his comic drawings, for he would
certainlynot havebeenthe first to do so. Albrecht Durerdrew a deliberately
crude and childish sketch of a woman with scraggly hair and prominent
nose in a letter he wrote from Venice in 1506 to his friend Willibald
Pirckheimer(fig. 19). The drawing illustrates a famous passagein which
Durerdescribesthe Italians'favorablereactionto his RosenkranzMadonna.
He reports that the new picture had silencedall the painterswho admired
23 his graphicwork but said he could not handlecolors. The clumsy-looking
sketch is thus an ironic responseto his critics, as if to say, "Here is my
Madonna, reduced to the form these fools can appreciate."
Somethingsimilar appears in certain manuscriptsof Durer'sfriend and
admirer Erasmusof Rotterdam (fig. 20). Here and there he introduced
sketches—one might almost call them doodles, except they are much too
self-conscious—that include repeated portrayalsof himself with exagger
ated features, in what Panofskydescribed as the sharply observant, hu
24 morousspirit that animated his Praiseof Folly. It might be added that the
crude style of the drawings also matchesthe ironic exaltation of ignorance
that is the fundamental theme of Praiseof Folly.Although Erasmuswas an
amateur,it should not be assumedthat the sketchesare simplyinept. Hedid
know better, for he had practiced painting in his youth, and he had a
discriminatingart-historical eye that even encompassedwhat he called a
25 "rustic" style,which he associatedwith earlymedievalart. On the backof
a Leonardesquedrawing from this sameperiod, a deliberategraphic antith
esisoccurs in which a wildly expressivehead is redrawn as a witty, school-
boyish persiflage (fig. 21).
A child's drawing playsa leading role in a portrait by the mid-sixteenth-
26 centuryVeronesepainter GiovanniFrancescoCaroto (fig. 22). Perhapsthe
drawing is the work of the young man who shows it to the spectator.He
seemsrather too old, however,and a much more correctly drawn eye (the
27 eyeof the painter?)appearsat the lower right of the sheet. Thesuggestive
smileand glancewith which the youth confrontsthe viewer certainlyconvey
a deepersenseof the ironic contrast between the drawing and the painting
28 itself.
Graffiti have a particular relevanceto our context becausewhile their
stylistic naivete may be constant, the sorts of things they representare not.
Historicallyspeaking,portrait graffiti are far rarer than one might suppose.
Consideringthe role of "proper" portraiture in classicaltimes, it is certainly
significant that ancient draftsmen also inscribed many comic graffiti por
traying real individuals-often identified by name-on the walls of Roman
29 buildings at Pompeiiand Rome(fig. 23). I feel sure Berniniwas aware of
suchdrawings,if only becausewe know he was acutelyawareof the wall as
a graphic field. It was his habit, he said, to stroll about the gallery of his
housewhile excogitatinghis first ideasfor a project, tracing them upon the
30 wall with charcoal. Two extant wall compositions by him, though not
31 preliminary sketches,are in fact drawings (fig. 24).
The term "graffito," of course, refers etymologicallyto the technique of
incised drawing. The beginning of its modern associationwith popular
satiricalrepresentationscan be traced to the Renaissance, notably to Vasari's
time when sgraffito was used for a kind of mural decoration that often
includedgrotesqueand chimericforms with amusingdistortions and trans
32 formations of nature, based on classicalmodels (fig. 25).
It is also in the Renaissancethat we begin to find allusionsto popular
mural art by sophisticated artists. Michelangelo, who was full of refer
ences,seriousas well as ironic, to the relationsamong variouskinds of art,
was a key figure in this development. By way of illustrating Michelangelo's
prodigious visual memory,Vasaritells an anecdote that also shedslight on
this neglected aspect of the master's stylistic sensibility.On an occasion
during his youth, when Michelangelo was dining with some of his col
leagues,they held an informal contest to see who could "best" draw a
figure without design—as awkward, Vasarisays,as the doll-like creatures
(fantocci) made by the ignorant who deface the walls of buildings.
Michelangelowon the game by reproducing, as if it were still before him,
such a scrawl (gofferia), which he had seen long before. Vasari's
comment—that this was a difficult achievementfor one of discriminating
taste and steeped in design—shows that he was well aware of the
33 underlyingsignificanceof such an interplay between high and low style.
Juxtapositionsof this kind may actually be seen among the spectacular
seriesof charcoal sketchesattributed to Michelangelo and his assistants,
discovereda few years ago on the walls of chambers adjacent to and
34 beneath the Medici Chapel in Florence(fig. 26).
An even more remarkableinstance—and, as it happens, almost exactly
contemporary with the Durer letter —involvesone of Michelangelo'searly
 sonnets (fig. 27). The poem parodies Michelangelo's own work on the
Sistine ceiling, its gist being that the agonizing physical conditions of the
work impair his judgment (giudizio ), that is, the noblest part of art, so that
he is not a true painter, and he begs indulgence:

My belly's pushed by force beneath my chin.

My brush, above my face continually,

Makesit a splendid floor by dripping down.

And I am bending like a Syrianbow.

And judgment, hence, must grow,
Borne in mind, peculiar and untrue;
You cannot shoot well when the gun's askew.
John, come to the rescue
Of my dead painting now, and of my honor;
35 I'm not in a good place, and I'm no painter.

In the margin of the manuscript page he drew a sketch depicting his twisted
body as the bow, his right arm holding the brush as the arrow, and a figure
on the ceiling as the target. Of particular interest in our context is the striking
contrast in style between the two parts of the sketch : the figure of the artist
is contorted but elegantly drawn in a normal way; that on the ceiling is
grotesquely deformed and drawn with amateurish, even childlike crudity.
Michelangelo transforms the Sistine ceiling itself into a kind of graffito,
deliberately adopting a subnormal mode to satirize high art —in this case his
own. If, as I suspect, the grotesque figure on the vault alludes to God the
Father (fig. 28), Michelangelo's thought may reach further still: the graffito
style would express the artist's sense of inadequacy in portraying the Su
preme Creator, and unworthiness in the traditional analogy between the
36 artist's creation and God's.
Two further examples bring us to Bernini's own time. In a view of the
interior of a church in Utrecht by the great Dutch architectural painter Pieter
Saenredam, a graffito of four men wearing curious armor and riding a horse
37 appears conspicuously on a pier at the lower right (figs. 29 and 30). The
drawing represents a well-known episode from a medieval French romance,
which had a wide popular appeal. Although the meaning of the subject in
the context of Saenredam's picture is unclear, the style of the drawing may
have been intended not only to suggest the hand of an untrained graffito
artist generally; it may also be a deliberate archaism to evoke the medieval
origin of the story and, incidentally, of the building itself. Perhaps the boy
standing nearby and about to draw on the wall refers ironically to
Saenredam himself; perhaps the companion group, a boy seated with a
 z schoolchild'sbox at his side and teaching a dog to sit up, refers to the
> mastery of art achieved by instruction and practice. In any event, the
j drawing must havehad a specialsignificancefor Saenredam,sinceheadded
38 his own signature and the date immediately below.
E Our final example is from Rome,in the form of a drawing by Pietervan
J Laer,nicknamed"il Bamboccio."Hewas the physicallydeformed leaderof a
notoriousgroup of Flemishartists in Romein the seventeenthcentury called
i bamboccianti (the "painters of dolls"), a contemporary term that refers
derisivelyto the awkward figures and lowlife subject matter of their paint
ings. The members of the group formed a loose-knit organization, the
Bentvueghel,and were notorious for their unruly lifestyle, which made a
mockeryof the noble Renaissance idealof the gentlemanartist. Thedrawing
(fig. 31) showsthe interior of a tavern filled with carousingpatrons; the back
wall is coveredwith all mannerof crude and grotesquedesigns,includinga
39 caricature-likehead shown in profile. Many works by the bamboccianti
are reflections on the nature of art, both in theory and practice, and Van
Laer'sdrawing is surely also an ironic exaltation of the kind of satiricaland
popular art held in contempt by the grand and often grandiloquent human
ist tradition. We are invited to contemplate this irony by the figures who
draw attention to the word "Bamboo[tsj" scrawled beneath a doll-like
figure, seen from behind, and the profile head—the latter certainly a self-
portrait of Van Laer.Thesubtlety of the conceit may be inferredfrom the fact
that bamboccio, like its synonym fantoccio used by Vasariin the anecdote
about Michelangelo,was specificallyappliedto the crude mural drawingsof
40 the inept.
One point emergesclearly from our consideration of the prehistory of
Bernini'sdeliberateand explicit exploitation of aestheticvulgarity.Theartists
who displayedthis unexpectedsensibilitygenerallydid so in order to make
some statement about the nature of art or of their profession.The state
ments were, in the end, deeply personal and had to do with the relation
between ordinary or common creativity and what is usuallycalled art. No
doubt there is an art-theoretical, or even art-philosophicalelement in Ber
nini'sattitude, aswell, but with him the emphasisshifts. Hiseveryman'sstyle
is not a vehiclefor comment about art or being an artist, but about people,
or rather being a person.Hisvisuallampoonsare strictly ad hominem, and it
isfor this reason,I think, that in the caseof Berninione can speakfor the first
time of caricature drawing not only as art, but as an art of social satire.
With respectto the context of Bernini'scaricaturesoutside the visualarts,
it is important to note that we can date the beginningof his production as a
caricaturistfairly precisely.It must have coincidedwith the earliest datable
example that has come down to us, the famous drawing of Cardinal
Scipione Borghese,nephew of Pope Paul V and Bernini's greatest early
patron (seefig. 15).A terminus ante quern is provided by Scipione'sdeath at

28
 age fifty-seven on October 2, 1633, but most likely the sketch was made
during the sittings for the even more famous pair of marble portrait busts of
the cardinal that are known to have been executed in the summer of 1632
41 (fig. 32). It can scarcely be coincidental, moreover, that probably in Novem
ber of the same year Lelio Guidiccioni, one of Rome's literary lights and a
close friend and admirer of Bernini, acquired an important album of draw
42 ings of genre figures, now lost, by Annibale Carracci.
What especially suggests that Bernini started making caricatures at this
time is the fact that he then also developed a passionate interest in the comic
theater. Beginning in February 1633, and very frequently thereafter at
carnival time, he would produce a comedy of his own invention, often in an
improvised theater in his own house, with himself, his family, and his studio
assistants as the performers 43 His plays were extremely successful, and we
have many references to them in the early biographies and contemporary
sources, which report that the audiences included some of the highest
members of Roman society. The significance of this parallel with the theater
is not simply that Bernini's interest in caricature and comedy coincided, for it
is evident from what we learn about his plays that their relationship to their
predecessors was analogous to that of his caricatures to theirs.
Bernini's comedies stemmed largely from the popular tradition of the
commedia dell'arte, in which troupes of professional actors assumed stock
character roles and performed largely conventional plots. The comic effect
depended heavily on the contrast of social strata achieved through the
interplay of representative types, portrayed through stereotyped costumes,
gestures, and dialects. The actors were so versed in their craft, and its
conventions were so ingrained, that the plays were recorded only in the form
of brief plot summaries. The recitations were thus extemporaneous, but
bound to a tradition of virtuosity born of familiarity and repetition.
By way of contrast, I shall quote first Domenico Bernini's account of
Bernini's plays, and then just one contemporary description 44 Domenico
says:

Thebeautyand wonder [of his comedies]consistedfor the greatestand best part in

the facetious and satiric jokes, and in the scenic inventions: the former were so
meaningful[significant/],spirited and closeto the truth [fondati sul vero], that many
expertsattributed the playsto Plautusor Terenceor other writers, whom the cavalier
had neverread,but did them all by sheerforce of wit. A most remarkablething isthat
eachnight the theater was filled with the highestnobility of Rome,ecclesiasticaswell
as secular,and those who were targets of his jibes not only took no offense but,
consideringtheir truth and honesty,almost took pride in being subjectedto Bernini's
acute and ingeniousremarks.Thesethen circulatedthroughout Romeand often the
sameevening reachedeven the ears of the pope, who seeing Berninithe next day
took pleasurein havinghim repeatthem. Bernininot only laboredto composethem,
 but also took great pains to see that the actors, who were mostly membersof his
entourage and not experiencedin the theater,would give natural and lively perfor
mances.In so doing, he served as everyone'steacher and the result was that they
45 performed like long-time professionalsin the art.

To savor the description that follows, which dates from February 1634, it
must be understood that Cardinal Gaspare Borgia was the Spanish ambas
sador to the Holy See, that his coat of arms included a striding bull, and that
he was notoriously overbearing and tactless in pursuing his country's inter
46 ests at the court of Urban VIII, who was strongly pro-French.

Borgia is absolutely furious because,to everyone'sdelight, Bernini in his comedy

introduceda bull being beatenon the stage; he is quite aware it referredto him since
he was a bull in armsand was calledthat by the pope. Borgiawas also upset because
elsewherein the comedya Spaniardargueswith a servantwho, havingbeentold bya
Frenchmannot to let himself be bullied, beatsup the Spaniardto the amusementof
all. Borgia,who understandswithout glossthe reconditemeaningsof the actionsand
words, considersthe king and the whole Spanish nation offended by the pope
himself, who knows perfectly well all the scenesof the comedy before they are
performed. Borgia is also angry about other jibes, though these are the worst, and
heavenprotect Berninifrom a bitter penancein the future, for Borgiais not one easily
to forget offenses47

It is clear that Bernini's plays broke with the commedia dell'arte conven
tions in various ways, of which three are especially important here. One is
that Bernini introduced all sorts of illusionistic tricks- houses collapse, the
theater threatens to catch fire, the audience is almost inundated -tricks that
not only added a kind of visual scenographic interest that had been confined
mainly to court spectacles, but also communicated with the spectator
directly and in a way that seemed, at least at first glance, quite uncontrived.
Furthermore, Bernini's comedies were not enacted extemporaneously by
professional actors but by amateurs who had been carefully instructed and
mercilessly rehearsed and who recited parts that -as we know from the
manuscript of one of his plays that has come down to us —might be
completely written out, as in the regular theater. His productions combined
the technique of raw talent with the conception of high art. Finally, Bernini
introduced topical allusions to current events and real people; with unex
ampled boldness, he poked fun at some of the highest members of Roman
society, who might even be present in the audience. Bernini's comedies thus
included what can only be described as "living caricatures," witty distortions
of the political allegiance or moral character of individuals, who remain
readily identifiable. In general, his plays may be said to have involved a dual
breach of decorum, treating low comedy performed by amateurs as if it
 were legitimate theater, and treating exalted personagesas if they were
ordinary people.
Although Bernini may be said to have introduced an element of social
satireto the stage,there was one literary tradition in Rometo which it was,
soto speak,endemic.Thiswas the so-calledpasquinade,or satirein verseor
prose,which poked fun, often in very bitter terms, at the religiousand civic
authoritiesfor their personalfoibles or for whatever of the city's current ills
could be attributed to their greed or ineptitude. The diatribes were occa
sionallygatheredtogether and published,so that the pasquinadebecamea
veritable genre of popular literary satire. It was the custom to write a
pasquinadein Latin or Italian on a scrap of paper and attach it to one of
severalmore or lessfragmentary ancient statuesthat were to be seenabout
town. These"talking statues," as they were sometimescalled, becamethe
loudspeakerthrough which the vox populi expressedits wit and discontent.
The genre derives its name from the most infamous of the sculptures
(fig. 33),nicknamedPasquino—accordingto one versionof the legend,after
a cleverand malicious hunchbackedtailor who lived nearby in the Piazza
Orsini,consideredthe heart of Rome,and who started the custom early in
48 the sixteenthcentury. It is no accident,of course,that the speakingstatues
of Romewere all antiques. From biblical times the issue of idolatry was
focused chiefly on sculpture, the three-dimensionality of which gave it
specialstatus in the hierarchy of representation.The early Christians re
garded pagan statuary as literally the work of the devil and endowed with
demonic powers, notably the power of speech. Indeed, Pasquino'sirrev
erent and maliciouscomments were often downright diabolic.
As a literary genre the pasquinademight well be describedas something
like a verbalgraffito in that, by contrast with the high art of satire, it tended
to be more topical in content and more informal in style and, though well-
known writers such as Pietro Aretino often joined in the sport, it was
characteristicallyanonymous. Indeed, this popular and rather underprivi
legedelement liesat the very heart of the tradition, for there is a remarkable
and surely not accidental consonancebetween the character of Pasquino
the tailor, a lowly artisan and man of the people, grotesquelydeformed yet
pungentlyarticulate, and the characterof the sculpture itself —pathetically
worn and mutilated, yet also patheticallyexpressive.Thefundamental irony
of the group's brutish appearance and caustic eloquence was perfectly
explicit: in the eloquent engravingof the group signed and dated 1550 by
Antonio Lafreri (fig. 34), Pasquinosaysof himself:

I am not, thoughI seemso, a mutilatedBaboon,without feet and hands. . . but

ratherthatfamousPasquino who terrifiesthe mostpowerful. . . whenI composein
Italianor Latin.I owe my physiqueto the blowsof thosewhosefaultsI faithfully
49 recount.

3 1
 If the pasquinadeis something like a verbal graffito, Bernini'scaricatures
can be thought of as visualpasquinades,almost literally so if one considers
Bernini'svery specialrelationshipto the statue itself.Thegroup is mentioned
in the biographiesaswell as in Chantelou'sdiary,alwayswith the samepoint
illustrated by an anecdote: Asked by a cardinal which was his favorite
ancient statue, Bernini named the Pasquino,of which he said that "muti
lated and ruined as it is, the remnant of beauty it embodies is perceptible
50 only to those knowledgeablein design." Indeed, he regardedit as a work
of Phidiasor Praxiteles.The cardinalthought his leg was being pulled and
was infuriated. Berniniwas said to have been the first to placethe highest
51 value on the Pasquinoas a work of art. The appreciation of antique
fragments was by now nothing new, so that whether true or not, the
claim—and likewisethe cardinal'sanger—only makessensein view of the
satiricaltradition with which the Pasquinowas primarily associated;Bernini
even said that one must disregardwhat had been written about the sculp
ture. No lessremarkableisthe reasonhe gavefor hisesteem- that the work
contains "the highest perfection of nature without the affectation of art"
[italics mine].
The drawing of InnocentXI is uniqueamong the preservedcaricaturesby
Bernini becauseit is the only one datable to the very end of his life, and
becauseit representsthe most exalted personageof all. The skeletalfigure
with gargantuan nose and cavernouseyesis immediately recognizable(cf.
52 figs. 8 and 35). What makesthe characterizationso trenchant, however,is
not only the treatment of the pope'sphysicalfeatures, but alsothe fact that
he is shown incongruouslywearing the regalia of the bishop of Romeand
bestowing his blessingwhile reclining in bed, propped up by huge pillows.
The pope is thus ridiculed on two levels at once, both of which reflect
53 aspectsof his personalityand conduct that were notorious. This remark
able man was by far the most irascibleand asceticindividualto occupy the
papalthrone sincethe heydayof the Counter Reformationa century before.
He was utterly indifferent to the amenities of life himself and lived in
monasticausterity.He was indefatigablein his efforts to purify the Church
of its abuses,the boldestand best known of which was hiswar on nepotism.
He rigorouslyexcludedhis family from Church affairs and sought to ensure
that his successors would do likewise.Hewas equallystaunchin his defense
of the Church against hereticsand againstattempts to curtail the preroga
tivesof the HolySee.Hisfinancialcontributions to the war againstthe Turks,
made possibleby a fiscalpolicyof absoluteparsimony,were a major factor in
the victory at Vienna in 1683 that savedEuropefrom the infidel. Theprocess
of sanctificationwas initiated soon after his death and is still in progress;he
was beatified in 1953.
Although his virtues may indeed have been heroic, Innocent XI was not
without hisfaults. Hedemandedthe samekind of austerityfrom his subjects
 that he practiced himself. Public entertainments were banned, and with
edict after edict he sought to rule the lives of his people down to the pettiest
details of personal dress and conduct. He suffered the consequences of his
disagreeableness, which won him the epithet The Big No Pope (Papa
Mingone, from the word minga, meaning "no" in his native Lombard
dialect). A notice of 1679 reports that several people were jailed for circulat
ing a manifesto with the punning and alliterative title, Roma assassinata
dalla Santita ("Rome Assassinated by Sanctity"— santita in Italian means
54 both "holiness" and "His Holiness").
55 In addition, Innocent XI was a sick man, plagued by gout and gallstones.
These sufferings —real and imagined, for he was certainly a hypochon
driac—must have exacerbated the harshness of an inherently acerbic per
sonality. His ailments often conspired with a natural tendency to
reclusivenessto keep the pope confined to his room and to his bed. For days,
weeks, months on end he would remain closeted, refusing to see anyone
and procrastinating in matters of state —conduct that elicited a brilliant
pasquinade, reported in July 1677:

Saturdaynight there was attached to Pasquinoa beautiful placard with a painted

poppy [papavero in Italian—the opium flower] and the following legend [like a
medicinalprescription]beneath: PapaVero = Perdormire [true Pope = to sleep];
next morning it provideda field day for the wags, includingthe whole court, which is
56 fed up with the current delaysand cannot bear such irresolution.

On rare occasions during these periods, when the pope's condition im

proved or in matters of special importance, visitors might be admitted to his
chamber, where he received them in bed. Bernini's drawing captures the
irony of this spectacle of the Supreme Roman Pontiff conducting the most
dignified affairs of state in most undignified circumstances.
The character of the portrait itself has no less significant implications than
its appurtenances. In a quite remarkable way, as we know from many
descriptions and other depictions, the pope's appearance matched his
personality. He was exceedingly tall and gaunt, with a huge aquiline nose
and protruding chin. These features are glossed over in many "straight"
portraits of Innocent, but we have a drawing, perhaps by Bernini himself, in
which his crabbed and rather chilling aspect appears unmitigated (fig. 35).
The profile of the pope, also wearing the bishop's miter, may have been in
preparation for a sculptured portrait, and the caricature may have originated
in one of Bernini's sessions sketching the man in action —repeating the
process we suggested in connection with the Scipione Borghese portraits
57 done nearly fifty years earlier.
Bernini certainly had reason enough to take an unsympathetic view of the
pope, whose indifference, if not actual hostility, to art was notorious. It was
 Innocent who in January1679 refused to permit the executionof the final
block of the portico in front of Saint Peter's,thus dooming to incompletion
the greatest architectural project of Bernini'slife. It was he who prudishly
forced the artist to cover the bosom of the figure of Truth on the tomb of
AlexanderVII. It was Innocentwho orderedan inquiryinto the stability of the
dome of Saint Peter'swhere crackshad appeared,which some of Bernini's
critics falsely attributed to his work on the supporting piers many years
58 before.
It would be a mistake, however,to think of the drawing simply as an
exerciseof Bernini'sspleenupon Innocent'scharacterand appearance.The
basicdesignand the specificdeformationsit embodiesare rife with reminis
cencesand allusionsthat augment its meaning. The reclining figure per
forming an official act recallsthose most peculiar and regal ceremonies
Berninimust have becomeaware of on his visit to the court of LouisXIV in
1665, the lit de justice and the lever and coucherdu roi, in which the Sun
59 King receivedhomageas he rosein the morning and retired in the evening.
The image also reflects the tradition of the recliningeffigy on tomb monu
ments and the reclining Moriens in the innumerableillustrated versionsof
the Ars Moriendi ("The Art of DyingWell") (fig. 36); the latter genre had an
important role in the devotionsof the Confraternity of the BonaMors at the
Gesu,in which Berniniand the pope himself,when he was cardinal,partici
60 pated regularly. Berninihad only recently adapted this conventionfor his
portrayalof BlessedLodovicaAlbertoni in a state of ecstaticexpirationin her
burial chapel in San Francescoa Ripa in Rome(fig. 37). He may even have
recalleda sixteenth-centuryFlemishtomb, an engravingof which there are
other reasonsto supposehe knew,where a beckoningskeletonreplacedthe
61 figure of the deceased(fig. 38). The somewhat lugubrious irony of this
conflation of regal pomp and funereal decrepitude was surely deliberate.
So, too, were aspectsof the rendering of the pope's physiognomyand
gesture.Innocentfollowed like a chill wind after the florid exuberanceof the
long, Baroque summer of the Church Triumphant. He was, as we have
noted, a veritable throwback to the rigorous pietism of the Counter Refor
mation, and quite consciouslyso, for he took asthe model for all his actions
the most austerepontiff of that whole period, PiusV (1566-1 572),who had
also been unrelenting in his zealto cleansethe Church of its vices,including
nepotism, and protect it from its enemies(the Turkswere defeated in the
62 momentousnavalbattle at Lepantoduring his reign). He had been beati
fied in 1672, shortly before Innocent XI took office, and was canonizedin
1712. It happenedthat Innocentalsobore a striking physicalresemblanceto
Pius,whose desiccatedand otherworldly features seem perfectly to em
body the spiritualfervor of his time. Innocent actually had himself depicted
as a kind of reincarnationof his saintly idol on a very unusualmedal where
63 portraits of the two men appear on the two faces (fig. 39). Berninimust
 havehad the analogy in mind when drawing the caricature: the emaciated
figure with spidery hand raised in blessing distinctly recalls a particular
medallicimage issuedby Piushimself,which is one of the most penetrating
64 of all the portrayals of the great reformer (fig. 40). In this way Bernini
assimilatedboth Innocent and his prototype into a composite image of the
pontifical arch zealot.
In some respectsthe drawing of Innocent reachesbeyond the limits of
portraiture; the exaggerationis so extreme that the figure scarcelyresem
blesa human being at all, but rather somemonstrousinsect,with pillows for
wings and bishop'smiter for antennae, masqueradingas a person.Again, I
doubt that the analogyis fortuitous. Tobe sure, insectsin generalwere not a
very important part of the physiognomicaltradition discussedearlier,but
one insectin particular,or at leastthe name of it, playeda considerablerole
in the historyof comic monstrositiesin Westernart —namely,the cricket. In a
famouspassagePlinysaysthat the Greekartist Antiphilos establisheda new
genreof painting by a comic portrayal of a man calledGryllosin a ridiculous
65 costume, from which, Pliny says, all such pictures are called grylloi.
Although the exact meaning of the passageis in dispute, it is generally
agreed that Pliny must be referring to amusing depictions of cavorting
dwarfs and hybrid and humanoid creatures,of which numerousexamples
are known. No doubt this interpretation dates from the Renaissance and is
based in part on the happenstancethat the word, when spelled with a
66 lambda in Greek, means"pig," and with two I's in Latin means"cricket."
As early as the mid-sixteenth century the works of Hieronymus Bosch,
which contain all manner of mixed human and animal forms, were called
grylloi (fig. 41); so, too, were Arcimboldo's polymorphoustransmutations
67 of traditional frontal and profile portrait types. Bernini's caricature of
Innocentlooks like nothing so much as a great cricket, and I haveno doubt
that this novel assimilation of insect and human likenesseswas made in
deliberatereferenceto, and emulation of, the new art of comic portraiture
invented by the ancient master.
I suspect, moreover,that the analogy reachedbeyond physicalappear
ancesto a moral and psychologicallevel as well, through another remark
able wordplay of the sort that always fascinated Bernini. In Italian grillo
would refer not only to the classicalprototype of the comic portrait, but also
to the characteror personality of the insect itself. Owing to the creature's
peculiar life-style, the word grillo has a meaning roughly equivalent to
"whim" or "caprice" in English. The term appears frequently in the art
literature of the period in referenceto the artist's inventivenessor even his
68 personalstylistic idiosyncrasies. More generally,to "have a cricket in one's
head" (avere un grillo in testa) is to "have a bee in one's bonnet" —an
expressionthat seemsto suit Innocent XI as if it were tailored for him. In
Bernini'ssketch, the pope's appearanceand character merged with the
 invention of comic portraiture in a grandiose pun linking antiquity to the
> present under the aspect of satire.
Thechainturns full circle,as it were, when two additional linksare added
that pertain to the Pasquino.In the earlysixteenth century there had beena
one-eyed barber named Grillo who had written pasquinadesthat were
actually called grilli, which he was said to have had in his head. The
frontispiece of a volume of the poems he attached to the Pasquinoshows
him chasing after crickets in the field (fig. 42).69 PerhapsGrillo's memory
was still alive in Bernini'stime. In any case,Berniniseemsnot to have been
the only one to apply an image of this sort to Innocent. One is tempted to
imagine that his drawing may have inspired the following versesfrom a
vicious pasquinadeoccasionedby the pope's death in 1689:

I've not found in the annalsof ancientthings

A worst beast,who beneathhypocrisyclings
70 And tingesin others'blood his beakandwings.

I have so far discussedrather specific aspectsof the form, sources,and

significanceof Bernini'scaricatures.Insofaras they are documents of social
comment, however,certain more general features of the context in which
they were produced must also be considered. With hindsight it seems
inevitablethat the true caricature should have emerged in Romeand no
71 where else. Romewas then, as it still is, unlike any other major European
city in that, from the point of view of commerce and industry, it was
insignificant; its only reasonsfor being were administrativeand symbolic.It
was the capital of a great state, which, though of diminishedpolitical and
military importance, retained a spiritual force that made it a focal point of
international relations,secularaswell as ecclesiastical.Therewas nothing in
Rometo match the growth of the bourgeoisiein the urban centers of the
north, but in the bosom of the Church men could, and very often did, rise
from the humblestcircumstancesto the heightsof power and wealth. As the
headquartersof the Catholichierarchy,and especiallyof the religiousorders,
the city was filled with people who, like Bernini, had broken through the
barriersof traditional classhierarchy.Socialirony was almost a natural by
product of this extraordinary environment, wherein moral pretense and
cosmopolitan reality were extremesthat touched.
The birth of caricature was also related to the rise in status for which
artists had been struggling sincethe Renaissance, and of which Berniniwas
in some respectsthe epitome. A major theme of the biographiesby Bal-
dinucci (written at the behest of Bernini'sclose friend, Queen Christina of
Sweden)and by his son Domenicowas preciselyhis acceptanceby the great
people of his day,even at a certain risk to themselves.This could easilybe
dismissedas mere propaganda, but I think their wonderment at Bernini's

3 6
 social achievement was genuine. The point is vividly illustrated in the matter
of caricature by a satirical poem published in 1648 by the duke of Bracciano,
one of the leading figures of the day, of whom Bernini did a bust, preserved
in a marble copy, that some critics have regarded as a sort of formal
72 caricature (fig. 43). The duke describes a merry gathering at his villa at
Bracciano of the cream of Roman nobility, at which he and Bernini, whom he
lists among the guests as "animator of marbles," joined in making comic
73 drawings of the participants. In 1665, during his visit to Paristo design the
Louvre, Bernini introduced the concept and example of his persiflages to
74 Louis XIV and his court, who were greatly amused.
Bernini's career, in fact, would indeed be difficult to match by that of any
other artist- not Velasquez, whose aspiration to nobility was a central
factor in his life; not Rubens, whose position in the world was inseparable
from his activity as a diplomat. Bernini never lost touch with the humble
craft origins of his profession. He became early on a member of the marble
workers' guild, to which he remained very attached and contributed gener
75 ously later in life; and although much indebted to the humanist tradition,
he laid no claim to recondite learning or theoretical speculation. His freedom
of wit and satire and his ability to consort on equal terms with the high and
mighty were based solely on the quality of his mind and art. In this sense he
fulfilled the Renaissance ideal, while helping to create a new role for the
artist in society.
In the end, however, the caricatures must be thought of as a deeply personal
expression of Bernini's creative genius, for two reasons in particular. One is
that —and this is true of his comedies as well —although he circulated them
among his friends, there is no evidence he ever intended to publish his draw
ings in the form of prints. We owe the caricature as an instrument of social
reform in this sense to eighteenth-century England. Bernini's little lampoons
sprang from a deep well within, however, and were far from mere trifles to
him. Both points emerge from the last document I shall quote, a charming
letter Bernini wrote to a friend named Bonaventura ("Good Fortune" in Ital
ian) accompanying two such sketches, now lost:

As a cavalier,I swear I'll neversendyou any more drawings becausehavingthesetwo

portraitsyou can sayyou haveall that bumbler Berninican do. But sinceI doubt your
dim wit can recognizethem I'll tell you the longer one is Don Giberti and the shorter
one is BonaVentura. Believeme, you've had Good Fortune, becauseI've never had
greatersatisfactionthan in thesetwo caricatures,and I've madethem with my heart.
When I visit you I'll see if you appreciate them.
y Rome, 15 March 1652.
Your True Friend
G. L. Bern.
 This is, incidentally,the first time the word "caricature" is used as we useit
76 today, as the name for a certain classof drawings.

NOTES " An earlier version of this essay appeared in Lavin et al. (1981 ) pp. 25-54. Since the
original publication, Professor Dieter Wuttke of Bamberg has kindly brought to my
attention an important article by Arndt (1970), in which several of the points dealt
with here are anticipated. In particular, Arndt suggests (p. 272) a similar interpreta
tion of the sketch by Durer discussed below. On later appreciation of children's
drawings, see Georgel (1980). Also, my colleague John Elliott acquainted me with a
remarkable sketch in which Philip IV of Spain and his minister Olivares are crudely
portrayed as Don Quixote and Sancho Panza; but the drawing is not independent
and is clearly much later than the manuscript, dated 1641, to which it was added
along with a postscript (on this point I am indebted to Sandra Sider of the Hispanic
Society of America). See Elliott (1964, plate 19 opposite p. 344).

1. Insofar as the notion of "high/low" includes that of primitivism, there is a substantial

bibliography, beginning with the classic work of Lovejoy and Boas (1935); more recent
literature on primitivism in art will be found in Encyclopedia(1959-87, vol. 11, columns 704-
17),to which should be added Gombrich ([1960], 1985),and, for the modern period, Rubin,
ed., 1985. Further discussionof some aspectsof the problem will be found in an essayon
Picasso'slithographicseriesTheBull, in a volume of my essaysto be publishedby the University
of California Press(1991). If one includes related domains, such as popular art, the art of
children and the insane—what I have elsewherecalled "art without history" —the subject of
their relationsto sophisticatedart has yet to receivea generaltreatment. The developmentof
interest in the art of the insane,in particular,has now been studied in an exemplaryfashion by
MacGregor(1989).

2. On the Olynthus mosaics,see Salzmann(1982, pp. 10Off.).

3. Cited in Hadzi (1982, p. 312).

4. Seethe exemplarydiscussionof the arch in Kitzinger (1977, pp. 7ff.).

5. Thislast isthe luminoussuggestionof Tronzo(1986).Forthe parametersof this idea in terms
).
1 of classicalliterary style, see Gombrich (1966

6. On theseworks seeSchmitt (1980); the fundamental importanceof Schmitt'sstudy for our

understandingof medievalart has yet to be fully grasped.
7. For a descriptionand bibliography,see Lavinet al. (1981, cataloguenumber 99, pp. 336-
37). Tracesof further drawing appearat the upper right. Berninievidently cut off a portion of a
larger sheet in order to make the caricature, which he may have drawn for his personal
satisfactionand kept for himself.Twenty-fivecaricaturesare mentioned in a 1706 inventoryof
Bernini'shousehold; Fraschetti(1900, p. 247).

8. Fora generalaccountof socialcriticism in postmedievalart, seeShikes(1969).A fine analysis

of the nature of the Carraccisritrattini canchi,with the attribution to Annibale of the drawing
reproducedhere,will be found in Posner(1971,pp. 65-70, fig. 59; and cf. fig. 60, certainlycut
from a larger sheet), but see also Bohlin (1979, pp. 48, 67, nn. 83f.); so far as can be
determined,Annibale'sdrawingsdisplayedneitherthe socialcontent nor the distinctivedrafts
manshipof Berninis caricatures,nor is it clearthat they were autonomoussheets.On the papal

38
satiresof the Reformation,see Grisarand Heege(192 1-23); Koepplinand Falk(1974-76, vol.
2, pp. 498-522).
9. Forcaricaturegenerally,and for bibliography,see Encyclopedia(1959-87, vol. 3, columns
734-35). Fora useful recent surveyof caricaturesincethe Renaissance, see Caricature!1971).
On the developmentin Italy the fundamental treatment is that of Juynboll(1934); important
observationswill be found in a chapter by E. Kris and E. H. Gombrich in Kris (1952, pp. 189—
203), and in Gombrich (1972, pp. 33Off). The pages on Bernini'scaricaturesin Brauerand
Wittkower (1931, pp. 180-84), remain unsurpassed;but seealso Boeck(1949), Harris(1975,
p. 158), and Harris (1977, p. xviii, numbers 40, 41). The latter has questioned whether the
caricaturesin the VaticanLibraryand the Gabinetto Nazionaledelle Stampein Rome,attributed
to Berniniby Brauerand Wittkower, are autographsor closecopies; however,the issuedoes not
affect the general argument presented here. Caricaturedrawings attributed to Bernini other
than those noted by Brauerand Wittkower and by Harris(1977) will be found in Cooke(1955);
Sotheby(1963, Lot 18); Stampfle and Bean (1967, vol. 2, pp. 54f.).

10. In Bernini'sdrawings, "si scorge simmetria maravigliosa,maesta grande, e una tal fran-
chezzadi tocco, chee propriamenteun miracolo; ed io non sapreidire chi mai nel suo tempo gli
fusse stato equale in tal facolta. Effetto di questa franchezza e stato I'aver egli operato
singolarmente in quella sorte di disegno, che noi diciamo caricatura o di colpi caricati,
deformando per ischerzoa mal modo I'effigie altrui, senza togliere loro la somiglianza,e la
maesta,se talvolta eran principi grandi, come bene spessoaccadevaper lo gusto, che avevano
tali personaggidi sollazzarsicon lui in si fatto trattenimento, ancheintorno a'propri volti, dando
poi a vedere i disegni ad altri di non minore affare." Baldinucci([1682] 1948, p. 140).

11. "Ne devesipassarsotto silenzioI'havereei in queltempo & appressoancora,singolarmente

operato in quella sorte di Disegno,che communementechiamasicol nome di Caricatura.Fu
questo un'effetto singolare del suo spirito, poiche in essi veniva a deformare, come per
ischerzo,I'altrui effigie in quelle parti pero, dove la natura havevain qualchemodo difettato, e
senzatoglier loro la somiglianza,li rendevasu le Carte similissimi,e quali in sostanzaessierano,
benchese ne scorgessenotabilmente alterata, e caricata una parte; Invenzionerare volte
pratticatada altri Artefici, non essendogiuoco da tutti, ricavareil bello dal deforme, e dalla
sproporzionela simetria. Ne fece egli dunque parecchi, e per lo piu si dilettava di caricare
I'effigie de' Principi,e Personaggigrandi, per lo gusto, cheessipoi ne ricevevonoin rimirarsique'
medesimi,pur d'essi,e non essi,ammirandoeglino in un tempo I'lngegno grandedell'Artefice,
e solazzandosicon si fatto trattenimento." Bernini (1713, p. 28).
12. For the foregoing, see Lavin(1970, p. 144 n. 75).

13. Delia Porta ([1586] 1650, pp. 116f.). For general bibliography on physiognomies,see
Encyclopedia(1959-68, vol. 3, columns 380f.).
14. Cf. Wilde (1978, pp. 147ff.).

15. For portrait drawing generally,see Meder (1978, pp. 335ff.); for drawings by Leoni, see
Kruft (1969).

16. It is interesting that in both casescontemporarieswere already aware of the distinctive

techniquesusedin thesedrawings; for Michelangelo,seeVasari([1550, 1568] 1962, vol. 1, pp.
118, 121f.; vol. 4, pp. 1,898ff.); for the colored chalks and pencilsof Leoni and Bernini, see
Baglione([1642] 1935, p. 321) and Stampfle and Bean (1967, pp. 52f.).

17. There was one classof sixteenth-century works, incidentally,in which the loose sketch
might becomea sort of presentationdrawing, namely,the German autograph album (album
amicorumor Stammbuch))see,for example,Thone(1940, pp. 55f., figs. 17-19)and Drawings
(1964, p. 23, numbers 33, 35).

18. ForBernini'sportrait drawingsgenerally,seeBrauerand Wittkower (1931, pp. 11, 15, 29f.,

156f.) and Harris(1977, passim.).It happensthat the two preservedand certainly authentic
profile drawings by Bernini representsitters of whom he also made sculptured portraits, i.e.,

39
 ScipioneBorghese(fig. 18) and PopeClement X [seeLavinet al. (1981, cataloguenumber 83,
pp. 294-99, 375)]. Conversely,there are no recordedportrait sculpturesof the sittersof whom
Bernini made drawings in three-quarter view. It is interesting in this context to compare the
triple views provided to Bernini by painters for four sculptured busts to be executed in
absentia-by Van Dyck for portraits of CharlesI and Henrietta Maria, by Philippe de Cham-
paigne for Richelieu,and by Sustermansand Boulanger for FrancescoI of Modena; cf.
Wittkower (1966, pp. 207f„ 209f„ 224):

VIEW
Subject Rightprofile Full-face Three-quarter-to-leftprofile Leftprofile
CharlesI XXX
HenriettaMaria XX x
Richelieu X XX
FrancescoI XX x

All four include the right profile, all but the third the full face, and all but the first the left
profile; only the first and third show the head turned three quarters (to the left). "Portraits,"
otherwise unspecified,were alsosent from Paristo Berniniin Romefor the equestrianstatue of
LouisXIV; see Wittkower (1961, p. 525, number 47).
19. The first studies for the bust are mentioned in Chantelou's diary, June 23, 1665: "Le
Cavaliera dessined'apresle Roiunetete de face, une de profit" (Chantelou,p. 37); cf. a letter of
26 Junefrom Parisby Bernini'sassistantMattia de' Rossi,"doppo che hebbefenito il retratto in
faccia, lo fece in profilo," Mirot (1904, p. 218n), and the remark of DomenicoBernini(1713, p.
133), "Onde a S. Germanofe ritorno per retrarre in disegno la Regiaeffigie, e due formonne,
una di profilo, I altro in faccia. CharlesPerraultin his Memoiresof 1669 also mentionsBernini's
profile sketchesof the king: "[Bernini]secontenta de dessineren pasteldeux ou trois profits du
visagedu Roi" (Perrault,p. 61).

20. Forthe referencesto this aspectof Bernini'sprocedure,see Brauerand Wittkower (1931,

p. 29), and Wittkower (1951).

21. Interesting in this context are Michelangelo'sfrontal and profile sketchesfor the marble
block of one of the Medici Chapelrivergods; seeDeTolnay(1943-60, vol. 3, plate 131).Cellini
(1971, p. 789),speaksof Michelangelos method of drawing the principalview on the block and
commencingcarving on that side.

22. It issignificantthat Berniniemployeda comparabletechniquewhen he portrayednature in

what might be calleda "primitive" or formlessstate, as in the sketchesfor fireworks [Lavinet al.
(1981, cataloguenumbers56-58, pp.219-27)] or a projectfor a fountain with a greatdisplayof
gushingwater [Brauerand Wittkower (1931, plate 101a); cf. Harris(1977, p. xxi, number 70)].
23. Cf. Rupprich(1956-69, vol. 1, pp. 54f.).Thepassage(my own translation)readsasfollows:
Know that my picture saysit would give a ducat for you to see it; it is good and beautifully
coloured.I haveearnedgreat praisefor it, but little profit. I could well haveearned200 ducatsin
the time and have refused much work, so that I may come home. I have also silencedall the
painterswho said I was good at engraving,but that in painting I did not know how to handle
colors.Now they all saythey haveneverseen more beautiful colors." Durer made the drawing
immediatelybefore hewrote this passage,which surroundsthe figure. Langeand Fuhse(1893,
p. 35 n. 1) noted long ago that the sketch must refer to this, rather than the precedingportion
of the letter.

24. Panofsky(1969, p. 203). On Erasmus'sself-mocking sketches,see Heckscher(1967,

pp. 135f. n. 23) and the bibliography cited there.

25. Erasmusspeaksof marvelingand laughing at the extreme crudity of artists a century or

two earlier ( admiraberis et ridebis nimiam artificum rusticitatem"); see Panofsky(1969,
pp. 200, 202f.), who also discussesErasmus'searly interest in and practice of painting and
drawing.

4
26. FrancoFiorio(1971, pp. 47f., 100); for suggestiveanalysisof the painting, see Almgren
(1971, pp. 71-73).
27. On the eye of Painting,see Posner(1967, pp. 201f.).
28. What may be a deliberatelycrude headappearsamong the test drawingsand scratcheson
the backof one of AnnibaleCarracci'sengravedplates; Posner(197 1, p. 70, fig. 68); and Bohlin
(1979, p. 437).
29. Both ancientgraffiti and grylloi (discussedbelow) are often consideredin the literature on
comicart, e.g., Champfleury (1865, pp. 57-65, 186-203), but I am not aware that they have
hitherto been treated seriouslyas specific progenitors of the modern caricature. For ancient
graffiti generally,seeEncidopedia(1958-66, vol. 3, pp. 995f.).Fora recent surveyof the figural
graffiti at Pompeii,seeCebe(1966, pp. 375f.); for those on the Palatinein Rome,seeVaananen
(1966, 1970).
30. "II m'a dit qu'a Romeil en avait une [a gallery] dans sa maison, laquelleest presquetoute
pareille;que c'est la qu'il fait, en se promenant, la plupart de sescompositions; qu'il marquait
sur la muraille, avec du charbon, les idees des chosesa mesure qu'elles lui venaient dans
I'esprit" (Chantelou, p. 19). The idea recallsthe ancient tales of the invention of painting by
tracing shadows cast on the wall; see Kris and Kurz (1979, p. 74 and n. 10).
31. I refer to the well-known Saint Joseph Holding the Christ Child at Ariccia [Brauer and
Wittkower(1931, pp. 154-56, plate 115)], and a (much restored)portrait of UrbanVIIIin black
and red chalk, in the Villa LaMaddelenaof CardinalGiori, Bernini'sfriend and patron, at Muccia
nearCamerino(fig. 24). The attribution of the latter work, reproducedhere for the first time, I
believe,stemsfrom an inventoryof 1712; Brauerand Wittkower (1931, p. 151); cf. Feliciangeli
(1917, pp. 9f). I am indebted to ProfessorsItalo Faldiand Oreste Ferrarifor their assistancein
obtaining photographs.Cf. also a portrait drawing in blackand red chalk in the Chigi palaceat
Formello; Martinelli (1950, p. 182, fig. 193).
32. The association between sgraffiti and grotteschi is clear from Vasari'sdescription and
account of their invention; see Vasari ([1550, 1568] 1966ff., vol. 1, Testo, pp. 142-45,
Commento,p. 212, vol. 4, Testo,pp. 517-23); cf. Maclehoseand Brown (1960, pp. 243-45,
298-303). On sgraffiti and grotteschi, see Thiem (1964) and Dacos(1969).

33. "E stato Michelagnolodi una tenacee profonda memoria,che nel vederele cosealtrui una
sol volta I'ha ritenute si fattamente e servitosenein una manierache nessunose n'e mai quasi
accorto; ne ha mai fatto cosanessunadellesueche riscontriI'una con I'altra, perchesi ricordava
di tutto quello che avevafatto. Nellasua gioventu, sendocon gli amici sua pittori, giucorno una
cena a chi faceva una figura che non avessiniente di disegno, che fussi goffa, simile a que'
fantocci che fanno coloro che non sanno e imbrattano le mura. Qui si valsedella memoria;
perche,ricordatosiaver visto in un muro una di questegofferie, la fece come se I'avessiavuta x
dinanzi du tutto punto, e supero tutti que'pittori: cosa dificile in uno uomo tanto pieno di <7>
disegno,avvezzoa cosescelte,che no potessiuscirnetto." Vasari([1550, 1558] 1962, vol. I, p.
124; see also vol. 4, pp. 2,074f.). ^
o
34. DalPoggetto(1979, p. 267, no. 71, and p. 272, nos. 154, 156).A remarkableprecedentfor ^
these drawings are those attributed to Mino da Fiesole,discoveredon a wall in his house in O
Florence;see Sciolla(1970, p. 113 with bibliography).
no

35. c'a forza 'I ventre appicca sotto 'I mento.

O
e 'I pennel sopra 'I viso tuttavia
mel fa, gocciando, un ricco pavimento.

e tendomi come arco sori'ano.

Pero fallace e strano
surge il iudizio che la mente porta,
che mai si tra' per cerbottana torta.

4 f
 La mia pittura morta
> difendi orma', Giovanni,e 'I mio onore
< non sendo in loco bon, ne io pittore.

Girardi (1960, pp. 4f.); trans, from Gilbert and Linscott (1963, pp. 5f.). The sheet has most
recently been dated 1511-12 by De Tolnay(1975-80, vol. I, p. 126), who also notes the
disjunction between the two parts of the drawing.

36. On the analogy,cf. Lavin(1980, p. 156).

37. A similarlycrude drawing in white of a woman appearson the adjacent face of the pier.

38. The inscription,in white exceptfor the artist'ssignature,which is in black, reads: "de buer
Kerck binnen utrecht / aldus geschildert int iaer 1644 / van / Pieter Saenredam"("the Buur
church in Utrecht thus painted in the year 1644 by PieterSaenredam").Cf. Maclaren(1960, pp.
379-81); Catalogue(1961, pp. 185f.). For assistancein identifying the object at the seated
boy'sside, I am indebted to Dr.JeanFraikin,Curator of the Musee de la Vie Wallone at Liege,
who cites the following bibliographyon children'sschool boxes: Dewez(1956, pp. 362-71);
L'Art (1970, pp. 372ff.). Crude drawings-two women (one of them virtually identicalwith the
one mentioned above),a tree, and a bird —also appear on a pier at the right, surroundingan
inscriptionwith the artist's signature and the date 1641, in one of Saenredam'sviews of the
Mariakerkat Utrecht; Catalogue(1961, pp. 212f.). On this painting see Schwartz(1966-67),
who notes the associationbetween such drawings and the artist's signature (p. 91 n. 43).
Saenredam'ssensitivityto and deliberatemanipulationof stylisticdifferencesare evident in the
relationshipbetween Gothic and Romanarchitecture in his paintings, for which see now the
thoughtful article by Connell (1980).

39. Forthis drawing, seeJaneck(1968, pp. 122f.).Thefigure shown from the back on the wall
recurs among other graffiti in a painting attributed to Van Laer in Munich; Janeck(1968,
pp. 137f.); see also Kren (1980, p. 68).

40. Cf. Malvasia(1841, vol. 2, p. 67), with regardto the youthful wall scribblingsof the painter
Mastelletta.Forthis referenceI am indebted to David Levine,whose Princetondissertationon
the bambocclanti (1984) deals with their art-theoretical paintings and the Berlin drawing.

41. The precisedating of the Borghesebusts emerges from a letter of the following year
written by Lelio Guidiccioni [cf. D'Onofrio (1967, pp. 381-86)]. I plan to discussthe letter at
greater length in another context.

42. On this and the following point, see Lavin(1970, p. 144 n. 75).

43. On Bernini and the theater, see Lavin(1980, pp. 145-57).

44. A convenient,but not complete,collectionof early sourceson Bernini'stheatricalactivities

will be found in D'Onofrio (1963, pp. 91-1 10).

45. Bernini (1713, pp. 54f.).

46. On Borgia, see Pastor(1894-1953, vol. 28, pp. 281-94), for example.

47. Letterto the duke of Modenafrom his agent in Rome,23 February1634 [Fraschetti(1900,
pp. 261f., n. 4; seealsothe descriptionof comediesin 1638, pp. 264f., and 1646, pp. 268-70)].

48. The bibliographyon Pasquinoand the pasquinadeis vast. For a recent survey,see Silenzi
(1968).The best orientation within the literary context remainsthat of Cian (1945, vol. 2, pp.
81-107, 321-37). On the sculpture, see now Haskelland Penny(1981, pp. 291-96). For a
valuablestudy of the high and low traditions of satirewith respectto Bernini'srival,Salvator
Rosa,see Roworth (1977).

49. From the inscription on the base:

42
 lo non son (come paio) un Babbuino
stroppiato, senz piedi, et senza mani,

Ma son quel famosissimoPasquino

Che tremar faccio i Signor piu soprani,

Quando compongo in volgare, o in latino.

La mia persona e fatta in tal maniera
Per i colpi ch'hor questo hor quel m'accocca
Perch'io dico i lor falli a buona cera.

Our transcription is based on a corrected but unsignedand undated versionof the print in a
copyof Lafreriin the MarquandLibrary,PrincetonUniversity:fig. 34 is reproducedfrom Lafreri
(1575), BeineckeLibrary,YaleUniversity.

50. It is especiallyinteresting that Bernini distinguished between complete and incomplete

statues,and among the latter noted the subtle differencesbetween the Belvederetorso and the
Pasquino,ranking the Pasquinohighest of all. The passagesreferred to are:

M. le nonce, changeant de matiere, a demande au Cavalierlaquelle des figures antiques il

estimaitdevantage.II a dit que c'etait le Pasquin,et qu'un cardinallui ayant un jour fait la meme
demande,il lui avait repondu la meme chose,ce qu'il avait pris pour une railleriequ'il faisait de
lui et s'en etait fache; qu'il fallait bien qu'il n'eut pas lu ce qu'on en avait ecrit, et que le Pasquin
etait unefigure de Phidiasou de Praxiteleet representaitle serviteurd'Alexandre,le soutenant
quand il requt un coup de fleche au siegede Tyr; qu'a la verite, mutilee et ruinee comme est
cettefigure, le restede beautequi y est n'est connu que dessavantsdansle dessin.(Chantelou,
pp. 25f.)

Dicevache il Laocoontee il Pasquinonell'antico avevanoin setutto il buono dell'arte, perchevi

si scorgevaimitato tutto il piu perfetto della natura, senza affettazione dell'arte. Che le piu
belle statue che fussero in Roma eran quelle di Belvederee fra quelle dico fra le intere, il
Laocoonteper I'espressionedell'affetto, ed in particolare per I'intelligenza che si scorge in
quellagamba, la quale per esservegia arrivato il veleno,apparisceintirizzita; dicevapero, che il
Torsoed il Pasquinogli parevanodi piu perfetta manieradel Laocoontestesso,ma che questo
era intero e gli altri no. Fra il Pasquinoed il Torsoesserla differenza quasi impercettibile, ne
potersi ravvisarese non da uomo grande e piu tosto migliore essereil Pasquino.Fu il primo il
Berninoche mettessequestastatua in altissimocredito in Romae raccontasiche essendogliuna
volta stato domandato da un oltramontano qual fusse la piu bella statua di quella citta e
respondendoche il Pasquino,il forestiero che si credette burlato fu per venir con lui a cimento. "
[Baldinucci([1682] 1948, p. 146).] x

Con ugualeattenzione pose il suo studio ancorain ammirar le parti di quei due celebriTorsidi
Hercole,e di Pasquino,quegli riconosciutoper suo Maestrodal Buonarota,questi dal Bernino,
chefu il primo, che ponessein alto concetto in Romaquesta nobilissimaStatua; Anzi avvenne, z
che richiesto una volta da un Nobile forastiere Oltramontano, Quale fosse la Statua piu °
riguardevolein Roma? e rispostogli,Cheil Pasquino,quello die su le furie, stimandosiburlato, e q
poco manco, che non ne venissea cimento con lui; E di questi due Torsiera solito dire, che ^
contenevanoin setutto il piu perfetto della Naturasenzaaffettazione dell'Arte. [Bernini(1713, ro
pp. 13f.).] ™
o
51. The Pasquinohad long been esteemed,cf. Haskelland Penny(1981, p. 292), but I havenot
found precedent for Bernini'splacing it foremost. ^
52. A photograph of Innocent's death mask will be found in Lippi (1889, frontispiece). ^
53. For Innocent generally,and bibliography,seeBibliotheca(1961-69, vol. 7, columns 848-
56); for most of what follows, see Pastor(1894-1953, vol. 32, pp. 13-37, 153-67).
54. "E poi stato mandato in Galeraquel libraro franceseBernardonichefacevavenirlibri contro m

43
 cardinalee ministri della chiesasendo anco stati carceratialcuni copisti per essersiveduto un
Manifestointitolato; Romaassassinata dallasantita." Unpublishedavvisodi Roma,July8, 1679,
VaticanLibrary,MS Barb.lat. 6838, fol. 154 v. Forcollectionsof pasquinadeson InnocentXI, see
Lafon (1876, p. 287); Pastor(1894-1953, vol. 32, p. 30 n. 8); Besso(1904, p. 308); Romano
(1932, pp. 72-74); Silenzi(1933, pp. 251f.) [reprinted in Silenzi(1968),pp. 278f.]; Cian (1945,
vol. 2, pp. 260f., 516, n. 228-30).
55. On the pope'shealth, see Pastor(1894-1953, vol. 32, pp. 515-19); Michaud (1882-83,
vol. 1, pp. 158f.).

56. "Sabbato a notte fu fatto a Pasquinoun bellissimoCartello con un Papauerodipinto, e

sotto la presenteInscrittione = PapaVero = Perdormire, il che la mattina non pochi motivi di
discorsodiedea gli otiosi, nel cui numerovi si comprendela corte tutta, la qualeattediata dalle
lunchezzecorrenti non puo soffrire tante irresolutioni." Unpublishedavviso di Roma,July 5,
1677, Vatican Library,MS Barb. lat. 6384, fol. 200.
57. Thedrawing, in red chalk,conformsin type to Bernini'sstudiesfor sculpturedportraits (see
above,p. 21), and its plasticmodeling led Brauerand Wittkower (1931, p. 157) to considerit a
copy after a lost original; I suspectit is original, overworked by another hand. No sculptured
portrait of Innocent by Bernini is recorded, unlesshe made the model for a bronze, datable
1678, by a certainTravani,once in S.Maria in Montesanto,Rome;seeMartinelli (1956 p 47 n
95).

58. On the foregoing, see Pastor(1894-1953, vol. 32, p. 35); Wittkower (1981, p. 260).
59. Seethe classicstudy by Kantorowicz(1963, pp. 162-77).
60. ForBerniniand the Ars Moriendi,seeLavin(1972, pp. 159-71); on Innocent and the Bona
Mors, see Pastor(1894-1953, vol. 32, p. 14).

61. Forthis tomb, cf. Lavin(1980, p. 136n. 10)and Lavinetal. (1981, cataloguenumbers2-5
n. 13).

62. For PiusV,seeBibliotheca(1961-69, vol. 10, columns883-901). Innocent'semulation of

Piusis attested in the sources,e.g., a letter to Parisfrom the Frenchagent in Rome,May 11,
1678: "On travailleicyen bon lieu pour inspirerle desseinau pape de proffiter de sa fortune en
imitant seulementPieV que Sainteteparoit s'estre proposeepour le modele de sesactions."
Paris,Mimsteredes affairesetrangeres,Correspondancede Rome,vol. 256, fol. 141 (modern
foliation), quoted in part by Michaud (1882-83, vol. 1,pp. 152f.); cf. Pastor(1894-1953 vol
32, pp. 184, 518, 523).

63. Cf. Tresor(1834-58, vol. 6, p. 38 and plate xxxvi, number 8); Patrignani(1953, p. 78,
number 2). Thereare also plaqueson which the two popes' portraits are paired, and Innocent
struck a medal and coinsto celebratethe victory at Vienna with the same inscription used by
Piuson a medal celebratingthe victory at Lepanto; cf. Hiesingerand Percy(1980, pp. 130f.);
Venuti (1744, pp. 125f., number VII, p. 299, number XXVIII); Serafini (1964-65 vol 2 dp
298f.). '

64. Venuti (1744, p. 125, numbersV, VI).

65. 'Idem iocosis nomine Gryllum deridiculi habitus pinxit, unde id genus picturae grylli
vocantur. Jex-Blakeand Sellers(1975, pp. 146f.) For the ancient genre, see Encidopedia
(1958-66, vol. 3, pp. 1,065f.).

66. On the modern useof the term, seethe basiccontributions in the journal Proef(] 974) by
Miedema, Bruyn,and Ruurs(kindly calledto my attention by David Levine);cf. Alpers (1975-
76, p. 119 and n. 15); Miedema(1977, p. 211 n. 29). Seefurther, Wind (1974, pp. 28f.) and the
referencesgiven in the next footnote.

67. For Bosch,see the remarks by Felipede Guevara,trans, in De Tolnay(1966, p. 401); cf.
,
2 Gombrich(1966 pp. 113, 115 n. 30); Posner(1971, pp. 69, 164 n. 94). For Arcimboldo.'see
Kaufmann (1975, pp. 280-82). The word was also applied by Lomazzo([1584] 1973-74
p. 367) and Tesauro([ 1670] 1968, p. 85) to the kind of grotesquedecorationsdiscussedabove!
68. Seethe passagesnoted in the index to Lomazzo([1584] 1973-74, p. 672, s.v. "Grillo").
69. Silenzi(1933, pp. 17, illustrated opposite p. 100, 339f., 343).
70. lo non retrovo ancor nei vecchi annali
Bestiapeggior, che sotto hipocrasia
Col sanguealtrui tingessee 'I becco e Tali

Silenzi(1968, p. 279).
71. Thereis no comprehensivesocialhistory of Romeat this period. Fora recent generalsurvey
with useful bibliographical indications,see Petrocchi(1975).
72. On the portrait, see Wittkower (1966, p. 204ff). A document, recently published by
Rubsamen(1980, p. 45, number 72), makesit clearthat this bust is a copy after a (lost) model by
Bernini,as had been suggested by Martinelli.
73. Fra questi v'e Paol' Emilio Orsino,
II Duca Sforza & ambi i Mignanelli
Animator di marmi euui il Bernino,

Hor mentre battagliauano costoro,

Bernino, & io sopra un buffetto a parte
Presemoa caricarealcun di loro.

Orsini (1648, pp. 63, 65); first published by Munoz (1919, pp. 369f.).
74. Caricaturesare mentioned in two sharpand revealingpassagesin the diary of Bernini'svisit
kept by Chantelou (1885, pp. 106, 151; interestingly enough, Chantelou uses the phrase
attributed to the Carracci, "charged portraits"). During an audience with the king, . . le
Cavaliera dit en riant: 'Ces messieurs'ciont le Roia leur gre toute la journee et ne veulent pas
me le laisserseulementune demiheure;je suistente d'en faire de quelqu'un le portrait charge.'
Personnen'entendait cela; j'ai dit au Roique c'etaient des portraits que I'on faisait ressembler
dansle laid et le ridicule. L'AbbeButti a pris la paroleet a dit que le Cavalieretait admirabledans
cessortesde portraits, qu'il faudrait en faire voir quelqu'un a SaMajeste,et comme I'on a parle
de quelqu'un de femme, le Cavaliera dit que Non bisognavacaricarle donne che da notte"
Subsequently,Butti was himself the victim . . quelqu'un parlant d'un portrait charge, le
Cavaliera dit qu'il avait fait celui de I'abbe Butti, lequel il a cherche pour le faire voir a Sa
Majeste,et, ne I'ayant pastrouve, il a demandedu crayonet du papieret I'a refait en trois coups
devant le Roiqui a pris plaisira le voir,comme a fait aussiMonsieuret lesautres,tant ceux qui
etaient entres que ceux qui etaient a la porte."
75. See Lavin(1968, pp. 236f.). x
76. ... mio sig— re cr>
x
Da chavalierevi giuro di non mandarvipiu disegni percheavendovoi questi dui ritratti potete >
dire d'avere tutto quel che puo fare quel baldino di bernino, ma perche dubito che il Vostro
o
corto ingegno non sapia conoscerliper non vi fare arrossirevi dico che quel piu lungo e Don
Ghiberti e quel piu bassoe BonaVentura.Credetemiche a voi e toccato aver la buona Ventura O
perchemai mi sono piu sodisfattoche in questedue caricaturee lo fatte di cuore. Quandoverro
costi vedro se ne tenete conto. Romali 15 Marzo 1652. m
~n
Vero Amico °
XI
G. L. Bern. m
—I
Ozzola(1906, p. 205); cf. Lavin(1970, p. 144 n. 75). Ozzolaguessedfrom the letter itself that x
the addresseemight have been named Bonaventura. I have no doubt that the fortunate —
recipientwas, in fact, the Bolognesepainter and Franciscanfriar BonaventuraBisi. Bisiwas a
friend and correspondentof Guercino,who also made a caricatureof him, datable 1657-59, ^
with an inscription punning on his last name (cf. Galleni, 1975). m

4 5
ren
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5
 SUBJECTS FROM COMMON

LIFE IN THE REAL LANGUAGE

OF MEN : POPULAR ART

AND MODERN TRADITION

IN N I N ETE EN TH - C EN T U RY

FRENCH PAINTING
 The belief that art and literature are products of acquired knowledge LO R E N Z
and skill, i.e. of civilization, was attacked in the latter half of the
eighteenth century by thinkers who, reacting against Enlightenment ra- ^ I T N E R
tionalism,attributed creativityto irresistibleemotional forces, natural rather
than cultural in origin: the true artist, compelled by inner necessity,creates H
as a tree bears fruit, regardlessof rules or of external demands.The vital
energythat is expressedin art is not the product of educationor of imitation,
but comesfrom nature itself. "An Original may be said to be of vegetable
nature; it risesspontaneouslyfrom the vital root of genius; it grows, it is not
1 made," wrote EdwardYoung(1759), and Rousseaudenouncedculture as
an evil, a sin againstnature and hencean enemyto art: "Everythingis good
asit comesfrom the handsof the Author of Nature,everythingdegenerates
2 in the hands of man" (1762). Herder and the youthful polemicistsof the
GermanStorm and StressMovementgavea particularturn to Rousseauistic
thought, opposing to the sterility and rootlessnessof cosmopolitanculture
the ideal of a return to the origins of human development, to the natural
sourcesof self-expressionin childhood, in primitive ethnicity, and in folk
tradition.
Thecounter-aestheticthat developedfrom these ideasin the last decade
of the eighteenth century was influential chiefly on literature but also had
someeffect on art. It discountedtechnical routine and sophisticatedrefine
ments as symptoms of decadence,and in their stead extolled the naive
sincerityof "unspoiled children, women, people of good common sense,
3 formed by activity rather than speculation" (1771). The authentic expres
sion of feeling was more likely to be encountered among the illiterate
peasantsof the villagethan among the faculty of the academy.Notionssuch
asthesefound their way into the programsthat some artists and poets set
themselves."We must become children again if we want to attain the
4 best," wrote the painter PhilippOtto Rungein 1802, in a letter in which he
denouncedthe futility of conventionalart study.And Wordsworth, explain
ing in his Prefaceto LyricalBallads(1800) "why I havechosensubjectsfrom
common life, and endeavoredto bring my language near to the real lan
guage of men," defined poetry as the "spontaneousoverflow of powerful
5 feelings." Relicsof bardic poetry, fairy tales and folk songs, and the elo
quent simplicity of earlyart now took on a new, urgent interest,asexamples
of a vigorous natural creativity that stood in sharp contrast to the sickly
artifices of modern culture.
The discontent with the entrenchedestablishmentsof art that surfaced
toward the end of the eighteenth century set the pattern for a successionof
similarepisodesof dissidencethat were to occur periodicallythroughout the
nineteenth century. All had the same main tendency: that of opposing the
dominant direction of "high" art with a pleafor a return to healthyorigins—
in the primitive past before mankind fell into the trap of civilization, in the

5 3
 innocenceof childhood, or in the uncorrupted soundnessof the common
people. All shared, to some degree, an aversionto academicismor even
intellectuality,and a tolerance or positive liking for naivete of expression,
awkwardness of execution, and quaintness of shape, considering them
signsof genuineness.Theimpactof theseattitudes on popular literature and
public taste was first felt around 1800. Their immediate effect on the arts
was relativelyslight, savefor a passinginfatuation with Ossianicsubjectsand
primitivist mannerisms.The ferment did, however,seep into the teaching
studios,causingconfusionamong the studentsand giving them a chanceto
questionthe curriculum and annoytheir professors.Among David'spupils,a
smallgroup of dissidentsrejectedthe classicismof their masterastepid and
insufficiently "pure" and opposed to it an ideal of primordial primitive
grandeur,derived from their own readings in Homer,the Bible, and most
particularly,the poemsof "Ossian."Not content with introducing archaisms
into their work, the morezealousof theseyoung artists, nicknamedPrimitifs
or Penseurs,applied the ethic of extreme simplicity and purity to their
personal lives, and walked about the streets of Paris in antique Greek
costumeto demonstratetheir independenceof the affected and hypocriti
cal waysof modern society.Tokeepdebasedart from further corrupting the
public, they advocatedsetting fire to the museum,sparingonly three or four
6 antique statues and no more than a dozen paintings.
The outbreak of youthful anarchismand iconoclasmwas itself of little
consequence.David, most conservativeof revolutionaries,soon reestab
lishedorder in his studio, but this moment of turbulence is of some signifi
canceasthe first, faint appearanceof a split between the broad mainstream
and a graduallywidening fringe of dissentingand independentartists, the
beginningof the avant-garde.Theearlysymptomsof this rift were felt in the
educationalestablishment:a growing number of young artists, from about
1815 onward, questioned the value of the prevailing models of formal
instruction and choseto be their own teachers.The tendency toward self-
developmentproduceda steadypressureon the boundariesthat had tradi
tionally defined the high arts. Reactingagainstthe boredom of conventions
and the stalenessof receivednotions of beauty and significance,the hollow
claptrap of art theory,young artists needingopen spaceand fresh air began
to strike out on their own and to discover an invigorating savor in work
outside the narrow confinement of recognizedart —in the neglected peri
ods of the past, in exotic traditions, and in the underworld of the primitive,
infantile, and vulgar.

Theodore Gericault was among the first of the new breed of artists to
distance himself from the professionalestablishment. Financialindepen
dence,opennessof mind, and a somewhatcavalieramateurism—he liked to

54
7 call himself proprietaire, rather than "artist," on official occasions —
predisposedhim to free experimentation.After a brief and fruitless period
of study with two unlikely mentors, Carle Vernet and Pierre Guerin, he
became his own teacher.Copying the mastersat the Louvre, he gradually
defined and developed his individuality through an unorthodox choice of
modelsand a highly personalmannerof execution.Butwhile training hiseye
and hand in the intimate study of masterworks,he also copied reproductive
engravings,and in his useof this second-hand,and often very second-rate,
material showed himself to be soberly practicaland goal directed. He used
prints, regardlessof their quality, to stock his mind with figural motifs and
compositionalarrangementsand, in the act of copying, did not hesitateto
8 distort his models to make them fit his purpose. In his maturity, he
continued to usethis method of appropriation and adaptation, as an aid in
the difficult initial visualizationof hissubject.When, in the later stagesof the
work, the image had begunto take shape,theseearly borrowingsgradually
disappeared,absorbedby the composition to which they had contributed.
Hardly noticeable in the finished works, they only appear,as fleeting influ
ences, in the sequenceof preparatory studies.
The sources on which Gericault drew were extraordinarily diverse. Of
popular art there arefew tracesamong the outright copies,asidefrom some
equestrian subjects taken from prints by Carle Vernet, but there is some
evidencethat he took an interest in the outpouring of military broadsheets
occasionedby the wars of the declining Empire. Some of his paintings of
those yearsare closeenough to colored prints of the period to suggestthat
these played some part in their development. The early version of the
Charging Chasseur(fig. 44), his Salon debut of 1812, bears a marked
resemblance,even in its awkward presentationof horseand rider,to certain
9 engravingsof the time (see fig. 45). It is probable that these fairly crude
prints, published in large editions, had some bearing on Gericault'sinitial
ideas for the subject, though their influence soon gave way to the much
more sophisticatedand original conception of the Chasseur'sfinal version.
Not long after this first appearanceat the Salon,he made his debut in the
street with the Signboard of a Farrier,c. 1814 (fig. 46), painted on rough
boardsfor a blacksmithof his acquaintance,a vernacularcounterpart to the
heroic Chasseur. 10
Someyearslater,in the earlyspring of 1818, when he was about to start
work on the Raft of the Medusa and was deeply engrossedin sensational
material from the daily press,he was briefly tempted to experiment with a
subject of the kind normally left to the lowest form of pictorial journalism,
that of the canards, popular broadsheetsdealing with crimes and execu
tions. In the southern town of Rodez,a formerly Bonapartistofficial by the
nameof Fualdes,recentlysackedby the Bourbongovernment,was attacked
at night, dragged into a house of ill repute, robbed, and slaughtered in a
 particularlyrepulsivemanner.Theaffair was given a political turn by planted
rumors that Fualdeswas the victim of royalist revenge.Newspapers,pam
phlets, and lithographic prints dwelt in detail on the picturesquehorrors of
the crime. Gericaultwas sufficiently impressedto draw a seriesof composi
tions (fig. 47), basedon newspaperreports, in which he dissectedthe event
into its successiveepisodes: the plotters conspiring; Fualdesabducted;
Fualdesmurdered; his body carriedto the river; the assassinsexulting over
11 their crime, and escapingafter disposingof the body. His method recalls
the serial narrativesof popular imagery, and severalof his compositions
resemblepublished lithographsof the murder,but Gericaultseemsto have
had a more ambitious purpose.According to his biographer,CharlesClem
ent, he toyed with the idea of developingone or the other of theseepisodes
into a major painting in an elevated, antique" style,12and the preserved
drawingsdo show that he hesitatedbetween grandlyartistic conceptionsof
the subject, resonant with echoes of Raphael,and rather more plainly
realisticones. In the end, he appearsto have abandonedthe project after
having seen penny prints of the murder that he found better than his own
designs. The abortive Fualdesproject offers, if the accounts of it can be
trusted, a very early instance-perhaps the earliest-of an effort to treat a
subjectassociatedwith the most tawdry popular imageryon a scaleand in a
style normally reservedfor "high" art. The significanceof this episode lies
not only in Gericault'schoice of such a subject but in what it revealsof his
interest in enlarging the boundariesof "high" art. In this light, the Fualdes
drawings seem like a first, small start toward the great achievementof the
Medusa- the translationinto epic form of a newspaperstory that according
to the conventionsof the period deservednothing more than the modest
dimensionsand unpretending style of ordinary genre.
That Gericault at the same time did not disdain the actual formats and
media of vernacularart is proven by his own lithographic essaysof 1818—
19,13which are of definitely popular character,though they share neither
the technical crudities nor the primitive messagesof humble massproduc
tions. Thesewere the yearsof lithography'searlytriumph, when the novelty
of the processbrought high and low artists together into a democracyof
experimentation. Introduced to lithography by Horace Vernet, Gericault
participated in the voguefor reminiscencesof the Napoleonicglory, articles
of seculardevotion for the middle class,that Vernet had pioneeredand that
Charletwas to bring to a kind of perfection. The handful of military subjects
that he drew at the time CartLoadedwith WoundedSoldiers,Returnfrom
Russia,HorseArtillery ChangingPosition(fig. 49)-are essaysin a form of
nationalimageryfor which there was a largecommercialdemandduring the
early years of the Restoration.Gericault'srelativelyfew works in this vein
stand out by virtue of their avoidanceof patriotic rant, their noble reticence,
their genuinepathos, and their powerful drawing. Trueexperiments,rather
 than works for the market, these lithographs were published in small
editions and are, in that sense, not "popular," but works of high art in a
popular format and on popular themes.
Gericaultwas, however,neither unawareof, nor indifferent to, the possi
bilitiesof commercialexploitationof works whose appealto largeaudiences
he well understood. After the half-failure of the Medusa at the Salon of
1819, he had the flexibility of mind to take his picture to London, to be
exhibited to the paying public as the record of a famous shipwreck-a
monumental canard accompaniedby a complainte, or explanatorytext, in
14 the form of a pamphlet describing the disaster. The speculation proved
profitable beyond his expectations.Exhaustedfrom his long labor over the
Medusa and disillusioned for the time being with high art, he resolved
during hisstayin Englandto give up monumentalpainting, "employmentfor
starving beggars,"as he wrote to a friend, and to devote himself to money-
making work of a popular sort: "J'abdique le cothurne et la sainte Ecriture
15 pour me renfermer dans I'ecurie, dont je ne sortirai que cousu c/'oc"
Sporting art, horse portraiture, and low-life genre were Englishspecialties
held in fairly low esteem by Frenchartists, and perhaps even by Gericault
himself,but he was tempted to compete with the Englishon their own turf.
He contracted with a Londonfirm of lithographic publishersto undertakea
16 seriesof Englishsubjects. The preparatorystudiesfor these,aswell as the
twelve prints ultimately published,VariousSubjectsDrawn from Life and on
Stone (1821), account for most of his Englishwork. Horses,both of the
aristocraticand the laboring kind, mainlyoccupiedhim, but he alsorecorded
the life of the metropoliswith somethingof a reporter'sinquisitiveness,free
from any aesthetic or sentimental bias. His drawings and lithographs of
Londonstreet charactersare marked by an acutenessof socialobservation
that has no close parallel in English or Frenchart of the time. The most
powerful and original of these works, the lithographsof the Piper(fig. 50),
the ParalyticWoman,and the Beggarat the BakeryWindow, deal with the
17 spectacleof urban poverty in closelyobservedLondon settings. Theyare
"popular" subjects, derived from personal experience rather than from
sourcesin popular art. In these prints commerciallyproducedfor an English
middle-classaudienceof 1821, Gericault anticipates,and in immediacyof
observation surpasses,the social realism of French artists working after
1848. But though their matter is popular and English,their style has an
expressivepower and weight that take them out of the realm of common
realism or popular genre. There can be little doubt that, despite his ex
pressedappreciationof Englishart and his admonition to Frenchpaintersto
18 heedthe Englishexample, he held fast to his initial reactionto the English
school, namely that it excelledonly in genre, landscape,portraiture, and
animal painting, in other words, in the lesserspecialties.Nor is it doubtful
that he continued to think of himself as a painter of the Frenchschool,
 superiorto the Englishin the higherreachesof art, that is, in history painting.
His retreat to the stables was to be a temporary episode. Though in his
opennessto new impressionshe was stimulated by Englishpopular art, he
took from it only what suited him. He did not imitate, he adapted elements
of Englishart -much of its subject matter and something of its empiricism,
but very little of its stylistic conventions.
Thegreat exceptionis the EpsomDowns Derby (fig. 51),19the only major
oil painting of Gericault'sEnglishstayand the most "English" of his works-
a deliberateimitation of Englishsporting art, executedin an Englishmanner.
Paintedfor his London landlord, the horse dealer A. Elmore, the picture
probably representsa particular race, the Derby run on June 7, 1821 in
which Elmore may have had a stake. It is possible that Gericault had
witnessedthis event, and that he aimed at a degreeof historicalaccuracyin
his picture. But this does not meanthat he painted simplywhat he had seen
at Epsom:steepedas he was in Englishart at the time, it is unlikelythat his
eyeshad becomeso anglicizedas to make him seereality itself through the
artificial stereotypesof sporting art (see,for example,fig. 52). The Epsom
Downs Derby is not merelya picture influencedby Englishracing imagery,it
is a deliberate imitation-or parody-of the type in all its most telling
features, and one in which it is possibleto specifya fashionablecontempo
rary practitionerof the genre, HenryAiken, as Gericault'smost likely model.
As a feat of stylistic simulation it is exceptionalin his work, both for its self-
denying mimicry and for its condescensionto what must have seemedto
him a "low" popular model. Tograsp the significanceof the EpsomDowns
Derby as a —passing—renunciationof his aspirationsto an elevatedstyle, it
is usefulto compareit to his 1817 painting of a race,TheStart of the Barberi
Race(fig. 53), the crowning work of his Romanperiod. Begun in observa
tions of modern Italian street life —a scene of the Roman carnival—the
BarberiRacehad graduallyevolvedinto an imageof heroicconflict, divested
of all traces of modernity, and reminiscentof Raphaeland the Parthenon.
The contrast between the high pathos and statuesquemuscularityof that
RomanRaceand the flat brillianceand flowing speedof the EpsomDowns
Derby marksopposite polesin Gericault'swork, the tension between grand
tradition and popular modernity. In painting the Derby,perhaps to please
Mr. Elmorewith a bit of familiar Englishness,he may also have intended to
comment ironicallyon his earliergrand mannerand his recent descentfrom
the cothurne.

Traditionalfolk art, which had been a living presencein the European

countrysidesand villagesto the end of the eighteenth century, died in the
early decadesof the nineteenth and became a collector's hobby and the
object of antiquarian study. Homecraft and amateur painting flourished,

58
 then as now, carried on by individual lay artists scarcelyvisible beyondtheir
immediate circle in their time and almost entirely forgotten since. The
marginalprofessionalsof provincialportraiture and the paintersof shutters
andshop signsremainedalmost equallyobscure,though signboardssome
times tempted highly competent artists to try their hand at the craft —
Gericaultfor fun, young Renoirfor money,and Toulouse-Lautrec for someof
both. Themost significant and influential form of popular art in nineteenth-
century France,however,was the commercialproduction of picturesfor the
publishingtrade, an enormousenterprise,comparablein reachand impact
20 to the visualmedia of our time. It extendedover a wide arrayof fields and
occupied technicians and artists of every degree of skill, originality, and
prestige,from the massproducersof crude broadsheetsat the lower end to
the designersof book illustrationsand the starsof the fashionableillustrated
periodicalsat the top. Soon after 1850, photography joined the popular
graphic media, and toward the century's end it began to replacethem.
While in its higher reachespicture publishingcateredto a socialelite and
reachedinto the sphereof seriousart, it provided, at its humblest level,the
simple icons of the uneducated poor —woodcut broadsheetsthat were
bought for a sou to decorate the bedrooms and kitchens of villagers and
lower-classtown dwellers. It was to these imagesthat the term "popular"
wasoriginallyapplied by their discoverersand collectors,aswell as amateur
ethnologistssuchas Champfleury,the author of realistnovelsand Courbet's
friend, whose Histoire de I'imageriepopulaire (1869) helped to initiate the
21 seriousstudy of their subject matter. As used by Champfleury,"popular"
meant "folk" and referred to the common people, the graduallyvanishing
remnant of the original stock of the nation, still attached to local customs
and asyet little affected by modern schoolingand the civilizationof the city.
Popularimagery, the garishly colored woodcuts held in contempt by the
educatedmiddle class,seemedto Champfleury the preciousdocument of
an authentic culture, the primitive, sincere expressionof the beliefs and
feelings of the people: "L'imagerie, par cela qu'elle plut longtemps au
22 peuple, devoile la nature du peuple." Aside from their social utility (ac
cording to Champfleury,the teaching of a simple morality and the inculca
tion of a spirit of resignation in the disadvantaged),he found aesthetic
qualities in the rudest of broadsheetsthat, to his eyes, gave them an
advantageover the mediocritiesof the Salon. He savoredthe energy and
austerity of the woodcuts, their beauty born of poverty, "their artistic
awkwardnesswhich is closerto the work of geniusthan those wishy-washy
23 confectionsthat come out of schoolsand sham traditions." Very much in
the spirit of Rousseauand of the primitivistsof an earliergeneration,he was
movedto reflect on preculturalcreativity: "I contend that an idol carvedout
of a tree trunk by savagescomes closer to Michelangelo'sMoses than a
24 good many of the sculptures in our yearly Salons."
 The mass manufacture of cheap printed images in Francehad had its
beginnings in Paris,in the sixteenth century, and had gradually spreadto
other towns as the Paris market became less profitable. By the mid-
seventeenth century, manufactures had sprung up in several provincial
centers,in Chartres,Troyes,Orleans,Lille,Toulouse,and others, all of them
sizabletowns. Among the most productiveworkshopswere those of Epinal,
in Lorraine,which after 1800 grew into a large establishmentthat domi
nated the trade throughout the century and gave its name to the product:
popular woodcuts, whatevertheir origin, cameto be calledImagesd'Epinal.
Under the energetic direction of severalgenerationsof the Pellerinfamily,
the pressesof Epinalachievedan astonishingvolume of production—no
fewer than about 970,000 hand-coloredprints in 1822, the factory'sbanner
year,decliningto about 30,000 in leantimes (1830), and risingagain, in the
1840s, to very respectable figures: approximately 215,000 in 1841,
875,000 in 1842, and 420,000 in 1843.25 An averageof ninety workers
were employed at the pressesand in the coloring rooms, many of them
children. Stillothers handledthe shipmentsto distribution centersthrough
out France,where the prints were sold in batches to the chapmen who
hawked them up and down the countryside and in the towns. Similar
establishments,none as large as the firm of Pellerin,operated in other
centers, their production by no means limited to images, but including a
variety of printed materials,from playing cards to wallpaper.
Altogether,the impressiongiven by the manufactureof imagespopulaires
is that of an industry,small, no doubt, comparedto coal mining and railway
building, but perhaps more closelyrelated to them than to Champfleury's
savagescarving idols out of tree trunks. Nor,perhaps,were the productsof
theseprint factoriesquite so genuinelyexpressiveof the thought and feeling
of the people as Champfleury believed. Some 75 percent of the images
were of traditional religious subjects,the remainder consistedof a broad
miscellany of standard topics—favorite moral fables, like those of the
BonhommeMisereand the WanderingJew; humdrum allegories;portraits
of monarchs; news of disasters; Napoleonicand other battles; and such
agelesschestnutsas Credit est mort and Degresdes ages,for which there
26 seemsto have been an inexhaustibledemand. Scenesfrom ordinary life
were of the greatestrarity; realism,either of content or of style, was clearly
27 not wanted by the public for whom these images were made.
Skilled woodcutters, many of whom were in the habit of signing their
work, executed the blocks, generally copying earlier prints. Theirswas a
highly disciplinedand conservativecraft, governed by formulas, passedon
from generation to generation, which gave their work its characteristic
Byzantine rigidity. What seems "primitive" in their designs was not an
instinctivenaivete of expression,but a deliberate use of conventionalsim
plifications,a form of shorthand.Takingtheir imageryfrom modelsbelong-
 ingto the traditions of high art, they translatedthese modelsinto their own
graphiclanguage,a patois suited to their rustic audience.Within the con
ventions of this language, there was room for stylistic differences and
refinements.Beneaththe seeminguniformity of the prints, there are grada
tionsof quality that range from the schematiccrudity of the routine output
to a marked, slightly mannerist sophistication in the work of certain
woodcutters.
Bythe time Champfleury wrote his Histoire in the 1860s, the art of the
image populaire was in rapid decline, having lost much of its public and
havingfallen victim, where it was still practiced,to efforts at modernization
and the improvement of taste. What was genuinely "popular" (i.e., of the
people)in the imagesdid not depend so much on the way they were made
as on the clientele for whom they were destined and whose tastes and
habitsthey reflected. Champfleury and other enemiesof the rootlessart of
the Salonsreacted with nostalgic pleasureto the pungent rusticity of the
old-fashionedpenny prints. But in attributing this quality to a rather more
profound originality and primitivenessthan these mass products actually
possessed, they were misledby a romantic illusionnot unlikethat which had
causedtheir fathers to admire the poems of Ossianas works of original
genius.
Courbet, in the early years of their association,shared Champfleurys
ideas and tastes. He was undoubtedly familiar with the tradition of the
image populaire either through exposure at home—though his family of
striving rural capitalists did not belong to the classfor which these prints
were made—or through Champfleury's collecting,which had begun by the
time of their first acquaintance.It is therefore tempting to searchCourbet's
paintingsfor tracesof their influence.Champfleuryhimself,on coming upon
Courbet'sBurialat Ornans(fig. 54) at the Salonof 1851, was struck by what
he thought was its resemblanceto a popular print: "On entering, one sees
the Burialat a distance,framed by the doorway. Everybodyis surprisedby
the simplicity of this painting, so much like the naivewoodcuts, awkwardly
carved,that decoratethe tops of murder broadsheetsof the kind published
in the Rue Git-le-Coeur.The effect is the same, becausethe execution is
28 equallysimple: masterlyart has found the accent of naive art." Coming
from Champfleury,this was high praise,but it was alsothe expressionof an
ideologicalpartisanshipthat predisposedhim to associateartistic merit with
popular roots. Other critics, less friendly, used the same comparison to
blameCourbet for havingbrought painting down to the levelof the penny-
broadsheetindustry.Image d'Epinal was, in fact, a fairly common term of
abuseor ridicule in the critical vocabularyof the time, used indiscriminately
of paintings that did not meet the reviewer's expectations of eloquent
29 gesture and agreeablefinish.
In a famous essaytitled "Courbet and Popular Imagery" (1941), Meyer

6 I
30 Schapirofound thesecomparisonssignificant in the caseof Courbet. They
pointed, he believed, to qualities that actually exist in his paintings, "un
mistakabletendenciestoward a more primitive form," that link them with
the prints. And he went beyond these general affinities to suggest quite
specific relationshipsof content as well. Thus he compared a preliminary
drawing for the Burialto a woodcut broadsheetof around 1830, Souvenir
mortuaire, and saw a connectionin compositionand meaningbetween the
picture'sfinal versionand traditional woodcuts of LesDegresdes ages(fig.
55) in which youthful couples are shown ascending and paired elders
descending the steps of an arched bridge, beneath which appears-in
31 rather rare examplesof the type-the small sceneof a funeral. In other
works by Courbet, Schapirofound further suggestiveresemblancesto the
art of the imagiers.Courbet'slithograph TheApostle JeanJournet (fig. 56),
the copy of a lost portrait of the self-ordainedsocial missionary,is itself
conceived in the format of popular broadsheets,complete with rhymed
text, and bearssome resemblanceto the very common image type of the
32 WanderingJew. Finally,Courbet'spaintings of men or women at work —
the Knife Grinders,the Tinker,the Stone Breakers,and the Winnowers-
33 repeatin monumentalform "a commontheme of popular art." But having
pointed to these correspondences,Schapiroconcludedthat it is difficult to
34 prove that Courbet ever actually copied particular images.
The purely visual parallelsare, in fact, very slight, a matter of general
characterand flavor ratherthan of styleor motif. Courbet'spaintingsof rural
subjects share with popular imagery a provincial plainness that in the
settingsof the Salons,and in the provocativemonumentality he gavethem,
produced a striking dissonancethat delighted supporters such as Champ-
fleury by what seemedto them a wholesomenaivete and simplicity,while it
enraged ordinary critics and grated on Baudelaire'snerves—he called it
35 "Realisme, villageois,grossier,et meme rustre, malhonnete." Courbet's
painterly instincts,his loveof substance,the portrait characterof his realism
were antithetical to the linearity and schematicabstraction of the popular
woodcuts. What interest he had in popular art and its deeply conservative
traditions stemmedfrom his strong attachment to popular roots, his village
patriotism, his self-identificationwith the people of his province,but it did
not have a strong effect on his manner of painting nor, except for a brief
period, on his choice of subjects.
Thesingleinstanceof a possibleimitation by Courbet of a particular motif
from the tradition of the image populaire is the lithograph of TheApostle
Jean Journet Setting Out on the Conquestof UniversalHarmony (1850),
which Meyer Schapirocompared in passingto popular representationsof
36 the Wandering Jew. The fact that in Courbet's print the image is sur
rounded by an explanatorytext in verse,a complaintesuchas often accom
paniesthe WanderingJew of the broadsheets,heightensthe resemblance,
 though the likelihood of a derivation from this source is rather lessenedby
the fact that the print's immediate model was Courbet's own painted
portrait of JeanJournet (now lost). It is perhapssignificant that there exist
other graphic portraits of vagabondphilosophersresemblingCourbet'sJean
Journet at least as closely as does the Wandering Jew of the popular
woodcuts-Travies' 1834 Liard, the PhilosophicalRagPicker(fig. 57) is one
37 of these. Champfleury,who sharedideaswith Courbet, devoted a chap
ter of his Histoire de I'imagerie populaire (1869) to the iconographyof the
WanderingJew and chosea small reproduction of such a woodcut for the
38 frontispieceof his book (fig. 58). In her ingeniousarticle on the subject,
LindaNochlin has argued that this particular image was "doubtless known
both to Champfleury and Courbet" long before 1869, and that a detail of
it —the three diminutive figures at its lower left, inscribed"LesBourgeoisde
la VilleparlantauJuif errant" - madeso deep an impressionon Courbetthat
he usedit asthe basisfor the large painting of TheMeeting (1854) (fig. 59),
39 assigningto himself the characterof the WanderingJew. The processof
pictorial transformation that this assumesrather strains probability, and so
doesthe metamorphosisof the WanderingJew of the popular imagesfrom
a penitent, condemnedto eternal, aimlesswandering for an act of cruelty
and uncharitableness,into the liberated and confident artist of Courbets
40 self-portrait.
Temptingas it isto look into popular imageryof the yearsaround 1848 for
tracesof a political awakeningand ideasthat might haveattracted an artist
of liberal views, there is virtually nothing in this vast material that answers
these expectations.The dominant character of the broadsheetsand their
legends is one of deep traditionalism and conservatism, reflecting the
sentimentsof their rural or petit-bourgeoisclientele.Champfleury,a chronic
waverer between progressiveand reactionary impulses, began to take a
seriousinterest in popular imagery at about the time of the Revolutionof
1848, in a spirit of nervousdisillusionmentwith revolutionarypolitics. In the
prefaceto his Histoire, he mentions that the bloody uprising in June 1848
first causedhim to reflect on the usethat could be made of the broadsheets
and their legendsof the WanderingJew and BonhommeMisereto calm the
people and combat insurrectionalviolence41 This very point is made by a
cartoon of the time, in a journal that did not shareChampfleury'santirevolu-
tionary views. It shows the personification of reactionary propaganda,
"Mossieu Reac"(fig. 60), using an image populaire on a peasant—not to
calm him, but to frighten him into a properly conservativemood 42

While the provincial manufacture of woodcut broadsheets remained

bound to old, barely changing traditions, the pictorial press of Parisre
flected, propagated, and in many ways created the transient modernity of
 its time. Fromthe end of the Napoleonicwars, its production of cartoons,
albums,pictorial weeklies,and illustrated books increasedenormouslyyear
by year,reachinga vast public mainly of the urban middle class,but intri
catelyvariegatedin its socialand intellectualcomposition, and encompass
ing a wide rangeof tastesand interests.Thedevelopmentof new techniques
for the printing of pictures,by the lithographic processfrom 18 16, by wood
engravingfrom about 1830, promoted speed, economy,and quantity of
output. The public's eager demand for illustrated periodicals and books
madefor intensecompetition among publishersto outdo one another in the
novelty and lavishnessof their illustrations. It also created a new classof
artistswho specializedin a rapid, quasi-journalisticform of draftsmanship-
a classdifficult to fit into the old artistic hierarchies,and extremelydiversein
quality,ambition, and taste, but united in its concentrationon subjectsfrom
the contemporary world.
It was not by chancethat BaudelairechoseConstantinGuys(seefig. 61),a
pictorialjournalist, as his ideal Painterof Modern Life" (1860), investingthis
exemplarof an art of the future with qualitiesthat were to set him apart
43 from the conventionalartistsof his time. In an earlieressay,"The Heroism
of Modern Life," which he included in his review of the Salonof 1846,44
Baudelairehad sketchedhis first —still romantic—vision of a new art that,
freed from the weight of the grand tradition, would seek its subject matter
in the drama of the modern city. This art would distill its poetry from the
stuff newspaperswere made of —the excitement of political struggle, the
spectacularvicesof criminalsand prostitutes,and the bravadoof murderers
facing the guillotine. Modern Paris,as rich in marvelsas the ancient world,
could, he believed,providesubstitutesfor manyworthwhile conventionsof
traditional art. that of the nude, for instance,which in order to be revived
need only to be transposedto its proper modern settings-the bed, the
bath, and the dissecting room. In its youthful zest for the macabre,
Baudelairesprogram seemslike a reflection of Gericault'sinterest in crime,
disaster,and the morgue; it also recallsthe popular woodcut broadsheets,
the canards,with their celebrationsof homicidesand executions.
Somefourteen yearslater,Baudelairegavea rather lesshectic account of
the modern artist, whom he now no longer imagined, but drew from life.
Constantin Guys, as he described him 43 had some of the qualities that
writers of an earlier time- Rousseau,Wordsworth, and Runge, for
example- had claimed for the child and for "natural" genius. Baudelaire
found in him the clear vision of a child who has not yet been crippled
by education and habit and has the ability to respond to fresh experience
with "animal ecstasy" Self-taught, Guys had run through the stages
from "initial barbarity" to mastery without losing his original naivete
and sincerity,provingthat le genie n'est que i'enfance retrouve." Spurning
piofessionalism,Guysappearedto Baudelaireas a man of the world, rather
 than a mere artist -a traveler, cosmopolite, flaneur, and dandy. "La foule est
sa domaine," but from within the crowd he contemplated society as a
46 spectacle, with the detachment of an alien. Indifferent to morality and
causes, a pure observer rather than a critic, Guys —the Painter of Modern
Life-concentrated on the picturesque in manners and fashions, "la meta
morphose journaliere des choses exterieures," and recorded with steno
graphic speed the important superficialities that are the essence of
modernity.

He admiresthe timelessbeauty and the amazing harmony of life in the capitals, a

harmonyso providentiallymaintainedamidst the turbulence of human freedom. He
contemplatesthe landscapeof the great cities ... He delights in the fine carriages
and proud horses,the dazzlingspit-and-polishof the grooms,the elegantskill of the
footmen, the flowing graceof the women, the beautiful children, happy to be alive
andto be nicelydressed- in a word, he delights in life in general.If somefashion,the
cut of a costume, has been slightly modified, if knots, ribbons and bows have been
replacedby cockades,if bonnets have been enlarged and chignons made to drop
ever so slightly toward the nape of the neck, if waists have been raised and skirts
madefuller, you may be sure that his eagle eyewill alreadyhavespotted it from far
47 away.

The modernity that Baudelaire in 1860 ascribed to Guys, and that was
undoubtedly in part a projection of his own sense of the modern, centered
on the study of visual appearance and stylistic nuance, a form of sartorial
connoisseurship far removed from his earlier interest in strong subject
matter and the romantic notion of heroic modernity that he had expressed
in 184 6 48 For all their verbal brilliance, his descriptions of Guys's work do
not actually render the character of the drawings, much rougher in their
graphic shorthand, and less nervously impressionist than Baudelaire's lan
guage. Why did he choose Guys to exemplify the modern painter-a
graphic artist working for the press, who was not, strictly speaking, a painter
at all? It may be that, needing a peg on which to hang his own ideas about
modernity, he found the obsessively modest and reclusive Guys convenient
for his purpose. But it was probably also the sheer novelty of the type of
artist Guys represented that attracted Baudelaire, aside from the admiration
he felt for him and his work. For here was an observer who did not bury
himself in the studio but took notes on battlefields, at parades and public
executions, in drawing rooms and bordellos, and one who sent his work to
the London Illustrated News rather than the Salon. An independent of sharp
and rapid intelligence, not an ideological Realist, Guys had no pretensions to
stardom and was content to take his place as an anonymous worker in the
new picture-publishing industry, differing in his avoidance of rhetoric and
self-exposure from Gericault, whom in other ways he resembled. It is under-
 standablethat Baudelaireshould haveseenin him a harbingerof the future,
unaware that, even while he wrote, photography was about to render
obsolete the Painterof Modern Life.
A fascinationwith pictures on the page, that "culte des images" which
49 Baudelairecalled "ma grande, mon unigue, ma primitive passion," per
sisted among the Frenchpublic through the early decadesof the century
and producedan unprecedentedoutpouring of graphic publications,begin
ning with the voguefor lithographicseriesin which Gericaulthad a part, and
risingto a crescendoin the 1830s and 1840s with the advent of a multitude
of albums, comic journals, illustrated newspapers,and books overflowing
with hundreds of vignettes and wood-engraved plates (see fig. 62). The
demandwas mainlyfor picturesfrom modern life, a minor genre in high art,
and one that offered the illustrators a great scope for innovation and
experiment. One novelty that they brought to the well-trodden field of
genre was a spirit of systematicinquiry into the behaviorand appearanceof
the various classesthat made up the urban population. The most telling
products of this perhaps typically middle-classinquisitivenessabout the
details of ordinary liveswere the innumerablecaricatural studies of social
types, the so-calledphysiologies,and the lavishlyillustrated collectionsof
essays-such as Paul de Kock's La grande vilie (1842-43), 50 the en
cyclopedicLeDiablea Parish 845—46),51and the nine-volumecompendium
52 Les Franqaispeints par eux-memes (1841) —that analyzed with semi-
pedantic, semihumorousthoroughnessthe typical appearance,manners,
tastes,and eccentricitiesof the multitude of subgroupsthat composedthe
population of France.Thewealth of this pictorial literature of socialobserva
tion, produced for the vigorously acquisitive bourgeoisie of the July
Monarchy—well before the advent of programmatic social realism in the
work of Courbet, Millet, and their followers —provesthat an interest in the
realitiesof modern life, including its ragged edges of beggary and crime,
was by no means confined to a small, socially aware avant-garde, but
basically expressedthe unromantic positivism of the middle class—not
unlike the statistical tables and economic surveysthat are sometimes in
cluded in these books, where they look odd beside Gavarni's carnival
dancersand Bertall'ssardonicvignettes.
The small army of draftsmen who collaborated in this immense self-
portrait of French society—nonacademics,for the most part, often of
irregular training, but in no sense naive or primitivist—formed a distinct
class, somewhat below that of the painters who starred at the Salons,
though several—Monnier,GrandviIle, Daumier,Gavarni—achievedcelebrity
and were better known to the public than most Salonpainters.A conspicu
ously large number of them bore aristocratic names, or hid them under
53 pseudonyms. Theirwork was popular" in the sensethat it reachedand
pleasedlarge audiencesand dealt with subjectsof general interest: every-
 day life, social or political satire, and nudity in bed or bath, according to
Baudelaire'sprescription.It did not coherearound any particular ideology or
artistic tendency but was, on the contrary, extremely diverse. The sheer
quantity and availability of their production assured it of visibility and
influence,their freedom from the constraintsof high art enabled them to
moveeasilyfrom topic to topic, regardlessof rules of beauty,propriety,or
indeedof art itself. Appreciated in its place, in the modest formats of the
cartoon or the illustrated page, their work became controversialwhen it
aspiredto the status of seriousart, though in its flexibility and informality it
often foreshadowed developmentsin the more traditional fields.
To artists of the younger generation, particularly those who tended
toward modernity and realism,the vernacularof the illustrated presswas
the perfect antidote to the academicrepertory.All artists whose youth fell
into the decadesof the 1830s or 1840s were inevitablyexposedto it. Those
who were headedfor the mainstreamsought to avoid its taint; the modern-
mindedallowed themselvesto be influenced.The illustratorshad a twenty-
yearheadstarton the realistpaintersand had touched on everyconceivable
aspectof modern life, leavinglittle scopefor absolute novelty to the artists
of the 1850s and 1860s. It is not surprising,therefore, that certain paintings
by Courbet or Manet should bear a resemblanceto earlier prints from the
popular media, and the temptation is strong in such casesto assumea
connection.Butthe number of parallelsis so very largethat it castsdoubt on
the significance,in specificcases,of evenquite striking resemblances.Thus,
merelyto cite randomexamples,an anonymousengraving,of around 1840,
TwoNude WomenAsleep(fig. 63),a raresubject,is closein generaleffect to
Courbet's TheSleepers{1866)(fig. 64), but that hardlyjustifies consideringit
a possiblesource.Thesamecan be saidfor GustaveDore'sAfternoon in the
Gardenof the Tuileries(1849) (fig. 65), which resemblesManet's Music in
the Tuileries(1862) (fig. 66) no lessthan certain other illustrationsthat have
54 been proposed as influences.
Manet has been singled out by recent scholarshipas the artist whose
commitment to modernity brought him into particularly close touch with
the popular media of his time. The many correspondencesbetween his
paintingsand the imagery of the illustrators indicate beyond doubt that he
was familiar with this vast resourceand responsiveto its suggestions.But
that he actually borrowed particular ideasand motifs from it hasturned out
to be difficult to prove, despite vigorous efforts to identify his sources.
Resemblancesabound, but their very number suggests that they are a
matter of Manet's involvement in widely shared interests, rather than of
dependenceon specific models. Certain publications, the volumes of Les
Franqaispeints par eux-memes(1841), for example, have been found to
be especiallyrich in imagesthat seemto foretell paintings by Manet, and it
55 has been suggested that he must have been familiar with them. This
 seemshighly likely,but it rather goes against the grain to imagine Manet
recharging his flagging imagination by an intensive browse through the
pagesof a particular picture book.
What did attract Manet then to those publicationsthat have been pro
posedas his sources?Sincethe purely visualconnectionsare not conclusive,
the likelihood of actual influence would mainly depend on the general
aesthetic and social character of the publications in question, on their
compatibility with Manet'sstyle of modernity. He cannot have been indis
criminatelyreceptiveto all the popular media, whose differences—stylistic,
social,and generational—though no longer obviousto modern eyes,were
apparent and important to contemporaries."Modernity" had its nuances:
the distinctionsbetween the sharp,somewhat cold-blooded observationof
Guys,the melancholyeleganceof Gavarni,the robust humor and humanity
of Daumierreflected not only the individualtemperamentsof these artists,
but also the various publics they served. Marked differences of tone, of
sensibility,of class-determinednuancesof style and taste distinguish the
lithographsof Gavarnifrom those of Beaumont,and even more from those
of Grevin,the satireof Cham differs from that of Bertall; the socialobserva
tion of Monnier from that of Lami; the fantasy of Grandvillefrom that of
Travies.It is worth noting, in this connection, that the popular "sources"
suggested for Manets paintings of the 1860s date mostly from the
56 1840s -understandably, perhaps,sincethat decadewas the golden age
of the illustrated press.But this time lapsemeansthat when he usedthese
borrowings they were no longer really modern; it also assumesan oddly
retrospectivetendencyin an artist so sensitiveto changesof style as Manet,
to whom the outdatednessof these illustrationsmust havebeen apparent.
Thereseemto be few, if any, borrowings in his work from popular illustra
tions of the 1860s and 1870s, his more immediate present, but a period in
which the pictorial media were declining into banality.
Manet was, at least in his work before the 1870s, essentiallya studio-
bound painter and salonmer,in whose work observedreality playeda minor
part. Hisfrequent borrowingsfrom the old masterswere deliberate quota
tions ratherthan furtive imitations.Art was his subject matter,and a shared
knowledge of past art one of his links with his audience. His individuality
expresseditself in the choiceand interpretationof the quoted masterworks,
his originality and modernity in the alterationsthat he introduced into them.
Toquote details from particular,obscure imagesof the kind that could be
gleaned from the illustrated presswould have been futile, since his refer
encewould not havebeen understood.But to gatherfrom a great varietyof
sources-society itself, its fashions, entertainments, and popular media-
the current note of beauty and elegance, the slang of the season, the
mannersand corruptions of the moment, in intimate observationsunder-

68
stood by his contemporaries,and to apply these modernismsto familiar
works of high art was a challenging and, as it turned out, explosively
controversialproject.

Political satire and social observation dominated the imagery of the

popular press in the third and fourth decadesof the nineteenth century.
Artistically,the best part of this immense production was the work of the
mastersof lithographic caricature, one of the glories of Frenchart of the
time and certainly comparablein quality to the work of the leadingpainters,
though it was not seenin that light then and eventoday is often misjudgeda
minor art. The forty years that Daumier spent in the service of pictorial
journalismwere not, as hassometimesbeensaid,a tragic waste of genius—
though he has a place among the great painters of the century, his finest
work, unsurpassedin the history of its medium, was done in lithographyfor
the pagesof the weekly press.In the political battlesof the post-Napoleonic
era, caricaturewhich had only a feeble tradition in Francesuddenly rose to
the highestlevelit haseverattained. Thegreat proliferation of graphicsatire
in the yearsbetween 1827 and 1835 was the work of a young generationof
artists working for the press, many of them quite unburdened by any
academicschooling, but all enthusiasticallymotivated by the political pas
sionsaroused by the events that surrounded the Revolutionof 1830.
The presslaws of September 1835 put a stop to this activity and forced
the talents that had grown strong in political controversyto seek other
outlets. Socialand cultural criticism now replacedpolitical combat, and the
wits sharpenedin attackson king, clergy,and reactionadjusted themselves
to lessdangeroustargets. One of these, near at hand, was the world of art
itself,tempting to satiristsin the pompositiesand decrepitudesof its aca
demic establishment, in the eccentricities of prominent artists and their
admirers,and in the more bizarrenoveltiesof the Salons.Therewas consid
erablepiquancyin this arrogation by workers in a "low" medium of a critical
function that allowed them to teasetheir betters, and not a few cartoonists
took to this role with zest. Caricaturecame to be the instrument of a new,
purely pictorial form of art criticism: Salon reviews without words. The
illustratedjournals regularly published "Comic Salons,"consistingof trav
estiesof individual paintings or of pages crowded with minusculeimages
that surveyed,and ridiculed, whole gallerywalls (seefig. 67). Their popular >
draftsmen—Cham, Bertall, Nadar,Dore, and others—competed with one cd
another in wit and malice at the expenseof the exhibiting artists, but the >
CI
quality of these cartoons rarely rose abovethat of trivial amusements,and
their humor hardly transcendedthe platitudes of the written reviewsor the
Philistinismof the public.

E9
 J Of greater importance were those satiresthat took issuewith the grand
z traditions of art and involvedsome of the most gifted caricaturistsin an
- altogether more seriouskind of criticism. Aimed mainly at the fading gran-
N deurs of the classical heritage, they assumed the form of parody-
z paraphrasingfamous works of art or evoking the heroesof classicalmyth
c and literature, only to deflate them by an abrupt confrontation with prosaic
57 ® modernity. The effect depended on the viewers' recognition of a grand
prototype and on their acquiescencein its deflation. For artists of the
popular media, there was an obvious pleasurein this invasionof Olympus
and its sacredgroves,at the very moment when, around 1840, a reaction
58 favorableto classicismwas evident in the Salonsand the critical literature.
But, besidethe thrill of blasphemy,there was aestheticgratification in these
gameswith the relicsof an ancientgrandeurthat had not lost all its potency
and that, at the very least, offered relief from the humdrum of graphic
journalism. On a deeper level, parody could infuse modern feeling into
subject matter grown stale, and bring fresh life —if merely through
laughter—to forms of beautythat had with time hardenedinto stereotypes.
Grandvilleattempted something of the kind in Un Autre monde (1844),
that astonishing demonstration of the powers of caricature. One of the
chaptersof this book describesan excursioninto the land of anachronism,a
country called Antiquity, in which the Primitifs, David'sdissident students,
59 would havefelt at home. It is a fantasy,perhapsa nightmare, of antiquity
modernized, or modernity dressedin antique costume. "Past and present
mingle here in friendly alliance.Our missionis to show . . . how old and new
forms unite; we vivify the spirit of modernity through contact with the spirit
of antiquity. Thetext that links Grandville'scaricaturesdescribesthe arrival
of a traveler in the city of Rheculanumand his visit to the theater,where a
star of the classicalstage,Mile. Leucothoe,performing an antiqueversionof
Racines Phedre(fig. 68), is about to deliver her famous monologue:

Oui,prince,je languis,yebrulepour Thesee,

60 Nonpoint tel quei'ont vu souventlesboulevards
..,

Theparodyof the text cuts three ways: it spoofs Racine'shigh style, it givesit
an anachronistic "antique" setting, and it provides that setting with the
attributes of modern Paris.Grandville'sillustration of the sceneis conceived
in the samespirit. Themodern theater,with its stage,orchestra,and loges,is
represented in the linear manner of Flaxman'simitations of Greek vase
painting. The action on the stage echoesGuerin'spainting of Phaedraand
Hippolytus (1802), a monument of French Neoclassicism.Modern detail
pervadesthe classicaldesign-Hippolytus' shotgun and dachshunds,the
togatustraining histelescopeon the stage,the old musicianin the orchestra,
evidently Homerhimself,in a Parisianfrock coat, smiting an enormous lyre.

7
 Grandville'sparody appeals to the educated viewer's recognition of its
(neo)classicalmodels, rather in the manner of Salon eclecticism, only to
disrupt the solemnity of these associationswith its impudent modernities.
Daumier'sparodiesof classicalsubjectsdiffer from those of Grandvillein
that they do not mimic classicalstyle but are emphatically modern and
personalin their energetic freedom of line and vigor of tonal contrast, the
exactcontrary of the Flaxmanesqueabstractionsthat stand for classicismin
Grandville'scaricatures. While Grandville renders modern subjects in a
pseudoclassicalmanner, Daumier modernizes classicalsubjects. His gods
and heroesbelong to hisfamiliar stock of Parisianpopular types, and in their
immediaterecognizabilitybeneath the flimsy Greekshifts liesthe joke and
the shock: flat chestedor potbellied, they are a very physicaland earthly lot,
with the gesturesand expressionsof the Frenchmiddle class.Exceptfor the
few antique props, an occasional helmet or shield, there is little in the
settingsin which Daumier placesthem that is not modern and of the real
world. The comic effect is not at the expenseof classicalantiquity, but of
unreasonableexpectations of ideal beauty that cannot meet the test of
reality."Daumier has come down brutally on antiquity," wrote Baudelaire,
61 "on false antiquity —for no one has a better senseof antique grandeur."
Stimulatedboth by the fun of blasphemyand his senseof les grandeurs
anciennes, Daumier drew the fifty lithographs of his Histoire ancienne
62 (1841-43), which, print for print, ranks among his greatest works. The
facetiousprefaceof the series,perhapswritten by Philipon,which compares
Daumier with Ingres and celebrates him as the artist who rejuvenated
Beauty'sface and renewedthe bond between ancientand living art, was not
so absurd as its author may haveintended it to be. The difficulty that faced
Daumier in this ambitious project was to re-imagine fifty episodesfrom
antiquity in terms of contemporary life and feeling, giving each a memora
ble pictorial form and comical charge, without falling into repetition and
jocularity.The challengedrew from him some of the most beautiful, most
63 grandlyconceived,and most hilariousinventionsof his career.Pygmalion
(fig. 69) stands aghast with surpriseand delight as Galatea,a comely and
quite modern nude that could have been posed by Victorine Meurent,
64 comesto life and reachesdown for a pinch of snuff. Penelope (fig. 70),
middle-aged,bony,endearinglyunattractive,sitsat her loom in a passionate
revery,thinking of Ulysseswhose portrait —echoesof Dibutade! —shehas
65 drawn on the wall. A lamp in the dark abovecastsits light on her unquiet
body and on the infantile drawing —a caricaturewithin the caricature—of
the absent hero. Thesceneis realizedwith a warmth of feeling and a poetry
of light and shadow worthy of Rembrandt.
When Daumier aimed his parody at particular paintings, as he occa
sionallydid in the period of relative pressfreedom after the Revolutionof
1848, he quoted heroic compositions by David, Ingres, and Guerin to

7 1
 comment crushingly on small political issuesof the moment. His Clytem-
56 nestra (1850) (fig. 71) paraphrasesPierre Guerin's Clytemnestra Con
templating the Murder of Agamemnon (1817) (fig. 72), a famous
Neoclassicalmachine, in making heavy weather of a petty intrigue of
journalists that involved Dr. Veron of the Bonapartist Constitutionnel and
Philiponof the liberal Charivari,Daumier'spublisher.Wearing the nightcap
and high choker by which cartoonistsalways identified him, the vengeful
Veron playsAegisthusto a reluctant Clytemnestra,who is recognizableas
Verons protegee,the actressRachel;he urges her to administera clysterto
the unsuspectingPhilipon-Agamemnon.The bathos of the classicalimper
sonations,the contrast between the epic invocationand the paltry occasion,
the hint of a pun, and the dramaticstaging resonantwith echoesof high art,
createan interplayof associationsthat not only stimulated Daumier'scomic
vervebut alsoappealedto his painterly instincts.Hissmallcartoon upstages
Guerin'sbig paintingas much by its superiormanagementof the sceneas by
its maliciouswit.
The seriousintention that guided Daumier'sparodistic invasionsof high
art was not to devaluethe great traditions, but to give them new life by
freeing them from the preciousnessof a mandarin culture, reanimating
them with genuine feeling, and bringing them into the reality of modern
experience.Developedin a field of low art, parody becamein his work an
effective alternative to academiceclecticism,a spur to original invention,
and a useful vehiclefor satire in the uneasy,half-permissivecultural atmo
sphereof the SecondEmpire.It deeplysuited the temper of Frenchsociety
and by its vitality affected the style of the vernacularculture, which, how
evercorrupt, was more productiveof viableart than the moribund academic
establishment.Thecriticismof modern societythat Couture had attempted
in his Romans of the Decadence (1847), in the forms of a solemn
pseudoclassicism,was superseded by Offenbach's Orphee aux enfers
(1858) and La Belle Helene (1864), cynical and thoroughly modern bur
67 lesquesof antiquity, that raised the art of parody to its highest point.
Young artists, cutting their teeth on historical subjects, seized on this
alternative, not preciselyin the spirit of comic parody, but in a somewhat
similarvein,to preservetheir work from the deadnessof academicconven
tion. Degas,wrestling with a classicalsubject in his Spartan Boysand Girls
Exercising(1860-62, fig. 73), at the outset took David'sIntervention of the
SabineWomen(1799, fig. 74) as a model in arranging his composition and
in conceivinghis frieze of figures in a Neoclassicalcontour style. Dissatisfied
with his first version,he laid it asideand painted a second,giving his figures
sharplycharacterizedfaces and bodies, and by this striking modernization
lifted the sceneout of its original unreality and timelessness.Transported
into a believablepresent,the nudity of the awkward adolescentbodies,and
their strainedattitudes, took on a new character.Thesceneacquireddisturb-
 ingsexualovertonesthat altered its meaningand havesincebrought it under
an intense interpretative scrutiny that the earlier, more severelystylized
68 version—had it been carried out —would probably not have attracted.
Manet'searly nude, the Nymph Surprised(c. 1861), modeledon Rubens's
Suzannain the Bath, produced no excitementin its time, and hasbeen little
noticed since.His Olympia of 1863 (fig. 75) causedan immensescandalat
the Salonof 1865. The criesof outrage raised by its reviewerscontinue to
resoundto this daythrough the vast literature it hasspawned,and they have
69 occupiedsomehistoriansasmuch as,or evenmorethan, the picture itself.
Olympia is, among other things, about prostitution, though only a few of
the seventyor so reviewerswho condemnedit madethis point; but it is,first
andmost important, about a famous painting, Titian's1538 Venusof Urbino
(fig. 76). Manet clearlywanted this to be understood: it was an important
part of his picture's meaning. Curiously,scarcelyany of the contemporary
-0
7 critics remarked on its source, one of Titian's best-known works. It is
tempting to conclude that Manet failed to make his point, and that his
picturedid not compel comparisonwith its great model, but this would give
too much significanceto the reactionsof the pressreviewers,which were,
on the whole, extremelyobtuse. The critics did not see,or choseto ignore,
what was plainly before them, and they made up for this by seeing much
that was not in the picture at all: not a few of them dwelt on the supposed
dirtinessof Olympia'shands,they saw her asa "gorilla coveredin rubber," or
71 asa "putrefying body." The hystericalblindnessof the reviewers,and their
stampedeto rush their witticisms to the public, makefor enjoyablereading
and good copy, and perhaps for this reason have been taken rather too
seriously.
Thegenesisof the painting is not absolutelyclear.TheodoreReff,who has
72 made the closeststudy of its development, believesthat it underwent a
lengthy and gradual evolution, in the courseof which Manet experimented
with different forms of the recumbent nude, taking his inspirationfrom a
varietyof sources—Goya,Ingres,Delacroix,popular lithographs,and possi
bly photographs—before he made the "sudden decisionto base his com
positionon the Venusof Urbino." Reffsupportsthis view with a sequenceof
drawings, which, he believes,antedate this decision. It is possibleto con
clude, however,that this initial stagewas brief, and that perhapsnot all the
drawings that have been proposed as preliminariesare actually directly
relatedto Olympia. In either case,there arisesthe questionof Manet'sinitial
purpose: Did he start with the intention of painting a picture about modern
prostitution and, in the course of developing his subject, arrive at Titian's
Venusas a suitableform in which to cast his idea?Or did he begin with the
plan of painting a Venus-likenude in the manner of Titian, but in a modern
style, and hencerequiring the plausible,modern motivation of the nude as
"courtesan," which was, after all, the characterin which Titian's Venuswas
 seenat the time? The latter assumptionis by far the more likely,and the one
most in accordancewith what is known of Manet'smanner of work. At any
rate, the painting that resulted from the processwas composed with the
Venusof Urbino in mind: this was its model, text, and reference.
Manet'sintention, however,was not to imitate and adapt, in the tradition
of academic pilferage, but to appropriate and transform his model, to
createan originalwork whose meaningwould lie in the difference between
itself and its model. The boldness of the challenge lay not only in the
competition with a supremely great painter of the past, but also in the
difficulty of transposinga perhapsexcessively familiar motif from its placein
history to the modernity of mid-nineteenth-century France. Baudelaire,
writing in around 1859-60, had addressedthis problem in an oddly pres
cient way: "If a patient, exact,but only moderatelyimaginativeartist, having
to paint a courtesan of today, were to take his inspiration . . . from a
courtesan by Titian or Raphael,it is extremely probable that he would
producea false,ambiguous,and obscurework. The study of a masterwork
of that time and of that kind will teach him nothing about the bearing,the
73 look, the expressionor the vital aspect of one of these creatures. . ,"
Within its context —a discussionof modernity in its visual manifestations—
the meaningof this passageis clear: it refersto the problem of realismin the
representationof contemporary physiognomies,the intimate, fugitive as
pect of face and body peculiarto a particular classat a particular moment in
time. Courtesans are mentioned only as an attractively lurid instanceof
what Baudelaireproposesasa generalrule. Nor did Manet proposeto paint
a realisticstudyof modern prostitution, or to representa typical prostitute in
the manner of the popular sociologicalessaysof the time, the so-called
physiologies.But he clearlywanted to give his recumbentVenusthe authen
tic appearanceof a modern woman. He painted her in the likenessof
VictorineMeurent, an artist'smodel, not a prostitute, whose face and figure
had alreadyservedhim for a number of other paintings.He posed her in an
attitude designedto recallTitian'sVenus,but the physicalimmediacythat he
introduced into his picture—Olympia'salert posture; her direct gaze,which
is lessdreamilyabsentthan that of Venus;the resolutegesture of her hand
firmly claspedover her sex; and the prosaic modernity of her taut, short,
practicalbody—madethis associationseemblasphemous.Admirable in the
remotenessof antique myth or traditional art, nudity, sexuality,and erotic
licenseturned abominable in the near view.
Manet took pleasure in teasing the public's sensibility. Olympia is an
impudent picture, and from its impudence derive much of its vitality, its
verve of handling, and hence its aura of contemporaneity.In translating a
classiccompositionfrom its aestheticdistanceinto the immediacyof direct
experience,it functioned as parody,no lessthan Daumier'scomic moderni
zations of antique gods and heroes. Manet dared to apply the device of
 parodic appropriation, which had long since become a commonplaceof
comicpopular art, to a seriouswork of high art, and he discoveredthat what
causedlaughter in the pages of Charivarior at the Bouffes-Parisiensstill
producedscandalat the Salon.The use of seriousparody for the revitaliza-
tion of motifs from the great tradition neverthelessremaineda central part
of his effort toward modernity,and it was in developingthis method, rather
than in his borrowings from the illustrated press,that he drew most impor
tantly on the popular media. The irony of the situation was that Manet's
concernfor the valuesof tradition and his desireto reconcilethesewith the
realitiesof modern life should havebeen interpreted—in his time and even
74 today—as "an outright affront to public sensibility." It was, after all, the
spirit of the public, as expressedin its vernaculararts and entertainments,
that Manet—like Gericault a generation before him —had absorbed and
applied in his work, and had sought to bring into the sanctuaryof high art,
not to destroy it, but to renew its connection with the present.
 1. E. Young,Conjectureson Original Composition(1759); cf. M. W. Steinke,Edward Young's
"Conjectureson Original Composition"in Englandand Germany(New York, 1917), pp. 45ff.

2. J. J. Rousseau,Emile, ou de Teducation (1762; ed. Firmin Didot, Paris,1851), p. 1.

3. J. G. Herder, "Auszug aus einem Briefwechseluber Ossian und die Lieder alter Volker"
(1771); see B. Suphanet al„ HerdersSamtliche Werke (Berlin, 1877-1913), vol. 5, p. 181.

4. P O. Runge,in a letter to his brother Daniel,February1802; seeHinterlasseneSchriften von

Phillip Otto Runge(Hamburg, 1840), vol. 1, p. 7.

5. W. Wordsworth, from the preface to LyricalBallads(1800), lines 129-30, All -IS.

6. M. E. J. Delecluze,Louis David, son ecole et son temps (Paris,1855), p. 420. Delecluze's

reminiscencesof the penseursor primitifs were first publishedin Le Livredes Cent-et-Un(Paris,
1832),vol. 7, pp. 6Iff. Seealso G. Levitine,"The Primitifsand TheirCritics in the Year1800," in
Studiesin Romanticism(Boston University),vol. 1, no. 4 (1962), p. 209.

7. L. Eitner,Gericault, His Life and Work (London, 1983), p. 102.

8. Throughout his life, but particularly during the period of intensiveself-training(1814-16)

precedinghis Italianvoyage,Gericaultfrequently copied engravingsafter original works of art,
partly becausetheseoften rather crude prints allowed him somefreedom of self-expressionin
exaggeratingor distorting his models.A main sourcefor his experimentaldrawings of those
yearswas the engravingsin J. B. Wicars illustrated catalogueof the Florentineart collections.
Tableaux,statues,bas-reliefs,et cameesde la Galeriede Florenceet du PalaisPitti (Paris,1789),
of which he seemsto have known only the first volume.

9. For example,an anonymous,handcoloredengraving,part of the seriesTroupesfrangaises,

published by the firm of Martinet, in the Rue du Coq, Paris,about 1810.

10. Eitner,Gericault, pp. 53ff.

11. Ibid., pp. 156-57.

12. C. Clement, Gericault,etude biographiqueet critique (Paris,1879), p. 364' Dessins no

165.

13. Eitner,Gericault, pp. 151ff.

14. Ibid., pp. 209ff.

15. Ibid., pp. 216ff.

16. Ibid., pp. 228ff.

17. L. Delteil, Gericault(Le Peintre-graveurillustre, vol. 18) (Paris,1924), nos. 30, 31, 38; cf.
Eitner,Gericault, pp. 229-30.

18. Clement, Gericault, p. 199; cf. Eitner,Gericault, p. 218.

19. Eitner,Gericault, pp. 234ff.

20. See P L. Duchartre and R. Saulnier,L'lmagerie populaire (Paris, 1925); J. Adhemar,

L'lmageriepopulaire frangaise(Paris,1968); J. M. Dumont, Les Maitres-graveurspopulaires,
1800- 1850 (Epinal, 1965). Dumont's book containsstatisticsconcerningthe work force and
production at the factory in Epinal(p. 53).

21. Champfleury[JulesFleury-Husson],Histoirede Timageriepopulaire (Paris,1869; 2nd ed.,

76
1886).Fifty years earlier,the EnglishbibliographerThomasFrognall Dibdin visited the image
factory of Picard-Guerinin Caen, from which "issuethe thousandsand tens of thousandsof
broadsides,chap-books,&c. &c. which inundateNormandy."Hecollectedseveralprints on this
occasion(1818),including"a metricalcanticleof the ProdigalSon,with sixwood cuts abovethe
text"; seeDibdin'sA Bibliographical,Antiquarian, and PicturesqueTourin Franceand Germany,
2nd ed., vol. 1 (London, 1829), p. 194.

22. Champfleury,Histoire, p. xii.

23. Ibid., p. xi.

24. Ibid.

25. Cf. Dumont, Maftres-graveurs,p. 53.

26. On the iconographyof the imagespopulaires,seeChampfleury,Histoire,pp. 1-94 (on the

WanderingJew); pp. 95-168 (on Le Bonhomme misere); pp. 171-89 (on Credit est mort).

27. "Le peuple a toujours aime qu'on lui representedes personnages,qu'on lui raconte des
histoiresqui se passent dans un monde d'autant plus attirant et seduisant qu'il lui est plus
ferme. II est logique que le peuplefuie lesrepresentationsdes personnesqui I'entourent, de sa
proprevie, de sessoucis,de sesmiseres,dont il est sature. II obeit a un besoind'evasionbien
naturel, qui est loin, d'ailleurs, d'etre particulier aux milieux populaires. Le realisme etait
rarementle fait du peuple,mais bien plutot un merveilleuxconventionnel." R L. Duchartreand
R. Saulnier,L'lmagerie Parisienne(Paris,1944), pp. 7-8.

28. Quoted by Schapiro from an article in Messager de I'Assemble(1851); reprinted by

Champfleuryin GrandesFiguresd'hier et d'aujourd'hui (Paris,1861), p. 244; in M. Schapiro,
Modern Art: 19th and 20th Centuries(New York, 1978), p. 48.

29. It was, for instance,used of Manet's Olympia.

30. M. Schapiro,"Courbet and PopularImagery,"first publishedin Journalof the Warburgand

Courtauld Institutes, vol. 4 (1941), pp. 164ff., reprinted in Schapiro,Modern Art, pp. 47ff.

31. Schapiro,Modern Art, p. 50. Both the Souvenirmortuaire and the particular versionof Les
Degresdes ages cited by Schapiroare evidently of great rarity. I have been unable to find
anotherexampleof LesDegresdesagesthat showsa funeral scenebeneaththe arch.The most
commonnineteenth-centuryversionshowsa LastJudgmentin that space.Schapiroconcludes:
"That Courbet copied such images is difficult to prove, but the resemblanceis evident." The
visual resemblance,i.e., that which one might expect to result from copying, is in fact quite
remote; the relationship between the painting and the print, if indeed there is one, is at best
one of a very loose thematic analogy.

32. Schapiro,Modern Art, pp. 50-51.

33. Ibid.

34. Ibid.

35. In the notes for a projected article, "Puisquerealisme il y a," about Champfleury and
Courbet, written in 1855; see C. Baudelaire,Oeuvrescompletes (Paris: Bibliotheque de la
Pleiade,1961), p. 636.

36. Schapiro,Modern Art, pp. 50-51.

37. The lithographer Charles-JosephTraviesde Villers (1804-1859), was one of the chief
contributors to Charles Philipon's La Caricature and Le Charivari. Liard, a ragpicker who
astonishedpassersbyby quoting Greekand Latintags to them, was an acquaintanceof Travies,
who evidently had a specialinterest in ragpickers.The essay"LesChiffonniers," in LesFranqais
peintspar eux-memes(Paris,1841),vol. 3, p. 333, hasa frontispieceportrait of another,elderly,
ragpickerby Travies.Theauthor of the essay,L. A. Berthaud,describesa philosophicalragpicker,
C whom he calls Christophe, a familiar figure in Parisstreets and much admired by "mon
jjj cameradeTravies.... On a fait son portrait, on I'a lithographie,et il s'esttrouve si ressemblant,
l„ que tout le monde I'a reconnu" (p. 335). There is no mention of the Wandering Jew.

W 38. Champfleury,Histoire,pp. 1-94. In the catalogueof imagespopulairesof the Wandering

N Jew (p. 85), Champfleury names Bonnet of the Rue Saint-Jacquesas the publisher,and the
Imprimeriede Chassaignon,Rue GTt-le-Coeur,as the printer of the image populaire that he
c reproducesas his book's frontispiece.Thiswould make the woodcut an exceptionalpiece,for
Parisianshops normally specializedin engravings.On p. 57, Champfleury indicatesthat this
J (particularlynaive)woodcut continuedto be printed until the end of the Restoration,i.e., about
m 1830. It was, nevertheless,of extreme rarity at the time when Champfleury wrote, and he
makesthe astonishingstatement, "il n'existe a Parisaucun autre monument ancien peint ou
graveayanttrait au Juif-Errant."This is clearlyof some significancewith regard to the possible
influence of this iconographyon Courbet in 1850-54.

39. L. Nochlin, "GustaveCourbet'sMeeting: A Portraitof the Artist as a WanderingJew," The

Art Bulletin, vol. 49 (1967), pp. 209-22.

40. Nochlinbelieves("GustaveCourbet'sMeeting," pp. 209, 214) that Courbet'sMeeting was

"unequivocallybased upon a source in popular imagery: a portion of a broadsheet of the
WanderingJew . . . which was later to serveasthe frontispieceof Champfleury's Histoire" and
that this rare broadsheet,which Champfleurypublishedin 1869, fifteen yearsafter Courbet's
painting, was "doubtless known both to Champfleury and Courbet long before that time."
Champfleury had indeed begun to interest himself in the legend of the Wandering Jew by
about 1848, and may havestarted his cataloguingof broadsheetsthen, but there is nothing in
his book to indicatethat he had known this particularbroadsheetand sharedit with Courbet by
1854, in time for its small marginal image to inspirethe large canvasthat Courbet painted in
Montpellier that year. Champfleurys own account (Histoire, p. xli) rather suggests a long
collectingeffort; of the twenty-nine broadsheetsthat he cataloguedin 1869, more than half
date from after 1850 (and most of these from after 1860). The image populaire that he
reproducedin his frontispiece,which is the basisof Nochlin'stheory,was a rare, if not unique,
specimenand the only one of its kind in hiscollection—not a common type, as Nochlinsuggests
(cf. note 38 above).Acceptanceof the detail in the broadsheetas the model for Courbet's
painting depends primarily on one's opinion of its visual correspondenceto the painting.
Concerningthe contemporarysignificanceof the image of the WanderingJew,and hence its
suitability for the self-portrait of the artist as an activewitnessto a new socialorder," Nochlin
(p. 214) cites Champfleury (pp. 2-3), and concludesthat by the middle of the nineteenth
century the legendof the WanderingJew had "evolvedfrom a simple,apocryphalstory of sin,
retribution, and eternal wandering, into a sociallyconsciousmorality tale, often providing the
scaffolding, or more accurately,the pretext, for elaborate left-wing literary productions."
Actually,Champfleurys passage(pp. 2-3) rather dismissivelymentionsmodern versionsof the
traditional story and comparesthem unfavorablywith the "simple,apocryphalstory" of the folk
tradition. Desespritspoetiquess emparerentde la legendepour I'approprieraux imaginations
du jour, seduitspar cette conceptionbizarre,ils tenterent de rajeunirle texte. . . . Lesroman-
ciersvoulurent gouter au festin. Le Juif servit des lors a des compositionssociales,ou furent
entasseestoutes lesaspirationsmodernes.Lespeintresaussisuivirentle courant; de memeque
lesdramaturgesde boulevardvoyaientdans la personnalited'Ahasverusun pretexte a grandes
machines,divers artists prirent a partie la figure du Juif et pourtant n'en surent rien tirer de
particular." A footnote mentionsone suchpainting, exhibited at the Salonof 1863: "composi
tion sansinteret." Of modern versions,Champfleurycites PierreJeande Beranger'spoem "Le
Juif errant, which Nochlin calls a "socially conscioussong," but in which the sinisterJew is
presented as a warning example of the punishment awaiting those who, like himself, lack
charity and humanity.A poem by PierreDupont, which Champfleury scathinglycomparesto
the popular complainte and to which Nochlin refers as a "socially oriented variant," also
picturesthe Jew as merciless.ThereremainsEugeneSue'sfamous, interminableJuif errant, in
which the spectral figure of Ahasverusfunctions as link for the separatestrandsof a wildly

78
ramifiedplot -a reformed sinner,but hardly a characterwho would tempt a sociallyconscious
artist to wholehearted self-identification. Champfleury,who does not mention Sue, but may
havehad him in mind in his referenceto "romanciers," does not support the claim that there
existed "many contemporary variants of the legend" that transformed the Wandering Jew
"from a helplessvictim into an active witness to a new social order," nor does Nochlin herself
adduceany further examples.Champfleury,on the contrary,expressesa strong preferencefor
the traditional image. If Courbet indeedsaw himself in the characterof a benign Ahasverus,he
is not likely to have receivedthis notion from his friend.

41. Champfleury,Histoire, p. xlii.

42. La Revuecomique (Paris,May 1849), p. 8. The cartoon is probably by Nadar.

43. Baudelaire,Oeuvrescompletes, Bibliothequede la Pleiade,Paris,1968, pp. 1,152ff. "Le

Peintrede la vie moderne" was written in the winter of 1859-60 and first published in Le
Figaro.
44. Salonde 1846, "XVII. De I'heroismede la vie moderne," in Baudelaire,op.cit., pp. 949ff.

45. Le Peintre de la vie moderne, "III. L'Artiste, homme du monde, homme des foules et
enfant," in Baudelaire,op.cit., pp. 1,157-59.

46. Baudelaire,op.cit., p. 1,160.

47. Ibid., p. 1,161.

48. Salonde 1846, "XVIII. De I'heroismede la vie moderne," in Baudelaire,op. cit., pp. 951—
52.

49. Mon Coeur mis a nu, c. 1863, in Baudelaire,op.cit., p. 1,295.

on

50. P de Kock, La GrandeVille: NouveauTableaude Paris,2 vols.(Paris,1842-43), with texts ^

by suchwriters as Balzac,Dumas,and Ourliacand illustrationsby Daumier,Gavarni,Daubigny, ^
Travies,Monnier,and others. n
—i
on
51. LeDiablea Paris:Moeurset coutumes,caractereset portraits des habitants de Paris, 2 vols. ^
(Paris,1845-46), with texts by such writers as Balzac,George Sand,Musset, and Nodier and ^
illustrationsby Gavarni, Daubigny,Frangais,Bertall, and others. ^

52. LesFranqaispeints par eux-memes.Encyclopediemoraledu XIXesiecle,9 vols,(includingLe 2

Prisme)(Paris, 1841), with essaysby many authors and illustrations by Gavarni, Daumier,
Grandville,Meissonier,Charlet, Travies,Monnier, and others. A second edition appeared in 2
1876-78 with many new illustrations. ^

53. Among them Charlesde Beaumont,Julien Vallon de Villeneuve, Quillenbois (comte de —

Sarcus),Bertall (Vicomte Albert d'Arnoux), and Cham (Amedee de Noe). m

54. Froma group of cartoons by G. Dore, "La Promenadeaux Tuileries,"in LeJournalpour rire,
vol. 2 (April 1849), n. pag., N. G. Sandblad{Manet, ThreeStudiesin Artistic Conception[Lund, ^
1954]) publishedanother parallel(plate 1),to which A. C. Hanson("Popular Imageryand the m
Work of Edouard Manet," in French 19th Century Painting and Literature, ed. U. Finke ^
[Manchester,1972], p. 148) added "another possiblesource" from the 1876 edition of Les >
Franqaispeints par eux-memes,an illustration not included in the original edition of 1841, and
hence not a possiblesource for Manet's painting of 1862 (see note 52 above). ^

55. SeeparticularlyA. C. Hanson,"Manet's SubjectMatter and a Sourceof PopularImagery," ^

in Museum Studies,vol. 3 (Chicago, 1968),pp. 64ff„ and the sameauthor's "Popular Imagery >
CD
and the Work of EdouardManet" (see note 54 above),in which (p. 134) she concludes"It is
usuallyfutile to searchfor the one 'correct' source for a given motif in Manet's work. Since
numerous equally convincing sources present themselves,and we know he worked from
modelsaswell, we can concludethat he practiceda kind of image-collecting."An exampleof a
probably"correct" sourcefor a motif in one of Manet'spaintingsisthe figure of a girl holding an

79
 c infant, from a painting by H. G. Schlesinger,L'Enfant vole- illustrated in Magasinpittoresque,
111
z vol. 28 (1861), p. 293 —that Manet appearsto have borrowed for the correspondingfigure in
I- The Old Musician (cf. Hanson, "Popular Imagery and the Work of Edouard Manet," p. 146).
III 56. Cf. Hanson "Manet's Subject Matter," pp. 64ff„ and "Popular Imagery," pp. 133ff.
N
z 57. The Hannoverianartist J. H. Ramberg(1763-1840), active in England in 1780-88 and
III significantlyinfluencedby Englishtraditions of caricature,publishedin 1828 a seriesof plates,
E entitled Homersllias,sendsund comisch,which treated Homericsubjectsin the mannerof John
Flaxmanin pairedplatesthat juxtaposedseriousand burlesque-i.e., ludicrouslymodernized-
versions of the same scene. His style of graphic parody interestingly anticipates that of
Grandville.(SeeF.Forster-Hahn,JohannHeinrichRambergals Karikaturistund Satiriker[Bonn
1963], pp. 112ff.)

58. See L Rosenthal,Du Romantismeau Realisme(Paris,1914), pp. 168ff.

59. Grandville[Jean-lgnace-lsidoreGerard],Un Autre Monde (text by "TaxileDelord" actually,

Grandvillehimself) (Paris,1844).The visit to Rheculanum(a pun on reculer—"to regress")is
described on pp. 177ff. The actress "Mile. Leucothoe" representsthe famous traqedienne
Rachel.

60. Ibid., p. 191.

61. "QuelquesCaricaturistesFrangais,"published in 1857. Cf. Baudelaire,op.cit., p. 1,006.

62. The seriesHistoireanciennewas published in Charivarifrom December 1841 to January

1843; see L. Delteil, Daumier,vol. 3 (LePeintre-graveurillustre, vol. 22) (Paris,1906),numbers
925-75. For the preface, see number 925.

63. Delteil, Daumier,number 971.

64. Ibid., number 930.

65. A curiousparallelto this combinationof the iconographiesof Penelopeand Dibutade is to

be found in the work of JosephWright of Derby,i.e., his two pendant paintings of 1783-84
Penelope WeavingHer Web and The Corinthian Maid (Dibutade). See B. Nicolson,Joseph
Wright of Derby (London, 1968), pp. 243-44, numbers 224, 225.

66. Delteil,Daumier,vol. 6 (LePeintre-graveurillustre, vol. 25), number 1,980; other parodies

of thattime: LesHoracesd'Elysee(D. 2,105), UnNouveauBelisaire(D.2,107),LeNouvelOedipe
(D. 2,115), La Tentation(D. 2,149), all dating from 1851.

67. The libretto of Orpheewas by H. Cremieuxand L. Halevy,that of La Belle Helene by H.

Meilhacand L. Halevy.Famous"courtesans"sometimesacted the parts of divinities; Cora Pearl
premieredin the role of Cupid in Orphee.Cf. S. Kracauer,Offenbach and the Parisof His Time
(London, 1937), and J. Richardson,La Vie Parisienne(New York, 1971), pp. 263ff.

68. R. R. Brettelland S. M. McCullagh,Degasin the Art Institute of Chicago(Chicago, 1984),

pp. 32ff.; C. Galus, "Degas' YoungSpartansExercising,"TheArt Bulletin, vol. 67 (September
1985), pp. 50Iff.

69. T.J.Clark, in ThePaintingof Modern Life: Parisin theArtof Manet and His Followers(New
York, 1985), pp. 83ff., offers a comprehensiveselection of the press reviews of Olympia.
70. SeeClark, ibid., p. 94.

71. Ibid., pp. 94-96.

72. T. Reff, Manet: Olympia (London, 1976), pp. 67ff.

73. Le Peintrede la vie moderne, "IV. La Modernite," Baudelaire,op.cit., p. 1,165.

74. How can one possiblytake Manet at his word . . . when he assuresus that it is merelythe
sincerity of his works that givesthem their 'characterof protest,' or when he pretendsto be

80

JUL.
shockedat the hostility with which the public has greeted them. . . . [His]words ring hollow in
the face of such outright affronts to public sensibility as Dejeunersur I'herbe and Olympia.
What has never been sufficiently taken into account by 'serious' criticism is the characterof
theseworks as monumentaland ironic put-ons, blagues,favorite form of destructivewit of the
period, inflated to gigantic dimensions—pictorial versionsof those endemic pranks which
threatenedto destroyall seriousvalues,to profane and vulgarizethe most sacredveritiesof the
time." L. Nochlin, "The Inventionof the Avant-Garde: France1830-80," in Art NewsAnnual,
vol. 34 (1968), p. 16.

B 1
 PICASSO, COLLAGE,

AND THE MUSIC HALL

There is [in the music hall] a certain satirical or skeptical

attitude towards the commonplace, there is an attempt to
turn it inside-out, to distort it somewhat, to point up the
illogicality of the everyday. Abstruse, but -interesting.
V. I. LENIN TO MAXIM GORKY, 1907
 Cubism hit the music hall stagefor the first time on October 12,1911. JEFFREY
The occasionwas a revue in two acts and three tableaux by Robert
Dieudonneentitled Et Voila!, performed at the otherwise "straight" Theatre g WEISS
desCapucines.Includedamong the cast of characterswas a cubiste, played
by the director of the Capucineshimself, M. Armand Berthez(fig. 77). His u
costumeconsistedof a conventionalman'ssuit that had been painted with
overlappingpolygons,and to which cubeswere attached at the shoulders
and the trouser cuffs. The gag is that Cubists parseeven the most unlikely
things into small,carefullycalculatedunits of geometricalshape; the Cubist
painter is shown in production photos for Et Voila! "demonstrating his
theoriesof art and measuringwith a compassthe charmsof the commere." 1
The critic for Comoediathought Et Voila! "smart, licentious,a bit naughty,
2 ironical,lively,exuberant,spirited. It mockseverything includingitself." The
Cubist costume is, of course, meant to be utterly ridiculous, a joke; it also
predatesby two yearsSonia Delaunay'searliestapplication of Orphic Cub
ismto clothing design(fig. 78), and by six Picasso'scostumesfor the music-
hall-styled ballet Parade-the debut of Cubism on the avant-gardestage.
At virtually the same moment in 1911, the music hall appearedfor the
first time in a Cubist picture: toward the bottom of a canvasrepresent
ing a seated woman, Pablo Picassoinscribedthe phrase MA JOLIE (fig.
79). These words, a pet name for the artist's new lover, Eva (Marcelle
3 Humbert), were extracted from the refrain of the popular song "Derniere
chanson," which begins, "0 Manon, ma jolie . . ." The three versesof the
songwere written by H. Christineto music by Harry Fragson,but the words
of the refrain were written by Fragsonand set to a melodic motif from a
4 ballet dance by Herman Finck originally called "In the Shadows." On
October 1, 1911, "Derniere chanson" was introduced at the Alhambra
musichall by Fragson,an immenselypopular music-hallartist of the prewar
period who wrote and performed songs in both Frenchand English(fig.
80). Hit songs often developeda life of their own outside the theater; the
music hall, that is, typically saturated the daily life of prewar Paris.Le
Journal reported throughout the month on Fragson'snightly performances
at the Alhambra, where he was engaged from October 1 to 31. Every
concert was sold out, and the performer was greeted with delirious
5 applause. A number of his new songs receivedinstant public acclaim,but
the "ma jolie" refrain of "Derniere chanson was particularly visible,
appearing as a miniature musical score in the theater pages of daily
6 newspaperssuch as Excelsiorand Le Journal (fig. 81). It soon became a
fashionabledancetune playedas a tango by "gypsy orchestras(the words
refer to a tune that "the tziganesplay"); such was the caseat the Cabaret
I'Ermitageon the Boulevardde Clichy,where the Picassocirclecould often
be found in 1911-1 2.7 Ma Jolieis undated, but given the vast proliferation

8 3
 [jj of popular songs at the time and the speed with which one hit followed
- another,it seemslikely that Picassoreproducedthe lyric in October,when
8 $ the song was first in vogue.
yj Betweenthe Cubist painter in Et Voila! and the song lyric in Picasso'sMa
^ Joliethere is an open channel. Identifying music-hallstyle in modern paint-
jjj ing is a function of mapping the territory they share.While the music hall
u. might, from our vantage, seem like a mere frivolity, it actually enjoyed the
JJj favor of the avant-gardeasa peculiarlymodern entertainment chargedwith
"® an exhilarating capacity for novelty and surprise. In 1913, F.T. Marinetti
devoted an entire Futurist manifesto to the music hall, hailing it as nothing
lessthan "the cruciblein which the elementsof an emergent new sensibility
9 are seething." Later,Jean Cocteau was equally direct: "That force of life
which expressesitself on a music hall stage renders all of our audacities
10 obsolete at first glance." In fact, the history of prewar music-hallperfor
manceopensa window onto the comediesof early modernism,a structure
and iconographyof parody,irony,and play.In Picasso'scollages,music-hall
manner is pervasive, and it asks us to integrate and reconcile serious
aestheticpurpose with a subversivepractice of seriousfun. The music hall
permits us to addressPicassoas a comic artist as well as a metaphysicianof
the picture plane, and to return collage Cubism to its placewithin a larger
cultural expression-to reenvisionCubism as a contraption of the prewar
years.

Themusichall- what we are now more likelyto refer to as "vaudeville"-

is a progenyof the mid-nineteenth-centurycafe-chantantand cafe-concert.
Itssharedoriginsin Londonand Parisare betrayedby Frenchretention of the
Englishgenre name—le musichall. Music-hallperformanceis distinguished
by its variety; the Edwardianterm "varietytheater," a synonymfor the music
hall, was devised to emphasizethe difference: cafe-concert shows were
comprised largely of song (though the songs came in an assortment of
genres,from the sentimentalto the nonsensicalto the crude and obscene),
while music hall incorporated song within a larger spectacle.Across the
music-hallstage might pass,in rapid turn, circusacrobatics,juggling, sports
(such as boxing),magic, animal acts, comic sketches,cinema (beginning in
the 1890s) and defiles of lavish modern or historical costume and female
11 flesh. Suchperformanceswere availableto a wide rangeof classes.There
was also a good deal of mix and crossoverbetween types of patron —
workers and petites employeescould occupy the cheap gallery seats at
expensive halls such as the Folies-Bergereor Olympia, while the haute
bourgeoisie might seek out the greater abandon of a more "popular"
12 theater such as La Pepiniere.
By 1900, the music hall was no longer a new institution; but it had been

84
 renewed. In Paris,it was still recognizedas something startling, outlandish,
and fundamentally modern. The Frenchhad intensifiedeveryaspectof their
music-hallperformance: the lavishnessof the spectacle,the liberalsexuality
of the chorus line, the energyand speedof acrobaticand slapsticknumeros
(under the influence of the English),the raucousnessof the music, and the
bite of the satire. The cafe-concert and music hall can never be entirely
disentangled,yet we can and do speak of the gradual death of the cafe-
concert. Writing in Gil Biasin 1901, one observer reported that the music
hall-"sensational, paradoxical, ultramodern" -had definitively replaced
the cabaret, the cafe-concert, and the theater,which was too attached to
13 conventionalformulas. As late as 1912, a critic could still refer to the music
hall as "a new genre which will engenderthe fusion of two pleasureswhich
14 were once distinct: that of the cafe-concert and that of the circus."
Marinetti was reflecting common, even established, prewar sentiment
when, in 1913, he extolled the music hall for having "no tradition, no
15 mastersand no dogma."
Our knowledge of Picasso'stheater-going habits is largely dependent
upon the recollectionof others in his circle. Picassoleft no written memoirs,
and beginning in around 1906, his art grows increasinglylessillustrativeof
life outside the studio and the cafe. Theartist's passionfor acrobatic perfor
mancesat the fetes forains- outdoor, itinerant fairswhich took placeon the
streets and the terrain vague of Montmartre-is clear from the oeuvre of
1903-05, where saltimbanquesfigure in such large quantity. We havealso
long known of Picasso'sassiduousattendanceat the CirqueMedrano. All of
his closestfriends haveattested to his delight in the slapstickanticsof circus
clowns, though it remains singularlycurious that there is little if any real
visual evidence of the clown —as opposed to the saltimbanque—in his
16 prewar work.
The visual record of Picasso'searly work from Parisdoes, however,reveal
the larger scopeof his taste in entertainment. Therewe find that the young
Spaniard,new to Paris,was a habitue of the cafe-concertand music hall. In
addition to a largenumber of drawings,pastels,and paintingsin the manner
of Degasand Toulouse-Lautrec, a half-dozenextant notebooksfrom 1900-
02 contain somefifty sketchesby Picassoof performersand spectators(fig.
82).17Theseare probablystudiesfor illustrationsthat Picassocreatedfor the
magazineFrou-Froubetween 1901 and 1903.18While Picasso'scompatriot
CarlosCasagemastells usthat he spent someeveningsat the roughermusic
19 halls of Montmartre, Max Jacobrelatesthat Picassoalso frequented the
Moulin-Rouge,the Casinode Paris,and other fashionable halls, where he
made the acquaintanceof great stars such as Liane de Pougy,"la belle
20 Otero and Jeanne Bloch. Bloch, who built her career upon a rotund
physiqueand an equally broad comic manner (often comprised of vulgar
jokes about her own size and weight), is easy to spot among Picasso's
 sketches(fig. 83). Her specialtyduring the 1890s had been the burlesqueof
military life (an unusualgenre for a woman), for which she appeared in an
army kepi wielding a riding crop or a snare drum (fig. 84). Bloch was a
headlinerat the Cigalemusic hall in Montmartre throughout Picasso'searly
visitsto Parisin 1900-02. 21SincePicassodepictsher with a military drum, it
is likely that he sketchedher in a performance of A nous la veinei, the only
Cigale revue of the period in which Bloch played roles typical of her cele
brated cafe-concert persona, in this casea depute from Dunkerqueand a
22 majoresse.
FernandeOlivier,who lived with the artist in 1904—12,remembersthat
23 Picasso"loved risque cabarets and music halls." Members of Picasso's
circle such as Olivier, D. H. Kahnweiler,and Andre Salmon also describe
soireesat the Bateau-Lavoirstudio and the bistros Chez Azon and Chez
Vernin around 1908-12, during which they were all entertained by Max
Jacob,whose specialtywas sentimentaland comic songs(includingtravesty)
24 from past and present cafe-concert and music-hall repertory. Neverthe
less,the next introduction of the music hall into Picasso'swork comeswith
the song lyric "ma jolie," which will recur throughout the picturesof 1911-
14. Then, during the fall of 1912, Picassopasted sheet music onto a
sequenceof five collages.Thesepagesare clipped from two other songsof
the sentimental cafe-concert/music-hallvariety: "Trilleset Baisers"("Trills
25 and Kisses) and "Sonnet" (figs. 85 and 86). The first seriesof collagesin
which the pasted papersare bound by a singleiconographicaltheme, these
pictures signal that Picassohas found a renewed significancein music hall
and popular song culture.
The caseof "Sonnet" is particularly intriguing. The song was publishedin
26 1892, twenty years before Picassopasted it down. In Violin and Sheet
Music (see fig. 86), page one of the song tells us that words by Pierre
Ronsardhavebeen set to music by Marcel Legay,who introduced the song
during a soireeartistique at the Eldorado.Legayhad been one of the great
cabaret and cafe-concert singers of the 1890s, a legendary "bard of
27 Montmartre ; the Eldorado, on the Boulevardde Strasbourg,was the
oldest and most venerablemusic hall in Paris,yet celebratedthrough 1914
28 for its dedicationto conservingthe tradition of cafe-concertsong recitals.
The "Sonnet" collages resonate not only with the history of the French
chanson,but with Picasso'sown history asa patron of popular song in Paris.
During his nine yearsin Montmartre, the artist's circlespent many evenings
at the Cabaret du Lapin Agile on the Rue des Saules.Performancesof
popular song accompaniedby guitar and violin (both of which are depicted
in the sheet-musiccollages)were a nightly occurrenceat the cabaret. Byall
accounts,the repertory of Frede,the guitar-playingbonhomme proprietor,
was especiallystrong in dark or romantic lyricsdrawn from Ronsard,Villon,
29 and other early Frenchpoets. Moreover,the LapinAgile was itself some-

86
 thing of a legendby Picasso's time, havingplayedhost during the 1880s and
30 1890s to the great Montmartre singers,including Legay.
Around the time of the sheet-music collages Picasso moved from
Montmartre to a more urban neighborhoodin Montparnasse.Echoesof the
LapinAgile castan aura of nostalgiaabout the "Sonnet" pictures.Thetext of
the song, moreover,is a plain and elegiac "vanitas" on love, beauty, and
fleeting youth —an especiallypoignant counterpart to the public/private
sentiment of "ma jolie." Appropriately,perhaps,two of the "Sonnet" col
lagesare broad, flat, uncomplicatedworks. A third, Guitar,SheetMusic and
Glass(fig. 87), is a good deal lesscoherent in form and content; its song
fragment is much smaller—lessnostalgic—than those of the other two, and
the music is mixed with five other types of paper,including the critical first
appearanceof newsprint in the collage oeuvre. Guitar, Sheet Music and
Glassintroduces us to a seriesof complex pictures by Picasso—stunning,
seat-of-the-pantspictorial performancesthat jumble the hermetic formal
experiments of Cubism with the banal materials of popular culture- in
which the music hall is an informing agent not just of iconography,but of
style, structure, and bearing.
Picasso'scollages contain a universeof pasted materials—and painted
imitations, with which he frequently juxtaposed or replacedthem. In addi
tion to sheetmusic,newspaperarticlesand advertisements(aswell as other
forms of publicity such as brand labels)comprisethe greatest share; wall
paper,imitation wood grain, playingcards,and cartesde visite—the collage
universe is inhabited by ephemera, cheap and disposable stuff. A large
number of these papers contain printed words, which correspond with
examplesof commercialtypography that had alreadybeen introduced into
precollageCubist painting (suchas Ma Jolie).It is some measureof just how
utterly unpreparedspectatorswere for the materialsof collage that some
fifty yearspassedbefore any critic or historianactuallyread thesewords for
meaning.In 1960, RobertRosenblumshowed usthat Cubists,and aboveall
Picassoand Braque,often cropped andjuxtaposednewspaperand advertis
ing typeface for puns and wordplays, many of which alluded back to the
31 visualpuns of Cubism itself. Indeed, it is not remarkedoften enough that
the wordplay is simple,as Picasso'sFrenchwas little more than functional at
the time. Nonetheless,the pictures are populated by verbal games played
predominantly in French, with only occasionalexcursionsinto his native
Spanish.Picasso'sprimary pun, inscribedon numerousCubist picturesfrom
1912-14, was derivedfrom the name of the newspaperLeJournal,which,
when clipped, becomes"jou," suggestingthe Frenchword jouer, "to play"
32 (orjouir, "to enjoy"; in sexualslang, "to come") (fig. 88). "Jou" is, in fact,
something of a logo for these pictures,the mot d'ordre, and it signalsus to
"play" Picasso'sepistemologicalgame.
The "Sonnet" collage Guitar, Sheet-Musicand Glass (see fig. 87) is a
 classicexample, where picture making itself is understood as a sort of
advancedpracticeof the pun: sheet music—partition in French—suggests
the division of objects throughout the collage; fragments of music and
newspaperare what they "represent," yet the glassis a Cubist stylization; a
white paper disk—materialyet empty —standsfor the void of a guitar sound
hole,while the hollow body of the guitar is describedby the arrangementof
pastedpapersaround an empty space;wood grain is a "real" pasted paper,
yet "fake" in that it is a simulation painted with a technique borrowed from
the unexalted metier of peinture en batiment; wallpaper concretizesthe
verticalsurfaceof a wall, and of the picture itself,yet simultaneouslyalludes
to the horizontalsurfaceof a table, upon which the objectsrest; finally,all of
the objects signal both the work to which they are attached and the world
from which they havebeen detached.Beneath"le jou" we read "la bataille
s'est engage(e)" ("the battle has begun"), words that are at once the
33 headlineof a newsstory on the BalkanWars and the challengingsloganof
a picture so unlike any other before it.
Newspapers,advertising,and popular music; ephemeralityand the play
of the pun: these are the salient contents and qualities of collage. In the
history of art there simply is no precedentfor this combination of iconogra
phy and attitude. We might look for Pre-Cubistdepictions of newspaper
and cafe advertising typography in Impressionistand Post-Impressionist
painting, where they typically function as attributes of urban life. But this is
clearly inadequate—we don't need a history of this subject matter in
painting before Cubism in order to come to Cubist collagewith the proper
frame of reference; neither did Picasso.Like all artists, Picassoengages
consciouslyand unconsciouslywith the nonart world ; but Picassostandsout
for having drawn striking attention to this fact by affixing peculiar bits of
that world onto a painting or drawing. We should, then, follow his lead and
venture back not into the history of art so much as into the contemporary
realm of prewar popular culture. Newspapers,advertising,and song were,
aroundthe time of Cubism,all far morevital to the daily aestheticlife of Paris
than to the aestheticsof Frencheaselpainting. As such,they were in turn the
signalingredientsfor a genreof music-hallperformancethat bearsstrikingly
upon the history of collage: the revue.In a very real sense,collageexistedat
the musichall before Picasso,and it flourished there throughout the history
of collage Cubism.

"Therevue,what a setting! Thereexistsnonewhich permits more fantasy

with more reality. . . .The revueisthe triumph of the 'neither headnor tail,"'
34 or so saysHenry Buguet in his 1887 pamphlet Revueset revuistes. The
history of the revue as a performancegenre in Franceis, in fact, older than
the music hall. Reachingback to the eighteenth century, it was first fully
 formed during the Restorationperiod. Peakingat the music halls of the
SecondEmpire,the revuewas revivedwith a new extravaganceafter 1900,
and gained a secondwind. By around 1910, this revivalhad erupted into a
virtual mania,and the revueexplodedthroughout the musichallsof Paris.So
popular was the revue during the prewar period that it was discussedwith
35 the energy of debate in the daily and entertainment press. It was alsothe
subject of a monographic study in 1909 by one Robert Dreyfus: Petite
Histoire de la revue de fin d'annee. Dreyfus provided a pedigree for the
revue,tracing its origins and its history throughout the nineteenth century
36 and, most importantly, furnished a detailed definition of the genre.
The revue is a sequenceof satiricaltableaux(sometimesas many as two
dozen or more), which are commentated by a mistress and master of
ceremonies,the commere and compere. The text is comprised of both
dialogueand song "couplets." Revuescenesare basedalmost exclusivelyon
current eventsextracted from the news of the past year.Buguetassuresus
that a revue might contain events from the very morning of the first
37 rehearsal. In 1912, for example,the critic Curnonsky congratulated the
director of the Olympia music hall for adding new current eventsto a revue
that was alreadya great success,making it "une sorte de spectacled'actu-
38 alite incessante"("a kind of spectacleof incessantactuality"). The revue
can be written and performed anytime throughout the year, though it
proliferateswith specialfervor during the late fall and winter, at which time it
is known asla revuede I'anneeor de fin d'annee- literally,a "review" of the
past year'sevents.
The primacyof current eventsmakesthe daily presssomething of a bible
for the revuiste. Indeed,the newspaperis such a fundamental sourcethat
revuesfrom the nineteenth century through 1914 often simply sport titles
such as Le Grand Journal and Le Petit Journal (fig. 89).39 Among the
actualitesfavored by revuistes,recent political eventsare among the most
common (though, Dreyfus tells us, the revue traditionally caters to the
middle class,and it tends to emphasizepolitical issueson which bourgeois
40 opinion is fairly unanimous). Other aspectsof the latest news are wide
open to the "promenade" of the revuiste,who can be especiallycleveron
the mannersand fads of modern Paris(includingthe theater itself),aswell as
"economic life, machinisme,the applications of scienceto industry and
commerce,the continued perfection of meansof transport and exchange,
41 or,aswe usedto say,the 'progress'of human genius." ToDreyfus'slist we
can append the earlier inventory of revue iconography by Arthur Pougin,
from his Dictionnairehistoriqueet pittoresque du theatre of 1885: "revolu
tions, wars, new inventions,fashions, artistic and literary matters, crimes,
42 public calamities,etc." But Buguet further specifiesa related branch of
modern mannerswith which the revuiste has great fun: the slogansand
claims of advertising, such as publicity for Mines de Cornerille or Pastilles

89
 Geraudel, which were set to the music of the most popular cafe-concert
songs. Buguet adds that the "practical revuiste" will not fail to "propagate a
little reclame (almost invisible) on the address of his tailor or bootmaker, or in
43 favor of his wife's dressmaker and milliner."
Dreyfus insists that the accessibility of the revue depends upon not only
the diligent author, but the well-informed spectator. Similarly, if the vivid
immediacy of the revue is a function of its source in the news clipping and
the recent fad, future readers of revues past are likely to find the text
impenetrable, filled with mere "signs of knowledge and, above all, of
sentiments that they suppose once to have been alive" [Dreyfus's
emphasis] 44
The tone of the revue —the posture that belongs to the revue alone
among genres of theater- is glib and ironic. French vocabulary for this
comic manner is specific: blague at its most confident and careless, rosserie
at its most spiteful or cynical 45 The primary formal device of the revue is the
play on words, or the "allusion" (the word is identical in French and English).
Dreyfus elaborates:

What is the allusion?

The allusion,saysLittre, is a "figure of rhetoric consistingin sayingone thing that
makes us think of another." Littre adds: "We distinguish historical allusionswhen
they recalla point of history; mythological,if they are basedupon the fable; nominal,
if they depend on a name; verbal, if they consist of the word alone, that Is, an
ambiguity." [Dreyfus'semphasis]
This last type of allusion is perhapsthe most prevalentin revuesde fin d'annee. I
even believe that they properly constitute that which one calls "the spirit of the
revue."
. . . The "verbal allusion," as it is named by Littre, that chemistof our language,is
quite simplythat which, without examiningso deeply,we call the a peu pres and the
pun. [Dreyfus'semphasis]
Assuredly,the pun is not always so humble a means of allusion. ... But I have
willingly sought the bottom of the scale,becausethe more rudimentarythe pun, the
better it permits us to isolatethe stark naked allusion,the drained and, as perhaps
Kant would have said, pure allusion.
This allusion is not sustained,touched-up, heightened by anything. Equally,the
pleasurethat it affords-when it affords any- is unadulterated46

Dreyfus illustrates his philosophy of the revue pun with the poster from an
1855 revue de I'annee entitled Le Royaume du calembour (The Kingdom of
the Pun) (fig. 90). He goes on to trace the pun or allusion as a secondary tool
of political comedy and the comedy of manners, in Moliere and Sardou for
example 47 But, he assures us, the revue is nothing so deep; in the revue, the
48 allusion is not an accessory, but "the essential and the all." The enjoyment
 of a revue resides almost exlusively in getting the joke —recognizing onstage
figures and incidents of the past year, and understanding the "gay, rapid,
satirical and philosophical remarks" or allusions made at the expense of
49 these actualites ,
By 1911, the year Picasso and Braque introduced printed words into
Cubist painting and one year before collage, the revue had attained the
status of a craze. When, as Fernand Olivier tells us, Picassowent to the music
hall, he confronted the revue vogue at its highest pitch. One theater critic
wrote, in December 191 1, of that season's "avalanche of revues, the ex
traordinary vogue for this fashionable genre," predicting a reaction not
unlike that which occurred during the Universal Exposition of 1889, when a
spate of revues provoked one anonymous author to compose Pasde Revue!,
50 (a revue that ran for 150 performances). Reviewing a revue at the Theatre
de I'Ambigu, also in December 1911, Leon Blum observed that the revue fad
had extended beyond the bounds of the music hall:

Who doesn't have his revue! Fromthe music hall and related stages,the contagion
has overtaken the large theaters.Yesterday,it was the Bouffes,today the Ambigu;
tomorrow it will be the TheatreRejane.I well know that the revue is what one callsa
51 supplegenre, so supplethat if need be it could finish by absorbingall the others.

He might have added the Guignol to his list for, already back in May, even the
puppet theater had mounted its own revue des actualites, entitled Pourquoi
52 pas?
The revue showed no signs of exhaustion. The article "La Revue Tri-
omphante" appeared in the magazine Le Theatre in April 1912:

The Revue!it is invadingeverywhere;the 1912 theatrical seasonwill mark a date in

the history of this original form of Frenchspirit, and could furnish Robert Dreyfus
with one of the most abundantchaptersin the next volumethat hewill consecrateto
it. Marigny,the Folies-Bergere,
the Olympia,LaScala,the Moulin-Rouge,the Ambas-
sadeurs,the Alcazard'Ete, the Capucines,the Bataclan... all the cafes-concertsand
all the musichallsare performing revues;there is not a faubourg in Pariswhich does
not sing, to a familiar tune, about the "Dancers' Strike," "The Adventures of M.
Cochon" and other evenementsd'actualite that inspire mordant, subtle or vividly
satiriccouplets,because[the revue]exhibits on all the Parisianstages,large or small,
over the course of one evening, a singular expenditure of spirit. One even occa
sionallybegins to regret that this spirit is so liberally dispensedin works which, by
their very essence,are ephemeral, since they do not represent an epoch but, of
53 necessity,a season.. . ,

The revue de fin d'annee had an intense cultural life outside of the music
hall during the prewar years. So attractive and convenient was the revue as a

a i
 [j| comicvesselfor the events,trends, fashions,and gossipof the pastyear,that
- newspapersand magazinesthemselvesborrowed the genre with regularity.
S The format was especiallypopular with theatrical and humorist periodicals
during the period of the revue craze, though it was also common in the
regular press.In some examples,allusion to the music hall is implicit. The
daily paper Paris-Midi,for example, printed a synopsisof the year'smain
eventsfrom politics to sports on the front page of its December31, 1912
54 issue,entitled "Revuede fin d'annee pour 1912." Elsewhere,the structure
and tone of the music hall revue is adapted literally.The humorist weekly
L'lndiscret ran a seriesof "almost weekly" revuesfrom fall 1912 through
summer 1913, complete with dialogue, punning songs, numbered scenes,
55 and stage directions. Le Charivaripublishedtwo revuesin 1912: "Revue
Charivarique"in October,concerningthe BalkanWars (KaiserWilhelm and
France'sallegoricalMarianneare the compere and commere); and "Encore
une revue d'actualite!," a send-up of advertising claims for the popular
cure-all medicines Urodonal and Globeol in which Esculape,the ancient
Greek god of medical science,is administered the modern miracle drugs
after being run over by a bicycleand a bus on the streetsof Paris(revived,he
56 dancesthe can-canand singsthe cafe-concertclassic"Tararaboumdie!").
"L'annee 1910, revue par M. le Presidentde la Chambre" occupied the
entire December 31, 1910 issue of the satirical magazine L'Assietteau
beurre. Presentedas "sung" at the "Folies Bourbon" (a splicing of Folies-
Bergereand PalaisBourbon)with words and music by FHenriBrisson,presi
dent of the Chambre des Deputes,this mock-revueconsistsof song lyrics
and caricaturessatirizing various events from the year's news. The cover
illustration by d'Ostoya demonstratesthe natural affiliation of revue and
newspaperclipping: asa backdropfor Brisson,who is dressedin imitation of
the music-hallcomic Dranem, two fragments of the Journal officiel de la
Chambre des Deputes are reproduced in a cut-and-paste fashion that
presagesthe look of Picasso'snewspaper collagesfrom winter 1912-13
(figs. 91 and 92).
Topracticethe revuein anyform was, then, to cultivatean aestheticof the
newspaper.At the music hall, the newspaperdominated in spirit and fact;
embodying the raw material of reportage, it was the essentialsubtext and
context of the revuegenre.Tomakethis point visiblyclear-for the audience
appeal of a revue depended on its being attuned to the pulse of the daily
press-the revuistecould call upon a stock charactertype: the personifica
tion of variousnewspapersand genresof news. Dreyfustells usthat the first
suchcharacterappearedin a revueof October 1831, in which "La Politique"
was portrayed by Mile. Dejazetat the PalaisRoyal,"clothed in a dress on
57 which all the newspaperswere pasted." Costumescomposedof imitation
and authentic printed paperswere commonlyfeatured; sucha costumewas
worn by "EmileViltard, comperede revues,"who appearedsometimein the

9 2
 1850s in a coat and pants bearing the printed titles and authors of past
revuesfor which he had been the master of ceremonies(fig. 93). By 1900,
the newspaper costume was a revue fixture, most typically worn by a
woman and emblazoned with the name—in the original typeface—of a
single newspaperor periodical.The title was usuallyaffixed as a banner to
the performer'shat, though variationsmight find the newspaperin question
displayedfor greater risque effect (figs. 94 and 95). Another versionof this
costumetype would be to plant a larger-than-lifenewspapertitle acrossthe
entire length of a long, wraparound skirt. Here the title would never be
entirely visible, but cut instead by the folds of the skirt and the direction in
which the performer faced at any given time during her appearanceon
stage. In this manner, Le Journal might be read as "Le Jou(r)" (fig. 96).
Dozensof newspaperswere routinely "depicted" in this way. The results
were always a typical music hall mix of glitzy feerie extravagance,racy
deshabille,and a mock, hyperbolic seriousnessthat was basically,playfully
ridiculous.Still, as deliberately preposterousas these costumeswere, they
were a fundamental musichall device,emblematicof the newspaperasthe
soul of the revue.
Picasso'sown choice of Le Journal, the predominant newspaper in his
collageoeuvre, is a correspondingdevice.He may haveselectedit in part for
its coverageof specificeventsand for formal reasons,suchas the quality of
its typeface and the dispositionof its columns; it may,in fact, havebeen his
favorite paper.But it is equallyclearthat, unlike Excelsioror Le Figaro,which
he used comparativelylittle, the title LeJournalstandssimultaneouslyfor a
specific newspaper and for the generic category of "newspaper" itself:
journal means"newspaper."Moreover,though LeJournal provided Picasso
with the logo-punjou, the word jouer—from which we derive the implica
tion of playin the croppedword jou —also happensto be the Frenchverb for
theatricalperformance; one "plays"a revue. Indeed,the proliferation of the
suggestivejou throughout Picasso's1912-14 oeuvre virtually labels the
Cubist picture plane as a kind of stage space in which every object-
includingLeJournal itself—is accordedthe protean adaptability of a player,
changing costume and character in order to perform a new role. Picasso's
visual and verbal game of journal-jouer-jou was not lost on the music hall
revuiste.One revue in particular,which playedat the Theatrede I'Atheneein
January1912, was written exclusivelyand explicitly according to a news
paperformat, with a different author for eachcategoryof actualite: society
gossip,politics,foreign affairs,theater news, bulletinsin brief,legalproceed
ings, literature, fashion, and sports.The title of this revue is LeJournaljoue
(the "played" or "performed" newspaper),a ready,alliterativeplayon words
58 that seemedas obviously appropriate to the revuiste as to Picasso.
 Picassoexecuted his first and most conspicuousgroup of newspaper
collages,a run of approximatelythree dozen works, between November
and January1912-13, the annualhigh seasonfor the musichall revuede fin
59 d'annee, While it is true that no one collage contains material referring
backto the actualitesof an entire year,the force of the here-and-nowin the
collage oeuvre is astonishing. Rather than perpetuate the continuity of
values that art might once have been understood to preserve, Picasso
introduced the actualites of news, advertising, fashions, and fads into
painting and drawing, shuffling and sorting the iconographicaland physical
facts of fleeting contemporaneity.The "subjects" of theseworks are as fast
fading as the newsprint that contains them, once grubby white and now
crumbling brown. The anti-illusionisticshallow or flat pictorial space that
resultsfrom the predominanceof pasted paper signalsa new role for the
picture plane as a field of transience. Not since Impressionismhad the
modern moment been given such startling pictorial urgency.This is not to
saythat collagecomprisesan appreciationof modernity in the senseof any
slippery notion of "progress"(for this we might look to Delaunay'sairplanes
and athletes,and his bright, celebratorypalette); rather,it representsa more
banal,immediate,everydaysensationof ephemeralevents,the fabric of the
artist's world as a shifting and unraveling thing. With the pun, Picasso
distancedthe actualite, treating it as material for aesthetic paradox, social
satire, and licentious humor. It is this same fresh actualite upon which the
revuistesharpenedthe swift edge of his irony,for he,too, was lessinterested
in perpetual truths than in the half-truths of the unfolding present.
The Balkan Wars, a hot news item of the day, received simultaneous
attention —and identical treatment —from Picassoand the revuiste during
those months late in 1912 and early in 1913.60 In Guitar,SheetMusic and
Glass (see fig. 87), Picasso matched the headline "La bataille s'est
engagee"—a dispatch from Constantinople—to a snippet from the Legay
song that reads"(pen)dant qu'etes bel(le)" ("while you are beautiful"). The
counterpoint is curious: massacreand music, sudden death and fading
beauty,foreign affairs of war and domestic affairs of the heart. Under the
sign of the boldfacepun "le jou," we recognizePicasso'sconnivingwink and
think, for example,of La Marocaine'sblack-comicrefrain in "Au Parlement
Turc" from the Folies-Bergererevue of October 1912:

Thebulletsareflying/ tra la la la la / And the good French/ tra la la la la / of the

Republic/ Tell us that it's / La penetration/ zim-boumpacifique!("peaceful
61 penetration").

It should be noted that, like Le Charivari, Le Journal published a mock

program for its own seasonal Balkan Wars revue a grand spectacle on
November 10, the very issue from which Picassoextracted the bataille
 headline, his first newspaper clipping. The "program" is an irrepressible
sequenceof wordplays,jokes,and comicsongtitles at the expenseof enemy
and ally alike. Its author,Curnonsky(whose byline is the pseudonymouspun
TObscur Nonsky"),introduced it as "a detailed program of the final Revue
62 soon to be presentedat the Theatreof War." Among his list of tableaux,
one standsout: "The Pathsof War (Numberingthe Retreats)"is describedas
a "tableau uskubiste,par Ridendum," playingon the Turkishcity Uskuband
the phrase "tableau cubiste" ("Cubist picture"), as well as Bibendum, the
Michelin Tire man, whose Latin name has been converted from a drinking
toast into a call for laughter.
Lessthan a month later, in Tablewith Bottle, Wineglassand Newspaper
(fig. 97), Picassocropped the December4 Balkansheadline "Un Coup de
Theatre," transforming it into his own multiple pun: "un coup de the,"
which has since been translated variously as "a cup of tea" (a printed
descriptionstandingin for the representationof an object) and "a toss of the
63 die" ("coup de de"). Moreover,a synonymousphrase,"le sort en estjete"
("the die is cast"),often appearedin headlinesof the period in referenceto
64 the gamble of irreversiblemilitary action. But the original headlinewas a
ready-made pun before it was cropped, since the metaphor "coup de
theatre" can, as we havejust seen, allude to the "theater of war" and to a
dramatic turn of events on the theatrical stage-or stage-cum-picture
plane.Abovethe headline,"urnal" from LeJournalprankishlyplacesour cup
65 of tea (or tossed die) beneath a urinal. Smaller print, which reads "La
Bulgarie,la Serbie,la Montenegro sign-" disclosesmore detailed contents
of the dispatch, but we cannot approach with a straight face.
Compare Tablewith Bottle, Wineglassand Newspaperto, for example,
Madame est Serbie, a revue that opened at the GaTte Rochechouartin
December 1912. Its punning title- "Madame is Serbia"/"Madame is
served"—alerts us to what one reviewerdescribedas "a spirited and amus
66 ing satireof all diplomacy." Thethird tableauof Act II is entitled "LesAllies
balkaniques,"and featuresa banquetgiven by the Great(European)Powers
to the Balkanalliesat the Elyseepalace,where RaymondPoincare,France's
foreign minister,servesas the maitre d'hote!. Among the dishes "passed
under the nosesof the poor, starving allies" (one representativeeach from
Serbia,Montenegro, Greece,and Bulgaria)are territorial offerings suchas a
67 roastpork (rotide pore) renamed"Roti de Portsur I'Adriatique." In collage,
the typography of mastheadsand headlines-where the gags generally
occur—catches our eye before the columns of news, or replacesthem.
Picasso'streatment of the bold print subvertsthe subtext, or fine print; like
the burlesqueof news and newsmakersat the music hall, it dominatesthe
way we "read" the collages.
"Revolutions,wars, new inventions,fashions,artistic and literary matters,
crimes,public calamities"- politics isjust one categoryof myriad actualites.
 Ul Flying machines made the papers virtually everyday during the prewar
ui
- period, as aviatorsfrom around the world vied with one another for long-
5 distance flight records.While most reports dealt with tragic failure, both
^ Picassoand the revuisteemphasizedthe promise of flight. Three works by
^ Picassoexecuted around the time of his first collage depict the cover of a
ui brochure on the developmentof Frenchmilitary aviationthat bearsthe title
68 J "Notre Avenirest dansI'air" (Our FutureIs in the Air) (fig. 98). A numberof
jjj revueswere titled in the samespirit: L'Anneeen I'air (TheAirborn Year)at the
"* Apollo in fall 1908; "Tout en I'air" (Everythingin the Air), a tableau at the
Cigalein September1911; and, at the Ambassadeursin summer 1912, "En
avion . . . marche!" (avion means "airplane"; the phrase is a pun on "en
69 avant, marche," or "forward march"). Sportswere another popular music
hall actualite, since they permit a variety-theater display of athletics (and
slapstick)within the revue format. Among dozens of examples,a tableau
70 from A la Baguette! at the Cigaleentitled "La Culture Physique" matches
the date —spring 1913—of the collage Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glassand
Newspaper(fig. 99), onto which Picassohas pastedthe Journalheadlinefor
a "Congres International sur I'Education Physique."
Cubism itself was a popular music hall actualite. Between 1911 and
1914, modern "isms" were a visible, semiannual scandal at the Salon
d'Automne and Salondes Independants,where Cubismand relatedschools
were subjectedto ridicule and hostility in the daily press: For example,the
article "Cubisme, Futurismeet Folie" ("Cubism, Futurism and Madness")
appeared on the weekly Health and Sciencepage of Le Journal just as
71 Picassorescued his first clippings. In the revue, every seasonwas open
season,and beginning with M. Berthez in Et Voilal, the prewar music hall
was riddled with costumes,sets,and skits lampooning new art. Cubism,the
dominant "ism," bore the biggest brunt, and was characteristicallyrenamed
cucubisme—from cucu (or cucul), with connotations of idiocy that are the
same in Frenchas in English,though cul ("ass") adds a cruder implication.
Therewas a Cubistat the Ambigu in November1911 who"recalled the early
dayswhen, succumbingto the first frissonsof his vocation, he showed his
72 cube to all passers-by;" "Sem'sCube Game" at the Ambassadeursin June
1912 (Semwas an illustrator who adapted a Cubistic style to caricature);
"ParisCucubique,"the prologuefor Ripand Bosquet'sLaRevuede I'Anneeat
the Olympia in fall 1912, featuring a set designby Paquereaudepicting Paris
as a Cubist city; a Cubism song at the Eldoradoin January1913; a "Fauste
cubiste" at the Little Palacein February1914.73It is clearthat the perceived
extravaganceand eccentricityof Cubismwas beingtreated by the musichall
here as a fad. The Olympia's"ParisCucubique" stage set was the backdrop
74 for a prologue in which "all the 'folies a la mode' are ridiculed." How
would Picassohavebeen struck by all of this Cubist stage business?Cubism
is, obviously,the "backdrop" (as well as the very fabric) of collage. But it is

96
 also intriguing to considerCubismas its own current event; in Guitar,Sheet
Music and Glass(seefig. 87), Picassohas pasted the Cubist drawing as an
autonomouspaperactualite,a counterpartto world newsand popular song.
The rangeof advertisingactualitesin Picasso'scollagesis broad, reaching
from the well known to the obscure. Labelsand logos for Job cigarette
papers, the aperitif Suze, BassAle, Vieux Marc, and other drinks occur
throughout 1912-14 (see fig. 92). For the newspaper collages, Picasso
clipped variouskindsof publicity and advertisementsjust as often as he did
news items: the department storesBon Marcheand Samaritaine(fig. 100);
products such as Laclo-Phosphatede Chaux ("truly the most powerful
fortifier") and Lampe ElectriqueO.R.(fig. 101); "readymade garments for
men and children," furs, gramophones,small ads for loan agencies(fig.
75 102); and theater listings, including music hallsand cinemas. Newspaper
titles, such as LeJournal,Le Figaro(fig. 103), and Excelsior,also qualify as a
76 type of publicity. Advertisingfunctions at the personaland private levels,
as well: Picassoappropriated the cartesde visite of his friends "Miss Stein/
MissToklas"and the dealerAndre Level,in addition to a modest prospectus
circulated by a publisher on behalf of a forthcoming book by Max Jacob
77 entitled La Cote(which was three yearsold when Picassousedit in 1914).
Hardly a revue was played during the collage yearsthat did not include
somerun-down or send-upof recent brand namesand marketingschemes.
Newspapercostumeswere, of course,a music-hallstaple—a devicecalcu
lated to provethe currencyof a revue.MadameestSerbiecontaineda scene
in which two companionsride a train through the Frenchprovinces,taking
the trade nameson largeadvertisingbillboards(an object of recent contro
78 versy) for the names of cities and towns. The Cigale'sA la Baguette!
presented"La Professeurde publicite theatrale," a sketchconcerninga rash
of advertising endorsementspropagated by music-hall stars for products
suchasCadumsoap,Coryzacremederiz, A. Bordpianos,and Kub bouillon;
the tableaucloseswith a parodicode to the advertisingkiosk("O, little kiosk,
kioskthat I adore."). In Pourquoispas?. . . attheCigale, February1914, "La
Publiciteambulante" told the story of a painter who hasbeen rejectedfrom
every annual Salon exhibition (nineteen of them, if we are to believethe
authors)and sellshis paintingsto manufacturersas commercialadvertising.
One scene from Ce gue je peux rire! at the Alcazar d'Ete, June 1912,
transformsthe PlaceVendomeinto a giant novelty store, bringing together
the Printemps, Louvre, Bon Marche, and Galeries Lafayette department
stores.Another satirizesDr. Macaura,inventor of a cure-all massageappa
ratus, which is applied to the "infante Euphemie" by the comic Dranem
(Dranem'ssong is set to the music of the "ma jolie" refrain from Derniere
chanson).The first act of the Cigale'sLa Revuedes T.,summer 1911, even
included a parade of living cartes de visite; the thirty-third tableau of the
79 Folies-Bergere's spring 1912 revuewas entitled "L'Originedu prospectus."
 "On reclame,on reclame," sang the music hall comic Montel in 1912—
"Everybody'sadvertisingthrough the newspapers/In theseclaims,there are
80 some laughable schemes.. . ." In the revue and collage tableau both,
advertisingis addressedwith equal dosesof fascination,bemusement,and
mockery.It is clear that advertisinggraphicsand extravagantpromotional-
ismcould be perceivedasespeciallystriking in the aliencontext of a stageor
an easel picture. In addition, marketing tactics such as uncomplicated
presentation and bold, shamelessclaims—crucial ingredientsfor the fast
read and the hard sell—rendered publicity susceptibleto canny manipula
tion for an insidejoke. As Rosenblumhaspointed out, the text in Picasso'sad
for the "Lampe ElectriqueO.R." (seefig. 101), which "sheds light in every
direction" and can be "placed in any position," puns into a caption for the
stylistic peculiarities of Cubism (in which a newspaper clipping can be
placed upside down, as it has been here, and made to stand in for the
81 contentsof a bottle). Acting aswhat Buguetcalledthe "practicalrevuiste,"
Picassohas appropriated commercialadvertising as a claim for Cubism, a
boast and a spoof on the forward march of pictorial and technological
progress.The "Publicite theatrale" tableau at the Cigaleactivatesthe same
device: celebrity endorsementcould be an object of mockeryand a pretext
for parodic self-referentiality.In the prologue for En Scene. . . Mon Presi
dent! earlierin 1913, the Louvredepartment storewas transformed into the
Cigale—one giant, reciprocalmetaphor of dizzy self-promotion called "Le
MagasinMusic Hall" (Act I was entitled "Assezde Boniments!"—"Enough
SalesTalk!")82Similarly,the revueoften containedscenesdepicting its own
backstageand its own audience(fig. 104).Transformingthe popular stage
into a Moebius-stripof aestheticambiguity,the musichall addresseditself to
itself, and to its own artifice.
The still life Au Bon Marche (1913) (seefig. 100) contains Picasso'smost
notorious pun of this kind, an allusionthat is at once licentiousspeculation
and pictorial fact. The cut-and-pastedwords "trou ici" ("hole here") desig
nate the hidden lower anatomyof the otherwise poisedrepresentativefrom
Samaritaineand the pictorial anatomy of a pasted paper,cut to exposea
83 gap.

The revueis alsothe art of incarnatingindividuals,events,manners,absurdities,

fashionsandideasof thedayassmallwomenscantilycladwho regalethepublicwith
somecouplets.Thesecoupletscan be satirical,licentiousor sentimental.. . . Their
84 spirit is not alwaysinoffensive.
Therearethosewhich are vulgarandwicked.

Picasso'sheavydose of wallpaper in Au Bon Marche raisesthe stakes.The

very word "collage," from coller ("to paste"), has two meaningsthat are
germane: technically, in the phrase "collage du papier," it describesthe
job of hanging wallpaper; as period slang, however,"collage" also refers
 to the unmarried cohabitation of two people (a particular set of domestic
circumstancesto which Picassowas no stranger) and bore overtones of
85 socio-sexualimpropriety. Sexualcollage was, indeed, familiar to prewar
music-hallslang; examplesinclude the songs "Collages"(introduced at La
Scalamusic hall),which was published in 1898 with a cover illustration by
the future Cubist painter JacquesVillon (fig. 105), and "Les Plaisirsde
collage" ("The Pleasuresof Collage"), published in 1911.86
The musichall was, in fact, subjectedto numerousdebateson censorship
and pornography between the 1880s and World War I. High on the list of
"immoral" transgressionswere onstagenudity and scatalogicalor licentious
songs.While nudity could be remediedwith flesh-colored body stockings,
supportersof the musichall defended vulgar and licentioustext (grivoiserie)
87 as a risk worth taking in order to preservethe music hall's native saveur.
Official censors (who themselves became the subject of many revue
88 sketches) had some effect in curbing content that was explicitly coarse
and crude.Themusichall, however,had a built-in lineof defense: the slyand
refined art of saying one thing while meaning something else. Puns or
allusions, the a peu pres and the sous-entendu, were mechanismswith
which the lyricist or revuiste not only skirted the censor,but investedan
eveningat the musichall with an aura of conspiracy;censorshiponly served
to sharpenthe technique. In the a peu pres,for example,a performer would
begin pronunciationof a questionableword such as merde ("shit"), only to
pause,then finish the thought on safer ground: "Vienste rouler dans la mer
89 D . . . ominique!" ("Come roll in the waves/shitDominique!"). Thismanner
of pausebefore the moment of truth was typical of revuetitles themselves,
both of the bawdy and innocent variety,such as En avion . . . marche! The
punning allusion was equally common, as in La Scala'srevue Menage a
90 Troyes("Trojan Household,"a homonym for the menage a trois), or the
song Mon Thermometre: "I have a thermometer, a thermo mo / A little
thermometer / 1havea shocking thermometer / Which goes up and which
comesback down. . . . "; here, the comic effect would depend in part on
91 stagegesture. Yetanother method was mispronunciation: one could sing
"je bissepartout" ("I sing encoreseverywhere") but suggest, with a slight
92 slip, "je pisse partout" ("I piss all over").
Picasso'sword fragment "jou," we recall, is a typical case of the a peu
pres, for it suggestsother meaningsthat are both innocent (journal and
jouer) and sexual(jouir). "Trou id" is a classicsous-entendu; and "coup de
the" forever waits to be completed (at the music hall, it would be written
"Coup de the . . . atrel"). The cropped word also conforms to patterns of
informal speech at the music hall. The dropped vowel or syllable would
shorten a word, making it fit into the predetermined cadence of a song
(music-halllyricswere typically written to an existingpopular tune) or speed
up the performer's delivery.Suchellipseswere often transcribed into revue
 titles, where the missing letters are marked by apostrophes: R'mettez-nous
93 qa! (remettez ) and Sauf vot' respect (votre ). The title of the aviation
brochure in Picasso'sthird still life "Notre Avenir est dans fair" (see fig. 98)
has been abbreviated in exactly this fashion; transcribed, it reads "Not'
Av'nir." The missing "e" of avenir is not simply hidden by another object in
the picture; it represents a verbal elision and signals a visual rift. Ultimately,
Picasso'swordplay is the natural linguistic equivalent of his pictorial gambit.
Abbreviation, ellipse, allusion, a peu pres and sous-en tendu —these are the
tools of Cubist engineering, fabricating a world in which objects suggest but
do not describe, change and exchange identities; where guitars are heads,
walls are tables, newspapers are bottles; a rarefied plane where no con
tiguous illusion of our world pertains, yet that is inhabited by fragments of
illusion and of real things.
The cardinal structural principle of the music-hall revue is the jumbling and
splicing of current events in tableaux that occur in rapid succession and utter
disregard for continuous narrative. True to the "variety" aspect of music-hall
performance, plurality is the prime directive, both from category to category
and within a given group. The Grande Revue of March 1912 at the Nouveau
Cirque is typical: a "parodie clownesque" of the Chambre des Deputes,
followed by "Marocco in Paris," the "Theatre ambulant Rentier," a lampoon
of the Carpentier-Harry Lewis boxing match, a scene from the Chinese
Revolution, Dr. Tacaura, "Mile. Beulemans' Return to Brussels," the ballet
dancers' strike, and a finale that takes place on the Pont de I'Alma. In
February 1913, under the rubric "Les Detractions Parisiennes," La Revue de
la Scala introduced the characters le Polo, le Golf, la Boxe, le Cinema, le
Skating, Luna-Park, I'Aerodrome, and a Telegraphiste. Mutually exclusive
actualites or character types might also greet each other in the same
tableau: Mounet-Sully, a toga-clad tragedian from the Comedie Franqais,
meets the comic Dranem in the December 191 1 Revue de I'ambigu, where
both stars are actually impersonated by music-hall performers (fig. 106);
Madame Job (dressed in a poster for Job cigarette papers) convenes with
Louis XIV in the final scene of La R'vu ... u ... e/ at the BoTte a Fursy,
February 1913 (fig. 107).94
There were, in fact, a number of attempts at the time to write and
produce revues endowed with a more coherent flow of events (often by
linking tableaux with explanatory interludes narrated by the commere and
compere). These met with the disapproving protest of music-hall purists:

In effect, the dramatic action of a vaudevilleor operetta ... is a whole, and includes
characterspredesignatedto act from the beginningto the end of the play,while the
cortege of a revue is composed of multiple characters,disparate, ceaselesslyre
newed, always inevitably foreign to an initial postulate. ... All of this sufficiently
 proveshow much the revue is a specialgenre, quite different from all the others. It is
preciselythe revue'slack of cohesionwhich gives it its charm. . . 95

"Lack of cohesion" is equally the fundamental law of collage. The crop

ping, splicing, and shuffling of paper actualites heeds the disjointed struc
ture of collage-period Cubism itself. Even for pictures that include a single
clipping, Picassooften selects the area of a newspaper page in which news
96 items or advertisements are shown back-to-back. The confounded formal
coherence characteristic of both Cubism and the revue takes its comic toll
on the news of the day. The results are a jump cut from seriousness to
frivolity. In Bowl with Fruit, Violin and Wineglass (fig. 108), sports, finance, a
roman feuilleton episode and an advertisement for "Huile de Vitesse" motor
oil are jammed together with fake wood grain and cheap color reproduc
tions of fruit; in the still life Au Bon Marche, department stores and dirty
jokes offer comic relief from a political assassination (see fig. 100); Balkan
Wars news could be followed by a new prescription to facilitate blood
97 circulation; ads for ready-made clothes, fur coats, loans, and gram
ophones could be spliced to recent results in rugby, track and field, skating,
and a new record for calculating the depth of the ocean floor with a
plumbline (see fig. 102); dispersed among ads for "Vin Desiles—the best
tonic," "Sakalom," and "Force virile" medicine are reports of a construction
98 workers' strike and a theft of 27,000 francs worth of registered mail;
sandwiched in between "Lampe Electrique O.R." and "Lacto-Phosphate de
Chaux" is an item concerning a vagabond in Fontainebleau who has turned
himself in as the perpetrator of a grisly murder, while the International
Congress on Physical Education sits next to news of an artist who has
poisoned his lover (see fig. 99). (Picassocultivated his penchant for stories of
dark, violent crime by reading contemporary pulp-fiction tales of Fantomas,
a villainous master of disguise who also appeared in La Revue de la Scala in
99 March 1912.)
Picasso's sharp elision of actualites is the modern newspaper's own;
collage and revue aestheticize this quality, manipulating it as a source of
comedy and urgency —of disrupted narrative and spirited incoherence (or
new coherence). But Picassoand the revuiste also share the juxtaposition of
current events and old current events. Thanks to Robert Rosenblum and
Theodore Reff, we know that Picasso included amidst the pasted papers of
at least four collages, from spring 1913, clippings from Le Figaro dated May
28, 1883 (concerning the coronation in Moscow of Czar Alexander III) (see
fig. 103).100And in Guitar, Sheet Music and Glass (see fig. 87), the fragment
of the song "Sonnet" from 1892 floats in close proximity to the Le Journal
Balkan Wars bulletin; nostalgic scenes from the cafe-concerts and cabarets
of times past were a staple subject of the prewar revue (fig. 109), and

i o 1
 ui reciprocatePicasso'schoice,a song that was created by MarcelLegayat the
ui
- old Eldorado,
ui
5 In addition to the shuffling of paper actualites, "lack of cohesion" also
^ characterizes Picasso'sabrupt juxtaposition of visual component parts,
dynamic shifts in handmadeand ready-madepictorial style. In this regard,
ui everypastedpaper,whether it containsprinted words or not, commandsthe
autonomousweight of a tableaude revue. In Guitar,SheetMusic and Glass
(see fig. 87), for example, the apposition of bold, unmodulated papers,
decoratedwallpaper,imitation wood grain, newspaper,sheet music,and a
Cubist drawing violates every previous standard of pictorial coherence.
Equallystartling are works such as Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glassand News
paper (seefig. 99),where fragments of newspaper,wallpaper,and imitation
picture frame project bold, dense graphic patterns that are utterly
irreconcilable.
One criticalfactor for this property of disjunctionhasto havebeen speed.
Buildinga work from the juxtaposition of discreteparts is, in a sense,easier
than establishingan overallunity of narrativeand formal structure. Simulta
neously,it representsa challenge,a breachof decorum, which substitutes
quick wits for slow study.Thefacility and speedwith which a collagecan be
constructedmust haverepresentedan exhilaratingdeparture from old rules
of picture making, for the impact of dynamic heterogeneity within given
pictures is matched by the brisk momentum of innovation and change
acrossthe entire collage oeuvre. Music hall observersrecognizedthis dual
role—practical and aesthetic—of self-imposedhaste. The distinct thrill of
good music hall was a function of variety plus recklesspace,each of which
amplifies the other. Remarkingon the unprecedentedfavor that the revue
genre seemed to be commanding during the prewar period, the critic
Ergastewondered if this weren't because"the revue, where all aesthetic
liberties are permitted, is more readily mounted than the smallestplay,and
101 that, these days, it is above all a matter of rapid production?"
Rapidproduction pertainsaswell to the decor of revueand collage.While
revueswere sometimessumptuous affairs, including large, luxurious tab
leaux on exotic themes, most music-hall settings were expectedly provi
sional.One can observe,in period photographs,that music-hallstageswere
generallyquite small. Somescenestook place against a curtain backdrop,
others before broadly brushed backgroundsettings and ready-madeinte
riors that suggest, rather than contain, real luxury. In collage, pasted (and
painted)imitationsof marble,wood grain,and chaircaningand objectssuch
as tassels—stick-on luxury—are stage effects of this kind, inexpensivesub
stitutes for expensivematerials.Further,at the musichall wallpaper was also
a handymeansof creatingthe ambianceof a formal room, a dress-upfoil for
the comic anticsoccurring downstage. In La Revuede I'ambigu, sucha wall,
containedwithin an elaborate moulding that recapitulatesthe shapeof the

i oz
 proscenium arch, sets off a scene involving the commere, compere, and
Fallieres,the presidentof the Republic(fig. 110). Applied againstthe entire
backgroundof a collage, as in Guitar,Sheet Music and Glass(seefig. 87),
Picasso'swallpaper elicits a corresponding impression of bourgeois for
mality; suggestingsimultaneouslya wall and a table (tablecloth),the paper
game of ambiguity constitutesboth an aestheticpretenseand a mockeryof
social pretentiousness,as well as a music-hallconceit: in the foreground,
newspaper fragment and popular song comprise our comic tableau, a
current eventset to music.In Glassand Bottle of Bassof 1914 (fig. 111),fake
picture-frame moulding heightensthe effect. Here now is the proscenium
arch, within and before which the Bassand the glass—cut from a news
paper roman-feuilleton narrative—show and tell.

The revue, a comic systemaccordingto which Frenchsociety commen

tated itself, comprisesa set of larger cultural coordinatesfor collage. Paris
was permeatedby the music-hallrevueduring preciselythose months when
Picassowas introducing into Cubist picturesverbal and material facts from
the ephemeralworld of contemporary printed paper.The revue furnishes
virtually a complete agenda of the motifs and devices in Cubist collage,
especiallyin the oeuvre of Picasso.As a model, it accountsfor the entire
range of pasted subjects in any given picture, rather than requiring us to
acknowledge some and ignore others. The vocabulary of the revue is the
vocabulary of collage, a period lexicon of technical language specific to
both: the actualite; the pun, the allusion, and the a peu pres; the sous-
entendu and entente; irony,satire,and grivoiserie; newspaper,advertising,
and song.
One factor in the growing currencyof the revueduring the collageperiod
was the new momentum it receivedfrom the authors "Rip" and Bosquet,
whose revuesof 1911-12 were treated by critics as a virtual revolution in
the genre; suchwas their achievement,as it was perceivedby critics of the
day,that Aristophaneswas invokedas a rightful ancestor.The terms "liter
ary" or "intellectual" revuewere coinedfor the sophisticationof their work,
and they were creditedwith havingsavedthe revuefrom being corrupted at
the larger halls into a pretext for lavishcostumedisplayby deftly blending a
102 grand spectaclestyle with satiricsketchesof brilliant wit. While Rip and
Bosquetwere accusedby someof strainingthe very nature of the musichall
asnontaxingentertainment, their fall 1911 revuefor the Olympiatheater set
103 a music hall box-office record.
The most prominent example of a theater piece predicated upon the
"intellectual" revue was Mil-neuf-cent-douze by CharlesMuller and Regis
Gignoux, performed at the Theatre Antoine in April 1912. Subtitling the
work "scenescontemporaines,"the authors implementedthe classicrevue

I 0 3
 devicesof short tableaux,extravagantcostumes,and comic personifications
(charactersincludean Ubu-like"1912," the "JournalOfficiel," and "Illusion")
for a densesatireof public dupery,hitting hard on actualitessuchasthe false
claimsof modern advertisingand the appropriationof the workers' cafe asa
104 pulpit for vote-seekingpoliticians. Most reviewsof Mil-neuf-cent-douze
congratulatedMullerand Gignouxon bringinga fresh senseof styleand bite
to revue buffoonery; Ernest La Jeunessehoped that this "masked revue"
105 would exercisea positive influence outside the music hall.
In fact, the flexibility of the revue format and the today's-papercurrency
of its contents provedirresistibleto nonspecialists,includingmembersof the
106 "bande a Picasso." Most significantly,Andre Salmon,a closefriend and
critical supporter of Picassoduring the prewar years,wrote a thoroughly
idiomatic revue entitled Garqon!. . . de quoi ecrirel, which was performed
at the Salle Malakoff in June 1911. Garqon! was written as a "revue of
literary life" but, Salmon confirmed, conceived along the lines of those
music-hallrevues"at the European,the Cigaleand the Gaite-Montparnasse
with titles like Pourqui votalt-on? and Denichons,denichons!."W7Salmon's
own title quotesthe poet to the cafe waiter, callingfor a paper and pen. His
revue is set in two legendaryliterary cafes,the PreCatalanand the Napoli-
tain, and it is populated by a typically heterogeneousmusic-hallcastthat has
been skewed toward the literary theme: parodies of litterateurs such as
Maurice Rostand,Henri de Regnier,Saint-Pol-Roux, JulesRomain,and Mari-
netti; personifications of newspapers and literary periodicals, including
Excelsior,Mercure de France,Revuedes Deux-Mondesand La Phalange;
variousfantasy figures, such as "Glory" and the nymph Glycere; and well-
known abstractionsfrom the world of arts and letters—an Academician,a
"Refuse,"an Agent. Eachcharactersings punning or satiric coupletsset to
the music of well-known popular tunes.
The rhyming refrain sung by Excelsiorderides the large two -sous news
papers of the day for mixing—and cheapening—serious but low-paying
journalistic and literary material with the money-makingtrivia of commer
cial advertising:

Hop!Excelsior,
hedi,ohe!/Hop! I giveyou,for two sous:/SomeLemaitreandsome
rubber,/ SomeBarresandsomebamboochairs;/ 1proposewith TristanBernard/
Someliquorsand someduckpate,/ 1proposewith someLavedan/ A nicetooth
108 brush./ Hop! Excelsior!
ohe!

Excelsior'sparodic refrain calls to mind the very structure and content of

revueand collageas ironicjournauxjoues. One year later,in an article on the
Parisdaily press(which appearedin a smallliterary periodical),critic JeanPuy
would accusethe large two -souspapersof betraying quality for pandering
journalism, commercial interests,and an improper "ton de blague"; such

1 04
 newspapers,he feared, simply confirm the low opinion of Parisintellectual
109 life that visitors will have already formed at the music hall. Yet, like
collage,the "intellectual" revueand its progenydemonstratethat musichall
could also be perceived as a vessel of fresh potential among younger
authors, including membersof the avant-garde.Eventhe irony and screw
ball quality of the revue (its loufoquerie)- which might be perceivedas the
equivalent of bad journalism written in a "ton de blague"—could be a
sourceof energy,a purge. One of the complimentsSalmonfondly remem
bers havingreceivedon the occasionof his revuewas that before him lay "a
career as attractive as that of Rip." In the chapter on Garqon! from his
memoirs, Salmon confessed that he kept his "texte de revuiste" more
110 carefully bound than most of his other works. It representsfor him an
"esprit de blague et d'atelier" —a spirit of irony, pranks, and inside jokes.
"Therewas," hewrites, "an 'esprit de blagueet d'atelier' around 1913 at the
Bateau-Lavoirwhere, at the sametime, modernism,orphism, cubism were
111 all in serious preparation."
Salmon'srevue is composed in a popular mode, but its contents are
confidential. Collage and the revue share this paradox of accessibilityand
hermeticism.Works of collage abound in the most mundaneof materials,
yet Cubism was virtually impenetrable to all but a tiny proportion of its
prewar audience; the materials constitute a vernacular,but the syntax is
abstruse.The devicesof cropping and splicing in collage subvert the easy,
common currency of the pasted papers, and the visual and verbal games
that result suggest an inside joke. As at the music hall, the structure and
comic irony of collagecausethe actualitesof the day to function at once as
themselvesand their own parodic critique. Both genres also presuppose
what Dreyfuscalls "the secret entente" between author and audience.Of
course,at the revue "hidden" meaningwas a charadeof sorts,for the music
hall needsa large audiencein order to survive.But the entente was real to
the extent that the pleasureof the revue was derived from decoding the
allusionsand sous-entendus.Picassosurvived upon the appreciation and
material support of his immediate circle, and it is to the inner circlethat he
pitched the jokes of collage.We have no written evidencethat, say,Apolli-
naire, Kahnweiler,or Salmon read the collagesfor puns and other verbal-
visual play,though it seemslikely that they did. The collagesof Braqueand
JuanGris,however,tell usthat Picassohad a co-conspiratorialaudienceof at
least two.
The materialsof collage are forever attached to life outside art, yet they
havebeen physicallyextractedfrom still-life objectsthat can be confined to
a relativelysmall, actual or fictional space-a table or an easel picture. In
revuefashion, collage pictures reachout to culture at large, then turn back
in. Dreyfus describesa revue subgenre, the "revue de societe." Playedin
salons,cercles,and cenacles,such revuesare more "mordant and provoca-

1 5
 tive" than those of the theater, and would be unintelligible to a general
112 audience. We recognizethe operative principle: it is Salmon's"esprit de
blagueet d'atelier." This is what permits a still life to be the perpetrator of a
dazzling comic turn. Picasso'scollage oeuvre from 1912-14 constitutes a
transpositionof music-hallrevuestrategiesto the Cubist cenacle-a pictorial
"revue de societe" for companionsof the cafe and the studio.

NOTES Thisarticle is basedon researchfor a Ph.D.dissertationfrom the Institute

of Fine Arts, New York University,which I conducted on a Paul Mellon
Fellowship (1987-90) offered by the Center for Advanced Study in the
VisualArts. I am very grateful to the Centerfor its support. I am indebted to
the staff of the Bibliothequede I'Arsenaland the BibliothequeNationalein
Paris,in particularthe miraculousservicesof bibliothecaire-sageF.Peyraube,
recently retired and sorely missed; the Musee de Publicite, Paris; and
Madame PauleMadelin, curator at the Museede Montmartre. I would also
like to thank Kirk Varnedoefor his encouragementand his example.
With deep gratitude and love, I carve the initials "SC" on this place.
1. Spectator,"Et Voilall," Comoediaillustre, November 15, 1911, p. 114.
2. Louis Schneider,"Au Theatredes Capucines,"Comoedia,October 13, 1911, p. 3.
3. Gertrude Stein, TheAutobiography of Alice B. Toklas(New York, 1933), p. 136.
4. MauriceJardotwasthe first to identify the originsof the phrase"ma jolie" in the refrainfrom
Fragson's"Dernierechanson"; seeJardot,Picasso,catalogueof an exhibition at the Museedes
Arts Decoratifs,Paris,1955, number 26. More specific information about the song is obtained
from the sheet music published in Parisby EdouardSalabert in 1911, in the collection of the
Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris.
5. See Crispin, "Theatreset Concerts," Le Journal, October 4, 1911, p. 5; October 7, p. 6;
October9, p. 9; October 11, p. 5; October 14, p. 5; October 16, p. 5. Formore on Fragson,born
Leon-Victor Philippe Pot (shot and killed by his father in December 1913), see Chantal
Brunschwig,Louis-JeanCalvet, and Jean-ClaudeKlein, Cent Ans de chanson franqaise(Paris,
1972), p. 156; and DominiqueJando, Histoire mondiale du music-hall (Pahs,1979), p. 140.
6. "Une des chansonsde Fragsona I'Alhambra," Excelsior,October 5, 1911, p. 9; and Le
Journal,October 12, 1911, p. 7. The text accompanyingthe reprint of "Ma Jolie" is identical in
both newspapers.It is likely that the entire item was promotional copy placed there by the
Alhambra music hall or the publisher of the song (whose name appears at the bottom).
Newspaperads of the period were often presentedin a form that resemblesa pieceof news;
space in the front page "Echoes" section of many major papers, for example, could be
purchased.On the subject of this publicite masquee,seeJ. Arren, Commentil faut faire de la
publicite (Pahs,1912),pp. 169, 173-74; for advertisingtariffs for "the principalperiodicalsof
Paris,pp. 234-96."
7. JaimeSabartesmakesan explicit referenceto Picassoand friends at the Cabaret I'Ermitage,
and to performancesof "Derniere chanson" there. See Sabartes,Picasso:Documents icon-
ographiques(Geneva,1954), number 101. Fora period recollectionof "Dernierechanson"asa
popular tango in "restaurantselegants,"seeAlice Halicka,Hier (Souvenirs)(Paris,1946),p. 35.

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For the Picassocircle at the Cabaret (or "Cafe") I'Ermitage, see Halicka, Hier, p. 54; and
FernandeOlivier,Picassoand His Friends,trans. JaneMiller (London, 1964), pp. 171-72.
8. On stylisticgrounds,"Ma Jolie" is placedby PierreDaixand JoanRosseletin the fall of 1911;
see Daix and Rosselet,Picasso:The Cubist Years,1907-1916: A CatalogueRaisonneof the
Paintingsand RelatedWorks(New York, 1979),number 430. Most recently,William Rubinhas
put the painting in the winter of 1911-1 2; see Rubin,Picassoand Braque:PioneeringCubism,
catalogueof an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1989, p. 210. Of course,
Picassomay haveretainedthe "Ma jolie" lyric for months or more. Sinceeventhe exactdate of
the beginning of Picassoand Eva'srelationship is unknown, I am merely suggesting that
iconographicalevidenceaddsa fresh—an earlier- pieceto the puzzle.Thewords of the refrain,
which are alwaysquoted in the context of Picasso'spainting, are: "0 Manon ma jolie / Mon
coeur te dit bonjour / Pour nous les Tziganesjouent m'amie / La chanson d'amour." ("Oh
Manon, my pretty one / My heart greets you / For us the gypsiesplay,my friend / The song of
love.") It is intriguing, however,to considerthe refrain in the context of the song'sthree verses.
Theyare sung by a man to a woman of his past whose love he hopesto rekindle.The first two
times we hearthe "Ma jolie" refrain, the "song of love" which the gypsiesplay is describedas
"our first song"; after the third verse,when it is clearthat his lover is forever lost to the singer,
the song has becomea "song of farewell" ("chansond'adieu") and "our last song" (hencethe
title "Dernierechanson").Giventhe bittersweet characterof the lyric, could the subjectof "Ma
Jolie" be both FernandeOlivier and Eva?Sucha sentimental ambiguity would not be out of
placein a picture of a woman whose identity is otherwise indecipherable.In addition, Picasso's
interest in "Derniere chanson" as an expressionof transient love would be consistentwith his
choiceof sheetmusicone yearlater,for collage(seepp. 70-7 1). We may be able to indicatethe
appearanceof a secondFragsonsong lyric in Picasso'swork. Sheetmusicwith the title "Si tu
veux" is held by a harlequin-violinistin Harlequinwith Violin ("Si TuVeux)"{1918). "Si tu veux,
Marguerite" was another Fragsonhit, and Picassomay be remembering the song from his
prewar days.Thisseemsa more likelysourcefor the song title in the picture than Erik Satie's"Je
te veux," which was proposed by Helen 0. Borowitz, "Three Guitars: Reflectionsof Italian
Comedyin Watteau, Daumier,and Picasso,"Bulletinof the ClevelandMuseum of Art, February
1984, p. 127 and n. 54; "Jete veux" was first publishedin 1903, while "Si tu veux, Marguerite"
was composed in 1913 and enjoyed popular successon a far grander scale.
9. F.T. Marinetti, "The VarietyTheatre" (1913), in Futurist Manifestos,ed. Umbro Apollonio,
trans. R. W. Flint (London, 1973), p. 127.
10. "Cette force de vie qui s'exprimesur une scenede music-halldemode au premier coup
d'oeil toutes nos audaces."Jean Cocteau, Le Coq et Tarlequin(Paris,1918), p. 34.
11. Thereare dozensof historiesof the cafe-concertand the musichall in Englandand France
where this information can be found. Forthe musichall in London,seeArchibald Haddon, The
Story of the Music Hall (London, 1935); M. Willson Disher,Music Hall Parade(London, 1938);
RaymondMander and JoeMitchenson,British Music Hall (London, 1974); TheLastEmpires:A
Music Hall Companion,ed. Benny Green (London, 1986); and Music Hall: The Businessof
Pleasure(Philadelphia,1986). For the music hall in Paris,see Georgesd'Esparbeset al., Les
Demi-Cabots: Le Cafe-concert—le cirque—les forains (Paris, 1896); Andre Chadourne, Les
Cafes-concerts(Paris,1889); E. Rouzier-Dourcieres, "L'Evolutiondu cafe-concert," La Semaine
politique et litteraire de Paris,September1, 1912, pp. 13-16; GustaveFrejaville,Au music-hall
(Paris,1922); J.-L.,"Music-halls: Du 'cafe-chantant' au 'music-hall,'" Le Temps,October 5,
1912, pp. 4-5, October 7, pp. 5-6, October 13, p. 5; PaulDerval,TheFolies-Bergere(London,
1955); JacquesCharles, Cent Ans de music-hall (Paris, 1956); Dominique Jando, Histoire
mondialedu music-hall(seenote 5 above); FrangoisCaradecand Alain Weill, Le Cafe-concert
(Paris,1980); Andre Salleeand Philippe Chauveau,Music-hall et cafe-concert (Pahs, 1985).
12. MauriceTalmeyr,"Cafes-concertset music-halls,"Revuedes deux-mondes,1902, p. 178.
For a recent discussionof music hall and class, see Charles Rearick,Pleasuresof the Belle
Epoque (New Haven, 1985), pp. 83-115.
13. Santillane, "Les Music-halls," Gil Bias,September 12, 1901, p. 1.
14. "Nouveaugenre qu'engendra la fusion de deux plaisirsautrefois distincts: celui du cafe-
concert et celui du cirque." Akademos, "En sortant d'un music-hall," Gil Bias,September13,
1912, 1.
15. Marinetti, "The Variety Theatre," p. 126.
16. Thereis a great deal of literature on the saltimbanqueand relatedthemesin Picasso'sRose
Period work. The most thorough overall iconographicaltreatment remains Theodore Reff,
"Harlequins,Saltimbanques,Clownsand Fools,"Artforum, October 1971, pp. 30-43. ToReff's
discussionof memoirsby membersof the early Picassocirclethat attest to the artist's love for
the circus,we might add Andre Salmon'sclaim that this circusmaniawas attachedto a tastefor
Seurat,reproductionsof whose Le Cirqueand Le Chahut—imagesof the circusand the music
hall, respectively—first ornamented the walls of Picasso'sstudio on the "eve of cubism." For
Salmon,Le Chahut was "une des grandesiconesde la devotion nouvelle" ("one of the great
icons of the new devotion"). SeeSalmon,Proposd 'atelier (Paris,1922), p. 42, and L'Air de la
butte (Paris,1945), p. 33.
17. Carnet numbers 95, 96, 98, 101, and 102, at the Musee Picasso,Paris.
18. Jean-PierreJouffroy and EdouardRuizdiscoveredthese illustrations,which Picassosigned
"Ruiz" (his mother's maiden name),and reproducedthem for the first time. SeeJouffroy and
Ruiz,Picasso:de I'image a la lettre (Paris,1981).Among the performers Picassodepicted are
Grille d'Egout and Jane(Jeanne)Avril, favorite subjectsof Toulouse-Lautrec's.
19. This information is contained in a letter from Casagemasand Picassoto RamonRaventos
dated October 25, 1900, reprinted in JosepPalaui Fabre,Picasso:TheEarlyYears1881-1907
(New York, 1981), appendix 8, p. 513.
20. Max Jacob, "Souvenirssur Picassocontes par Max Jacob," Cahiersd'art, no. 6, 1927,
p. 199.
21. Bloch'swhereaboutsare readilydetermined by following newspaperlistingsfor the Cigale
throughout the period. The Cigaleopened a new revue everythree to four months, and Bloch
was featured in each one.
22. A nous la veineI ran from November7, 1901 through late January 1902, dates which
correspond to Picasso'ssecond trip to Paris(May 1901-January 1902). For a review, see
Arlequin, "Soiree Parisienne:A la Cigale—A nous la veine!," Le Journal, November9, 1901,
pp. 4-5.
23. Olivier,Picasso,p. 126.
24. Ibid., pp. 58-60, 101; DanielHenri Kahnweiler,My Galleriesand My Painters,trans. Helen
Weaver(New York, 1971), p. 89; Andre Salmon,Souvenirssansfin, deuxiemeepoque (7908-
1920) (Paris,1956), pp. 92, 95-96. The writer FrancisCarco, an acquaintanceof the Picasso
circle in Montmartre, also earned modest fame within the community singing cafe-concert
songs at the cabaret Lapin Agile. SeeGuillaume Apollinaire, "La bolte aux lettres," L'lntran-
sigeant, March 24, 1911, reprinted in Apollinaire, Petitesmerveillesdu quotidien, ed. Pierre
Caizergues(Montpellier, 1979), p. 46; and Halicka, Hier, p. 40. Carco also sang in Andre
Salmon'smusic-hall-stylerevue Garqon! . . . de quoi ecrirel in 1911 (see pp. 88-89).
25. Daix and Rosselet,Picasso,numbers 513, 518-521. Theseworks are preceded by two
pictures on which Picassohas stenciled the word "Valse" (numbers 504, 506).
26. A copy of Picasso'ssheet musicfor "Sonnet" can be found at the BibliothequeNationale,
Paris,where it is stamped "Depot legal 1892." "Sonnet" was not otherwise dated by the
publisher,but the yellowing paper alonewould havetold Picassothat the song was alreadyold
when he selected it.
27. D'Esparbeset al., LesDemi-Cabots,pp. 64-65; F.BerkeleySmith, TheRealLatin Quarter
(New York, 1901),pp. 113-21. During the prewar years,Legaywas fondly associatedwith the
pre-1900 Eldorado; see Rouzier-Dorcieres,"L'Evolution du cafe-concert," p. 15.

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28. For the history of the Eldorado, see Salleeand Chauveau,Music-hall et cafe-concert,
pp. 143-46. Fora prewar referenceto the reputation of the Eldorado,seeCurnonsky,"Music-
halls," Le Theatre,December[II] 1913, p. 30.
29. All of the memoirsconcerningPicassoduring the prewaryearsdiscusseveningsat the Lapin
Agile. See,for example,Olivier,Picasso,pp. 155-58; Kahnweiler,My Galleries,p. 45; Salmon,
Souvenirssansfin, premiere epoque (1903-1908) (Paris,1955),pp. 181-186. In an article on
the LapinAgile, critic Andre Arnyveldeevenrefersto "a song by Ronsardor by MarcelLegay"as
standardfare in Frede'sperformances.SeeArnyvelde, "Frede(Le Cabaret du LapinAgile)," Le
Monde illustre, September 30, 1911, p. 228. For performancesof Villon and Ronsard(both
songs and recitations)at the cabaret, see Olivier,ibid., p. 156; RolandDorgeles,Bouquet de
Boheme(Paris,1947), p. 18; PaulineTeillon-Dullinand CharlesCharras,CharlesDullin ou les
ensorcelesdu Chatelard(Paris,1955),pp. 208-13. There is, in fact, a deep strain of medieval
ism (and Villonism) in the Picassocircle in Montmartre that deserveswider study.
30. EdmondBarbier,"Marcel Legay,"L'Albummusical,April 1906, pp. 1-2. Fora discussionby
a memberof the Picassocircleof the LapinAgile asa legendarycabaret,seeSalmon,Souvenirs,
premiere epoque, p. 18.
31. Robert Rosenblum,Cubism and Twentieth-CenturyArt {New York, 1960). Rosenblum's
pioneering work on the significanceof words in Cubism is most fully developed in his essay
"Picassoand the Typographyof Cubism," in RolandPenroseand John Golding, eds. Picassoin
Retrospect(New York, 1973), pp. 49-75. While historianswere slow to get the joke, the work
of KasimirMalevich,Kurt Schwitters,and manyothers demonstratesthat artists were quick to
recognize the implications of wordplay in Cubism.
32. Rosenblum,"Typographyof Cubism," p. 51.
33. PatriciaLeightenwas the first to indicatethe original context of this headline.SeeLeighten,
"Picasso'sCollagesand the Threat of War, 1912-13," TheArt Bulletin, LXVIIno. 4, December
1985, p. 664.
34. "Une revue, quel cadre! II n'en existe pas qui permette plus de fantaisie avec plus de
realite. ... La Revueest le triomphe legitime du sansqueue ni tete." (FlenryBuguet,Revueset
revuistes(Paris,1887), pp. 3, 5) Buguetcollaboratedwith GeorgesGrisonon Placesauxjeunes!
(1886), the first revue ever to be performed at the Folies-Bergere;see Eugene Fleros,"La
Premiererevuedes Folies-Bergere, 30 Novembre1886," Le Music-hall, December1911, p. 14.

35. For the prewar popularity of the revue in Paris,see p. 75.

36. Robert Dreyfus,Petite Histoirede la revue de fin d'annee (Paris,1909), from which I have
derived my whirlwind synopsisof revue history.
37. Buguet,Revueset revuistes,p. 15. In fact, the revuewas originally inventedfor troupes of
actorsat the foires St.-Laurent and St.-Germainwho, forbidden by larger theaters to perform
playsfrom the conventionalrepertoire, were driven to stakeout their own territory in material
drawn from actualites. See Dreyfus, Petite Histoire, p. 10.
38. Curnonsky,"La NouvelleRevuede I'Olympia," Le Music-hall, April 15, 1912, p. 24.
39. For more on the role of the newspaper as a source for the revue, see pp. 76-77 .

40. Dreyfus, Petite Histoire, p. xxviii.

41. "De la vie economique,du machinisme,des applicationsde la sciencea I'industrie et au
commerce,du perfectionnement continu des moyensde transport et d'echange, ou, comme
on disait naguere, des 'progres' du genie humain." Ibid., pp. xxviii-xxx.
42. "Revolutions,guerres,inventionsnouvelles,modes,faits artistiquesou litteraires, crimes,
malheurspublics, etc." Arthur Pougin,Dictionnairehistorique et pittoresque du theatre et des
arts qui s'y rattachent (Paris,1885), p. 653.
43. "De lancer une petite reclame (presque invisible)a I'adressede son tailleur ou de son

1 09
bottier, ou en faveur de la couturiere et de la modiste de sa femme." Buguet, Revueset
revuistes,pp. 16-17.

44. "Signesdes connaissances,et surtout des sentiments,qu'elles supposaientjadis en vie."

Dreyfus, Petite Histoire, p. xxiv.

45. Blagueand rosserieare two recurring terms used by music-hallcritics to describerevue

jokes, but they also made their way into the language of the revues themselvesduring the
prewar period. Forexample,the revuetitle Qa Sentla Rosse(performed at the Scalamusichall in
December1913) puns from "that smellslike a rose" into "that smellslike a rosse"—a person
who practicesrosserie.

46. "Qu'est-ce que I'allusion?L'allusion,dit Littre, est une 'figure de rhetorique consistanta
dire une chose qui fait penser a une autre.' Littre ajoute: 'On distingue les allusions en
historiques,quand ellesrappellent un point d'histoire; mythologiques,si ellessont fondeessur
un point de fable; nominates,si elles reposentsur un nom; verbales,si ellesconsistentdansle
mot seulement,c'est a dire dans une equivoque.'Cette dernieresorte d'allusionsest peut-etre
la plus repanduedans lesrevuesde fin d'annee. Etje crois meme qu'ellesforment proprement
ce qu'on appelleTesprit de revue.'. . . 'L'allusionverbale,'comme la nomme Littre, ce chimiste
de notre langue,c'est tout simplementce que nousappelons,nous,sansregardersi a fond, I'a
peu pres et le calembour.Assurement,le calembour n'est pas toujours un moyen d'allusion si
humble. . . . Maisj'ai cherche,volontairement,au bas de I'echelle: car le calembour,plus il est
rudimentaire, mieux il nous permet d'isoler l'allusion toute nue, l'allusion vide et, comme eut
peut-etre dit Kant, l'allusion pure. Cette allusion-la n'est soutenue, avivee,releveepar rien.
Aussi le plaisirqu'elle donne,—si elle en donne,—n'est-il adultere par rien." Ibid., pp. xiii-xvi.
47. Ibid., p. xviii.

48. "L'essentielet le tout." Ibid., p. xx.

49. "Remarquesgaies, rapides, satiriques,philosophiques."Ibid., p. xx.

50. "L'avalanchedes revuesen cette saison,la vogue extraordinairede ce genre a la mode."

"Informations—Pasde Revue!" Comoedia,December4, 1911, p. 4.

51. "Qui n'a passa revue! Desscenesa cote et des music-halls,la contagion a gagne lesgrands
theatres. Hier, c'etaient les Bouffes, aujourd'hui c'est I'Ambigu; ce sera demain le theatre
Rejane.Jesaisbien que la revueest ce qu'on appelle un genre souple,si souplequ'a la rigueur il
pourrait finir par absorber tous les autres." Leon Blum, "La Revuede I'Ambigu," Comoedia,
December 1, 1911, p. 1.

52. "Une RevueChez Guignol," Excelsior,May 19, 1911, p. 6.

53. "La Revue!elle s'evit partout, et la saisontheatrale de 1912 fera date dans I'histoire de
cette forme si originatede I'esprit franqaiset pourra fournir a RobertDreyfusun deschapitresle
plus abondantsdu prochainvolume qu'il lui consacrera.Marigny,lesFolies-Bergere,I'Olympia,
la Scala,le Moulin-Rouge,les Ambassadeurs,I'Alcazard'Ete, les Capucines,Bataclan,et j'en
passe,d'une faqon generate,tous les cafes-concertset tous les music-halls,represententdes
revues; il n'est pas un faubourg de Paris,ou ne se chantent sur un air connu la 'Greve des
danseuses,''lesAventuresde M. Cochon' et autresevenementsd'actualite qui saventinspirera
nos chansonniersdes coupletsmordants,fins, ou vivementsatiriques,car il sefait sur toutes les
scenesparisiennes,grandes ou petites, dans le courant d'une meme soiree, une singuliere
depensed'esprit. On se prend meme parfois a regretter que cet esprit soit ainsi repandu sans
compter dans des oeuvres,par leur essencememe, ephemeres,puisqu'ellesne marquent pas
une epoque, maisa peine une saison." "Bulletin- La RevueTriomphante,"Le Theatre,April [II],
1912, p. 26.

54. Andre Joubort, "Revuede fin d'annee pour 1912," Paris-Midi,December31, 1912, p. 1.

55. The revue series,by Victor Hoerter and variouscollaborators,began on October 9, 1912,
and was resumed in the fall of 1913.

11
56. Victor Hoerter and Max Eddy,"RevueCharivarique,"Le Charivari,October 26, 1912, p. 1;
and Victor Hoerter, "Encore une revue d'actualite!," Le Charivari,December29, 1912, p. 6.
Intriguingly,the secondrevueisfollowed by a statementinforming readerswhere Urodonaland
Globeolcan be purchased.We must consider,then, whether the revueconstitutesa mockeryof
the two drugs, or an endorsementin accord with Buguet'sobservationabout revuisteswho
benefit by incorporating advertising in their work (see note 43 above).
57. "Vetue d'une robe sur laquelle tous les journaux sont colles." Dreyfus, Petite Histoire,
p. 146.
58. Seethe anonymousreview "Le Journal Joue," Le Music-hall, January15, 1912, p. 23.
59. Datesand statisticsfor Picasso'scollagesare derivedfrom two sources:Daixand Rosselet,
Picasso; and Edward F. Fry, "Picasso,Cubism and Reflexivity,"Art Journal, Winter 1988,
appendix 2, p. 310.
60. PatriciaLeighten(seenote 33 above)was the first to demonstratethe sizablequantity of
newspaperclippingsconcerningthe BalkanWars in Picasso'scollages.For a discussionof this
subject matter within the larger context of Picasso'searly careerand sociopoliticalproclivities,
see PatriciaLeighten,Re-Orderingthe Universe:Picassoand Anarchism, 1897-1914 (Prince
ton, 1989).
61. Theentire refrain runs: "De'barqu'nt leurstroupiers/Tra la la la la / A chevaleta pied /Tra la
la la la / De suit' leurs canons/ Flanqu'nt des coups de tampon / Tra la la la la / On repoit des
boulets /Tra la la la la / Et les bons Franpais/Tra la la la la / De la Republique/ Nousdisent que
c'est /La penetration /Zim-boum pacifique!" Theselyricsare printed in an original program for
La Revuedes Folies-Bergere (P.L. Flers,1912),n.pag. All referencesto original programsrelate
to revue materialsin the CollectionRondel,Bibliothequede I'Arsenal,Paris.Programsare filed
accordingto the nameof the musichall and the year in which the revuewas performed; most
of them are not paginated.
62. "Le programmedetaillede la Revuefinale qui seraprochainementdonneesur le Theatrede
la Guerre." Curnonsky,"Programme," Le Journal, November 10, 1912, p. 6.
63. Robert Rosenblumwas the first to identify the subject of this headlineand to read it as a
punning referenceto tea and a die; he alsosuggeststhat Picasso's"coup de the pun might be
an allusion to Mallarme'stypographical experimentsin the poem "Un coup de des n'abolira
jamaisle hasard."SeeRosenblum,"Typographyof Cubism," p. 52. Forthe words "coup de the"
as a stand-in for an actual (or depicted) object, see David Cottington, "What the PapersSay:
Politicsand Ideology in Picasso'sCollagesof 1912," Art Journal, Winter 1988, p. 356.
n
64. As in "Le Sort en est jete," La Petite Republique,October 18, 1912, p. 1, a front-page >
on
editorial also concerning the BalkanWars. i/>
O
65. Rosenblum,"Typographyof Cubism," p. 51. ~
66. Le Monsieurde Promenoir,"A la Gaite Rochechouart:Madameest Serbie,"Le Music-hall, O
January1, 1913, p. 12. ^
67. Original program for Madame est Serbie by Lucien Boyerand Henri-Bataille. ^
68. Daixand Rosselet,Picasso,number 463; the three works are numbers463, 464, and 465. >
69. Originalprogram for LAnnee en Pairby Mouezy-Eonand Henri-Bataille;for ' Touten I air, ^
seethe original program for ElleI'a I'sourire! by Wilfred; for En avion . . . marche! by Rip and
Bosquet,see R. B., "Aux Ambassadeurs,"Le Music-hall, June 15, 1912, p. 18.
70. Original program for A la Baguette! by Dominique Bonnaud, Numa Bles,and Georges
Arnould.
71. Dr. V ... , "Cubisme, Futurismeet Folie," Le Journal, November7, 1912, p. 6.
72. "Le temps lointainsou, tenaille par lespremiersfrissonsde la vocation,il montrait son cube >
a tous les passants."Leon Blum, "La Revuede I'Ambigu," Comoedia,December1, 1911, p. 1. |—

111
ID 73. For "Le Jeude Cubesde Sem," seethe original programfor Enavion . . . marche! (seenote
JJJ 69 above); for "ParisCucubique,"seethe original program for La Revuede I'Anneeby Ripand
III Bosquet;for the Cubismsong, see referencein LouisLaloy,"Le Mois- Music-hallset chanson-
5 niers: Eldorado," December1, 1913, p. 49; for the "Faustecubiste," seed'Arbeaument,
"Petits Echos-Au Little Palace,"Le Triboulet,February8, 1914, p. 12.
74. "Music-halls," Le Temps,November26, 1912, p. 5.

75. Daix and Rosselet,Picasso,number 652.

76. Ibid., number 610.

77. For"Miss Stein/MissToklas," seeDaixand Rosselet,Picasso,number 661; for Andre Level,

see ibid., number 660; for La Cote, see ibid., number 696.

78. Consideredby many to be a blight on the Frenchcountryside, billboardswere a topic of

public debate in 1912, when they were targeted for a nearly prohibitive advertisingtax. See
Freddy,"Les Barre-la-vue,"Le Monde illustre, July 27, 1912, pp. 64-65.

79. Forthe billboard tableau,see Monsieurde Promenoir,"A la Galte Rochechouart,"number

10; for "Le Professeurde PubliciteTheatrale,"seeoriginal programfor A la Baguette! (seenote
70 above); for "Publicite ambulante," see Curnonsky, "Music-halls et cafes-concerts-La
Cigale," Le Theatre, March [I], 1914, p. 21; for department store and "Dr. Macaura," see
Alcazard Ete, Le Music-hall,June1, 1912, p. 18; for the cartesde visite,seeoriginal program
for La Revuedes T.by H. de Gorsseand G. Nanteuil; for "L'Originedu Prospectus,"seeoriginal
program for La Revuede Printempsdes Folies-Bergereby GeorgesArnould.

80. On reclame,on reclam' par la voie des journaux; / Dansles reclamations,y a des trues
rigolos." Plebus,Danerty,and Serpieri, "On reclame," Parisqui chante, February 17, 1912,
pp. 12-13.

81. Rosenblum,"Typographyof Cubism," p. 60.

82. Original program for En Scene. . . mon President! by Hugues Delorme.

83. Rosenblum,"Typographyof Cubism," p. 53.

84. La revuee'est aussiI'art d'incarner lesindividus,lesevenements,lesmoeurs,les ridicules,

les modes et les idees du jour en des petites femmes court vetues qui regalent le public de
quelquescouplets. Ces couplets peuvent etre satiriques,grivois, ou sentimentaux.. . . Leur
esprit n'est pas toujours inoffensif. II en existe des grossierset de mechants." (Ergaste,"Aux
Capucines,"Le Theatre,December[I] 1911, p. 23).

85. For collage as paper-hanging, see E. Littre, Dictionnaire de la langue franqaise. Tome
premier (Paris,1878), p. 664; for the sexualdefinition of collage (which does not appear in
Littre, 1878),seeJohn Grand-Carteret,Les Troisformes de Tunionsexuelle:mariage, collage,
chiennerle(Paris,1911).

86. The song appearedin Parisqui chante, November18, 1911, p. 8. Strikingly,the sameissue
containswords for a song called"Le Cubisme,"written to be sungto the tune of "LesPlaisirsde
collage"!

87. Thecontemporaryliterature on issuesof censorshipat the musichall isvast; during periods

of crackdown, items and editorials appearedwith frequency throughout the daily press.For
articles that addressthis matter at some length, see: FrancisCarco, "La Renovationdu cafe-
concert, LeFeu,September1908, p. 274; EmileHenriot, "D'un moralisteet d'une psychologie
du music-hall," Vers et Prose, April-May-June 1910, pp. 181-84; Charles Holveck, "La
Moralisationdu cafe-concert," La Renaissancecontemporaine,August 24, 1911, pp. 1,011—
16; Andre Joubert, "Chez lesantipornographes,"Paris-Midi,March 25, 1912, p. 3; Curnonsky,
"La Morale au music-hall," Le Music-hall, August 15, 1912, pp. 2-3; J. Paul-Boncour,"La
censureet le public," Excelsior,November12, 1912, p. 2; MauriceHamel,"La Pornographieau
cafe-concert," Paris-Journal,July 4, 1913, p. 1. For a satirical treatment of censorship,see

1f 2
Robert Dieudonne,"Le NouveauCafe-concert," Fantasio,July 15, 1911, pp. 849-50; and the
song "La Renovationdu cafe-concert" by J.Combe,A. Danerty,and Albert Valsien,publishedin
Parisqui chante, May 18, 1912, pp. 6-7.
88. See,for example,the tableau "Le Cafe-ConcertMoraliste" in the original program for La
Revuede Ripet Bosquet,which playedattheOlympia in the fall of 1911; and "Le Senateuret la
DanseuseNue" in the original programfor N . . . U . . . NU, c'est Connu! by ValentinTaraultand
LeonGranier,which playedat the Cigalein the summerof 1913 (the "senator" is ReneBerenger,
arch-moralistof the day).
89. EugeneHeros,LesLyriques(Paris,1898), p. 202. The identicaltechniquewas employedby
Alfred Jarryfor the notorious opening word of his play Ubu-Rot(1896),where the scandalous
merde is transformed into merdre. Inserting the "r createsthe music-halleffect of veering
away from the vulgar truth at the last second ("mer . . . dre"). Of course, since merdre is a
nonsenseword, it doesn't actuallyoffer any alternativemeaning;the original audiencereacted
as if Ubu had said "merde." For a description of opening night, see Roger Shattuck, The
Banquet Years(New York, 1968), pp. 207-08.
90. "A la Scala," Le Music-hall, January15, 1913, p. 15.
91. "J'ai un thermometre, un thermo mo / Un p'tit thermometre / J'ai un thermometreepatant
/ qui monte et qui r'descend." Plebus,Danerty,and Serpieri, "Mon Thermometre," Parisqui
chante, June 8, 1912, pp. 3-4.
92. Heros, Les Lyriques,pp. 202-03.
93. Originalprogram for R'mettez-nouspa! by GeorgesArnould and LeonAbric, which played
at the Eldoradoin fall-winter of 1910; for Sauf vot' respect,see Leon Royan,"Au Theatredes
Capucines,"Comoediaillustre, November1, 1910, pp. 71-72. Abbreviationand ellipseat the
musichall are, in turn, derivedfrom street slang or argot, for which they are standarddevices.
Thus, the newspaperL'lntransigeantbecomes"L'lntran"; the Eldoradomusic hall is "L'Eldo";
cafe-concert itself is caf'-conc'. For an exampleof slang abbreviation in a pre-collageCubist
picture, see Picasso'sStill Life with Fan("L'lndependant") of 1911 (Daixand Rosselet,Picasso,
number 412),where the newspapertitle L'lndependantis boldly cropped to read "L'lndep." As
in most examplesby Picasso,the abbreviationcan also be understoodas the result of folding a
newspaper,which concealsthe rest of the word.
94. For the Grande Revue,see Curnonsky, "La Grande Revuedu Nouveau Cirque en 16
tableaux," Le Music-hall, March 15, 1912, pp. 12-14; for "Les Detractions Parisiennes,"see
original program for La Revuede la Scalaby Andre Bardeand Michel Carre, for Mounet-Sully
and Dranem,see "La Revuede I'Ambigu," Comoediaillustre, December15, 1911, p. 190; for
MadameJoband LouisXIV,see "A la Boite a Fursy,"Le Music-hall,February15,1913, pp. 7-8.
95. "En effet, une action dramatiqued'operette ou de vaudeville... est une et comporte des
personnagesdesignes,devant agir d un bout a I autre de la piece,tandis que le cortege d une
revue est compose de personnagesmultiples, disparates, sans cesse renouveles,toujours
forcement etrangersa un postulat initial. . . . Tout ceci prouve assezcombien la revue est un
genre specialet bien different de tous lesautres.C'est justement le manquede cohesionde la
revue qui en fait tout le charme." Trebla,"La Revuea I'lntrigue," Le Music-hall, May 1, 1912,
p. 17. About one year later, in his "VarietyTheatre" manifesto, Marinetti addressedthe same
question,specificallyblaming the commereand comperefor inflicting an undesirablelogic on
the sequenceof charactersand events in the revue. "One must," he declared, "completely
destroy all logic in Variety Theatre performances." Marinetti's remarks cannot, however,be
taken as a blanket dismissalof the revuegenre; one of the first qualitiesof varietytheater that
he praisesin the manifesto is that it is "fed by swift actuality." In addition, the only model
example of music-hall performance that occurs in the manifesto is actually drawn from the
Revuede I'Annee at the Folies-Bergerein 1911 (two English dancers, "Moon and Morris,"
performing a comic dance based on diplomatic negotiations between Franceand Germany
over colonial possessionsin North Africa). SeeMarinetti, "The VarietyTheatre," pp. 126, 128,
130.

1 13
>
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96. Thebestdiscussionof this property of disjunctionis still to be found in the penultimate(and
unjustly neglected) chapter of Shattuck's The Banquet Years,pp. 331-45. Shattuck has
identified the keyterm "juxtaposition," and opposed it to formal and narrative"transition" asa
fundamental aesthetic principle-in all the arts-of the late nineteenth century and early
twentieth century. Shattuckrecommendsthe writings of SergeiEisensteinfor further reading
on this subject. If we turn to Eisenstein'sbook FilmForm,we find that the filmmaker tracesthe
origins of montage (the filmic version of collage, or the splicing and "juxtaposition" of
autonomousparts) backto the musichall: "I think that first and foremost we must give credit to
the basicprinciplesof the circusand the music-hall- for which I had had a passionatelovesince
childhood. . . .The music-hallelementwas obviouslyneededat the time for the emergenceof a
montage form of thought. Harlequin'sparti-colored costumegrew and spread,first over the
structure of the program,and finally into the method of the whole production." Eisenstein,Film
Form, ed. and trans. Jay Leda (New York, 1957), p. 12.
97. Daix and Rosselet,Picasso,number 524.
98. Ibid., number 547.

99. Curnonsky,"A propos de 'La Revuede la Scala'," Le Music-hall, March 1, 1912, p. 12. On
Picassoand Fantomas,see Salmon,Souvenirs,deuxiemeepoque, pp. 232-34; and J. Charlat
Murray,"Picasso'sUseof NewspaperClippingsin HisEarlyCollages,"New York(Master'sthesis,
Columbia University)1967, p. 54.
100. RobertRosenblum,"Picassoand the Coronationof AlexanderIII: A Note on the Datingof
SomePapiersColles, Burlington Magazine,October 1971, p. 605 (and n. 12, in referenceto
Theodore Reff). In the two pictures with the largest Le Figaro clippings, the old newspaper
fragments are placed near bottles of "Vieux Marc" ("old marc").
101. Ergaste,"Aux Capucines,"p. 23.
102. Louis Delluc, "A I'Olympia, la Revuede Rip et JacquesBosquet," Comoedia illustre,
October 15, 1911, pp. 58-60; Picrochole,"L'Actualitetheatrale," Le Charivari,April 20, 1912,
p. 6; PaulAbram, Le Theatre: Olympia—La Revuede I'Annee,"La Petite Republique,Novem
ber 22, 1912, p. 4; GeorgesTalmont,"La Revuede I'Annee," Comoedia,November25, 1912,
p. 1; Curnonsky,"La Revuede I'Anneea I'Olympia," Le Music-hall, December1, 1912, pp. 5-
13.
103. "Attractions," Excelsior,October 14, 1911, p. 8.
104. Charles Muller and RegisGignoux, Mil-neuf-cent-douze (Paris,1912).
105. Robertde Flers,"AuxTheatres-Aux TheatresdesArts: Mil-neuf-cent-douze,"Le Figaro,
April 19, 1912, p. 5; Louis Delluc, "Mil-neuf-cent-douze," Comoediaillustre, May 1, 1912,
pp. 587-590; ErnestLaJeunesse,"La Batailletheatrale," Comoediaillustre, May 1, 1912, p. 585;
Curnonsky,"Theatredes Arts: Mil neuf cent douze," Le Music-hall, May 1, 1912, pp. 15-16.
106. Guillaume Apollinaire clearly had the revue in mind when he wrote Les Mamellesde
Tiresias,a wild burlesqueset in Zanzibarand Paris,which was performed at the small Theatre
ReneeMaubel in Montmartre on June24, 1917. Its disjointed narrative(written in a tone that
was alternately understood at the time as sincere and mocking) concerns the theme of
repopulation, an actualite that was widely discussedin the prewar and wartime press,in the
context both of Franceitself and FrenchcolonialAfrica. Itscharactersincludea newspaperkiosk
and Therese-Tiresias, the protagonist who transforms herself into a man. In his review of Les
Mamelles,Andre Warnod observed,"It is an art which makesone think of Jarry,a Jarryto the
twentieth power, with such a regard for the actualite that one believes,at times, one is
attending a revuede fin d'annee." ("C'est une art qui fait pensera Jarry, un Jarrya la vingtieme
puissance,avec un tel souci de I'actualite qu'on croit, par instants,assistera une revue de fin
d'annee.") SeeWarnod, "Petit Courrier des arts et des lettres," L'Fleure,June25, 1917, p. 2.
107. Andre Salmon, "Gargon! . . . de quoi ecrire!" Le Printemps des Lettres, July-August
1911, pp. 93-127. For commentary,see SalmonSouvenirs,deuxiemeepoque, pp. 191-99;
Andre Billy,L'Epoquecontemporaine (1905-1930) (Paris,1956), pp. 56, 141-42.

1I 4
108. "Hop! Excelsior,hedi, ohe! /Hop! j'offre pour deux sous: /Du Lemaitreetdu caoutchouc,
/ Du Barreset des chais'sen bambou; / J'offre avecdu TristanBernard/ Desliqueurs,du pate
d'canard, / J'offre avecdu Lavedan/Une jolie brossea dents. / Hop! Excelsior!ohe!" Salmon,
"Garpon! . . . , de quoi ecrire!" p. 105.
109. Michel Puy,"Le journal a deux sous," L'lle sonnante, December 1912, pp. 234-42.

110. Salmon, Souvenirs,deuxieme epoque, pp. 197-98.

111. "II y eut un esprit de blague et d'atelier des 1913, au Bateau-Lavoir,
ou, en memetemps,
se preparaient serieusementle modernisme, I'orphisme, le cubisme" (Ibid., p. 199). We can
discernsomething of a modernisttradition of addressingthe daily news in a "ton de blague,"
from FelixFeneon'shilarious-deadpan"nouvellesen trois lignes," the "three-line news" reports
that he composedfor LeMatin in 1906, to the fake newsdispatchesfrom Londonand New York
that Apollinaire "translated" for the newspaperParis-Midiand the faussesnouvellescolumn in
the avant-gardejournal 391, both from 1916. Forthe "nouvellesen trois lignes," see Feneon,
Oeuvresplus que completes.TomeII, ed. Joan U. Halperin(Paris,1970), pp. 973—1,020,and
Halperin, Felix Feneon: Aesthete and Anarchist in Fin-de-SiecleParis (New Haven, 1988),
pp. 348-58; for Apollinaire'sdispatches,seeAndre Billy,Apollinaire vivant (Paris,1923),p. 92;
for the faussesnouvellescolumn, see "On demande: 'Pourquoi391? Qu'est-ceque 391?,'" in
Gabriel Buffet-Picabia,Rencontres(Paris,1977), p. 204.

112. Dreyfus, Petit Fiistoire,p. xxii.

t 15
CUBISM AS POP ART
 y 1911, the visualand cerebralintricaciesof Cubismhad reachedsuch ROB ERT
a lofty and mysteriouspeak that in order to approach the exalted
heights of a painting we now all recognize as a museum masterpiece, ROSENBLUM
Picasso's"Ma Jolie" of winter 1911-12 (see fig. 79), even so rigorously
analytica scholarasWilliam Rubinfelt compelled,in the Museumof Modern
1 Art's 1972 collectionscatalogue, to describeit by using words like "meta
physical"and by invokingthe name of Rembrandt.At the sametime, as we
also now all know, the bottom of Picasso'spainting, with its painted inscrip
tion, "MA JOLIE,"descendsto another levelof experience.For here Picasso
not only offers the joke of a mock title that servesas a surrogate nameplate
and a personal allusion to the nickname of his then girlfriend, Marcelle
Humbert, but a far more public referenceto the refrain of a popular music
hall song that would have been known to most Parisianswho had never
2 stepped insidethe Louvre. Transposedto the 1960s, the effect would be
like finding the nameof one of the Beatles'most famous songsinscribedon
the bottom of a Rothko.
Here, in a nutshell,is the collisionof two seeminglyseparateworlds, that
of the artist's hermetic seclusionin an ivory tower, with its private explora
tions of unknown aesthetic territories, and that of the coarse but tonic
assaultlying outside the studio door, a world of cafes, newspaper kiosks,
music hall entertainment, billboards, packagedgoods, newspapers,com
mercial illustrations, department stores, and a battery of new inventions
that could soar as high as the airplanesmanned by the Wright Brothersand
LouisBleriotor be as useful in adding pleasureor convenienceto daily life as
the movies,the electric light, the safety razor,the alarm clock, or packaged
breakfastcerealfrom America.Suchmajor or minor technologicaltriumphs,
in fact, all have cameo roles in the repertory of Cubist art.
Demonstratingonce again that the experienceof important new art can
radicallyalter our view of older art, the revelationof this Cubist seesawing
between the most audaciousreachesof aesthetic invention and the com
monplacefacts of modern city life was slow in coming, having to wait, it
would seem, until the advent of PopArt. In the 1950s, in tandem with the
sacrosanctaura of spiritualsearchand primal mysteriesradiated by Abstract
Expressionism and echoingthe visualpurities distilled by formalist critics like
Clement Greenberg,Cubism remainedelite, one of the highest moments,
as it still istoday,in the history of art for art's sake.Butthen, a countercurrent
within Cubism also began to be discerned more clearly in a decade when
artists like Warhol and Lichtenstein,following the leads of Rauschenberg
and Johns,were delighted to sully the unpolluted domain of abstract art
with a barrageof visual offensesculled from the real world -comic strips,
front pages, cheap ads, modern gadgets, factory food and drink, movie
stars—the stuff that most proper aesthetes,whether artists or spectators,

1 17
 recognized as lamentable, if inevitable eyesoresof the modern environ
ment, which should be kept outside the sacredprecinctsof the world of art.
This, at least, is how I experiencedthese changes,both as a New Yorker
and as a professionalart historianwho beganto write and to lecture about
Cubism in the late 1950s. In my first published study of this venerable
movement,Cubismand TwentiethCenturyArt (1960), I gavethe lion'sshare
of attention to the still miraculous formal evolution of the language of
Cubism, following the patterns set in such classic introductions to the
subject as those by Daniel-HenryKahnweilerand Alfred H. Barrand clearly
reflecting Greenberg's concentration on the emergence of what then
seemedto be a quantum leap in the history of painting, a picture plane of
such insistent flatness that the techniques of collage almost had to be
inventedin order to affirm, in the most literal way,this disclosure.Neverthe
less, in this first study I offered peripheral nods in the direction of such
fascinatingintruderswithin this new pictorial syntaxas an occasionalverbal
pun lurking in the words selected from signs and newspapersor even a
3 visual pun in, say,the shuffling of the anatomiesof a woman and a guitar.
Soon,the secondarymatter of the word, whether handmadeby the artist's
brush or pencilor printed by a machine,loomed largefor me; and in 1965, a
few yearsafter the first explosionof PopArt, I pulled these verbal snippets
4 together in a lecture, "The Typographyof Cubism," that was finally pub
lishedeight yearslater,in 1973,5 in sadlyunexpectedtime to commemorate
Picassoduring the year of his death. With this new focus, I hoped, among
other things, to contaminate a bit the pristine air that Cubism had earlier
been breathing by indicatingthe abundanceof witty, topical, and at times,
even smutty double and triple entendres camouflaged by the fluctuating
planesand spaces.Theseovert and covert puns and allusionscorresponded
to the multiple visual identities conjured up by the ambiguities of this new
pictorial language,which usuallyopted for "not either/or but both," aswell
as to the growing revelationthat Picassoand his fellow Cubistswere eager
to absorb the nonstop proliferation of the written word as part of the
experiencedenvironmentof daily life in the modern city. Theyechoed, as I
6 then suggested, the inventoryof printed matter itemized by Apollinaire in
his epic, Whitmanesque poem Zone (1913)- prospectuses,catalogues,
posters, newspapers,cheap detective stories, inscriptionson walls, street
signs, nameplates,notices-a list that, in fact, is virtually duplicated in the
choicesmade by Cubist artists. And once again, a parallel with what was
then contemporaryart could be made; for alreadyin the late 1950s, in what
seemed at the time the impudent, even heretical work of Johns and
Rauschenberg,stenciled, drawn, and painted letters and numbers, not to
mention newspaperfragments and even comic strips began to invadethe
remote and poetic spacesof abstract art, an invasionthat by 1962, in the

f 18
 work of Warhol and Lichtenstein,expandedto a full-scaletakeover of the
rectangular field of painting.
This direction, once sighted, could embraceeven broader areasof popu
lar culture, a viewpoint I then beganto explore,now more consciouslyunder
the new historicalshadow of PopArt. In 1975, I gavea lecture titled "High
7 Art versusLow Art: Cubism as Pop," and sincethen, I continue to realize,
along with older and younger generationsof art historians,that this was a
theme which, far from being only a footnote to the study of Cubism, kept
prodding it left, right, and center, constantly providing a juggling act be
tween, on the one hand, an arcanevisual languagethat was legibleonly to
an elite group of artists and their audienceand, on the other, a profusion of
popular referencesthat, while often obscureto us, could be understood by
any resident of Parison the eve of World War I.
Only to surveythe kind of objects that turn up on Cubist tabletops is to
realize the extent to which the modern world of streamlined packaging,
advertisinglogos, and new inventions(especiallyfrom America)was rapidly
substituted for the more traditional still-life components-the venerable
earthenwarejugs and fruitbowls, the generic wineglassesand carafes,the
timelessapples,oranges,pears,and lemons—that allied the earliestCubist
still lifes of Picassoand Braqueto the past of Cezanneand Chardin.When, in
1965, I scrutinizedwith a magnifying glassa newspaperad for an electric
light bulb that Picassohad pasted upsidedown in a drawn still life (seefig.
101), I was mainly interested in the verbal joke revealedin the very small
print, which boastedthat the bulb was the only one that gavelight from all
8 sidesand could be placed,asthe artist demonstrated,in any position at all.
Now, however,the proto-Pop characterof this choice of newspaperad-
which singlesout a floating symbol of modern urban life and depicts it via
the impersonal hand of a commercial draftsman—has become conspicu
ous, a voice in the Cubistwildernessannouncingnot only a Dadafascination
for mechanicalimagery in style and subject, but Lichtenstein'sand Warhols
earlycompilation of a virtual emblem book of cheapillustrationsadvertising
modern products.A similarpoint can be madewith a Braquestill life of 1914
(fig. 112), which, amidst a drawn wineglass and bottle, offers a flurry
of pastedpapersthat might once havebeen looked at uniquelyas elements
of textural contrast or indicationsof finely layeredplanesin the shallowestof
spaces.But in center stage, one rectangle of newspaper print excerptsan
advertisement for a Gillette safety razor, a new American product first
patented in 1901 and then aggressivelymarketed abroad. Apart from the
Cubist wit that transforms this newspaper clipping into a symbol of the
packageitself,which might contain a razor blade whose paper-thinweight
lessnessis akin to the neighboringCubist planes,the mere presenceof such
a new product is a jolt of technological modernity, the counterpart to

1 19
 Picasso's light bulb. It istelling that, a decadelater,when that mostAmerican
of 1920sCubists,GeraldMurphy,composeda still life (fig. 113),it was again
a safety razor that figured large in his repertory,which also included, in the
same painting, safety matchesand a fountain pen, two more new-fangled
9 inventionsfrom America. Yet once more, the roots of this machine-age
selection go back to ParisianCubism. For example, Picassohad already
included a real box of safety matches in a still life of 1914,10 and Diego
Rivera,while defining his own brand of Cubism in Parison the eve of World
War I, also clearly felt the need to select still-life objects in tune with the
modern era. In his only known papier colle, that of 1914 (fig. 114), Rivera
depicted not only a fountain pen (for which the first patent was made in
New York in 1884, and then widely proliferated), a choice that precedes
Murphy's by a decade, but another blaring symbol of modernity, an actual
telegram he had received (a triumph of the new wireless, which was
youngerthan the artist himself and had only just begun to connect nations
11 and continents at the turn of the century). And in the same year, 1914,
Riveraarranged a Cubist still life (fig. 115) around another modern inven
12 tion, an alarm clock, clearly updating the more old-fashioned watch
selected by Juan Gris as the centerpiece for a still life of 191213 and
heralding as well Picabia'sDada alarm clock of 1919.14
Sucha commitment to the artifacts and inventionsof the modern world
was directly articulated by Gris,who, accordingto Cocteau,15 was proud to
claim that it was he who had introduced the siphon bottle into art, a boast
that could be traced in his work backto 1909, for his commercialcartoons,
16 and to 1910 (fig. 116), for his loftier work in oil on canvas. Although, in
fact, Griswas wrong in his claim—the siphon had made an appearanceas
17 earlyas 1857 in a painting by ThomasCouture —the more important point
was his self-consciousness in modernizing a repertory of still-life objects, a
direction confirmed in Leger's1924 painting (fig. 117) of a syphon inspired
18 by a newspaper ad for Campari (fig. 118). And again, the comparison
conjuresup Lichtensteinand Warhol'sadaptation of commercialillustrations
19 within the domain of high art. As for Gris,even in the 1920s,when his art
took a more retrospective,old-masterturn, he could feature in two still lifes
of 1925 (fig. 119) not the premodern grid of a chessboardthat he had so
20 often usedbefore, but its modern update, the grid of a crosswordpuzzle,
an American invention that first appeared in newspaperform in 1913.
Such emblems of the commonplace, machine-madefacts that defined
the urban world of the early twentieth century were, in fact, ubiquitous in
Cubist still lifes. Match holders ("pyrogenes") with ads for Dubonnet or
Quinquinaprinted upon them; packagesof cigarette paperswith the brand
name JOB;ads for KUB,a bouillon-cube product particularlysusceptibleto
21 Cubist punningwould all turn up, aswould suchother manufacturedfood
productsasthe Frenchversionof the veryAmericanQuakerOatsbox, which

12 O
 makesits debut in a 1915 still life by Gris(fig. 120),who exaggeratesfurther
the comic-strip crudity of the logo of William Penn surrounded by the
consumerimperative,"Exigezla Marquedu Quaker,"and who underscores
the harshly unartistic manufactured colors of the box's yellow, red, and
22 blue —shades of Warhol's soup cans! —in a way that was soon to be
tempered by Gino Severiniin his far more chaste and seeminglyvacuum-
23 packedStill Life: Quaker Oats of 1917 (fig. 121). The disparity between
the look of such manufactured food products and the old-fashioned con
ventions of academic painting and drawing was pointed out with still
greater irony in one of Picasso'searliest about-facesfrom the languageof
Cubism,a modest little drawing from the 1914 summersojourn in Avignon
(fig. 122) that renders, in a mock-lngresquestyle of linear precision and
exquisitely nuanced shading, an uncompromisinglymodern still life of a
plate displayingfreshly unwrapped cookies.One brand name, LA SULTANE,
is prominentlymachinestampedamidst an inventoryof other manufactured
bakedgoods that offer a varietyof waffled and serrateddecorativepatterns
reminiscent of the machine-made,trompe I'oeil weaving of the oil-cloth
24 chair caning in the master'sfirst collage.
It was this kind of aesthetic clash between the hallowed domain of
museum-worthy art and the plebeian facts of modern life that must also
have prompted Picassoto do the most arcane Cubist drawings not on a
sheet of proper Ingresdrawing paper,but rather on an entire sheet of the
daily newspaper.In a particularly startling examplefrom 1913 (fig. 123),25
he selecteda whole page bristlingwith the coarsestcommercialillustrations
and with ads for such up-to-date hygienic products as a septic tank and
Scrubb'sammonia, and then, after turning it upside down, used it as the
trash-can background for a mustachioed Cubist head that would have
looked totally crazyto the vast majority of readersof the same newspaper.
And contrariwise,the illegibility of this Cubist scarecrowcould be balanced,
at the sametime, by the appearanceof the human figure in a Cubist context
not as reinventedby the artist with the obscure hieroglyphsof Cubism but
simply as depicted by the most anonymousof commercialillustrators.In a
still life of winter 1912-13 (seefig. 100), which seemsto be hawking the
wares of two major Parisiandepartment stores, Au Bon Marche and La
Samaritaine,Picassoincludesa snippet of a fashionablydressedlady who,
surroundedby a still life and a barrageof commercialcome-ons,may even
be a sly referenceto Manet'sBarat the Folies-Bergere, which had been seen
in Parisfrom June 1-17, 1910 at the Galerie Bernheim-Jeune,just before
26 Picassoleft for Cadaques. But the figure, rather than being drawn by
Picassohimself in a Cubist mode, is, instead,a "ready-made avant la lettre,
a commercialdrawing that, unlikethe objects in the ambient still life, would
obviouslybe legible to all viewers.It was a visual and cultural paradoxthat
Braquealso picked up, a year later,in a still life of winter 1913-14 (fig. 124)

12 1
 that includes,among the barelydecipherablestill-life objects on a tabletop,
another pasted snippet from a newspaperad, this time for furs, featuring
the fragment of yet another fashionablelady,now decked out in a fur boa
and florid hat. In both these papierscolles,Picassoand Braquereintroduced
legible, populist, and anonymousversionsof the human figure into their
nearly illegible, elite, and individualist vocabulary of Cubism, a strident
reminderof the visualdisparityaswell asthe historicalsimultaneityof these
two separatesociallevels.Invadingthe territory of high art from the enemy
position and swiftly rising to the top, these commercial humanoids again
ring bells in the story of Lichtenstein'searly adaptations of the crassest
27 figures from the cheapestads and comic strips.
It is, of course, not only the sourceof this imagery but the look of it that
the best Cubistsattempted to assimilateinto their work. Picasso,in his usual
role as artist-chameleon,clearlyenjoyed mimicking the stylized simplifica
tions of the commercial artist. In the summer of 1914 in Avignon, just
months after Braque'slady in a fur boa, he imitated —this time in a com
pletely painted Cubist fashion plate of a seatedlady—the flattened decora
tive flourishes of a feather boa and a fancy hat that were part of the
28 languageof the journeyman illustrator of the day (fig. 125). Elsewhere,he
preferred the still cruder simplifications of the lowliest cartoonist or sign
painter, a point borne out by the almost comic-strip economy of his fre
quently childlike Cubist headswith their circleeyes,cartoonish mustaches,
and crescent-moon or X-shaped mouths, as well as in his high-spirited
efforts to mock the look of the picturesof the daily fare that might be found
in a low-classrestaurant. Most conspicuously,in a still life of 1914,29 (fig.
126) Picassoimitated not only the kind of lettering one would find on the
walls and windows of a Parisianbistro, but more to this point, the rendering
of a roast chickenin a style of suchclumsyvigor that we might almost think
he had incorporatedthe work of a professionalsign painter, as Duchamp
30 was later to do, in order to confuse the boundariesbetween elite and
populist styles. It is telling that this Cubist vignette of a restaurantwas, in
fact, illustrated in an article by RogerVitrac about a show of signboardsheld
in Parisin 1935,31 a context that would also have suited Picasso'searlier
rendering of a chicken cut out of paper as well as his coarse and lusty
recreationsof roast hams, breads, cheeseand sausagesin both two and
32 three dimensions. Oncemore,thesewitty translationsof populist imagery
in the depiction of restaurantstill lifes anticipate the repertory of American
PopArt. In both style and subject, Lichtenstein'shot dogs and Oldenburg's
hamburgersmayfind their ancestryin a food chain linkedto Picasso,a chain,
in fact, that even reachesback to his Barcelonayearswhen, still a teenager,
he designeda menu card in Catalanfor the famous cafe ElsQuatre Gats(fig.
127),33on which the identity of the Platdel dia (the Platdujour) would have
been scribbledin a mock frame below a swiftly drawn waiter whose broad
 silhouette and minimal detail echo the bold economies of turn-of-the-
century commercial artists.
Suchconnectionswith the world of popular illustrationswere, in the case
of Gris, more than casual, since from 1907 until 1912, he published hu
34 morouscartoons in a varietyof magazinesin both Parisand Barcelona. Far
from suggestingan unhappydescentto the levelof commercialart in order
to support his higher calling, these illustrations maintain a constant and
nourishing dialogue in both theme and style with the most ivory-tower
35 cerebrationsof his Cubist paintings and drawings. In his 1908 seriesof
cartoons, LesAeroplanes(fig. 128), a send-up of the lunatic new world of
36 aeronautics, he not only prefiguresBraqueand Picasso'sown sly allusions
37 to the Wright Brothersand the future of aviation, but employs a whole
battery of Cubist things to come. Spacesare made paper thin by schematic
perspective lines that irrationally fuse the vast sky with the earthbound
figures below; clothing is ironed out into the flattest silhouettesof uniform
blacknessor belt-line patterns that signify texture; faces are defined by
comicallysimplegeometriesof arcsand angles; an abundanceof words and
signs floats through the air with the greatest of ease. But the distance
between this popular languageand the high achievementsof Gris'smature
Cubism is hardly immeasurable.In fact, the overlap is found everywhere.
So it is that his 1912 painting of a respectable,well-heeled gentleman
seatedat a Parisiancafe (fig. 129) bearsthe marksnot only of the caricatur
ist'sbreezytopicality, but of the jaunty, angularstylizationsGrishimself had
38 employed in his earliercartoons for L'Assietteau Beurre(fig. 130). There,
too, one could find such graphic rhymesas the top hat clicking into place
against the stripes of the cafe awning or such rapid evocationsof a city
milieu as the dollhousegrid of windows in the background. Moreover,the
cartoon-liketreatment of the face, hands,and limbs (in which arcsstandfor
eyebrows and mustachesand rectangles become the joints of fingers or
trousered legs) also depends upon this languageof popular imagery.The
point becomesstill clearerin Gris'sclose-updrawingsand paintingsof men's
heads from 1913, The Smoker and The Bullfighter (figs. 131 and 132),
whose comical physiognomieslook as though they were scrambledinto a
Cubist jigsaw puzzle from a cartoonist's manual of crude geometriesthat
could stand in for nostril, ear,eye, or mouth. Gris, in fact, seemedto enjoy
even more than Picassothe brusque, yet humorous clash between the
rudimentary modules of an emphaticallymodern, mechanizedvocabulary
and the old-fashionedstylesof nineteenth-centuryillustration. Forinstance,
39 like both Picassoand Rivera, he selected,with comparable ethnic rele
vance,a Spanishliqueur,Anis del Mono, for inclusionin a still life (fig. 133);
but unlike Picassoand like Rivera,he willfully included the bottle's label,
whose florid, Victorian rendering of a simian drinker and of the prizes
awarded the liqueur in the 1870s brusquely and wittily collides with the

12 3
 5 streamlined, intersecting geometries around them, a diamond-patterned
40 j grid also inspiredby the manufactured bottle. And elsewhere,he would
produce the samecultural and visualfrictions by using as collage elements
41 ui fragments of nineteenth-century engravings, much as Picasso,in the
winter of 1912-13, had composeda mock Cezannesquestill life by filling a
E
Cubist compotier with whole and fragmentary applesand pearscut out of
H
E
highly realist, colored illustrations of fruit 42
UI Gris'swillingnessto explore the look of modern and popular stylesthat
ID
would release his art from the conservativeshackles of tradition even
extended to his choice of color.Although in his earliest painting, he often
conjured up the old-master effects of a somber and dramatic tenebrism
particularlyassociatedwith Spanishseventeenth-centurystill-life traditions,
he could also embark upon a conspicuouslydifferent counter-current of
chromatic vulgarity, especiallyin 1913, during a sojourn at Ceret near the
Spanishborder. There, he lustily embraced a synthetic rainbow of fiesta
colors—of a kind associatedwith the costumesand posters for bullfights
which he had recorded in The Torero—a riotous palette that he could also
usefor landscapesand still lifesand one that would unsettleany conventions
43 of chromaticdecorum he had learnedat the Louvreor at the Prado. It was
an assaultcomparableto the use of Day-Gloand printer's-inkcolors in the
heydayof PopArt, a head-on challengeto the nuanced,organic palette of
the Abstract Expressionists.
Suchinvigoratingdescentsinto the visualfacts of popular life pertainedas
well to the decorative materials and trompe I'oeil devices commercially
disseminatedthroughout a burgeoning low-budget marketthat would ape,
with manufacturedproducts,the luxury stuffs and exquisitecraftsmanship
of old moneyand aristocracy.Braquehimself was the son and the grandson
of professionalhousepaintersand was apprenticedasa teenagerto several
peintres-decorateurswho trained him in the tricks of a modern trade that
could imitate, with factory-made papers, anything from marble to wood
grain, and that could make letterswith stencilsand wavy paint patternswith
steel combs. His delight in these popular surrogatesfor old-fashionedskills
and finances,techniqueshe quickly sharedwith Picasso,was typical of the
Cubists' witty enjoyment of an inventory of cheap new materials that
mocked the real thing, from the carved leavesof a wooden frame to the
polishedmarbleof a fireplace.Elegantas Braque'spapierscollesmay look to
44 us today, their inclusion of materials as lowly as corrugated cardboard
undid their genteel ancestry in the still-life arrangementsof a master like
Chardin,to whom Braquewould so often allude both before and after the
high yearsof Cubism; and expectedly,the more raucoustaste of Picassoand
Griswould embracea repertory of, among other things, large swatchesof
common wallpaper patterns and decorative borders, whose cheap floral
repeatsagain assailedpreconceptionsof aristocraticgood taste, permitting

1 24
 dime-storeproductsto invadethe precinctsof high art. Eventhe paint itself
was dethroned. Bythe spring of 1912, in fact, Picasso,in a nod toward his
dual national allegiances,Frenchand Spanish,included the flags of both
countriesin severalstill lifes and in at leasttwo casesuseda most unartistic
45 commercialpaint, Ripolinenamel,to do so. In the Souvenirdu Havre(fig.
137), the Frenchtricolor is painted with this product so alien to the old-
masterchiaroscuronuancesof the precedingtwo yearsof Analytic Cubism,
and in the SpanishStillLife (fig. 134),the Spanishflag that signifiesa ticket to
the bull ring (with the fragments of the words "sol y sombra" floating above
it) is even more emphatically rendered with the opaque enamel paint,
providing, among other things, a brilliant chromatic contrast to a somber
Cubist background,a color chord of red and yellow whose patriotic echoes
can be found, alternating with the French color chord, throughout the
master'swork 46Apart from suchmattersof public flag-wavingwith private
allusionsto his own divided loyalties,Picasso'suseof Ripolinenamelis again
a precociousstep in a Pop direction, opening the door to, among other
things, Duchamp'sfar more subversiveuse in 1916-17 of an actual ad on
47 painted tin for Sapolin enamel paints and the full-scale assault of the
1960s upon the venerablemedium of oil paint. And in terms of assimilating
the most up-to-date synthetic materials,Gris,whose patchwork-quilt Cub
ist patterns often resemblefragments of decorative papers bought at the
local equivalentof Woolworth's, would even imitate the machine-agelook
of suchnew plasticsas Bakelite,inventedin 1909. In his Still Life with Plaque
of 1917 (fig. 135), the trompe I'oeil frame, with the artist's name and the
painting'sdate mechanicallystamped upon it, resemblesa plaque made of
the toughest synthetic stuff, a joke on old-fashioned hand-made wooden
frames.
Picassoconstantly explored this territory of popular materials and ar
tifacts as a way of both undoing and invigorating moribund traditions. His
pivotal Still Life with ChairCaning(seefig. 88) of May 1912 not only usesa
new machine-madematerial, oil cloth, whose printed trompe I'oeil weave
replaceshandicraft traditions, but reflects, in the rope frame, a world of
kitsch objects. My own hunch is that this use of a nautical rope as a mock
oval frame, which Picassohad also used in a still life bearing the popular
slogan "Notre avenir est dans fair" (see fig. 98) floating over the French
48 tricolor is related to the world of kitsch products, such as an oval mirror
framed by a sailor'srope (seefig. 136) of a kind found in souvenirshops in
port towns 49Perhapsduring the trip to LeHavrewith Braquein April 1912,
Picassohad seen just such an object. But in any case,that the two great
Cubistsshareda taste for such kitsch is clearfrom, among other things, the
postcard that Braquesent to Kahnweiler on November27, 1912 from Le
Havre(fig. 138).50The picture on the card is a popular send-up of high art,
depicting a photograph of the city'scommercialcore, LaBourse,honored by
 5 a fancy frame and nameplateand set upon an artist's easelgarlandedwith
j roses.Above,the phrase"Souvenirdu Havre"floats acrossthis trompe I'oeil
joke, reminiscent,in fact, of the way Picassoinscribedthe samephraseon a
ui ribbon at the bottom of his Le Havrestill life of May 1912, whose compila
tion of seaport motifs —scallopshells,anchor,rope, and life preserver—may
well mimic the "artistic" arrangementfound on a kitsch postcardor artifact
he observedat a localsouvenirshop.And speakingof picture postcards,the
one that Picassosent to Kahnweiler on August 13, 1911 (fig. 139) again
D
51 o ricochets between the souvenir shop and the Louvre. In this case, the
cc image, inspired by a popular song, is of Mignon playing a mandolin in a
Romanticcostumeand setting, a kitsch descendantof the theme that Corot
had often treated and that presumablyinspiredPicasso'saswell as Braque's
52 variationson this motif in 1910 (fig. 140) as it would inspire Gris more
literally in 1916.53 But as is usual in Cubism and in Picassosource hunting,
this is probably not a questionof either/or but of both being relevant.Given
the fact that Picassoselectedthis picture-postcardmandolinistto sendto his
dealer,it is clearthat he enjoyedthesevulgar echoesof his own work or that,
reversingdirections, he might have been inspiredby such popular imagery
to take a fresh look at Corot.
Eventhe master'sfamous constructed sheet-metal guitar of 1912 (fig.
141) may havecomparablyhumble origins,as I suggestedin 1982,54when I
indicated its affinity with a cake mold from Mexico (seefig. 142) of a kind
which must have its kitchen counterparts throughout the Hispanicworld.
Here,in the form of a decorativeutensil, was not only a symbolof the most
popular musicalinstrument in the culture that nurtured Picasso,but a new
kind of sculpturalconstructionand medium, a lightweight tin skin enclosing
a void.
Sucha descentto ethnic roots may,of course,be only coincidencein the
caseof this parallel,but in another example,recurrent in the work of Braque
55 and Picasso,there is no doubt. Thus,as LewisKachurhasdiscovered, the
mysteriouswoodwind that turns up again and again on Cubist tabletops
and that has been consistently misidentified as a clarinet (despite the
56 obvious dissimilarity of its mouthpiece) is, in fact, a folkloric instrument
from Catalonia, a tenora, which Picassohad heard in performance in the
Pyreneesand which both he and Braqueoften includedin their still lifes (see
fig. 143) as what must have been an ethnic memento of Spanishculture,
comparableto their manyallusionsto the bullfight and other Spanishmotifs.
And here, too, the choice not of a clarinet, for which Mozart himself had
written concert and chamber music,but of a crude woodwind from a lower
cultural stratum was characteristicof the constant fluctuation in Cubist art
between high-brow cultural traditions and grass-rootsreality, whether in
the heart of Parisor in the remotenessof the Pyrenees.Any survey of the
musicalreferencesin Picassoand Braque'swork indicatesthe double-track

12 6
 allusionsto both the musicof the concert hall (whether composerslike Bach
and Mozart or performers like Kubelick and Cortot) and that of popular
cafe-concerts,whose songs and dancesfind their titles, refrains, and even
57 scoresfragmented throughout the writings and pastingsin Cubistart. The
parallel is close to Stravinsky,who, in 1911, within the most avant-garde
thickets of Petrouchka's polyrhythms and polyharmonies,could introduce
58 the lilting popular tune, "Elle avait un' jambe de bois."
Suchan attraction to the tonic excitement of the vast range of popular
reality outside the traditional confines of art expanded for the Cubists in
every direction. When Apollinaire mentioned in Zone the lure of cheap
detective stories, he might well have been thinking of the enormously
popular fictional detective Fantomas,who, beginning in 1911, appearedin
serialformat not only as pamphletsto be pickedup like the daily newspaper
but as a movie by Louis Feuilladeand as a characterwho turned up both
overtly and covertlyin works by Grisof 1914 and 1915 (fig. 144).59And the
most popular of modern forms of entertainment, the movies,could appear
in even more direct ways in two papiers colles of Braquethat display the
pasted announcementsof the very first program of the Tivoli Cinema in
Sorgues(fig. 145),which openedto its eagerprovincialaudienceon October
31, 1913, as well as a fragment from another movie program at the same
60 theater (fig. 146). As for that grand opening, one of the moviesshown, we
read,was "Cow-Boy,Millionaire," clearlya reflectionof those popular myths
about Americathat appealedto Europeansand that were prominent in the
Picasso-Braque milieu in the form of Buffalo Bill,whose Wild West company
toured the United Statesand Europe and who turns up in a painting by
62 Picassoof 1911,61 in Picasso'slibrary of detective and adventure stories,
and in his circle'sfriendly slang referencesto "notre pard," as in Buffalo Bill's
63 calling a friend "my pard," an Americanism comparable to Picasso's
addressing Braque, in allusion to the Wright Brothers, as "mon cher
64 Wilbur." And by 1917, in Parade,whose offensivenessto theatrical con
ventions had everything to do with its full-scale absorption of the compo
65 nents of popular entertainment, Picassohad materialized just such
Americanmyths in his costumefor the Managerfrom New York,who wears
a skyline of Cubist skyscrapersabove a pair of cowboy boots worthy of
Buffalo Bill.
If the Cubists felt, as Duchamp and Picabiasoon would, that the raw,
forward-looking vigor of popular culture and modern technology was a
wind that blew strongestfrom America, in general,and from New York, in
particular,a younger generation of American artists, with appropriate rec
iprocity, felt compelled to translate the languageof Cubism, especiallyits
populist elements, into an American vernacular.This theme comprisesa
huge chapter in the history of modern American art, and one that would
take us through artists of the 1920s and 30s like Gerald Murphy, Charles

12 7
 Shaw,and CharlesDemuth right into Pop territory of the 1960s. But there
would be no better placeto begin the story than in Gar Sparks'sNut Shopin
Newark,New Jersey,where in 1921 Stuart Daviscompleted a wrap-around
mural (fig. 147) in which the inventory of free-floating words from Cubist
cafe scenes—the namesof beers,liqueurs,and wines—hasbeen re-created
as an all-Americanbill of sweet-toothed fare —banana royal, nut sundaes,
66 ice cream, taffies.
But no lessthan Davis in New York, the ParisianCubists, beginning in
1911, were determined to absorb into their art as into their daily livesthe
fullest impact of a teeming world of popular culture that by convention
would havebeen censoredout of the purer domain of high art. Or would it
havebeen?Forjust asclearly,what would appearto be the Cubist revelation
that everythingfrom the moviesto American breakfastcerealwas grist for
the mill of art had a long nineteenth-century history. We now know, for
example, that many of the apparent innovationsof the Impressionistsin
terms of abrupt cropping and rapid, abbreviated draftsmanship were in
67 spired by the coarsestnewspaperillustrations of the 1860s and 70s; or
that in the 1880s, Seurat,in a remarkableprophecyof Lichtenstein,would
be fascinated by the grotesquefigural distortions of contemporary carica
ture aswell as by the new printer's-dottechniquesof primary colors usedin
68 chromolithography. And getting closer to the Cubist generation, it has
long been apparent that artists as exquisitely refined as Bonnard and
Vuillard, not to mention as streetwiseas Toulouse-Lautrec,would immerse
themselves, like lesser artists of the 1890s, in commercial designs that
mergedwords and imagesin a way that would stop urban dwellers in their
tracks.
But there is really nothing surprisingabout this. Artists, like the rest of us
who live in the modern world, may choose,of course,to shut their eyesand
earsto the overwhelmingassaultof urban life and popular culture; but they
may also try to adapt to these urgent realities,to integrate the private and
the public, the elite and the commonplace.In their art as in their life, the
Cubists,on the eve of World War I, smilinglyand triumphantly bridged that
gulf.

NOTES 1. William Rubin, Picassoin the Collectionof the Museum of Modern Art (New York, 1972),
p. 68.

2. The identity of this phraseasan excerptfrom the song "Dernierechanson"by HarryFragson

was, I believe,first spotted by MauriceJardot in the exhibition cataloguePicasso(Paris,Musee
desArts Decoratifs,1955, number 26). I elaboratedon its multiple meaningsin "Picassoand the
Typographyof Cubism," In RolandPenroseand John Golding, eds., Picasso1881/1973 (Lon
don, 1973), pp. 57-58 (hereafter referred to as Rosenblum,"Typography").

12 8
 3. I haveindicatedsomeof theseearly referencesin Rosenblum,"Typography,"p. 266, preface
to the notes.

4. The lecturewas first given on January28, 1965, at a meeting of the CollegeArt Association
of America held in Los Angeles and was often repeated in the following years.
5. Thiswas reprinted, without illustrations,by Harperand Row,New York, in 1980, and more
recently,with illustrations,in KatherineHoffman, ed., Collage:CriticalViews(Ann Arbor, Mich.,
1989), pp. 91-120.
6. Rosenblum,"Typography,"p. 75.

7. This lecture was first given on May 11, 1975, at the Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture
Garden,Washington, D.C.,and subsequentlyrepeatedwith many variationson both sidesof
the Atlantic. Someof theseobservationson Picasso's popular sourcesare now alsofound in the
publication as a brochure in 1989 of a lecture, "Picasso:Now and Then," that I gaveat the Art
Gallery Society of Western Australia, Perth (Third ChristensenLecture),in December 1988.
8. Rosenblum,"Typography,"p. 60.

9. For a full discussionof Murphy's painting, see William Rubin (with the collaboration of
CarolynLanchner),ThePaintingsof GeraldMurphy, catalogueof an exhibition at the Museum
of Modern Art, New York, 1974, pp. 29-30; and RickStewart,An American Painterin Paris:
Gerald Murphy catalogue of an exhibition at the DallasMuseum of Art, 1986, p. 7.
10. See Pierre Daix and Joan Rosselet,Picasso:The Cubist Years,1907-1916: A Catalogue
Raisonneof the Paintingsand RelatedWorks(NewYork, 1979), number 669 (hereafterreferred
to as Daix, Picasso).

11.1 discussedthis Riveracollage, from the point of view of the witty variationson true and
false signaturesand handwriting, in Rosenblum,"Typography,"p. 68. On this papier colle, see
also RamonFavela,DiegoRivera:TheCubist Years,catalogueof an exhibition at the PhoenixArt
Museum, 1984, p. 73.

12. On this Cubist still life, see ibid.; and FlorenceArquin, Diego Rivera: The Shapingof an
Artist, 1889-1921 (Norman, Okla., 1971), p. 77.

13. Douglas Cooper,Juan Gris: Catalogueraisonne . . . (Paris,1977), number 27.

14. For this and other Cubist timepieces,see Rubin, Paintingsof Gerald Murphy p. 32.
15. See Mark Rosenthal,Juan Gris (New York, 1983), p. 40.
16. See,for example,the commercialillustration in Papitu, no. 8, January13, 1909, p. 128,
reproducedin Gary Tinterow, ed., Juan Gris Madrid, catalogueof an exhibition at SalasPablo
Ruiz Picasso,1985, p. 446; and the oil painting Siphon and Bottles of 1910, reproduced in
Cooper,Juan Gris, number 1.

17. In Two Politicians,discussedand illustrated in Albert Boime, ThomasCouture and the

EclecticVision(New Havenand London, 1980),p. 311, includingthe painted sketch.Couture's
painting, incidentally,offers surprisingpropheciesof Cubist iconography,not only in the siphon,
but in the poster announcing a "bal" and the behind-the-scenesview of figures dressedas
Pierrot and Harlequin.

18. See Christopher Green, Leger and the Avant-Garde (New Haven and London, 1976),
pp. 272-73.

19. A particularly apt analogy is Roy Lichtenstein'sSpray of 1962, which similarly shows a
disembodied hand operating a spray can.

20. Cooper,Juan Gris, numbers 520, 521. Thesecrosswordpuzzles,however,now appear in

books, rather than in newspapers.

21.1 havediscussedthe useof most of these brand-namesfrom a more verbalpoint of view in

Rosenblum,"Typography,"passim.

«2 9
22. I originallysuggestedthe Warholcomparisonin "Typography,"p. 268 n. 75; and repeatedit
in "Warhol asArt History,"in KynastonMcShine,ed., Andy Warhol:A Retrospective,catalogue
of an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1989, p. 35.
23. See also Leger and Purist Paris,catalogue of an exhibition at the Tate Gallery,London,
1970-71, p. 32.
24. I first discussedthis drawing, from a quite different point of view, in Cubismand Twentieth
Century Art (New York, 1960), p. 98.
25. This drawing, unlike the better-known one also executedon a full sheet of upside-down
newspaper (Daix, Picasso,number 551), is not included in Daix.
26. Thiscomplexcollagehas been most provocativelyand fully discussedby ChristinePoggiin
"Mallarme, Picasso,and the Newspaperas Commodity," in Hoffman, Collage, pp. 180-83
(originallypublishedin the YaleJournalof Criticism,vol. 1, no. 1 [Fall 1987]). Poggi relatesthe
collage,among other things, to contemporaryattitudes to saleswomenin department stores,a
point that would support the allusion to Manet.
27. The most obviouscomparisoniswith Lichtenstein'sGirl with Ballof 1961, an adaptation of
an ad for a vacation resort (Mount Airy Lodge) that still appears in New York newspapers.
28. Daix (Picasso,number 784) identifies the object at the lower left as a light bulb, a more
plausible reading than the traditional one of a flame, and one that would reintroduce, in a
different visual language,the commercial light bulb from the papier colle of 1912 (number
543).
29. Zervos'soriginal date of 1912 (Vol. II, fig. 347) is obviouslyincorrect.I would follow Daix's
suggesteddating of spring 1914 for this still life (Picasso, number 703), which correspondsto
the other restaurantstill lifes of 1914, comparablycrammed with food and words (numbers
704, 705).
30. In Apolinere Enameled(1916-17) and Tum' (1918).
31. See Daix, Picasso,number 703.
32. For example, see Daix, Picasso,numbers 609, 703-705, 746.
33. I first discussedthis menu card in connectionwith its mix of words and imagesin the poster
tradition of the 1890s (Rosenblum,"Typography,"p. 74). Marilyn McCullydates it about 1900
and mentions that we do not know whether Picasso'sdesign was, in fact, ever printed. See
McCully, Els Quatre Gats: Art in Barcelona around 1900 (catalogue of an exhibition at
Princeton,N.J., 1978), p. 33.
34. For a full list of these cartoons, see the appendicesby RosarioMasedaand Anne M. P
Norton in Tinterow, Juan Gris, pp. 445-62.
35. Theyare discussed,with referencesto their connectionswith Gris'sCubist style, by Marilyn
McCully in "Los Comienzosde JuanGris como Dibujante," in Tinterow,Juan Gris,pp. 17-24.
36. See McCully, "Los Comienzos," pp. 455-56.
37. For more comments on the imagery of the Wright Brothersand aviation in the Picasso-
Braquemilieu, see Rosenblum,"Typography,"p. 55; Daix, Picasso,numbers463-465; Linda
Nochlin,"Picasso'sColor: Schemesand Gambits,"Art in America, December1980, p. 109; and
William Rubin, Picassoand Braque: Pioneering Cubism, catalogue of an exhibition at the
Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1989, pp. 33-34.
38. McCully ("Los Comienzos,"p. 22) also singlesout this painting in connection with Gris's
popular illustrations.
39. Picassoso camouflaged a bottle of Anis del Mono in a still life of 1909 that it was
traditionally consideredto be a tube of paint until William Rubinwas able to identify it correctly
(Rubin,Picassoin the Collection,p. 63). Rivera,on the other hand, depicted the bottle as legibly
as did Gris in two still lifes of 1913 and 1915 (Ramon Favela,Diego Rivera,pp. 72, 103).

13 O
40. In Picasso'sstill life, this diamond pattern, which is actually on the bottle, may have
provided a surreptitious referenceto his alter ego, Harlequin.
41. In two papiers colles of 1913. See Cooper,Juan Gris, numbers 38, 42.

42. Daix, Picasso,number 530.

43. For some conspicuousexamples,see Cooper,Juan Gris, numbers 55-57.
44. For a useful inventoryof the materialsused in these works, see IsabelleMonod-Fontaine,
with E. A. Carmean,Jr.,Braque: ThePapiersColles,catalogueof an exhibition at the National
Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 1982, p. 147.
45. SeeRubin,Picassoand Braque,entry in earlyMay 1912, p. 390; and Daix,Picasso,numbers
458, 476. Clearly,Picassowas aware that his use of commercialpaint and lettering would be
consideredoutre, for in a letter of July 15, 1912, to Kahnweiler(ibid., p. 400), he wondered
what Shchukin might have thought of these new techniques.
46. Nochlin ("Picasso'sColor") has fully discussedPicasso'stricolorism, if not his Spanish
bicolorism,which is also sharedby Miro's preferencefor red and yellow,the national colors of
Spain.
47. In Apolinere Enameled.
48. Daix, Picasso,number 465.
49. I first proposed this connection in my discussionof Still Life with Chair Caningin Picasso
from the MuseePicasso,Paris,catalogueof an exhibition at the WalkerArt Center,Minneapolis,
1980, pp. 41-47.
50. See Rubin, Picassoand Braque,p. 410.

51. Ibid., p. 376.

52. SeeRubin,Picassoin the Collection,p. 205 n. 3. Closelyrelatedare Picasso'sWomanwith
Mandolin, 1910 (see Daix, Picasso,number 341) and Braque'sWoman with Mandolin, 1910
(see Nicole Worms de Romilly and Jean Laude, Braque: Cubism, 1907-1914 [Paris, 1982],
number 71).
53. Cooper,Juan Gris, number 197.
54. In TheSculptureof Picasso,catalogueof an exhibition at the PaceGallery,New York, 1982,
p. 6.
55. In a forthcoming article on Picassoand popular musicthat he was kind enough to let me
read.
56. Without knowing the real identity of this enigmatic instrument, I suggestedasfar back as
1960 (Cubismand Twentieth CenturyArt, p. 94) that the clarinet in a Braquepapier colle of
1913 more closely resembledan oboe with a projecting reed.
57. I rapidlysurveyedthe questionof musicalreferencesin Cubism,both popular and classical,
in my "Typography,"p. 57; but the field is now being investigatedfar morefully by LewisKachur
and Jeffrey Weiss.
58. See "Typography,"pp. 57-58.
59. Seeibid., pp. 64-65. Fora more expandeddiscussionof this theme, seeE.A. Carmean,Jr.,
"Juan Gris's'Fantomas,'" Arts Magazine,January1977, pp. 116-19.
60. SeeMonod-Fontaine,Braque,numbers31, 34. Foran expandedview of the impact of the
movieson Cubism, see NatashaStaller,"Melies' FantasticCinemaand the Originsof Cubism,"
Art History,vol. 12 (June 1989), pp. 202-32.
61. Daix, Picasso,number 396.
62. Rubin, Picassoand Braque,p. 55 n. 3.

13 t
5 63. Ibid., p. 374.

64. Cited in RonaldPenrose,Picasso:His Life and Work, 2nd. ed. (New York, 1962), p. 161.
a
2 65. The importanceof the popular elementsof street and circusentertainment in the program
111 of Paradehas now been fully exploredin a Ph.D.dissertationby DeborahMenaker(Institute of
FineArts, New York University,1990).

E 66. See John R. Lane, Stuart Davis: Art and Art Theory (catalogue of an exhibition at the
I- BrooklynMuseum, 1978),p. 11; and DianeKelder,ed., Stuart Davis(New York, 1971),fig. 17
and page 21 (where the mural is dated c. 1916), for some of Davis'sown comments on the
owner of the store. The photograph of Davis'snow destroyed murals, incidentally,inspireda
very different kind of American word scramble of homophobic slang, vintage 1940s. See
® McGoughand McDermott, A Friendof Dorothy, 1943(1986),illustratedin the catalogueof the
Whitney Museum of American Art, Biennial Exhibition, 1987, p. 91.

67. SeeespeciallyJoel Isaacson,"Impressionismand JournalisticIllustration," Arts Magazine,

June 1982, pp. 95-115.

68. Fortwo important articleson thesethemessee: RobertHerbert, "Seuratand JulesCheret,"

TheArt Bulletin,June1958, pp. 156-58; and Norma Broude,"New Light on Seurat's'Dot': Its
Relationto PhotomechanicalColor Printingin Francein the 1880s," TheArt Bulletin, December
1974, pp. 581-89. Seurat'sconnectionsto the world of popular entertainment and imagery
are fully integrated into RichardThomson'sdiscussionof the artist in his monograph Seurat
(Oxford, 1985).

13 2
 A BRAZEN CAN-CAN IN THE

TEMPLE OF ART: THE RUSSIAN

AVANT-GARDE AND POPULAR

CULTURE
 L
HK] 'I

The subject of the Russianavant-garde and popular culture is a vast and

JOHN E.
complex one that, until recently, has not been the focus of consistent
1 and comprehensive study either in the Soviet Union or in the West. One
reason for this is that the potential researcher must be familiar not only with
BOWLT
the history of Russian modernism, but also with a conglomeration of
disparate artistic disciplines, levels, and conditions that, at first glance, may
seem distant, if not irrelevant to Cubo-Futurism, Suprematism, and
Constructivism —from rural handicrafts to Siberian effigies, from shaman
rituals to peasant festivities, from children's drawings to consumer advertis
2 ing, from Black art to North Coast Indian art. In turn, each of these
categories can be broken down into subsections and explored in contextual
comparisons with particular achievements of the Russian avant-garde. We
think, for example, of Natalia Goncharova's interpretations of peasant cos
tumes and fabrics in her major Neo-Primitivist canvases or in her stage
designs for the Coq d'Or of 1914. Her colleagues such as Mikhail Larionov
and Alexander Shevchenko collected children's paintings and drawings,
included them in their exhibitions, reproduced them in their publications,
and even tried to imitate the child's perception of form and space in their
own art —something very apparent in Varvara Stepanova's stick figures of
1919-21. Vasilii Kandinsky, of course, was deeply aware of his "primitive"
roots, and his first exposure to peasant art in 1889, when he was legal
consultant to an imperial ethnographical expedition, resolved him to be
come a professional artist:

For the first time I encountered the miracle that would later become one of the
elementsof my work. There and then I learned how not to look at a picture from
the side, but to revolvein the picture, to live in it. I rememberso vividly stopping on
the threshold of this unexpectedspectacle.The table, the benches,the imperious,
enormousstove,the closets,and the sideboards—everythinghad been paintedwith
3 bright and sweeping ornaments.

It is becoming increasingly clear that the rituals of the Siberian shaman, too,
might explain some of Kandinsky's stylistic investigations and formal config
4 urations. The list of such interconnections is extensive, and Goncharova,
Kandinsky, Larionov, Shevchenko, and Stepanova are just a few of Russia's
avant-garde artists who sought a new artistic vigor in what we now call
loosely "popular culture."
In order to discuss the entire scope of such connections between "low"
and "high" in the context of the Russian avant-garde, the researcher would
also have to determine the extent and availability of relevant materials at the
beginning of the twentieth century, i.e., to study the locations and strengths
of public and private collections of Russian peasant crafts and analogous
5 ethnographical artifacts in Moscow, St. Petersburg, and other centers. For

I 3 5
 example, this would entail examination of the holdings of the Dashkov
collectionat the former RumiantsevMuseum, and of the vast assemblages
of materialsbrought back from the PacificRim by Nikolai Miklukho-Maklai
and the Jewish folk art acquired by An-ski during the Baron Horace
Guenzburg expeditionsin 1911-1 4.6 To a considerabledegree, this flurry
of anthropological activity and general rediscoveryof indigenoustraditions
was encouragedby the efforts of severalenlightenedpatrons,scholars,and
philanthropistsin the late nineteenthcentury who did muchto preserveand
record peasantartifacts, ceremonies,and oral literature. Chief among these
individualswere Elizavetaand SavvaMamontov,owners of the Abramtsevo
art colony near Moscow,and PrincessMaria Tenisheva,owner of Talashkino
near Smolensk. Much has been written about these two retreats; their
contribution to the so-calledNeo-Nationalistmovementand to the Russian
style moderne has long been recognized, and there is no need to repeat
7 known data here. Sufficeit to saythat Abramtsevoand Talashkinosignaled
the real beginning of the intensecultural cross-fertilizationbetween "high"
and "low" that resulted in the exotic hybrids of the Russianavant-garde.
True,the professionalartists at Abramtsevo and Talashkinosuch as Viktor
Vasnetsovand Nikolai Rerikh (Roerich)tended to "aestheticize" popular
culture, remove "vulgarity," and streamline it for consumption by an ele
gant, educated,and sophisticatedclientele.The direct consequenceof this
elevationof low to high can be seenin the deliberationson Russianpeasant
art published in SergeiDiaghilev'sMir iskusstva("World of Art") magazine
and, most vividly,in his presentationof Russianballetsto Parisianaudiences
during the first SaisonsRusses.On the other hand, the artists of the Russian
avant-garde,especiallyLarionov,KazimirMalevich,and VladimirTatlin,often
provincial, ill educated, and naive, were more concerned with debasing
"high" art, with preservingthe integrity of popular culture, and with shock
ing and bewildering their audience.
Obviously,only a smallsegmentof this intricate interrelationshipbetween
the Russianavant-gardeand popular culture can be explored in the present
essay.However,sincecertain aspectsof the subject have already received
somediscussionin other sources,such as the role of the icon and the lubok
(cheap,handcoloredprint) in the work of Goncharova,Larionov,and Male
8 vich, it seemsjudicious to draw attention to those parallels,paraphrases,
and connections that have so far eluded scholarly appraisal. One such
avenueof inquiry is the position of the Russianavant-gardevis-a-visurban
folklore, specifically,the lowly artistic expressionsof the new capitalist
economythat Russiawas developingjust before the Revolutionof October
1917, i.e. store signboards,consumeradvertising,cafe culture, the circus,
and the menialoccupationsof barber,washerwoman,prostitute, etc. These
and other manifestationsof modern urban life acted as vital sourcesof
inspirationfor the new artists, and they merit extendeddiscussion,if we are

13 E
 to understandthe full impact of "low" culture on the evolution of modern
Russianart.
In 1913 Aristarkh Lentulov,a stellar member of the Russianavant-garde,
9 painted a largepanelentitled Moscow(fig. 148). In this intricate interpreta
tion of Moscow,city of a thousandchurches,we can distinguishparts of the
Kremlin,St. Basil'sCathedral,the NovodevichiiMonastery,and other monu
ments fragmented and reconstituted to transmit the sensationof the dy
namic, teeming metropolis. In many ways, Lentulov's Moscow, which was
shown at the Jackof Diamondsexhibition in Moscow in 1914, summarizesa
primary aspirationof the Russianavant-garde—to transcend conventional
artistic and social boundariesand to underminethe then acceptedcatego
riesof "high" and "low" art. If we look carefullyat Moscow,we seethat the
dominant image looming large at the very axis of this fantastic mosaicof
colors and collage is the BellTowerof Ivanthe Great in the Kremlin.On the
one hand, this strategicaccentuationof one of Moscow'shighestand most
famous buildings in 1913 indicatesLentulov's recognition of his domestic
artistic legacy; on the other hand, the repeated patterns in red, green, and
blue bring to mind the Simultanist pictures of Sonia Delaunay.Moreover,
when we recallthat Lentulovspent the fall of 1911 and spring of 1912 at La
Palette in Parisand frequented the Delaunays'studio, we should not be
surprisedto see Robert Delaunay'sEiffel Tower now transformed into the
10 Kremlin Bell Tower and Sonia's "rhythm based upon color relations"
enhancing the architectural motifs of medievalMoscow.
Of course,the artists of the Russianavant-gardeproduced innumerable
paraphrases of French works —from Mikhail Larionov's imitations of
Gauguin and Vladimir Tatlin's combinations of Cezanne and Matisse to
KazimirMalevich'sand Liubov Popova'sinterpretationsof Braqueand Picas
so. But Lentulov'sParisianMoscow both supplementsthe long list of Russian
borrowings and also emphasizesthe originality of the Russianavant-garde,
for it is this audacioustranspositionof contexts(the EiffelTowertransmuted
into the Kremlin Bell Tower) that tells us of the creative strength and
elasticity of Russianmodernism. In other words, artists such as Larionov,
Lentulov,and Malevichwere able to borrow Western forms and reprocess
them within their indigenousenvironment,a procedurethat often involveda
sudden shift of aestheticregistersfrom "high" to "low." Theseartists found
that the simplest method of desanctifying or, as they liked to say, "de-
11 frenchifying," art was to adjust Western artistic innovationsto Russian
traditions and to temper or even replacethose momentous achievements
with the most vulgar manifestationsof their local masscultures.That is how
Shevchenko,the chief apologist of Neo-Primitivism,explainedthe state of
affairs in 1913 when he argued that Picasso'sCubism had already been
done in "Russianicons . . . our painted woodcarving, in Chinesewood and
12 bone carving." The year before Goncharovaanticipated this nationalist

I 3 7
 affirmation in her impromptu speechat the Jackof Diamondsexhibition in
Moscow, arguing that:

Cubismis a positivephenomenon,
but it is not altogethernew.TheScythianstone
13 images,the paintedwoodendollssoldat fairsarethosesameCubistworks.

Goncharovarepeatedthe sentimentsin the prefaceto the cataloguesof her

one-woman exhibition in Moscow in 1913.14
This pattern of referencesback to the "low" cultures of Russiaand the
Eastdistinguishesthe Russianavant-gardefrom other "peripheral" interpre
tations of metropolitan stylessuch as Czech Cubism and HungarianActiv
ism. These movements produced remarkable extensions of Cubism and
Futurism, which, however, often proved to be lifeless and anonymous,
preciselybecausethey lackedconnectionswith indigenoustraditions. With
the Russians,as Lentulovdemonstratesin Moscow,we are remindedagain
and againthat the finest attainmentsof Westernart havebeen studiedwith
diligenceand enthusiasmand then havebeen underminedand threatened
by the imposition of a vernacularartifact or inferior social status.
The heroesof the Russianavant-gardepictures of around 1910-15 are
not the paramoursand art dealersof Cubist Paris,but the floor polishers,
streetwalkers,barbers,washerwomen, barmen, and knife grindersof Rus
sia's new masses.Store signboards,window displays,painted trays, lubki,
consumeradvertising,postcards,householdgadgets,balagany(Punchand
Judy shows at fairgrounds),ballroom dancing, the family photograph, and
many other "low" objects and rituals becamepart and parcelof the avant-
15 garde endeavor. Malevichscattered Russiannewspaperprint among the
convolutions of his Synthetic Cubist paintings, Olga Rozanovadepicted a
kamennaia baba (stone effigy) from Moscow's Historical Museum in her
Gauguin-likeStill Life of 1911 (StateMuseum of Art, Slobodsk),Rodchenko
imbued his collagesof 1919-20 with a rich subtext of referencesto Russian
cigarettes, matchboxes,and candies,thereby distancing himself from the
parallel work of Kurt Schwitters.The result is often an ironic questioning
and parodyingof high art either through the deliberateconfrontation of the
two aesthetic systemswithin the same work of art or through the direct
substitution of "high" by "low." Ilia Maskov's Self-portrait with Petr
Konchalovsky(1910) (fig. 149),shown at the first Jackof Diamondsexhibi
16 tion in Moscow in 1910-1 1 is a case in point. In this enormous canvas,
looking more like a primitive signboard than a studio painting, not only are
the symbolsof scholarshipon the left (the Bible, books on Egypt, Greece,
Italy,the arts, and Cezanne)overshadowedby the cheap and cheerful tin
trays on the backwall, but the very professionof artist hasbeen supplanted
by that of weight lifter or wrestler,for both Maskovand Konchalovskyhave
associatedthemselveswith dumbbells and weights, not with palettesand

t 3 B
 brushes—one of many referencesto the culture of the circusand fairground
that was of vital importance to the development of the avant-garde. For
an example of the total cancellationof high art by low, we need look no
further than Malevich'sCompositionwith Mona Lisaof 1914 (fig. 150), in
which a photograph of the Mona Lisa has been crossed out twice and
juxtaposed with part of a newspaperadvertisementannouncingan apart
ment swap.
It is significant that Malevichis threatening the Mona Lisawith a news
paper cutting rather than with a motif from a peasantembroidery,a lubok
or an icon: Malevich is replacing this universalsymbol of high art with a
universalsymbol of vulgarity and superficiality(the newspaper)-an exam
ple of urban, not rural or native culture. Of course, patriarchal, rural tradi
tions were important and much has been written about the relationshipof
the Russianavant-gardeto the domesticheritageof folk art (costumes,toys,
trays, embroideries,woodcarving, lubki). Suffice it to take one image from
that lexicon—the eighteenth-century lubok of an Old Believerhaving his
beard cut off-to understandthe extent to which popular peasantculture
penetrated the consciousnessof twentieth-century Russianartists. David
Burliuk, Marc Chagall,Nikolai Kupreianov,Larionov,Shevchenko,I. A. Skuie
were among the many who interpreted this particular lubok at different
17 times and in different media. In fact, suchartists paid particular attention
to the medium of the lubok, adapted it to their own pictorial systems,and
even revivedit as a sociopoliticalvehicleduring the FirstWorld War and just
18 after the October Revolution.
But perhapseven more important for these artists was Russia'scontem
porary urban folklore, especiallyof Moscow, which so impressed them
when they reachedthe great metropolis from their provincialtowns and
villages(the Burliuks,Malevich,Rodchenko,and Shevchenkocamefrom the
Ukraine, Larionovfrom Tiraspol,Lentulov from PenzaDistrict, etc.). While
retaininga strong allegianceto their local cultures,theseartistswere excited
by the hustleand bustle,the visualconfusion,and technologicalnoveltiesof
the big city, as Larionovexclaimedin 1913:

thewholebrilliantstyleof moderntimes- ourtrousers,jackets,shoes,trolleys,cars,

airplanes,
railroads,grandiosesteamships- isfascinating,
isa greatepoch,onethat
19 hasknownno equalin the entirehistoryof the world.

This grafting of a common speciesonto a cultured rarity coincidedwith,

and reflected,an unprecedentedintegration of cultural, social,and political
conditions in Russiain the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Hor
ticultural grafting and agricultural crossbreedingand the first investigations
into genetic engineering were new avenuesof inquiry that the scientific
worlds of St. Petersburg,Moscow, and Kharkov were discussingand de-

f 3 9
 veloping with enthusiasm.Justas the first experimentalgreenhouseswere
being built on the outskirts of Moscow and St. Petersburgand the first glass
atriums were being introduced into the Art Nouveauedifices (such as the
EuropaHotel in St. Petersburgand the Metropol Hotel in Moscow),encour
aging the intense cultivation of orchids and other exotic plants that pre
viouslywere unthinkablein Russia'sbleak and hostileclimate, so new forms
of expressionblossomedin the visualarts, producing rich amalgamsof the
style moderne. This,too, was distinguishedby botanicalexcess,just like the
20 fashionable Bengal rosesof that time, "almost constantly blooming." If
we take accountof this horticultural context, it becomeslogicalthat the first
major public manifestation of the Russianavant-gardewas the Moscow
exhibition calledThe BlueRosein 1907, then a botanicalfiction, but soon to
be a reality thanks to artificial treatment. The Blue Rosewas itself a heady
mixture of Frenchand Belgian Symbolismoverlaid with referencesto the
balagan (Nikolai Sapunov),the icon (Pavel Kuznetsov),and other native
sources,causingone critic to describethe event as "heralding that primitiv-
ism to which modern art hascome in its searchfor a renaissanceat its very
21 sources." The horticultural metaphorattains evengreater relevancewhen
we recallthat the BlueRoseartists wore flowers in their buttonholes at their
22 vernissage.
The image of the Moscow nurseryman,pruning, grafting, and evolving
new and delicate speciesis a genteel evocation of the general impulse of
Russiansociety at the beginning of the twentieth century toward cultural
and social pluralism. It is important to remember that the artists of the
Russianavant-gardenot only created works of art that relied substantially
on extensionsof profaneculture, but alsobehavedoften in accordancewith
low or lowly rituals and ceremoniesthat were often quite opposed to the
conventional comportment of Orthodox and petit-bourgeois Russia.For
example,Tatlinand Malevichwere especiallyinterested in the balagan and
the mummers and buffoons of folk theater, whose elements of irreverent
farce and satire they applied to their scenographiesfor The Emperor Max
imilian and His Disobedient SonAdolf (1911) (fig. 151) and Victoryover the
23 Sun (1913). Artists such as Chagall, Goncharova,Larionov,and Malevich
borrowed freely from the activitiesof the circusand the fairgroundwith their
clowns, gypsies,magicians,and fakirs (seefig. 152). Theywere fascinated
by the actsof juggling, decapitation,levitation,and prestidigitation,and the
subjects of some of their masterpieces-Burliuk's HeadlessBarber (1912,
Private collection), Chagall's floating couples, Larionov's Circus Dancer
(1911, RegionalMuseum of Visual Arts, Omsk),Malevich'sportrait of the
beheadedKliun(1913, StateRussianMuseum,Leningrad)—maywell derive
as much from the observanceof conjuring tricks as from higher philosophi
cal concerns.

I 40
 The most graphic way in which the avant-garde artists extended their love
of the "low" into everyday behavior was through face and body painting.
Konstantin Bolshakov, David Burliuk, Goncharova, Vasilii Kamensky,
Larionov, Mikhail Le-Dantiu, Shevchenko, and Ilia Zdanevich all tried their
hand at this ancient rite, painting their faces with cryptic signs and frag
mented words (fig. 153). As Larionov and I. Zdanevich declared in their
manifesto "Why We Paint Ourselves" of 1913:

We paint ourselvesfor an hour, and a change of experiencecalls for a change of

painting,just as picture devourspicture, when on the other sideof a car windscreen
store windows flash by running into each other: that's our faces. Tattooing is
beautiful, but it sayslittle —only about ones tribe and exploits. Our painting is the
newsman. . . .

Our facesare like the screechof the trolley warning the hurrying passers-by,like the
24 drunken soundsof the great tango.

Of course, Goncharova, Larionov, and their colleagues drew on many sources

of inspiration for their face painting. They referred to tattooing, Egyptian
body painting, and cosmetic make-up as precedents, and in applying their
mysterious signs and images, they were repeating the incantational and "li
turgical" condition of the witch doctor and the shaman. But in the urban
environment, graffiti on fences and walls must have also been a strong stim
ulus, especially since they often included rude words or used a recondite
language that was intelligible only to a particular group (e.g., thieves or
prostitutes). Larionov and Shevchenko, in particular, were drawn to graffiti
and repeated them literally in their soldier and Venus paintings, for example,
Larionov's Soldier Relaxing (1911, Tretiakov Gallery, Moscow), Larionov's
Venus of 1912 (fig. 154) and Shevchenko's Venus of 1915 (fig. 155), and it is
not unreasonable to assume that some of the Cubo-Futurist paintings that
incorporate "low" words (e.g., "blockhead" in Larionov's Portrait of Tatlin of
1913, Private collection), rebuses (e.g., Goncharova 's Rayist Garden of
1912-13, Private collection), and neologisms (e.g., "KIAGAS" in Malevich's
Soldier of the First Division of 1914, Museumof Modern Art, NewYork)owe
their literary dimensions to this interest in graffiti.
Applying graffiti to their faces, therefore, Larionov and his friends ap
peared at art exhibitions and other public events, inciting both abuse and
jocularity in the same way that circus clowns did. In their little theaters, such
as the Pink Lantern and the Tavern of the 13, they offered to paint the faces
of their audiences, recited zaum (i.e., "transrational") poetry and, in general,
did all they could to erode the limits of social and artistic decorum. One
correspondent observed the result:

1A 1
 A disgraceful,brazen,and talentlesscan-canreignsdissolutelyin the templesof art,
and grimacingand wriggling on its altarsare theseshaggyyoung guysin their orange
25 shirts and painted physiognomies.

Such resentment only prompted Goncharova, Larionov, and their friends to

fall still lower by making a film about their theatrical activities entitled Drama
in the Futurists' Cabaret No. 13, released in January 1914. Although no copy
of this movie survives, witnesses recall that it told the story of a Futurist party
at which the guests had painted faces, Goncharova was very decolletee,
Kruger danced a Futurist tango, there was a Futurist crime de passion, and
26 the fun ended with a Futurist funeral.
Kruger dancing the Futuristtango reminds us thatthe Larionovu/Zdanevich
manifesto "Why We Paint Ourselves" is illustrated by photographs of the
27 artists with their faces painted and of a couple dancing the tango. Male-
vich's 1914 Woman at a Poster Column (also called Woman at an Advertise
ment Column (fig. 156) also contains part of a newspaper photograph of a
couple tangoing, while Kamensky and the Burliuks danced a "tango with
cows" in their miscellany of the same name published in Moscow in 1914.
Rodchenko's fifth photomontage for Vladimir Maiakovsky's Pro eto ("About
It") of 1923 also shows a couple dancing the tango beneath the caption
"Jass [sic] Two Step, Fox-trot, Shimmy." The tango, which in Russia at the
beginning of the twentieth century was often referred to as the "Argentine
28 Tango" (cf. Malevich's Argentine Polka, 1911, Private collection), was
regarded as a gesture of radical chic and sexual emancipation. Practiced by
the demi-mondes and artistic bohemias of St. Petersburg and Moscow, it
was condemned, of course, by the pillars of social decency. For this reason,
artists such as Goncharova and Larionov identified their unconventional
aesthetics with the tango, and the leading tangisty of the time such as Mak
(pseudonym of the artist Pavel Ivanov), Elsa Kruger, and Antonina Privalova
29 moved closely with the avant-garde (see fig. 157). Goncharova painted
Mak's portrait in 1913 (present whereabouts unknown) and designed
Kruger's dresses, Privalova joined in the fashion for face and body painting,
and Alexandra Exter, incidentally designed Kruger's Berlin apartment in
1927. Some of the Russian Cubo-Futurists welcomed the tango not only for
its scandalous potential, but also as the first phase in a "dance as such" by
analogy with their poetry and painting "as such," a correlation that they
discussed at their public lecture "On the Tango" in St. Petersburg in 1914. 30
The great actress Vera Kholodnaia, a friend of Goncharova and Larionov,
even played the lead role in the movie The Last Tango, released in Moscow in
1915. 31
This close interrelationship between professional artists and the practi
tioners of the "low" arts such as tattooing, ballroom dancing, and the
cinema is symptomatic of the complex process of cross-fertilization and

1 42
 assimilationof images,attitudes, and forms that occurredduring the time of
Russianmodernism.The primary membersof the Russianavant-gardetook
an active part in this desanctificationof high art through the superimposi-
tion of shocking images,the recognition of "unartistic" objects (e.g., tele
phones,postcards)as "artistic," the frequent placementof the work of art in
an unartistic environment, and the application of "absurd" or misleading
titles to their art exhibitions.But in this context the grafting of artistic styles
was often a more brutal and abrasiveprocedure than in the horticultural
nursery,especiallywhen "microbes" of profane art were injected deliber
ately into the body of high art. The result, for many observers,was elegant
32 and deceptive, bearing the "suspicioussmell of a cadaver."
Two of the "lowest" speciesthat the avant-gardegrafted onto the sophis
ticated systemsof Cubism, Futurism,and Constructivismwere the pig and
the herring.Thepig trotting in and out of Larionov'sNeo-Primitivistpaintings
of 1906-12 is a symptom of the artist's rejection of the middle-class
concepts of art and beauty and relates immediately to his humble icono-
graphic arsenalof soldiers,provincialdandies,gypsies,barbers,and street
walkers.Gypsyin Tiraspolof around 1906 (fig. 158) and Walkin a Provincial
Town(1907, Tretiakov)are major examplesof Larionov'ssvinstvo(uncouth
behavior,literally,"piggery") and must haveperplexedhis public at the Jack
of Diamondsand Donkey'sTailexhibitions in 1910 and 1912, for whom the
pig was, at worst, a diabolicalappurtenanceof the Anti-Christ or, at best, a
butt of coarsemerriment.After all, Anatolii and Vladimir Durov,membersof
the great clown family of Larionov'sday,usedto enter the arenaon pigs (see
fig. 159), and once Vladimir's pig even impersonated Kaiser Wilhelm —
33 which resulted in arrest and prosecution in Germany. Niko Piros-
manashvili, the Georgian primitive, whom Le-Dantiu and the Zdanevich
brothers discovered in 1912, also endeared himself to Larionov by his
fondnessfor pigs, as is manifest from his magnificent rendering Sow and
34 Pigletsof around 1910 (fig. 160) Surely,Alexei Kruchenykhand Malevich
were paying homage to this tradition when they called one of their Cubo-
Futurist publications Porosiata("Piglets") (St. Petersburg: EUY,1913). In
turn, Larionovand Malevichwere restoring an organic connectionwith the
popular image of the pig treated numeroustimes in lubki of the eighteenth
and nineteenth centuries.Thewitch in the lubok called Baba-YagaRidesto
Fight the Crocodile(a satire on Peterthe Great) and the jester in the Red
Nosed Jester Farnos(the first Russian"fool") (see fig. 152) ride pigs as if
emphasizingtheir status as outsiders,a social associationthat would have
35 appealed to the avant-gardeartists.
A motif perhapseven more mundanethan the pig was the herring (and
the mackereland the voblia),which, in variousrefractions,appearsin the still
lifes, interiors, and even portraits by PavelFilonov,Konchalovsky,Larionov,
Vladimir Malagis, Malevich, Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin, Rozanova, David

14 3
 Shterenberg, Tatlin, and Yurii Vasnetsov. Deliberately or not, this simple
image of the staple Russian diet, often wrapped in newspaper and con
sumed with beer, tends to undermine and satirize the values of any elevated
artistic system that the artist may be using as a point of departure. In
Malevich's masterpieces of transrationalism, Englishman in Moscow (191 3,
Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam) and the Aviator: A Portrait ( 1914, Russian
Museum) the herring/mackerel dominates the surface, destroying both the
Cubist syntax of these pre-Suprematist works and establishing a series of
random, alogical associations thatzaum was supposed to evoke. As Male-
vich wrote in 1914:

Forthe artist reasonis the prisoner'schain and consequently,I would that everyartist
36 lose his reason.

In both Petrov-Vodkin's Still Life with Herring of 191 8 (fig. 161) and Shteren
berg 's Still Life with Lamp and Herring (1920, Russian Museum) the modest
fish reconnects with the ordinary reality of everyday after these sophisti
cated exercises in spherical geometry. For Filonov, too —as is evident from his
untitled painting of fish (1912-15, Ludwig Collection, Cologne) —the her
ring is a mere component of the organic universe in which everything has a
uniform beauty beyond any hierarchy of spiritual and moral values.
Larionov's famous Sausage and Mackerel of 191 2 (fig. 162) acts as a vehicle
for the exposition of Rayism, according to which

the objects that we see in life play no role here, but that which is the essenceof
painting itself can be shown here bestof all —the combinationof color,its saturation,
37 the relation of colored masses,depth, texture.

The grafting of pigs, fish, and other vulgar species onto serious artistic
discourse was encouraged not only by the general wish to shock "you old
38 bags crammed with wrinkles and grey hair," but also by the rediscovery of
particular kinds of urban folklore. In the case of pigs and fish, an immediate
derivation was the store signboard which D. Burliuk, Chagall, Shevchenko,
and others collected and included in their exhibitions such as Target in 1913.
Pirosmanashvili, the artist of Sow and Piglets (see fig. 160) was a signboard
painter by profession; Konstantin Dydyshko (a member of the Union of
Youth) made a serious study of St. Petersburg signboards, noting their
measurements, color combinations, and locations; Filonov maintained that
a special department of signboards and other examples of contemporary
popular culture should be included in the Museum of Painterly Culture in
39 Petrograd; Maiakovsky published his poem "To Signboards" ("Vyveskam")
40 illustrated by Tatlin in 1913 (fig. 163); Pavel Mansurov based some of his
41 Painterly Formulae on a signboard for beer, Shevchenko painted at least

1 44
 two pictures based on fruiterers' signboards, in 1913 Signboard Still Life:
Wine and Fruit (fig. 164) and in 191 4 Black Still Life (Rubinshtein Collection,
Moscow); and Malevich actually regarded the signboard as the ultimate
point of influence in his early career:

At first I imitated icon-painting. . . . The secondperiod was a purely "labor oriented

one": I painted peasantsat work . . . The third was when I came to the "suburban
genre" (carpenters,gardeners,dacha places,and bathers).The fourth period was
42 that of the "city signboard" (floor-polishers,maids, butlers, servants).

Painted in bright colors and lapidary forms, these signboards depicting

clothes, drinks, sausages, loaves, etc. were intended to communicate —to
the often illiterate passerby -the function of the respective store. As Vera
Ermolaeva, one of Malevich's students, wrote in 1919:

A good signboard is elegant, didactic, and durable. Both the shopkeeperand the
customer appreciate it for being well made. And it's well made when good quality
paint has been put on a piece of new and heavyiron with skill and dexterity,when
each depiction has been executedin its conventionalform germaneto it alone and
with a method peculiaronly to that form, and when all the depictionscombineinto a
rigorously constructed whole 43

Sometimes, the signboard would be an image only, for example of a joint of

meat (see fig. 165), which seems to have inspired Goncharova's Still Life with
Ham of 1912 (fig. 166); a loaf or loaves (see figs. 167 and 168), an image
that returns in Konchalovsky's Still Life with Loaves of 1913 and Larionov's
Loaves of 19 10 (both in the Tretiakov), and Mashkov's Loaves of 19 12 (in the
Russian Museum); or a boot, something paraphrased by Valentin Kurdov in
his Felt Boot of 1926-27 (in the Russian Museum). Alternatively, the
signboard would advertise the services of some profession, such as barber
or washerwoman (see fig. 169). A vivid example of the avant-garde's appre
ciation and extrapolation of a particular signboard stereotype is the recur
rent motif in the 1910s and 1920s of a woman ironing clothes-from
Shevchenko's Woman Ironing of 1920 (fig. 170) to Vladimir Lebedev's series
of paintings and drawings on the same theme, culminating in his total
"cubization" of the figure in his paintings of the mid-1 920s (Cubism, Russian
Museum) where the woman, no longer recognizable, has been reduced to a
44 purely formal sequence.
Occasionally, the signboard would be a simple, three-dimensional item
such as a hanging glove made of wood to indicate a glove store or a top hat
to indicate a hat store -volumetrical objects that recur in a number of
paintings, reliefs, and sculptures of the avant-garde period. The ubiquitous
top hat worn by the Cubo-Futurists such as D. Burliuk and Maiakovsky

14 5
 I- together with their wooden spoonsand fancy waistcoats reachedits most
5 absurd reembodiment in Maiakovsky'scontribution to the Exhibition of
° Paintingin Moscow in 1915, which consistedof a "top hat cut into halves
45 with gloves on either side." Ivan Puni (Pougny)distilled such appurte-
m nancesin his 1915 paintingscalledHairdresser(Musee Nationald'Art Mod-
* erne, Paris),Baths (Herman Berninger Collection, Zurich), and Washing
Windows (fig. 171),the last of which was inspiredby an advertisementfor
yogurt in a pharmacynear the artist's studio in Petrograd.In around 1914
Malevich complicated matters further with his incorporation of the
signboardfor a fishmonger(seefig. 172) into a transrationalcontext, i.e., his
juxtaposition of an ace of clubs, abstract forms, and a fish abovethe word
"Tailor"(fig. 173).Thisparticular combinationwas abstractedstill further by
Rozanova(or Kruchenykh)in an untitled collageof around 1916 (fig. 174) in
which she canceledthe fish with a diagonal collage 46
Thisenthusiasmfor vyvesochnoeiskusstvo(signboardart) on the part of
the avant-gardeartists extended to the allied, "low" arts of backdropsfor
photographers' studios, fairground and circus scenery,surrounds for rifle
ranges, and wallpaper. Such elements inspired a number of important
paintings such as Fedor Bogorodsky'sand Nikolai Rogovin'sportraits of
people havingtheir photographstaken. But it was wallpaperthat seemedto
attract the most artists, both becauseof its decorative patterns and also
becauseof its associationwith massproduction, chintzy living rooms, and
bad taste. Both issuesof the miscellanySadoksudei ("A Trapfor Judges")in
1910 and 1913 had coversof wallpaper, Popovaactually wrote the word
"wallpaper" on one of her still lifes of 1914 (Ludwig Collection, Cologne),
Rozanovaincluded wallpaper in her Room (c. 1914, State Museum of Art,
Krasnodar),Rodchenkoproduceda collagein 1915 calledWallpaper(Private
collection),and Goncharovaand Larionovactually designedwallpaper for a
Moscow factory in 1914, repeatingthe happy peacocks,parrots, and flow
ers of the cheap, do-it-yourself wallpaper available in the new Moscow
department stores.Naturally,theseartists often looked beyondthe external
signboardsand advertisementsinto the storesthemselves,finding a simple
and refreshingartistry in window dressing,store interiors,and the parapher
nalia peculiar to the varioustrades, such as the dummies wearing wigs in
barbershopwindows, the wooden mannequinsin tailors' stores,the medical
bottles of pharmacies,and the cotton reels, scissors,brushes,and vanity
casesof haberdashersthat so appealed to Rozanovain works like Bar
bershop (c. 1914, Tretiakov); and Workbox of 1915 (fig. 175).
Such images were a component part of the new urban folklore that
accompanied Russia'srapid industrializationtoward the end of the nine
teenth century. Her capitalist boom led not only to an unprecedented
economic expansion,but also to the visual transformation of Moscow, St.
Petersburg,and other cities as new railroad stations, banks, department

1 46
 stores,functional complexessuchaswater towers, and sumptuousvillasfor
47 the nouveaux riches were constructed. The architectural silhouette of
Moscow changed radicallyduring those yearsas the first high-rise, ferro
concrete buildings beganto vie with the old churchesand palacesfor social
recognitionand prestige.Artists paid attention to this visualtransformation,
and there is no question that members of the avant-garde such as
Rodchenkoand Tatlinwere inspiredas much by the steel-framebuildings of
water towers, pavilions,and silosas by iconsand Cezanne.It is important to
rememberthat this intenseurbanizationwas accompaniedby an extraordi
nary flood of new consumer commodities, furnishings, and fixtures that
were advertised to, and acquired by, the new bourgeoisie. The "yellow
pages"(actually,they are pink, green, and white) in the Moscow telephone
directory for 1898, for example, contain announcementsfor flush toilets,
48 electricmassageparlors,and Americantypewriters, and the leisuremaga
zinesof the 1900s, such as Ogonek and Stolitsai usadba,contain detailed
statementson all manner of gadgets—from phonographsand airplanesto
electric elevatorsand air fresheners(see fig. 176). Leafing through these
journals, one realizesthat, within a generation, the respectable Russian
household had moved from gas to electric lighting, from music boxesto
gramophones,from handmade chocolatesto industrial candies,and from
horse-drawnto horselesscarriages.Eventhough most of the avant-garde
artists lived too modestlyto afford these middle-classnovelties,they were,
inevitably,affected visually and emotionally by the influx of mechanical
wizardries. They touched these things in the homes of their rich patrons,
such as Nadezhda Dobychina,the Girshmans,and the Riabushinskys,or
read the advertisementsin the many posters, billboards, and brochures.
In some cases,Russianartists acceptedthese gadgets as symbolsof the
new epoch of speed and industrial production, and they quoted them in
their paraphrasesof Italian Futurism. Their fascination with airplanesand
electric trams, for example, is evident in many of the avant-gardeexpres
sions such as Goncharova'sAirplane over a Train(1913, State Museum of
Art, Kazan),Malevich'sSimultaneousDeath of a Man in an Airplane and on
the Railroad(1913) and Womanat a TramStop (1914, StedelijkMuseum,
Amsterdam), Mikhail Menkov's TramNo. 6 (1914, State Museum of Art,
Kuibyshev),and in the very title of the "last Futurist exhibition," Tram V,
which was held in Petrograd, 1915. Consistentwith this theme is the fact
that, literally,a primary vehiclefor the extensionof Suprematism"into life"
after the October Revolutionwas the side panels of trams in Vitebsk to
which Malevich and his pupils applied their elaborations of Suprematist
colors and forms (see fig. 177). We should also remember that Nikolai
Suetin, one of Malevich's closest disciples, designed Suprematist store
signboards in Vitebsk in 1919-21 49
The referencesto the consumercommoditiesof the ideal Russianhome in
 avant-garde paintings were evoked as much by the typographical and
lithographic representationsof these things as by their three-dimensional
presence.It is clear from both pre- and post-Revolutionaryworks that the
patternsand schemesof commercialadvertisingthat accompaniedthe new
productswere of particular interestto professionalartists,and they playeda
prominent part in the radical creativity of the avant-garde.Of course,this
particular interrelationshipwas not entirely new, sincea number of profes
sional artists in the nineteenth century—not least, Georgii Leonov(seefig.
178)-had already produced collagesincorporatingnewspaperprint, ciga
50 rette packs,playingcards,and piecesof postcards. Certainly,by the end of
the nineteenth century the popular pressoffered artists a wide choice of
typefaces,calligraphies,and typographical layouts,symmetricaland asym
metrical, constituting a rich graphic source that was especiallyrelevantto
the developmentof Cubo-Futuristvisual poetry, such as the typographical
montages by the Burkiuk brothers or the "ferro-concrete" poems by Ka-
mensky. A clear example of this aesthetic borrowing is Ilia Zdanevich's
famous dramatic poem Lidantiu—faram ("Le Dantiu—the Beacon") (fig.
179), which draws on the same notion of varied visualaccompanimentsto
variedphonicvaluesasin standardABC booksof the late nineteenthcentury
(seefig. 180). Forthe professionalartist, consumeradvertisingalso pointed
to the potential applications of collage and photomontage, and to the
possibilityof combiningthe incompatible,suchasthe simultaneousappear
ance of advertisementsfor tea and corsets on the same printed page.
(Larionovactuallysubtitled his painting Womanin a BlueCorset"Newspaper
Ad" at the Donkey'sTail in 1912).
Encouraged,of course, by FrenchCubism, Malevichalso relied on these
typographicalgamesin histransrationalpaintingsof 1913-14, in which the
photographic reproduction, the newspaperscript, and the printed number
are often taken from Moscowand St. Petersburgdailies.As tiny reliefs,these
collages establish a movement away from the surface into space, when
semanticallylogical, they may add an ironic commentary on the composi
tion, and as parts of a "low" art (a newspaper)they challengeour presup
positions about aesthetic nobility and artistic quality. Perhapsthe most
convincingexample in title and in content of this grafting of commercial
advertising("low" art) onto a traditional genre such as the female portrait
("high") is Malevich'sWoman at a Poster Column of 1914 (see fig. 156)
in which fragments of announcements from a poster column have
been imposedon the Suprematistcolor planes,which, in turn, are eclipsing
the world of recognizablefigures and objects. Fiveyears later Stepanova
reversed this procedure in her cycle of transrational graphic poetry
Qaust-Chaba(fig. 181) in which she applied abstract shapesand letters in
watercolor ("high") to a "canvas" of newspaper script and photographs

1 48
 ("low"), i.e., the newspaper has now become the "sensible" foundation
of the work, while the "senseless"component has become the painted
51 applique.
This collaging of commercial design onto the professionalwork of art
achieved spectacular results at the hands of Gustav Klucis, Rodchenko,
Sergei Senkin, Stepanova,and Solomon Telingaterjust after the October
Revolution.Rodchenkoand Stepanovaproducedtheir most excitingcollages
in 1918-21 when they worked very closely together, often sharing the
52 same paper fragments (see fig. 182). For example, they both cut up
the same picture books, producing, as it were, twin collagesbasedon the
same images,e.g., from postcardsof the Museum of FineArts in Moscow
(now the PushkinMuseumof FineArts). It istempting to try and explainwhy
in his collagesRodchenkomight placefour studiesof women and one torso
on a scrapof newspapercarryingthe latest news or integrate pharmaceuti
cal descriptions with theatrical announcements. But as in Schwitters's
collagesof the sameperiod, there are numerousprivateallusionsto contem
porary social and political events; some of the collagescarry sharp, ironic
juxtapositions of referencesto the old and new regimes, and others are
brilliant exercisesin non sequiturs. Rodchenkoand Stepanovawere quite
capable of creating visual harmoniesout of advertisementsfor pianolas,
milk, flour, and IsadoraDuncanor cigarette packs,Narkomprosstationery,
and postcards.In somecases,the collagesare independentworks of art, in
other casesthey are book illustrations,e.g. by Rodchenkofor Kruchenykh's
transrational poem Tsotso(1921) and by Stepanovafor his poem G/y-G/y
(1918) or for her own abstract poetry.
Rodchenko'sfamiliarity with the world of commercialadvertisingserved
him in good stead when he embarked upon posters and wrappers for the
new state enterprisesin the early 1920s. Candies,galoshes,cigarettes,baby
pacifiers were among the many products that Rodchenko packaged in
1923-25 accordingto Constructivistformulas, and some of them such as
the 1923 baby-pacifierposter are now acknowledgedto be primary exam
ples of Constructivist design. Still, these severe interplays of schematic
images with their exclamatory captions constitute an economy of visual
meansand messagethat was not new in the history of Russiancommercial
design. Professionalartistswere involvedin suchadvertisingwell before the
Revolution,often for the samefactoriesthat were nationalizedin 1918. The
anonymous posters for the Veiner Beer Factoriesin Astrakhan of around
1910 bring to mind Rodchenko's1925 poster for the Three Hills Beer
Factory; the various posters for the Einem Candy and Biscuit Factory in
Moscow of around 1910 are no less audacious than the Rodchenko/
Maiakovskywrappers for the same enterprise in 1923-24 (then called the
RedOctober Candy Factory);and the postersfor galoshesproduced by the

1 49
 Conductor Corporation in Riga in about 1910 surely inspired those of
Rodchenko and Maiakovsky for the State Rubber Trust in Moscow in 1923-
53 24 (see figs. 183 and 184).
Obviously, Rodchenko and his colleagues paraphrased or elaborated par
ticular typographical layouts that they found in pre-Revolutionary magazines
and posters (including movie posters): the diagonal scripts, repeated ex
clamation marks, and contrasting typefaces were devices that Rodchenko
54 transferred to his advertisements for state commodities and enterprises.
This is evident from direct comparisons between the advertisements for
Teikhman's insulation materials of 1906 (fig. 185) or the movie posters
for the Khanzhonkov and Filipp Corporations of around 191 5 —e.g., those
for The State Councillor's Love (fig. 186) and The Eagle (fig. 187) and
Rodchenko's book and magazine covers of the mid-1 920s. El Lissitzky's
cover design for the cover of ASNOVA in 1926 and Popova's music cover
designs of 1922 also extend basic polygraphical stereotypes from the
55 previous two decades. But, of course, in spirit and sensibility, Rodchenko's
designs for the nationalized companies of the 1920s do depart from the pre-
Revolutionary models. Posters such as There Have Not Been and There Are
No Better Pacifiers of 1923 no longer represent the grafting of a low art
form on a high one, but rather, the reverse, since the product (in this case,
baby pacifiers) and the selling thereof are presented according to the
rigorous principles of the Constructivist credo:

In rationalizing artistic labor, the Constructivistsare putting into practice—not in

verbal,but in concreteterms—the realqualificationsof the object. Theyare raisingits
quality,establishingits socialrole, and organizingits forms in an organic relationship
56 with its utilitarian meaning and purpose.

At this point, the very categories of "high" and "low" cease to be meaning
ful, since "Art is finished ! It has no place in the human labor apparatus. Labor,
57 technology, organization!" Exter, Popova, Rodchenko, Stepanova, and
Alexander Vesnin made this clear in their statements at the 5 x 5 = 25
exhibition in Moscow in 192 1 at which they dismissed the notion of the "fine
arts," of the artist painting and sculpting in the privacy of the studio, and of
art as an activity of privilege and prestige. The Constructivists argued for the
cancellation of this traditional primacy or, rather, for the substitution of
"low" for "high," so that Popova and Stepanova moved from studio paint
ings to dress design, Vsevolod Meierkhold from dramatic theater to the
circus, and Georgii and Vladimir Stenberg from their free-standing construc
tions to movie posters.
Symptomatic of this orientation toward mass culture among the Con
structivists and of their conviction that the "vulgar" media such as photogra
phy, cinema, consumer design should now be the primary focus of attention

15
 was Klucis's move from abstract paintings and constructions to posters and
58 postcards in the mid- and late 1920s. As a member of the October group
in the late 1920s, Klucis himself made this clear in his article on photomon
tage published in 1931 :

In replacing the drawing made by hand with the photograph, the artist depicts
this or that detail more truthfully, more vitally, and—to the masses—more
59 comprehensibly.

From 1919 onward Klucis concentrated more and more on photomontage

in poster, postcard, and magazine design, from the first experiment called
DynamicCity (191 9) to the layouts fo r Pravda in the 1930s. While favoring a
documentary but still imaginative approach, Klucis organized his composi
tions in a severe and schematic manner that made their sense immediately
accessible to the new consumer, just as in a commercial advertisement. An
associate of the magazine Lef, Klucis was in direct contact with Rodchenko,
Senkin, Stepanova, and Telingater, and he supported the group's strong
preference for industrial and propaganda design as vehicles for the dis
60 semination of political ideas. From his projects for radio loudspeakers in
1922 through his postcards for the All-Union Spartakiada in Moscow in
1928 (fig. 188) and the reconstruction posters of the 1930s, Klucis claimed
that art could and should serve ideological commitments. To this end, he
also tried to adjust "low" to "high" or perhaps we should say "low to low" by
drawing on the traditions of the picture postcard and the cheap newspaper,
and his photomontages and collages are among the most vivid examples of
this artistic transmutation.

Popular culture provided a vital source of energy to the artists of the

Russian avant-garde, offering a new vocabulary of image and perception
that distinguished them immediately from their Realist precursors and West
ern competitors. But, of course, even in the case of the Constructivists with
their claim to be proletarian and democratic, this artistic efflorescence could
survive only in an artificial environment of rich nutrition and rare ether. By its
very nature, the avant-garde was an exotic species, distant from the society
that it satirized or served and intolerant of deviant taste. It was a species that
could be appreciated only by the connoisseur and by members of the same
club that romanticized —and misunderstood —the common man, whose
common culture they praised and advocated. One of the many enigmas of
the time that followed, the Stalin era, is that Socialist Realism restored the
arts to their former hierarchies, and with the resurgence of the academies,
the professional painter, sculptor, and architect turned back to classical
Greece and Rome and the High Renaissancefor inspiration. Popular culture

15 I
 flourished, but once again, it was divorced from the higher echelonsof
aestheticexperience.The fine arts also flourished, even though just a few
years before artists had sung the praises of graffiti and called for the
liquidation of Michelangelo, Raphael,and Rastrelli; now, they dismissed
"low" taste and welcomed the return of Titian in painting, Periclesin
sculpture, and Palladio in architecture—even the arts of gardening and
grafting were now brought into line with the principlesof SocialistReal
61 ism. Theresultwas the abrupt reestablishmentofthat verysamehierarchy
of artistic values which the avant-garde had sought to undermine and
destroy.Obviously,in that cold and suppressiveenvironmentsuch an exotic
hybrid could no longer survive.

NOTES 1. Eventhough a detailed examinationof the subject has yet to be made, a number of recent
publicationsthat dealwith particularaspectsof modern Russianart and popular culture should
be mentioned, i.e., Neia Zorkaia, A/a rubezhe stoletii (Moscow: Nauka, 1976); Alexander
Kamenskyet al., Primitivi ego mesto v khudozhestvennoikulture novogo i noveishegovremeni
(Moscow: Nauka, 1983); Viktor Plotnikov, Folklor i russkoe izobrazitelnoe iskusstvo vtoroi
polovinyXIX veka(Leningrad:Khudozhnik RSFSR, 1987).Gennadii Pospelovhasdiscussedthe
issueof urban folklore and the Russianavant-gardein his monographon the Jackof Diamonds
group, i.e., Karo-Bube (Dresden: VEB, 1985); and in his article "0 'valetakh'bubnovykh i
valetakh chervonnykh" in Panorama iskusstv 77 (Moscow: Sovetskii khudozhnik, 1978),
pp. 127-42; see also G. Ostrovsky,"Iz istorii russkogo gorodskogo primitiva vtoroi poloviny
XVIII—XIX veka" in Kamensky,Primitiv,pp. 77-104. An especiallyvaluablecontribution to our
understandingof this particularareaisthe book by Alia Povelikhinaand EvgeniiKovtunentitled
RussianPaintedShop Signsand Avant-GardeArtists (forthcoming from Aurora, Leningrad,in
English,French,German,and Russianeditions).A primarygoal of the exhibition currently being
organizedby the State RussianMuseum, Leningrad,and Intercultura, Fort Worth, Tex.,via the
Ministry of Culture of the USSR,is alsoto examinethe questionof how popular art affected the
developmentof the Russianavant-garde,i.e., The Donkey'sTail:The RussianAvant-Gardeand
Primitive Art (touring Leningrad,Fort Worth, Los Angeles, and Chicago in 1992-93).

2. For information on Siberian art, including kamennye baby (stone effigies), and shaman
rituals,seeSergeiIvanov,Materialypo izobrazitelnomuiskusstvunaradovSibiriXlX-nachaloXX
veka(Moscowand Leningrad: Akademiianauk, 1954); SergeiIvanov,Skulpturanarodovsevera
SibiriXIX—pervoipolovinyXX v. (Leningrad:Nauka,1970); Vladimir Basilov,Izbrannikidukhov
(Moscow: Politizdat, 1984); Nomads of Eurasia,catalogue of an exhibition at the Natural
History Museum, Los Angeles, and other institutions, 1989; see also Boris Rybakov,
YazychestvoDrevnei Rusi(Moscow: Nauka, 1987). Artists and writers of the Russianavant-
garde cultivated a particular interest in children'sdrawings, includingthem in their exhibitions
and publications,e.g., at the Salon,International Exhibitionorganizedby Vladimir Izdebskyin
Odessaand other cities in 1909-10; at the Moscow Salon in 1911; and at the Target in
Moscow, 1913 (children'sdrawings from Nikolai Vinogradov'sand Shevchenko'scollections).
Alexei Kruchenykhpaid homageto children'screativity by includingtheir drawingsand poems
in two of his Cubo-Futuristbooklets, i.e., Porosiata("Piglets")(St. Petersburg:EUY,1913) and
Sobstvennyerazskazyi risunki detei (St. Petersburg: EUY,1914). The avant-gardewas also
aware of the achievementsof African, American Indian,and other "native" cultures,albeit in a
limited fashion, through Russiancollections. Sergei Shchukin, for example, owned several
piecesof African art (now in the PushkinMuseum of FineArts, Moscow), and a number of

15 2
museumsin Moscow,St. Petersburg,and Rigaincludedexamplesin their collections.The artist
and critic Vladimir Markov (pseudonymof WaldemarMatvejs),a leadingmember of the Union
of Youth group in St. Petersburg,made a thorough examination of African art in Western
European collections in 1913 and wrote an important book on the subject, i.e., Iskusstvo
negrov(publishedposthumouslyin 1919 by IZONarkomprosin Petrograd;for commentary,see
Irina Kozhevnikova,VarvaraBubnova.Russkiikhudozhnik v Yaponii[Moscow: Nauka, 1984],
pp. 42-45); Markov also publishedan essayon the art of EasterIsland,i.e., IskusstvoOstrova
Pashki{St. Petersburg:Soiuzmolodezhi, 1914).For information on Markov,seeJohn E. Bowlt,
ed., RussianArt of the Avant-Garde: Theoryand Criticism 1902-1934 (London: Thames&
Hudson, 1988), pp. 23-38; TroelsAndersenet al., Art et poesie russes, 1900-1930. Textes
choisis (Paris: Centre Georges Pompidou, 1979), pp. 53-57; Kovtun, "Vladimir Markov i
otkrytie afrikanskogo iskusstva," in Pamiatniki kultury. Novye otkrytiia. Ezhegodnik 1980
(Leningrad:Nauka, 1981),pp. 41 1-16; and VarvaraBubnova,ed., "V. I. Matvei. '0 "printsipe
tiazhesti" vafrikanskoi skulpture,'" NarodyAzii i Afriki (Moscow),no. 2, 1966, pp. 148-57. By
the 1890s Russiahad (and still has)one of the finest collectionsof Pacificand American Indian
art, thanks, aboveall, to the explorationsand acquisitionsof Nikolai Miklukho-Maklai. SeeElsie
Webster, The Moon Man (Berkeley:Universityof California Press,1984); see also, Sobranie
grafa Nikolaia PetrovichaRumiansteva(Moscow: Levenson,1913), especiallypp. 24-29.
3. Vasilii Kandinsky,Tekstkhudozhnika (Moscow: IZO Narkompros, 1918), p. 28.
4. For information on Kandinskyand shamanism,see PegWeiss,"Kandinskyand 'Old Russia':
An EthnographicExploration," in Gabriel Weisbergand LarinaDixon, eds.. The Documented
Image: Visionsin Art History (Syracuse,N.Y.: SyracuseUniversityPress,1987), pp. 187-222.
PegWeissis now completinga monographon the subjectunderthe provisionaltitle "Kandinsky
and Old Russia: TheArtist as Ethnographerand Shaman,"for YaleUniversityPress,New Haven.
5. The main depositories of Russianpeasant and ecclesiasticalart at the beginning of the
twentieth century were the Kustarnyi[Handicraft] Museum in Moscow,PetrShchukin'sprivate
collectionin Moscow,and PrincessMariiaTenisheva's privatemuseumin Smolensk.Forinforma
tion on these collections,see L. K. Rozovaet al., Muzei narodnogo iskusstvai khudozhestven-
nye promysli (Moscow: Izobrazitelnoeiskusstvo,1972); Objetsd 'art russesanciens,catalogue
of an exhibition of part of the Tenishevacollection at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs, Paris,
1907; PetrShchukin,KratkoeopisanieShchukinskogomuzeiavMoskve (Moscow: Mamontov,
1895).Major ethnographicalcollectionswere held in the Dashkovcollectionin the Rumiantsev
Museum, Moscow.SeeN. lanchuk, Musee EtnographiqueDachkovau Musee Publicet Musee
Roumianzov(Moscow, Sobko, 1910), and N. Yanchuk,"Dashkovskiietnograficheskiimuzei i
otdelenie inostrannoi etnografii," in Piatidesiatiletie Rumiantsevskogomuzeia v Moskve.
1862-1912. Istoricheskiiocherk (Moscow: Levenson,1913), pp. 161-82.
6. On Miklukho-Maklai, see Webster,Moon Man. On the Guenzburg expeditions and the
revival of interest in Jewish folk art in Russia,see Ruth Gabriel-Apter et al., Traditionand
Revolution: TheJewishRenaissance in RussianAvant-GardeArt 1912-1928 (exhibition cata
logue, Jerusalem:Israel Museum), 1987.

7. For information on Abramtsevoand Talashkino,see Nina Beloglazova,Abramtsevo (Mos

cow: SovetskaiaRossiia,1981); Grigorii Sternin et al., Abramtsevo (Leningrad: Khudozhnik
RSFSR, 1988); BorisRybchenkovand AlexanderChaplin, Talashkino(Moscow: Izobrazitelnoe
iskusstvo,1973); LarisaZhuravleva,"Tenishevskieemali" Tvorchestvo(Moscow)no. 11 (1989),
pp. 16-19; see also John E. Bowlt, "Two RussianMaecenases,SavvaMamontov and Princess
Tenisheva,"Apollo (London),December 1973, pp. 444-53.
8. The standardhistoriesof the Russianavant-gardeall discussthe influenceof iconsand lubki
on modern Russianart, although many aspectsof the connection haveyet to be analyzedin
detail. See,for example, Camilla Gray,TheRussianExperimentin Art, 1863-1922 (London:
Thames& Hudson, 1986; rev.ed. by Marian Burleigh-Motley),especiallychapter 4; Valentine
Marcade, Le Renouveaude Tart pictural russe (Lausanne:L'Age d'Homme, 1971), especially
chapter 2; Tatiana Loguine, Gontcharova et Larionov (Paris: Klincksieck, 1971), especially

15 3
pp. 32-37, which carry detailson Larionov'sexhibitionsof iconsand lubki in Moscow in 1913.
Seealso ValentineMarcade, "The PeasantTheme in the Work of Kazimir SeverinovichMalev-
ich," in Malewitsch, catalogue of an exhibition at the Galerie Gmurzynska,Cologne, 1978,
pp. 94-119; and her "0 vliianii narodnogo tvorchestvana iskusstvorusskikh avangardnykh
khudozhnikov desiatykh godov 20-go stoletiia," in Vile Congresinternational des slavistes.
Communicationsde la delegationfranqaise(Paris:Institut d'etudes slaves,1973),pp. 279-99.
Important information on the general rediscoveryand reassessmentof iconsat the beginning
of the twentieth century in Russiais provided by GeroldVzdornovin his book Istoriiaotkrytiia i
izucheniia russkoi srednevekovoizhivopisi XIX veka (Moscow: Iskusstvo, 1986), especially
chapter 7; and by Yurii Bobrov in his Istoriia restavratsiidrevnerusskoizhivopisi (Leningrad:
Khudozhnik RSFSR,1987), especiallychapter 3.
9. On Aristarkh Lentulov,see Aristarkh Lentulov, catalogue of an exhibition at the Central
Houseof the Artist, Moscow, 1987. Moscow is reproducedin color on page 37. The following
abbreviationsare used in these notes to indicate the whereabouts of works: PC = private
collection; RM = State RussianMuseum, Leningrad;TG = State Tretiakov Gallery,Moscow.
10. Sonia Delaunay,"Letter" (1926), translation in Arthur Cohen, ed., TheNew Art of Color:
The Writings of Robert and Sonia Delaunay(New York: Viking, 1978), p. 202.
11. AlexanderShevchenko,Neo-primitivizm(1913),translationin Bowlt, RussianArt, p. 49. For
further information on Shevchenkosee Zh. Kaganskaiaet al., A. V Shevchenko.Sbornik
materialov (Moscow: Sovetskiikhudozhnik), 1980.
12. Alexander Shevchenko,Printsipykubizma (Moscow: Shevchenko,1913), pp. 17, 18.
13. Natalia Goncharova'sspeech is published in Benedikt Livshits, Polutoraglazyi strelets
(1933), Englishtranslation under the title TheOne and a Half-EyedArcher (Newtonville,Mass.
ORR1977), pp. 80-81.
14. NataliaGoncharova,untitled prefaceto the catalogueof her one-woman exhibition at the
Art Salon, Moscow, 1913, pp. 1-4.
15. For information on Russiansignboards, see Yurii Gerchuk, Zhivye veshchi (Moscow:
Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1977),chapter4; G. Ostrovsky,"Russkaiavyveska,"in Panoramaiskusstv
78 (Moscow: Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1979),pp. 238-62; and Povelikhinaand Kovtun, Russian
Painted Shop Signs; on painted trays, see Irina Krapivina, Russian Hand-Painted Trays
(Leningrad: Aurora, 1981); on lubki, see Alia Sytova, The Lubok: RussianFolk Pictures
(Leningrad:Aurora, 1984); on consumeradvertising,seeNina Baburina,Russkiiplakat, vtoraia
polovinaXlX-nachalo XX veka(Leningrad:Khudozhnik RSFSR, 1988); Volia Liakhov,Sovetskii
reklamnyiplakat (Moscow: Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1972); Mikhail Anikst, ed., SovietCommer
cial Design of the Twenties(London: Thames& Hudson, 1987); on postcards,see Emmanuil
Fainshtein,V mire otkrytki (Moscow: Planeta,1976),and Nikolai Tagrin,Mir v otkrytke (Mos
cow: Izobrazitelnoe iskusstvo, 1978); on balagany,see Anna Nekrylova,Russkienarodnye
gorodskieprazdniki, uveseleniiai zrelishcha(Leningrad:Iskusstvo,1988); on ballroom danc
ing, see NataliaSheremetievskaia,7anetsna estrade(Moscow: Iskusstvo,1985); on photogra
phy,see SergeiMorozov,Russkaiakhudozhestvennaiafotografiia (Moscow: Iskusstvo,1955).
16. The most comprehensivesourcesof information on PetrKonchalovskyand Ilia Maskovare:
Mark Neiman,P P Konchalovsky(Moscow: Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1967); and I. S. Bolotina,Ilia
Mashkov (Moscow: Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1977) (his self-portrait with Konchalovskyis re
produced there as colorplate 12).
17. Reproductionsof someof the barbershopscenescan be found in the following sources:D.
Burliuk, HeadlessBarber (1912, PC),in RussianAvant-Garde 1908-1922, catalogue of an
exhibition at the LeonardHutton Galleries,New York, 1971, p. 33; Chagall,Barbershop(Uncle
Zusman)(1914, TG),in Marina Bessonova,comp., Shagal.Vozvrashcheniemastera (Moscow:
Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1988),p. 58; Kupreianov,Men's Hairdresser;and Women'sHairdresser
(1920-22, PC),in N. S. Iznarand M. Z. Kholodovskaia,comps.,N. N. Kupreianov.Literaturno-
khudozhestvennoenasledie(Moscow: Iskusstvo,1973),plates48, 49; Larionov,Officer at the

1 54
Hairdresser(1910, TG), in Waldemar George, Larionov(Paris: Bibliothequedes Arts, 1966),
p. 63; Shevchenko,At Her Toilette (1920, PC),in Alexander Shevchenko,catalogue of an
exhibition at the PushkinMuseum of FineArts, Moscow, 1975, n. pag.; Skuie contributed a
FamilyPortrait of a Hairdresser(whereaboutsunknown)to The Donkey'sTailexhibition in 1912.
18. Just after the outbreak of World War I, in August 1914, a corporation called the Modern
Lubok was establishedin Moscow for the publication of patriotic lubki in poster and postcard
form. Someof the avant-gardeartists, including D. Burliuk,VasiliiChekrygin,Larionov,Lentulov,
Maiakovsky,Malevich,and Mashkovparticipated in this enterpriseand produced rousinganti-
German scenesaccompaniedby patriotic jingles. To a considerableextent, the propaganda
sheetsby Vladimir Lebedev,Maiakovsky,and other artistsfor the Okna ROSTA(Windowsof the
RussianTelegraphAgency)in Moscow,Petrograd,and other cities in 1919-22 also maintained
the traditions of the lubok. For reproductionsof someof these lubki, seeRussianAvant-Garde
Art: The George CostakisCollection, ed. Angelica Zander Rudenstine(New York: Harry N.
Abrams, 1981), pp. 422-29; Vsevolod Petrov, V Lebedev (Leningrad: Khudozhnik RSFSR,
1972), passim; Wiktor Duwakin, Majakowski Rostafenster(Dresden: VEB, 1975).
19. Mikhail Larionov and Natalia Goncharova, "Luchisty i budushniki: Manifest" (1913),
translation in Bowlt, RussianArt, p. 89.
20. Verkmeister,Odessa(Odessa:Fesenko,1912),p. 10 (catalogueof rosesissuedby the E. G.
VerkmeisterNursery).Forinformation on the horticulture and nurseryindustriesin Russiaat the
beginningof the twentieth century,seeVladimir Kurbatov,Sadyiparki (Petrograd,1916); L. B.
Luntsetal., eds.,Problemysadovo-parkovoiarkhitektury {Moscow, 1936); L. B. Lunts,Zelenoe
stroitelstvo (Moscow: Goslesbumazhizdat, 1952); P A. Kosarevsky,Iskusstvo parkovogo
peizazha (Moscow, 1977).
21. Sergei Makovsky,"Golubaia roza" Zolotoe runo (Moscow), no. 5, 1907, p. 25.
22. Artists of the BlueRoseand Jackof Diamondsgroupsalso made and painted paper flowers
and used them in their still-life arrangements. See Anna Ostroumova-Lebedeva,Av-
tobiogaficheskiezapiski (Leningrad: Iskusstvo1945), vol. 1, p. 130.
23. On the balagan, see Nekrylova,Russkienarodnye; on the minstrels and buffoons, see
RussellZguta, RussianMinstrels: A History of the "Skomorokhi" (Philadelphia:Universityof
PennsylvaniaPress,1978). For commentaryon the ways in which Malevichand Tatlindrew on
folk sources in their design work for the indicated productions, see Flora Syrkina, "Tatlin's
Theatre," in LarissaZhadovaet al., Tatlin(New York: Rizzoli, 1988), pp. 155-79, and John E.
Bowlt, RussianStageDesign.ScenicInnovation, 1900- 1930. From the Collectionof Mr. and
Mrs. Nikita D. Lobanov-Rostovsky,catalogueof an exhibition at the MississippiMuseum of Art,
Jackson,1982, pp. 214-17, 292-95.
24. IliaZdanevichand Mikhail Larionov,"Pochemumy raskrashivaemsia"(1913),translation in
Bowlt, RussianArt, p. 82 (see note 27 below). Zdanevichwrote a secondexplanationof face
painting under the title "O raskraske litsa" (Manuscript Section, State RussianMuseum,
Leningrad,f. 177, ed. khr. 29, undated).
25. "Opiat futuristy (vmesto peredovoi),"Akter (Moscow), no. 4, 1913, pp. 1-2.
26. I would like to thank Jerry Heil for providing me with valuable information on the movie
Drama in Futurists' Cabaret No. 13. See his article "Russian Futurism and the Cinema:
Majakovskij'sFilmWork of 1913," in RussianLiterature (Amsterdam),no. 19, 1986, pp. 175—
92.
27. The text of "Pochemumy raskrashivaemsia"("Why We PaintOurselves")appearedin the
journal Argus (St.Petersburg),December1913, pp. 114-18. Thetwo illustrationsof the couple
dancing the tango are on page 115.
28. Malevichborrowed the theme and image of hisArgentine Polkafrom a photograph in the
contemporary magazine Ogonek. For commentary and explanation, see Anatolii Strigalev,
" 'Krestianskoe,' 'gorodskoe' i 'vselennoe' u Malevicha" Tvorchestvo(Moscow),no. 4, 1989,
pp. 26-30.

15 5
29. For some information on Mak, Kruger,and the tango, see Sheremetievskaia,Tanetsna
estrade,pp. 22-26. For Kruger'scommentson the tango, seeZ., "E. A. Krugero 'tango,' " Teatr
v karrikaturakh (Moscow),no. 16, 1913, p. 24. Another close context in which Goncharova,
Kruger, and Larionov appeared was the miscellanyAlmanakh verbnogo bazara (Moscow:
Levenson,1914),which carried a photograph of Kruger and Valli dancing the tango next to a
photograph of one of Goncharova'sportraits of Larionov together with a photograph of
Larionov.It cannot be ruled out that, in their enthusiasm for the tango, Goncharovaand
Larionovwere taking a consciousstand againstFilippoMarinetti and his rejectionof the tango,
i.e., the letter - "Abbassoil tango et Parsifal!"- that he circulatedamong his friends and then
published in 1914 in Frenchin Milan as "A bas le tango et Parsifal."
30. The public lecture "On the Tango" was held at the KalashnikovBread Exchange,St.
Petersburg,on April 13, 1914. Nikolai Kulbin was among the protagonists,NatanAltman and
Ilia Zdanevichwere among the antagonists,and a sectionof the discussionwas devoted to the
Marinetti declaration on the tango and Parsifal.See I. Zdanevich,"0 tango" (1914) in State
RussianMuseum, Manuscript Section, fond 177, ed. khr. 29.
31. The poster for the movie The Last Tangois reproduced in Zorkaia, Na rubezhe stoletii,
p. 197. For information on VeraKholodnaiaand her connectionswith Russianmodernism,see
A. Kapler,Zagadka korolevy ekrana (Moscow, 1979).
32. Apollinarii Vasnetsov,Khudozhestva(Moscow: Knebel, 1906), p. 122.
33. Anatolii Durov'sautobiographyis of particular relevanceto the relationshipof the Russian
avant-gardeto popular culture. See Anatolii Durov, V zhizni i na stsene (Voronezh, 1914;
Moscow: Iskusstvo,1984). The story of Vladimir Durov'spig and KaiserWilhelm is narrated by
Joel Schechterin his book Durov's Pig (New York: Theatre CommunicationsGroup, 1985),
pp. 1-17.
34. For information on Pirosmanashvili,see Erast Kuznetsov,Niko Pirosmani (Leningrad:
Aurora, 1983); Pirosmani(Leningrad:Iskusstvo,1984).For reproductionsand commentaryon
other naive artists, see NataliaShkarovskaia,Narodnoesamodeiatelnoeiskusstvo(Leningrad:
Aurora, 1975).
35. Both lubki are reproduced in Sytova,Lubok, plates 27, 38.
36. Kazimir Malevichet al„ "Paskhalnyepozhelaniia,"Sinii zhurnal, April 1915. The page is
reproducedin HermanBerningerand Jean-AlbertCartier,Pougny(Tubingen: Wasmuth, 1972),
vol. 1, p. 49.
37. Mikhail Larionov,"Luchistskaiazhivopis" (1913), translation in Bowlt, RussianArt, p. 90.
38. Vladimir Maiakovsky,"Kaplia degtia" (1913), translation in Anna Lawton, ed., Russian
Futurism through Its Manifestoes, 1912-1928 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell UniversityPress,1988),
p. 101.
39. PavelFilonov,"Doklad na muzeinoikonferentsii" (1923),translation in NicolettaMislerand
John E. Bowlt, PavelFilonov:A Hero and His Fate(Austin, Tex.:Silvergirl,1983),p. 181. Filonov
incorporateda number of signboard motifs into his paintingsand drawings.See,for example,
his watercolor Market (1923-24, RM) and sepia Still Life (Vegetables:Study of a Signboard)
(1920s, RM).Both are reproducedin PavelNikolaevichFilonov,catalogueof an exhibition at the
State RussianMuseum, Leningrad, 1988, pp. 69, 70.
40. For a detailed commentary on Maiakovsky's"Vyveskam" and Tatlin'sillustrations, see
Juliette Stapanian,"V. Majakovskij's'To Signs' (Vyveskam)—a Cubist 'Signboard' in Verse,"
Slavic and East European Journal (Tucson,Ariz.), vol. 26, no. 2 (1982), pp. 174-86; and
Mayakovsky'sCubo-Futurist Vision (Houston, Tex.: Rice UniversityPress,1986), chapter 5.
41. Mansurovdescribedhisappreciationof signboardsin an undatedletter to Carlo Belloli.See
Mansurov,catalogue of an exhibition at LorenzelliArte, Milan, 1987, p. 25.
42. KazimirMalevich,"Avtobiografiia,"in Nikolai Khardzhiev,ed., K istorii russkogoavangarda
(Stockholm: Almquist and Wiksell, 1976), p. 118.

15 E
43. VeraErmolaeva,"Peterburgskaiavyveska,"Iskusstvokommuny (Petrograd),no. 8, January
26, 1919, p. 2.
44. Shevchenko'sWoman Ironing is reproduced in color in Kaganskaia,A. V Shevchenko,
p. 67, and in black and white in AlexanderShevchenko,catalogueof an exhibition at the State
RussianMuseum, Leningrad,1978, n. pag. Severalof Lebedev'spicturesof women ironing are
reproduced in Petrov,V Lebedev,pp. 35-40.
45. Aristarkh Lentulov,"Avtobiografiia," in Sovetskiekhudozhniki (Moscow: Ogiz, 1937),vol.
1, p. 160. Maiakovskyparticipated, though his work was not mentioned in the catalogue.
46. The Malevichfish is reproducedin Malewitsch, p. 210; the Rozanova(Kruchenyhk)fish is
reproduced in Rudenstine,RussianAvant-Garde, p. 457. For other examplesof Malevich's
"alogical" use of fish imagery, see Jean-ClaudeMarcade, ed., Malevitch (Lausanne:LAge
d'Homme, 1978, illustration numbers 74, 76.
47. For information on Russia'snew industrialarchitecture in the late nineteenth century and
earlytwentieth century,seeYurii Volchoket al., Konstruktsiii arkhitekturnaia forma v russkom
zodchestveXlX-nachala XX vv (Moscow: Stroiizdat, 1977), especiallythe section by Nina
Smurova, "Inzhenernyesooruzheniiai ikh vliianie na razvitie russkoi khudozhestvennoikul-
tury," pp. 60-93; Marietta Gize, Ocherkiistorii khudozhestvennogokonstruirovaniiav Rossii
XVIII-nachala XX veka (Leningrad: Leningradskiiuniversitet, 1978).
48. A. Suvorin, ed., Vsia Moskva. Adresnaia i spravochnaiakniga na 1898 god (Moscow:
Chicherin, 1898).
49. For reproductions of Suetin's Suprematist signboards, see LarissaZhadova, Malevich
(London: Thames& Hudson, 1982), plates 158-61; for reproductionsof Nina Kogan'sand
Suetin'sSuprematistdesignsfor trams, see ibid., plates 174, 175.

50. For information on Georgii Leonovand his collages,see Gerchuk,Zhivye veschi,pp. 66-
68.
51. For reproductions of Stepanova'scollages, including those for Gaust-Chaba,see Die
Kunstismenin Russland/ The Ismsof Art in Russia,catalogueof an exhibition at the Galerie
Gmurzynska,Cologne, 1977, pp. 134, 135; Rudenstine,RussianAvant-Garde, p. 469; Alex
ander Lavrentiev,VarvaraStepanova,Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press,1988, pp. 18-31.
52. For reproductionsof Rodchenko'scollages,see German Karginov,Rodchenko(London:
Thames& Hudson,1979), plates 102-4; Rodcenko/ Stepanova.Alle originidel Costruttivismo,
y>
catalogueof an exhibition at the Palazzodei Priori e PalazzoCesaroni,Perugia, 1984, p. 65;
Selim Khan-Magomedov,Rodchenko: The Complete Work (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, m
1987), passim. ^
m
53. For reproductionsof pre-Revolutionarycommercialposters,includingthose for the Veiner 2
Beer Factories,the Einem Candy and Biscuit Factory,and the Conductor Corporation, see n
Baburina,Ruskiiplakat. Reproductionsof Rodchenko'sdesignsfor postersfor beer,candies,
and galoshescan be found in the standardbooks on the artist and in Anikst, SovietCommercial ^
Design. >
2
54. See, for example, Rodchenko's designs for GUM posters, reproduced in Khan- —
Magomedov,Rodchenko,pp. 150, 151.
55. Lissitzky'scover for ASNOVAis reproducedin Anikst, Soviet CommercialDesign, p. 121; m
some of Popova'smusic cover designs are reproduced in Rudenstine,RussianAvant-Garde, -*
p. 413. ^
~U
56. Grigorii Miller, et al., "Pervaiarabochaia gruppa konstruktivistov" (1924), translation in ^
Bowlt, RussianArt, p. 241. Q
T1
57. Alexei Gan, Konstruktivizm (1922), translation in Bowlt, RussianArt, p. 223. >

58. The main source of information on Klucis (Klutsis) is Larisa Oginskaia, Gustav Klutsis -h

I 57
(Moscow,Sovetskiikhudozhnik, 1981).The postcardsare reproducedon pp. 89-97. Seealso
Gustav Klucis, catalogue of an exhibition at the Galerie Gmuryznska,Cologne, 1988.

59. Gustav Klutsis (Klucis),"Fotomontazh kak novyi vid agitatsionnogo iskusstva,"in Pavel
Novitsky,ed., Izofront. Klassovaiaborba na fronte prostranstvennyhiskusstv(Moscow and
Leningrad: Ogiz and Izogiz, 1931), p. 120.
60. Klucispublishedan anonymousarticle on photomontage in Lef.See"Foto-montazh," Lef
(Moscow), no. 4, 1924, pp. 41-44.

61. See,for example,E.V.Shervinsky,"Sotsialisticheskiirealizmv sadovo-parkovomiskusstve,"

in 150 let arkhitekturnogo obrazovaniiav Moskve (Moscow: Akademiia arkhitektura SSSR),
1940.

15 8
 NO JOY IN MUDVILLE:

GREENBERG'S MODERNISM

THEN AND NOW

 Coming and going we crosshis way. Forfifty yearsClement Greenberg ROBERT
hasplanted himselfsquarelyin the midst of debateabout the pastand
future of modernism. Sequentiallyor simultaneouslya cultural essayist, « » ^ _ mm
gallery reviewer,studio coach, and panel pundit, he has been and remains 5 T O R R
the singlemost controversialcritic of his time —and by virtue of that contro
versy,the singlemost influential one aswell. TheWizard of Oz of Formalism, -
commanding the allegianceof a host of curators, historians,dealers,and
critics, he has issued edicts, sanctioned movements, and punished re
calcitrants from behind the screen of his connoisseurship.For many the
figure of ultimate and unimpeachableauthority, for others—in particular
former acolytes—Greenberg is the focus of Oedipal curiosity and envy.
Previouslyenthralled by his aura of certainty and the heavilyedited histor-
icism of his thought, these disillusioned dependents currently revisit the
sceneof his self-invention,hoping to find relicsof the personaland social
past he has tried so assiduouslyto erasefrom memory.
There is much there to rediscoverand sort out. For everyoneconcerned,
including those immune to his mystique and well practiced at calling his
doctrinal bluff the stakesare high. By usurping the American tradition of
radicalsocialcriticismonly to write it off asthe preamblefor a capriciousand
deterministic aestheticism willfully blind to its unsettled and impinging
circumstance,Greenberg deprived subsequent generations of their true
intellectual heritage. Although usuallysilent on contemporaryaffairs, even
now the subjectof this retrospectiveinvestigationcan be heardcommenting
on and to a largeextent setting the tone of its proceedings.Indeed,the tenor
of his idiom and the grammar of his thinking can readily be detected in the
work of many of his erstwhile disciplesand present inquisitors,as well as in
that of his constantadmirers.Likethe GreatOz, he thus continuesto impose
his will through a theatrical absenceintermittently and unpredictablypunc
tuated with new pronouncementsand unexpectedtwists on old arguments.
As always, even when they depart from or trivialize his former positions,
they are spokenwith an unflagging confidencethat posterity will bearthem
out.
After all, the best taste agreesin the long run," Greenbergannouncedto
a symposium in 1953.1 Suchstatementsare his hallmark. Cueing the art-
historical applausetrack, they firmed the resolveof the fainthearted and
bullied the doubtful that Greenbergsought to rallyaround his versionof the
modernist cause.Over the long haul, however,opinions conditioned on a
promised consensusbeg for back-checking.Consider some of his more
recent pronouncements:Speakingto ARTnews\n1987, he said, "I think the
best painter alive now is JulesOlitski . . . Noland is still a great painter ... I
think Wyeth is way better than most of the avant-gardestars of this time.
2 Better than Rauschenberg.Better now than JasperJohns." While it is
always possibleto assemblea quorum of the "happy few" to ratify one's

1G 1
 c prejudices,surely Greenbergdoes not believethat among membersof the
q informed art audience "the best taste agrees" on this score,
jjj It is tempting then to write these remarks off as the products of a
H temperamental kink or signs of professionalintransigencein the face of
k changingtimes.Toa degreethey are both. A kind of pontifical wisecracking,
m nevertheless,they also provide a useful analytic tool. For not only do
° Greenberg's views fly in the face of the conventionalwisdom of the day—
lendingthem, it must be admitted, a certain desperatepiquancy—by exam
ple they call into questionthe very basisof hisown critical practice.Unwilling
to argue or modify his publicly declaredpreferences,yet seeminglyrestless
within the structure they blandly ornament, Greenberg has lately been
toying with the criteria that originally determined those choices.
First articulated in two seminal articles, "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch" and
"Towardsa Newer Laocoon," Greenberg's initial premisesare so familiar as
to seem axiomatic. The destiny of modernism, he contended, lay in the
purification and the self-referentialityof artistic meansand ends.The mod
ernist project henceconsistedof the progressiveeliminationof the influence
of one medium upon another and the gradual reduction of each to its
"essential" properties and possibilities.Supported by a self-assured,liberal
bourgeoisie"to which it hasalwaysremainedattached by an umbilical cord
3 of gold," the agent of this processwas the avant-garde. Its opposite and
adversarywas representedby "kitsch." Introducing into general parlancea
Germanepithet for the gaudy and sentimentalexcessof bourgeoisdecora
tion, Greenbergnamed its Americananalogs: "popular,commercialart and
literature with their chromeotypes,magazinecovers,illustrations,ads, slick
and pulp fiction, comics, Tin Pan Alley music, tap dancing, Hollywood
4 movies, etc., etc." Originally slang for "gutter scrappings," Greenberg's
usagerepolarizesthe word's referents by suggestingmore a fall from grace
than a welling-up of cultural drek. Inherent trashiness is not enough;
devolution is involved.For Greenbergkitsch is specificallydebasedhigh art.
Mass-producedsimulacraof creationswhose informing conventionsit ex
ploits as manufacturingtemplates, kitsch gratifiesthe demand for pleasure
without making any demands of its own. Whether painting or sculpture,
object or idea, it reproducesartistic effects but ignorestheir causes.Citing
the facile realismof I. Y. Repin,Greenbergargued that even talent cannot
redeema work whose ambition does not includea closeexaminationof its
5 guiding formal principles. To the contrary, in the hands of a skilled crafts
man, art may fail preciselyby succeedingtoo well at disguisingits artifice.
Doingall the work on behalf of the public, kitschthus betraysart's obligation
to makethat public think. Theavant-garde,by distinction,takes nothing for
granted. Rather,it usesart to questionand elucidateart's "givens." Byvirtue
of its ceaselessself-criticality, the avant-gardeservesthe societyto which it is
otherwise marginal by resisting the tendency toward cultural inertia in-

1 62
 scribed in the canons of the academy and reiterated in the witless appropria
tions and crude reproductions of merchandisers.
Paradoxically, Greenberg's enduring fixation with Olitski, his abiding an
tipathy for Rauschenberg and Johns, and his recent enthusiasm for Wyeth
affirm by inversion the antithesis first proposed in these two articles. Employ
ing the term avant-garde" as a pejorative, and singling out the Repin of
Brandywine for praise, Greenberg in effect stands his own hierarchy on its
head, offering his assessments as a negative proof of the lasting validity of
his fundamental schema. Loyal to the Color Field academy, whose oracle he
was, Greenberg displays an Alexandrian condescension toward -and igno
rance of —the abstract art of the present. Sworn enemy of Surrealism and
Dada, he has taken side against Rauschenberg and Johns and chosen that of
our greatest living "kitsch-meister," Wyeth, whose arid illustrations make
formulaic use of the picture-plane-puncturing techniques of chiaroscuro
once anathema to Greenberg while "lending" themselves to endless repro
duction. Most of all, Wyeth's dreary vignettes celebrate the cultural and
social immobility against which the avant-garde has traditionally been
locked in struggle. Pugnacious as ever- and as ever proud - Greenberg has
in effect reasserted his categorical opposition of high and low culture while
reversing his optic. To that extent his recent exercises in taste making
instructively redirect our attention to the arbitrariness of that vision and
telescope it into the past.
Despite Greenberg's conviction that true quality of judgment transcends
the stresses and vagaries of time, it is impossible to make sense of or do
justice to his ideas in any but historical terms. Those ideas had their moment,
and that moment its mood. Delmore Schwartz's "New Year's Eve," a barely
fictional account of a social gathering of Greenberg's crowd, describes it.

Yesit was 1938. How strangethat it should be 1938, how strangeseemedthe word
and the fact. No one knew that this was to be the year of the Munich Pact, but
everyoneknew there would be a new world war . . . As Shenandoah,Nicholasand
Wilhelmina parted in emptinessand depression,Shenandoahwas already locked in
what was soon to be a post-Munichsensibility:completehopelessness
of perception
6 and feeling.

Testimony to the despair brought on by the spread of fascism and the

failures and crimes of Soviet Communism is remarkably consistent. Left-
wing aesthetes of most tendencies professed much the same bleak view of
their collective future. "All a writer can do," Stephen Spender wrote
Christopher Isherwood in 1938, "the only completely revolutionary attitude
7 for him today, is to try and create standards which are really civilized." The
phrasing is strikingly similar to the final sentences of "Avant-Garde and
Kitsch."

1 63
 Hereas in everyother questiontoday, it becomesnecessaryto quote Marx word for
word. Todaywe no longer look toward socialismfor a new culture - as inevitablyone
will appear,once we do have socialism.Todaywe look to socialismsimply for the
8 preservationof whatever living culture we have right now.

By the fall of 1939, when "Avant Garde and Kitsch" appeared in the
Partisan Review (see fig. 189) events had gone from bad to catastrophic.
August saw the signing of the Hitler-Stalin pact followed by the outbreak of
hostilities in Europe. A year later, the same month that "Towards a Newer
Laocoon" was published, Leon Trotsky, the journal's unpredictable and often
9 harsh guiding light, was assassinated. The apocalyptic tone of Greenberg's
essay thus clearly echoed the anguished uncertainty that had suddenly
beset the once confident radical intelligentsia. Declaring toward the middle
of the essay that modernism's historical mission was to "keep culture
moving," by the end. Greenberg's message was different in spirit; against
the prevailing menace of global reaction, the best that could be accom
10 plished, he felt, was a holding action. Of paramount significance, this shift
in emphasis was more than circumstantial, as Walter Benjamin (see fig. 190),
a true martyr of that moment and a profoundly subtle Marxist, had foreseen.
Anticipating this turn of mind, ten years before, Benjamin had said of the
Surrealists, whom he considered the last flowering of the old avant-garde:

It is typical of these left-wing Frenchintellectuals-exactly as it is of their Russian

counterparts, too —that their positive function derives entirely from a feeling of
obligation, not to Revolution,but to traditional culture. Theircollectiveachievement,
11 as far as it is positive, approximatesconservation.

Even without Benjamin's caution, however, Greenberg's ostensible politics,

in particular his appeal to Marxs authority, demand close scrutiny.
Greenberg was a latecomer to the Left of his generation. A 1955 auto
biographical statement quoted in the introduction to his Collected Essays
and Criticism makes no mention of any political affiliation whatsoever. It
does recount his graduation from Syracuse University in 1930, time spent in
his father's dry-goods business, his work as a translator, and finally his tenure
as customs officer prior to his joining the editorial staff at Partisan Review in
1940. Only social and family ties and his freelance literary work seem to
have brought him into contact with radical circles. In the mid-1 930s he
translated The Brown Network, the Activities of the Nazis in Foreign Coun
tries, a report on the victims of fascism, as well as some works of Bertolt
Brecht. Although a brother, Sol, belonged to Max Shachtman's Worker's
Party a Trotskyite splinter group, never, it seems, was Greenberg himself a
member of a party Neither did he take an active role in the affairs of the
Artists' Congress (1935-42) or any other such cultural caucus. Indeed, since

1 64
 he had sat out most of the factional fights and organizationalefforts that
had animated the discourseand tempered the will of his New York col
leagues,Greenberg'sexperienceof Depressionera politicswas bookish and
remote even by the standardsof the intellectual Left in general.
Strong parallelsneverthelessexisted between his political and aesthetic
positions.Namingmilitarismas reaction'ssocialmanifestation,and kitsch its
artistic one, Greenberg'sresponseto both was to signal for retreat and
retrenchment on high ground. In a July-August 1941 tract entitled "10
Propositionson the War," written in conjunction with Dwight MacDonald,
who had commissioned "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch" from the previously
unknown critic, Greenbergopposed participation in the war on the grounds
that any collaboration with the ruling oligarchiesof Englandand its allies
would only reinforcetheir power over the working classand hastenthe rise
12 of domestic fascism. Equating the fundamental interests of Hitler and
Mussoliniwith those of the ruling castesin the liberal democraciesunder
Churchill and Roosevelt,Greenbergand MacDonaldurged radicalsto ab
stain from the conflict and await an imminent revolution, one which, the
authors speculated, "will be neither a protracted nor an especiallyviolent
13 struggle." Nor would the successof the rebellion depend upon expert or
elite leadership.Suchcadreswere obviated by the "technicalcompetence
and relativelyhigh cultural levelof the individualworker, [which allowed] for
a much wider distribution of initiative and authority, thus making possible,
indeed necessary,a quite different kind of revolutionary party from the
14 Bolshevikmodel." Implicitly- and ironically-trusting the massesto make
spontaneouslysubtle political choicesbasedon their "relativelyhigh cultural
level," while mistrusting their capacity to read books or look at pictures,
Greenbergurged socialiststo preservetheir purity of purpose by refusing
activelyto support the war againstthe Axisjust as, on the cultural front, he
called upon writers and paintersto protect the purity of their endeavorsby
effecting a staged withdrawal into "art for art's sake."
The problem, made obvious by the collapse of the SpanishRepublicin
1939 and the betrayalsof Stalin,was that no such upheavalwas forthcom
ing. Around the world socialismhad failed to sustain the momentum of
change,and popular movementsinspiredby it had fragmented or turned to
the Right. Although it struck a nerve in veteran radicalswho recalledthe
Left's co-optation at the beginning of World War I, Greenberg and Mac-
Donald'scaseagainstinvolvementwas patently schematicand their political
categorieshazy if not altogether devoid of reality.15A sophomoricglossof
Marxism,and a grosslysimplified and distorted understandingof the forces
at work in masssocietythereby contributed to the formulation of a stance
that pitted an unfounded revolutionaryoptimism againstmorejustified but
no lessabsolute pessimism.That combination would henceforth be typical
16 of Greenberg'sthinking and writing.

1E 5
 For the record, moreover,Greenbergs policy on the war, like the mission
he assignedthe demoralized avant-garde, directly contradicted positions
taken by Trotsky.On the one hand, believingthat the defeat of fascismwas
of the first importance,Trotskyhad repeatedlyaffirmed his "critical support"
of the SovietUnion in the event of Nazi aggression.Defenseof the existing
worker'sstate, he maintained,was an unequivocalrevolutionaryduty aswell
asa preconditionfor the overthrow of the reactionarybureaucracysuperim
17 posed upon it by his arch enemy Stalin. On the other hand, Trotsky's
socially committed but nonsectarianviews on art were articulated with
equalvehemenceand clarity.Greenberg,indeed,could scarcelyhavemissed
them or their import. In an essaypublished in the August 1938 Partisan
Review,for example,Trotskywrote, "Art which is the most complexpart of
culture, the most sensitiveand at the same time least protected, suffers
most from the decline and decay of the bourgeois society ... To find a
solution to this impassethrough art itself is impossible. . . Art can neither
escapethe crisisnor partition itself off. Art cannot saveitself."is Moreover,in
a manifesto printed in the pagesof the PartisanReviewthat sameyearover
the signaturesof DiegoRiveraand Andre Breton,and publiclyendorsed,and
secretlycoauthored,by Trotsky(seefig. 191),could be found further and still
more explicit condemnationof the conceptof art for art's sake."It is far from
our wish," the document flatly stated, "to revivea so-calledpure art which
19 generallyservesthe extremely impure ends of reaction."
Against this background,Greenberg's revolutionaryrhetoric rings hollow.
At the time, however,it rang clear.As the grandiloquent loosenessof his
arguments proves rather than disproves,Greenberg's intuitions regarding
the dramaticshift in cultural power then in progresswere extremelyshrewd,
aswas his pioneeringtranslation of the ideasof the Right into the terminol
ogy of the Left. Blurring ideologicaldistinctionsand foreshortening histor
ical processes,a plea for internationalsolidarity and the militant defenseof
enlightened culture was thus enlistedto confer legitimacyon what in truth
was a policy of Left-wing isolationismand the call for a return to Parnassus.
Someday,"Greenbergwrote in a much cited comment added to his 1957
memoir,"The Late Thirties in New York," "it will haveto be told how 'Anti-
Stalinism, which started out more or lessas Trotskyism,'turned into art for
20 art s sakeand thereby clearedthe way, heroically,for what was to come."
Accustomedto the historicalvoice, Greenbergbetraysby the abbreviations
of this chronology just how limited was his actual participation in the
processthat it apparentlydescribes.ForMeyer Schapiro,Harold Rosenberg,
and other Marxist-oriented critics of the period covered by Greenberg's
summary, the drift away from activism followed a long and wrenching
commitment of which Anti-Stalinism" was not the beginning but the
middle and "Trotskyism"scarcelythe code word for a nascent Formalism
21 (seefig. 192). But timing is all, and Greenberg's was perfect. Seizingupon

I E6
 the disarray in which the intellectual community found itself, he understood
how the consolidation of a "saving remnant" would make it possible to
salvage the idea of the avant-garde. Entering the ranks of the independent
socialists just as they were breaking up, therefore, Greenberg sought to
conjure "a third force" out of the mists of radical rhetoric, showing a
beleaguered Left the path toward "honorable" disengagement through
22 deft paraphrases of the language of engagement.
Contentious in tone and ostensibly rigorous in its analysis, from the outset
Greenberg's position subsumed a staggeringly eclectic range of attitudes
and ideas. From the neo-Platonist aesthete Walter Pater he took the notion
that, all art aspires constantly to the condition of music," and from Bernard
Berenson the paradigm and posture of the connoisseur. From the anti-
Romantic critic Irving Babbitt's 1910 book, A NewLaocoon: An Essayon the
23 Confusion of the Arts, he adapted the title for his own essay. Littering his
reviews with references to empiricism and positivism, by 1942 Greenberg
began making frequent allusion to Kant's theories regarding the universality
and disinterestedness of taste. A contagious "chutzpah" initially informed
these piratical appropriations, in particular the last. Partisan Review Editor
William Barrett recalled:

Therewas a specialsenseof triumph when Greenbergtrotted out the referenceto

Kant: for one thing the referencewas a little arcane,and there was specialcachetin
citing a philosopher who did not fall anywhere within the Marxist canon. But
sometimesthe referencedid soundrathersententiouscoming from Greenberg'slips,
and Delmore [Schwartz] would growl, Clem is always putting on the dog —
intellectuallyspeaking.. . . you know Clem doesn't know what he'stalking about
24 when he mentions Kant.

What Clem knew about Kant —or eventually learned —is less significant
than the manner in which he introduced him and the role he assigned him.
Reading one step ahead of his class, Greenberg avoided any serious attempt
to reconcile the discrepancies between his latest critical trouvaille and his
original premises. An increasingly brittle carapace overarching the theoreti
cal hodgepodge of his aesthetic program, Greenberg's "Marxist" material
ism covered for his undisciplined albeit dogmatic idealism.
Nor did "Marxism" simply drop from his discourse once more suitable
models came to the fore. It was fundamental to his polemical strategy, and
Greenberg persistently revived it throughout his career, most notably in his
1953 text, "The Plight of Culture," in which he returns to the theme of the
25 mutual hostility between advanced art and the popular audience. Re
sponding to! S. Eliot's "Notes Toward the Definition of Culture," Greenberg
takes the poet to task for miscalculating the extent of technology's influence
on the "organic" cycles of cultural growth and decay. Whereas the tech-
 nological revolution is responsible for the death of "folk culture," and
abysses of vulgarity and falsehood unknown in the recoverable past,"
Greenberg once again holds out for a long-term Utopian solution to the
problems of civilizations decline, this time proposing the replacement of
Western industrial society by one modeled on a primitive, preindustrial
26 socialism. Under such hypothetical circumstances, art, rather than being
consigned to the realm of leisure —that is, passive enjoyment —would, on a
mass basis, be given the status of work - that is, unalienated labor. "Beyond
such speculation, which is admittedly schematic and abstract, I cannot go,"
Greenberg said, concluding that, "nothing in these ideas suggests anything
27 that could be sensibly hoped for in the present or near future."
Typically hedged with last-minute disclaimers, the glimmer of distant yet
profound social transformation is once again summoned to lend a radical
aura to Greenberg's increasingly conservative preoccupation with cultural
28 leveling. Addressing many of the same issues and fears as "Avant-Garde
and Kitsch, The Plight of Culture" makes grudging allowance for pre
viously unanticipated conditions. Contrary to Greenberg's initial scenario,
the outcome of the late war was neither a final descent into barbarism nor a
swift and relatively peaceful revolution. Farfrom sinking into a rigid Statism,
in fact, America had emerged from the conflagration richer, more powerful,
and socially more fluid than before. Hence, while the essential structure of
Greenberg's dichotomy remained intact, his definition of its variables al
tered. Whereas in 1939 the enemy at the gates was fascist vulgarity-
regimented low-browism —by 1953 it is liberal vulgarity —market-driven
29 low- and middle-browism.
In particular, Greenberg recoiled from the supposed convergence of the
latter constituencies and decried the deleterious effects on artists and
intellectuals of the expanding audience these middle and lower sectors
together created. Already in 1947, he could write,

Yet high culture, which in the civilized past has always functioned on the basisof
sharp classdistinctions,is endangered-at leastfor the time being-by this sweep
ing process which, by wiping out social distinctions between the more or less
cultivated, rendersstandardsof art and thought provisional... It becomesincreas
ingly difficult to tell who is seriousand who is not. At the sametime as the average
college graduate becomes more literate the average intellectual becomes more
30 banal, both in personaland professionalactivity.

Ignoring for the moment its digressive insinuations —who, one may well ask,
is the average intellectual and what bearing does the unseemliness of their
unspecified "personal activity" have on the matter at hand - this text nicely
explicates the hidden sociology of The Plight of Culture" and, by extension,
the class bias of all Greenberg's writing. In "Avant-Garde and Kitsch" Green-

1 68
 berg prematurely predicted and mourned the passingof the old patronage
aristocracy.In "The Plightof Culture," he bemoanedits dilution, meanwhile
subtly fudging the distinction between the concept of the avant-gardeand
that of a cultural elite with the euphemisticdeployment of categoriessuch
as uppermost, middle, and "lower." Farfrom advocatingfundamental
change in the relations between the avant-gardeand its "haut bourgeois"
sponsorsor its "petit bourgeois" milieu, Greenbergproceededto adjust his
description of the status quo ante, in an effort at semanticallyforestalling
drasticslippagecausedby the arrivalof a newly prosperousand avid middle
class.Ostensiblyin favor of a far-off abolition of classdistinctionsand the
divisionof labor,in the immediatecontext Greenbergused "Marxist" termi
nology to insistupon them. Thuscloaking his horror at the riseof a leisured
public in 'progressive"garb, Greenberg adroitly assumed Eliot's position
without incurring the stigma attached to the latter's frankly reactionary
statement of their common views.
HistorianT.J.Clark'slabelingGreenbergan "Eliotic-Trotskyist,"although it
spawneda clevercontraction, givesthe critic the benefit of too much doubt,
inferring a genuine ideologicalcontest where, in fact, one finds a flurry of
31 feints and parriesfollowed by an artful striking of triumphant poses. Eliot,
not Trotsky,was Greenberg'shero in combat, and a Marx impersonator,the
poet's unlikely sparring partner. Indeed, the prolonged public face-off be
tween these two contenders for his allegiance resembled an exhibition
boxing match, refereed by a promoter who had a vested albeit unequal
interest in both fighters and no desireto seeeither knockedout of the ring.
Accordingly,each successivebout ended in a TKOand the guarantee of a
rematch. Always, however,it was the Eliotic Greenbergthat reigned in the
interim.
Consistentlydismissingartistic revolt or experimentation while still pro
fessinga desirefor social revolution, Greenbergthus shared Eliot'sconvic
tion that continuity of tradition was an ultimate value and art itself was a
product of purely aestheticdynamics."For my meaningis, that the poet has
not a personality' to express,but a particular medium, which is only a
medium ... in which impressionsand experiencescombine in peculiarand
unexpectedways," Eliot declared in 1919 in "Tradition and the Individual
32 Talent." Greenbergwas in complete agreement: "Purity in art consistsin
the acceptance,willing acceptance,of the limitations of the medium of the
specificart," hewrote in "Towardsa NewerLaocoon,"adding, "the arts have
been haunted back to their mediums, and there they have been isolated,
33 concentrated and defined." A quarter century later in "Modernist Paint
ing, he elaborated on that principle: "The essenceof modernism lies, as I
seeit, in the useof the characteristicmethodsof a disciplineto criticize itself,
not in order to subvert it but in order to entrench it more firmly in its areaof
34 competence." Primarilyif not exclusivelyconcernedwith the identification

1E9
 of its "irreducible" characteristics,Greenberg defined art by its revealed
essencerather than by the dynamic interaction of separate or contrary
elements.Inasmuchasall the arts imitated music,all art of quality,therefore,
tended toward harmony rather than dissonance,toward integration rather
than fragmentation. The outstanding question remained the degree to
which art might be exemptedfrom the decadencetoward which Greenberg
believedindustrial capitalism as a whole was destined. "We might sum up
Greenbergs position, translating it into Spenglerianlanguage, by saying
that the coincidingof avant-gardeand kitschshowsthat we are dealingwith
a Civilization now unable to produce a Kultur," Renato Poggioli
35 concluded.
Despitehis condemnationin "The Plightof Culture" of Eliot'sSpenglerian
excesses,in fact, Greenberg has shown a long-standing affinity for
Spenglersepochalfatalism and has recentlyowned up to it. "Cultures and
civilizationsdo run their 'biological courses,"' he told a 1981 conferenceon
modernism, the evidencesaysthat and the evidenceforces me to accept
Spenglersschemein the largest part. 36That scheme,however,precludes
anything like a dialecticalrelation between society and culture —and more
particularly between avant-gardeand kitsch-insofar as an eventual and
definitive failure of creative will presents itself as a forgone conclusion.
Mindful of this problem from the start, and anxiousto draw attention to and
explain modernism'spersistent vital signs, Greenberg countered with his
own natural determinism,substituting an aquatic metaphorfor Spenglers
organic one. From these intellectual headwaters emanated the "main
stream," Greenberg's signature trope and greatest fallacy.Variantsof this
coinageappear in earlier texts, but a 1943 review of an exhibition by Marc
Chagall uses it for the first time in its definitive form. "Chagall's art,"
Greenbergwrote, "turns from the mainstreamof ambitious contemporary
art to follow its own path. It is pungent, at times powerful, but opens up no
37 vistasbeyond itself." "Abstractart today," he went on to assertin covering
the 1944 Whitney Annual, "is the only stream that flows toward an
38 ocean." In "Towards a New Laocoon" Greenberg had stated that he
could find no other explanationfor the present superiority of abstract art
than its historical justification." The introduction of the concept of the
mainstream subsumed that rationale within a larger teleology, putting in
39 placethe last of the rhetoricaldevicesthat make up Greenberg's "theory."
Channeledby history,abstractionwas a current gathering momentum and
coherence as it advanced toward an unbounded prospect. With the al
lowances habitually made for figurative artists dear to him, for example
Arnold Friedman (see fig. 193) and Louis Eilshemius,and qualified by
admiration for the old masters and tactical concessionsto charges of
dogmatism- "Art is under no categoricalimperativeto correspondpoint by
40 point to the underlying tendencies of its age" -Greenberg proceeded

f 7 O
 without qualm to superimpose his grand design upon the contradictory
facts of art as he found it in the 1940s.
Thosefactswere contradictory indeed,and insofarasthe Americanpublic
was concerned,still sketchy.Tospeakwith comprehensiveauthority about
the complex genesis of modernist painting and sculpture-or their
hybrids—requireda familiarity with a rapidly changing and far-flung inter
nationalscenethat veryfew critics,curators,scholars,or artists in the United
Stateswere privilegedto claim. Giventhis and his repeatedinsistenceon the
primacy of direct experiencein forming taste, it is remarkable how scant
Greenberg'sknowledge of the plasticarts actuallywas when "Avant-Garde
41 and Kitsch" and "Towardsa Newer Laocoon"were written. Priorto their
publication, Greenberghad had little exposureto contemporarypainting or
sculpture beyond his enrollment in a drawing class at the Art Students
Leagueand attendanceat three out of a seriesof six lectureson modernist
42 aestheticsdelivered by Hans Hofmann. Unpublishedduring his lifetime,
Hofmann'stalks provided Greenbergwith a basic understandingof paint
erly values and mechanicsfrom which the critic later extrapolated his
fundamental theses, although often at the cost of reducing Hofmann's
fertile insightsinto catch phrases.In theselectures—which in fairnessit must
be said Greenberghas consistentlyacknowledgedas being of crucial value
to his own thinking —Hofmann emphasizedattention to the purity of color
relationships,the importance of making the medium visible,and an appre
ciation of the dynamicsof the picture plane. Hofmann'sinfluence notwith
standing, however, almost all the notions presented in Greenberg'sfirst
essayswere founded on literary not visual precedents,a fact made espe
cially ironicwhen consideringhow quick he was to criticizethe confusionof
the literary and the plastic arts.
Moreover,as was true of those used to argue his political positions,the
propositionsand examplesinitially forwarded in his aestheticwriting were
largely if not entirely hypothetical.The career of Greenbergthe exhibition
reviewer,who in 1941 sprung without warning or preparation from the
forehead of Greenberg the literary essayist,is the story of the fast start
obliged to be a fast study.Tobe sure,all good critics learnon the job. If they
do not, they are unworthy of being read. In certain ways, Greenberg
excelledat this challenge.As a stylist and scold he remainsfresh. Inveighing
againstinstitutionalcompromise,he is still capableof inspiringcontempt for
the targets of his abuse; too little haschangedin the art world for us not to
find examplesof comparablebureaucraticmuddle-headednessin our day.
Moreover,as a generaladvocateof American painting and sculpture at the
hour of its majority,he deservesrespect.Nevertheless,in his most important
capacityasa witnessto art seenin galleriesand museumsand a reporter on
the ideas that informed it, he is woefully and consistently unreliable. By
turns cavalierand hectoringin manner,and alwaysreadyto pigeonholework

I 7 1
 he did not comprehendand movementsinto which he had not inquired in
detail, Greenbergs lapsesare evenharderto excusewhen measuredagainst
his ultimate cause.For example,although an advocateof purity in art and
politics, Greenbergshowed a generalignoranceof the RussianConstructiv-
ists that is astonishing. Reviewing Malevich (see fig. 194) in 1942, he
dismissed his work as of documentary value but meager aesthetic re
43 sults." His praiseof Mondrian is just as strange. In a 1943 column having
just declared Mondrian a great painter," Greenbergwent on to disparage
the artists BroadwayBoogie Woogie (fig. 195) with a stunning arrogance.
There is a resolution, but of an easy struggle" Greenberg said of the
painting'stension between pattern and ground, and then complainedof its
floating, wavering,somehowawkward quality," concludingthat "the color
44 wanders off in directions I am sure belie the artist's intent." Exceptthat
here,as in many other instances,Greenberg'sgraspof the artist's intent and
the pictorial facts was pure projection. Mistaking primariesfor secondaries
in spite of the Dutch artist's well-documented and rigorouslyapplied color
theory, Greenberg'sdescription of the work's chromatic schemewas, in
45 reality,grosslyinaccurate. Sucherrors are scarcelyminor,especiallyfor an
"eye" or "mind" of such pretension.
Predicating his theoretical and historical case for abstraction on the
development of Cubism, Greenberg thus managed to misconstrue the
work and motivation of two of its principal followers —this despite the
Museum of Modern Art's 1936 surveyexhibition Cubism and Abstract Art
in which the work of both were prominent. As late as 1951, Alfred Barr,the
exhibition's curator, still thought it necessaryto point out the "serious
historical confusion" in Greenberg'shabit of "including] all the abstract
movementsof the previousforty years," under the rubric of Cubism 46 In a
famous diagram (fig. 196) published on the dust jacket of the show's
catalogue, Barr had, in fact, enumerated the tributaries of nonobjective
art-Fauvism, Expressionism,Surrealism, Constructivism, Suprematism,
etc.-and rendered their course as they fed into each other and then
redivided into two omnibus channels: nongeometrical and geometrical
abstraction. However,even.Barr's own provisional attempt to track and
focus art history's forward motion produced a puzzling picture as the
central portion of his drawing —a welter of linesindicatingoverlappingand
47 reciprocal influence-makes plain. Three years later, when Greenberg
beganto write, the currents and whirlpools of modernismwere if anything
more difficult to chart.
Meanwhile, Meyer Schapiro'scritique of Barr'sformalist account of ab
straction also appearsto haveescapedGreenberg'snotice. Writing for the
Marxist Quarterly in 1937, Schapirocredited "Barr's recent book, [as] the
best, I think, we havein Englishon the movementsnow grouped as abstract
art." He observed, however,that

f 72
 although Barr sets out to describe rather than defend or criticize abstract art, he
seemsto accept its theories at face value in his historical exposition and in certain
random judgments. In places he speaks of this art as independent of historical
conditions,as realizingthe underlyingorder of nature asan art of pure form without
content . . . Henceif the book is largelyan account of historical movements,Barr's
48 conception of abstract art remainsessentiallyunhistorical. . ,"

Correcting Barr's methodological bias toward a cyclical explanation of stylis

tic action and reaction, Schapiro sketched an alternative interpretation of
the origins of nonobjective art that emphasized both social and personal
factors, quoting at some length from the writings of Malevich and Kandinsky
in support of his case. Nothing in this exchange made an impression on
Greenberg, who persistently finessed questions of social engagement on
the part of abstract artists and regularly dismissed their often extensive
theoretical texts as essentially irrelevant to their work.
Careless with regard to some who had carried forward the mission of the
"purist" avant-garde, and unwilling to contend with the complex interplay
among its various contributing tendencies, Greenberg was glib or accusing
when it came to artists and schools that substantially deviated from his
precepts. In his writing, Dada as a whole was reduced to a minor episode. In
the entire first decade of Greenberg 's criticism Marcel Duchamp receives
one mention. Schwitters (see fig. 197) is dealt with only in terms of the
formal syntax of his collages, which, like those of the Cubists, mattered to
Greenberg only insofar as they undid the conventions of painterly illusion-
ism. Berlin Dada is passed over without comment. Indifferent to if not simply
oblivious of the political ideas and graphic innovations of John Heartfield and
George Grosz, Greenberg refused or failed to contend with the implicit
parallels between their work and that of Brecht, whose use of popular
49 motifs he countenanced. Surrealism, meanwhile, is caricatured as a retro
grade pictorial movement. Where absolutely necessary, as Barr noted,
Greenberg made exceptions by reassigning labels. Hence Miro (see fig. 198),
about whom Greenberg wrote his only monograph, was described as a "late
Cubist," as was Pollock, whom Greenberg hoped thereby to rescue from the
50 entanglements of Surrealist symbolism and the unconscious. Strip-
searching art for literary contraband, be it Schwitters's cheeky and
ephemeral poetry or Miro's simultaneously droll and disturbing erotic vi
gnettes, Greenberg, the aesthetic customs agent, stood vigilant guard at the
frontier of American modernism.
Anywhere that strings of appropriation, invention, biography, or belief
attached art to the world, Greenberg was ready to cut them clean, particu
larly when those strings lead to directly vernacular culture. Unlike Schapiro,
who as a Marxist activist and art historian had long inquired into the social
content and context of art in general and Impressionism in particular,

17 3
 Greenberg retreated to a tautological formalism that obviated such dis
quieting questions. Still, addressing the work of certain artists forced his
hand, and frequently the results are more telling than his theoretical treat
ment of the issues involved. When writing of Georges Seurat (fig. 199), for
example, Greenberg shrank from the very urban spectacles that beckoned
this nonetheless supremely optical painter.

Like Manet, Toulouse-Lautrec,Renoirand other contemporaries, he [Seurat] was

fascinated by the mass produced recreations of the city which the nineteenth
century had conventionalizedinto circuses,night clubs,dancehalls,cafesand variety
theaters.Seuratseemsto havebeen sensitiveto the outside-looking-inattitude that
modern entertainment forces upon the spectator. More than the entertainment
itself, the inhuman glamour of the entertainers keeps us at a distance. Both the
entertainersand the spectatorsin "Le Chahut" and "Le Cirque"are cartooned ... It is
a world most of us will never enter. Twenty yearsafter Seurat, painting entered a
51 world not unlike it and left a good many of us standing at the door.

This is as close to an open admission of critical incapacity as one encoun

ters in Greenberg's writing. Accepting to stand outside the door opened by
Manet, Lautrec, and their followers, Greenberg condemned himself to
watch much of the avant-garde file past and out of sight. The question is,
why? To what degree, one wonders, was his demurrer a product of philo
sophical design or a matter of default, a consequence of ascertainable
principles or the result of a simple lack of affinity for rude pleasures? Did he,
for example, recoil from the music hall on the grounds that it was debased
52 Bach or Beethoven, or did he simply have a tin ear for Tin Pan Alley?
Neither answer satisfies; yet how does one explain so crippling a critical
weakness in so quick an intelligence? Projecting his own discomfort onto
others, Greenberg often hints at the underlying ambivalence that appears to
have prompted his sweeping disdain for popular culture. His complaint
against the cartoonist William Steig (see figs. 200 and 201) is particularly
revealing: "If, however, Steig were somewhat more susceptible to those
dangers of middle-class existence he too triumphantly points out, he would
55 score much more frequently" Turned back on himself, the charge sticks
more firmly still.
In his comments on literature, Greenberg was more forthcoming about
his own predicament. Contributing to a 1944 conference, "American Litera
ture and the Younger Generation of American Jews," he was indeed quite
outspoken about the underlying anxieties and self-imposed strictures it
entailed.

Thereis a Jewishbiastoward the abstract,the tendencyto conceptualizeas much as

possible, and then a certain "Schwarmerei," a state of perpetual and exalted

I 74
 surprise-and sometimesdisgust-at the sensuousand sentimental data of exis
54 tence that others take for granted.

Continuing in this vein, Greenberg's theoretical commentary borders on

autobiographical testimony and is therefore worth quoting at length:

Again and again, they [Jewish writers] describe escapesor better flights, from
the restrictions or squalor of the Brooklynsand Bronxesto the wide open world
which rewards the successfulfugitive with space, importance and wealth . . .
Sometimesit is a flight from lonelinessto identification with a cause. . . Flight-as
well as its converse,pursuit- is of coursea great American theme, but the Jewish
writer sets himself apart by the more concernedand immediately material way he
treats it. It is for this reason that the Jewish writer is so reluctant to surrender
himself to a truly personalrelation with an objective theme. His personalrelation is
to the successof the writing, writing becomesalmost altogether a way of coping
55 with the world.

Ironically, it is precisely at this point that Eliot's Anglo-Catholicism and

Greenberg's Jewishness coincide. "The progress of the artist is a continual
self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality," Eliot wrote. "Poetry is
not the turning loose of emotions but an escape from emotion, not the
56 expression of personality but the escape from personality." Greenberg's
similar insistence on the aesthetic "extinction of personality," and his deter
mination to purge from art all traces of mundane existence, for which kitsch
became the shorthand term, reflect not so much a political or even an art-
historical perspective, as they do a fundamentally religious one. Located
against the backdrop of Jewish emigration from the shtetl and the ghetto,
the opposition of purity and impurity stands as a metaphor for the perilous
choices imposed by cultural assimilation in the New World. If indeed a
preoccupation with form is typical of the first- or second-generation Jewish-
American writer, in Greenberg's reckoning that preoccupation is a subli
mated expression of his deep alienation from the surrounding environment.
"His need of course is a greater feeling of integration with society," Green-
berg said, but he added, repeating his standard coda, "I do not believe this
57 will be possible for him except under socialism."
Simultaneously a refugee from his community of origin and an outsider to
his adopted one, Greenberg the cosmopolitan intellectual occupied a no-
man's-land. And though his constant appeals for revolution are hardly
credible as politics, in this context they acquire a new and poignant mean
ing, haunted as they now seem by sacred eschatology consistent with his
inertial pairing of apocalyptic pessimism and millennial optimism. As before,
one must look to his literary criticism for clues, this time to his essay on
Kafka:

17 5
 ® For the Jew who lives in tradition -the Orthodox Jew- history stopped with the
extinction of an independentJewishstate in Palestinetwo millenniaago and will not
m start up again until that state is restored by the Messiah.In the meantime Jewish
I. historical existence remains in abeyance.While in exile, Jews live removed from
m history, behind the fence or ChineseWall' of Halacha.Such history as goes on
® outside that fence is profane history,Gentile history,which belongsmore to natural
C than to human history . . . During the last century and more Gentile history has
^ begun to intervene in DiasporaJewish life in a new way by 'emancipating' Jews,
which means'enlightening them' as well as by recruiting them as citizens.But this
turns out not to haverenderedGentile history any lesshostile,whether to Orthodox
or to assimilatedJews.Gentilehistory may,it istrue, havebecomemore interestingto
the later sort of Jew for and in itself, but this has not really made it gentler or lessa
part of nature. Therefore the emancipated Jew must still resort to some sort of
58 Halachicsafety or stability, or rather immobility.

Intellectually committed to an avant-garde whose task it was to precipitate

radical social change and to keep culture "moving," spiritually it seems
Greenberg imagined a frozen Halachic world remote from the contagion of
the natural and safely insulated from a Gentile world that so often masked
59 a brutal anti-Semitism in the "folkish" or "popular" forms.
As compelling as Greenberg 's description of the crisis of the Jewish writer
is, it cannot be indiscriminately applied. Nor was his retreat from coarse
contingency into a realm of self-protective high-mindedness typical of all
those artists who shared his heritage or his uneasiness.Also a careful reader
of Kafka, Philip Guston suffered the divided consciousness of the Jewish
artist and intellectual in a secular society as well. Although long torn
between abstraction and image making, Guston never fled from his existen
tial discomfort into pure aestheticism. During the 1970s, the last decade of
his career, the mess of daily life and the stress of daily contradiction flooded
the serene spaces of his Abstract Expressionist pictures. What Greenberg
once belittled as Guston's "homeless figuration" had finally come home. A
better student of Eliot's poetic than Greenberg (see fig. 202), Guston
understood the capacity of art to transfigure quotidian pettiness and the
reciprocal power of the vernacular to rescue art from enfeebling rarification.
As obsessed as Greenberg with art-historical continuity, moreover, Guston's
faith in it was based on the perpetual tension between a striving for
transcendent order and the imperfection of the artist's nature and means.
While still an abstract painter, he thus stated:

There is something ridiculousand miserly in the myth we inherit from abstract art:
That painting is autonomous,pure and for itself,therefore we habitually analyzeits
ingredients and define its limits. But painting is impure. It is the adjustment of
60 impurities which forces its continuity.

1 76
 Directed toward Ad Reinhardtduring a panel discussion,Guston's retort
might just as easily have been aimed at Greenberg. A member of the
AmericanAbstractArtists group aroundwhose peripheryGreenbergmoved
during the 1940s, Reinhardt(seefigs. 203 and 204) in turn would seemto
have been the critic's natural ally, being the only one among the New York
Schoolpaintersto defend artistic purity as an absolute value. In theory as
well as practice,however,Reinhardtwas a far morethorough and consistent
defender of vanguardprobity than Greenberg.An undauntedLeftistwhose
cartoons debunking kitsch concepts of modern art featured purposefully
"dumb" imagesand bad puns, Reinhardtdecried not only the confusion of
aestheticaims, but alsothe confusionof professionalroles-critic, collector,
61 adviser,dealer—a confusion in which Greenbergwas deeply implicated.
Snubbing Reinhardt,the "pure" purist whose work explicitly fulfilled his
criteria but whose doggerel manifestosimplicitly accusedhim of betraying
hissocialvision,Greenbergjumped headfirstinto the maelstromof Abstract
Expressionism.
Although Greenbergwas the first among art writers of the late 1940s and
early 1950s to seize upon and articulate the "look" and formal logic of
"American-typepainting" —in particular its scaleand overallcomposition—
it is easyto forget how out of sympathyhe was with the basicmotivesand
62 furiously improvisatoryaestheticsthat fueled postwar art in this country.
Deaf to or disdainful of the eroticized bucolics of Gorky or the mystical
"literature" of Rothko,Still,and Newman,he was evenlesspreparedto deal
with the lyricismof Pollock,de Kooning,and Kline,or its rough metropolitan
accents. Kline said it best:

Hell,halfthe worldwantsto be likeThoreauat Waldenworryingaboutthe noiseof

the traffic on the wayto Boston:the otherhalf useup theirlivesbeingpart of that
63 noise.I likethe secondhalf.

Nominally,of course, Greenbergpartook of their experienceand outlook.

Cubism, he believed,was an urban art, and "all profoundly original art," he
64 claimed, "looks ugly at first." Yet, if "ugliness" marked a stage of artistic
creationor its recognition a moment in the developmentof individualtaste,
it was "beauty" that Greenbergsought and the codification of its new laws
that he set about to effect. Modernism'speriodic aggressionsand its attrac
tion to the discordant realities of the city were necessarybut not-to-be-
exaggerated dimensions of a process,justifiable in the end insofar as it
yieldedthe rewardsand comforts of privatedelectation.Although a revolu
tionary at his desk, as a connoisseurof pictures Greenbergseemsto have
taken all too literally Matisse'ssuggestionthat a good painting was like an
armchair awaiting the tired businessmanat the end of the day.
Replacingthe patron/critic's chair for that of the artist —and doubtless

17 7
 mindful of Greenberg's proscriptions -de Kooning spoke for much of his
generation when he countered that "some painters, including myself, do not
care what chair we are sitting on. It does not have to be a comfortable one.
They are too nervous to find out where they ought to sit. They do not want to
sit in style. 65 Pressing his advantage, de Kooning then asserted as a primary
the very quality that Greenberg most abhorred: "Art never makes me
peaceful or pure, he said in 1951. "I always seem to be wrapped in the
66 melodrama of vulgarity." De Kooning was seconded by David Smith, who
was preeminent among sculptors in Greenberg's pantheon, but whose
errors of aesthetic judgment the critic would eventually "correct" when, as
the executor of his artistic estate, he had some of Smith's work repainted.
Smith stated:

Tothe creativeartist, in the making of art it is doubtful whether aestheticshaveany

valueto him. Thetruly creativeartist dealswith vulgarity . . . this term I use because
to the professionalaesthetician,it is vulgarity in his code of beauty,becausehe has
not recognizedit asyet or made up rulesfor its acceptance... It will not conform to
67 the past, it is beyond the pale.

In Greenberg's case, the difficulty resulted instead from the fact that the
libidinous "Schwarmerei" in which Smith, Pollock, de Kooning were im
mersed did conform to the present. Everywhere that vulgarity seeped out:
in Smith's notebook drawings and angrily sexual assemblages, in Pollock's
psychoanalytic sketches and his turbulent late figuration, and most of all in
de Koonings 'Women." Asked by Selden Rodman whether one of these
paintings was inspired by Marilyn Monroe, de Kooning answered, "I don't
know, I was painting a picture, and one day-there she was." "Subconscious
68 desire?" Rodman inquired. "Subconscious hell!" the painter replied. Pre
figuring Andy Warhol's Marilyns and their Pop Art sorority, de Kooning's
"Women" showed how deliberate irony could serve both as a universal
cultural solvent, and a tonic capable of rejuvenating high-art conventions
that had fallen victim to enervating piety (see figs. 205 and 206). And, while
Pollock s lifelong reliance on subconscious imagery drew upon the tradition
of Surrealist automatism —contradicting Greenberg's emphasis on the
purely formal aspects of his work —de Kooning's flirtation with the tabloid
Muse who emerged from the sea of his exquisite gestures demonstrated
that in the modern era automatism is as likely to conjure up a fleshy screen
idol as a spare Jungian archetype.
Greenberg hated the example of de Kooning's unbiased readiness to be
wherever my spirit allows me to be," yet never understood the lesson it
69 taught. Tolerant of "naive" art and of "Art Brut," though critical of its
stylistic inertia -he granted Dubuffet a special dispensation for the "supe
rior literature" of his work that he withheld from Abstract Expressionism's

17 8
 infidels—Greenbergcontinuedto treat massculture as irredeemablycrude,
institutional, and retrograde. Far from static, however, and despite the
conservatismof its industrialcaptainsand media bosses,the massculture of
the postwar yearswas enormously dynamic. The product of a chaotically
prosperousentrepreneurialeconomy rather than of a closed one ruled by
scarcity,the eddies of popular imagination found prompt accessto "main
stream" venuesjust as the creations of Madison Avenue and Hollywood
entered the mindsof vanguardartists with increasingfrequencyand speed.
Denyingthis constant two-way traffic and insisting upon absolute separa
tion of high culture from low, Greenbergplayedhis set piecegameof avant-
garde versuskitsch to repeated stalemates.
Treatingkitsch asa raw materialfor art rather than its antithesis,however,
Greenberg's more basicdescriptionof modernist processstill applied and, if
anything, applied morefully than everbefore. "Modernism," he maintained,
"criticizesfrom the inside,through the proceduresthemselvesof that which
70 is being criticized." The generativeand determining principleof modern
ism consistsof the methods by which it transforms its substance;it is not a
preordainedstandardof excellenceagainstwhich the resultsof that trans
formation are judged. Hence, modernism'sspirit resides in a developing
processrather than in a canon of artifacts. Detailing insteadof overturning
the precedentsset by de Kooningand his more worldly colleagues,artists of
the late 1950s and early 1960s put Greenberg's idealisttheory into radical
practice. Junk assemblagists,Neo-Dadaists,and Pop artists, enthralled by
popular imagesand the publicity machinethat produced them, thus used
the castoffs of massculture to criticize that culture from within. Like their
Cubist and Dadaist predecessors,they understood that the essenceof the
medium includedrather than excludedthe socialand human provenanceof
the emblems and stuffs they incorporated into their work by collage or
painted facsimile."I am for an art that embroils itself with the everydaycrap
and still comesout on top," avowed ClaesOldenburg, in whose work the
elusivesubjectivity of Abstract Expressionismfirst met the deadpan objec
71 tivity of Pop. Toembroil art "in everydaycrap" is to admit that the artist-
citizen is already in deep. Soon, in fact, the vanguardfound itself a prime
target of the very media whose "false and cynical treatment of real emo
72 tion," Oldenburg once said, "fascinatesme and yieldsmore truth." Taking
over and taking apart the techniques and iconography of the pressthat
courted them, many artists of the 1960s rightly saw their future -to recast
Robert Rauschenberg'sremark-in the gap between Life and art. The
"negative" dimension of that project never precluded a sympathetic
regard—Warhol simply and subversivelycalled it "liking" —for the found
objects of their affection equaling the disaffection they felt toward the
societythat had simultaneouslyproduced and discardedthem. As it turned
out, then, the door through which Seurathad passedissuednot only onto
 the spectralrivulets,spraymists,and polymermud of Olitski and other Color
Field painters, but offered a more compelling view beyond to the patch
work, photo-mechanical, screened, and socially encoded matrixes of
Rauschenberg,Johns, and their peers and artistic progeny.
With few exceptions, art in our time has thus demanded a critic as
"wrapped in the melodramaof vulgarity" asthe artists upon whose work he
presumedto sit in judgment. "A man watches a movie," said Robert War-
show,an editor at Commentaryand Greenberg'soffice mate, "and the critic
73 must acknowledgethat he isthat man." Greenberg,however,could never
concede being such a man among the semidarkenedmultitude. Although
street-smart in intellectualskirmishes,his preferred critical stancehas been
studied and aloof and his critical voice mandarin. Presentlythat samevoice
echoesin the countlessarticles,catalogues,and lecturesthat emanatefrom
our contemporaryjournals, museums,and symposia.Categorical,disem
bodied, and censorious,it isthe voiceof the academy,a voicewe too readily
confusewith that of modernismitself. Its habit is to speakin grosshistorical
generalizations,ignoring obviousand major exceptionsas well as intriguing
if sometimes obscure anomalies.Among these academicians,theoretical
name-dropping is the norm, coupled with an astonishingdisinterestin and
disregard for the stated intentions of the artists who fall victim to their
attentions. They are humorlessin their solicitude for art and artists, more
over,since humor acknowledgesweaknessand exposesthe complex and
irreconcilablefacts of character.Meanwhile,the "terminal argument" istheir
74 favorite tactic. In ostensibledefense of the best, they predict the worst,
routinely trumping their critical hand with doomsday utterancesthat curi
ously lack the urgencyone would expect of those convincedthat their case
was definitive or the end nigh.
Though only a segment of this group are full membersof the scholarly
guilds, to varying degrees all trade in the same commodity: intellectual
kitsch, a debasedform of thinking, which differs from its artistic equivalent
only in that fetishized opacity rather than fetishized transparency is its
principal selling point. To be sure, divergent tendencies exist within this
academy,yet in keepingwith Greenberg'soriginal emphasisin "Avant-Garde
and Kitsch, all seethemselvesas dedicatedto the "preservationof culture"
againstPhilistineencroachmentsand barbarianonslaughts.Mistaking tunas
with good taste for tunas that taste good, the dwindling band of Green
berg s neo-Kantian" discipleshasacceptedhis exampleas so complete an
affirmation of the cult of "quality" and the mystique of the "eye" as to
forever absolve them of responsibility for examining the social issuesin
which his criticism was originally,albeit shallowly,rooted. Tothose of a still
more reactionarybent, Greenberg'sstory permits another retelling of the
fable of "the God that failed." Followedby long lamentsoverthe precipitous
drop in cultural literacy, the exercisesatisfiesa deeply self-congratulatory

1 BO
 nostalgiafor an art pure of spirit but most especiallypure of radicalpolitics.
Of course, as Greenberg himself reminds us, "it is in the very nature of
academismto be pessimistic,for it believeshistory to be repetitious and a
75 monotonous decline from a former golden age." That warning applies
equallyto the scholasticLeft that exhaustsits revolutionaryzeal by rewriting
the revolutionsof the past while second-guessingthe anarchicenergiesof
the moment.
Justhow confusedcriticismhasbecomeabout which momentwe are now
living in is obviousfrom the shellgame of prefixescurrently in vogue. Result
ing in a string of compounds—posfindustrial,postmodernist, late capitalist
and neo- almost any artistic style one can name—the practicedoes nothing
to clarify the ill-defined root terms to which they are annexed.However,if
postmodernismmeansanythingthat canbe generallyagreedupon, it means
post-Formalismand—in Americaat any rate—post-Greenberg.Still, Green-
berg'scasuisticstyleof thought survivesthe repudiationof hisdogmasand in
all probability will remainhisgreat legacy.Indeed,suchhyphenatesarea part
of that legacy—a verbal strategy for eliding the present with a heavilyex
purgated past and a vaguelyarticulated future so asto hold all in permanent
suspension.While going Greenbergthe critic and galleryadviserat leasttwo
better, the team of Collinsand Milazzo havearrived at the most absurd of
these periodic labels; "posfrecent." Besidesthe amusement such jargon
affords, we shouldbe grateful for their havingnarrowedto nearzerothe span
betweenthen and now.Forif the "post" in postmodernismsignalsanycritical
weakness,it is our current inability to tell time.
"What time is it?" is the questionwith which modernismbegan. Restless,
ironic, always out of place, and everywhere alert, Charles Baudelaire's
"Painter of Modern Life" exposed the anachronism of the academy by
exposing his sensesand nervesto the flux of the actual (seefig. 207). To
speakwith accuracyand convictionabout the moment, the critic of modern
life must likewisebe —and remain—a creatureof immediate sensationand
unorthodox mind. Farfrom complacent,of course,such a critic, Baudelaire
76 said, would be "partial, passionateand political." All of these qualities
Greenberghaspossessedin abundance.More was demanded,however.An
absoluteprerequisitewas an honestestimateof one'sown placein the social
systemand thus the full measureof a political candorfor which no political
cant will substitute.
Financiallydependent upon a middle-classaudience he despisedfor its
ignorance and utilitarianism, Baudelairestill preferred that public to the
taste-makersof the old regime: "the aristocratsof thought, the distributors
of praiseand blame, the monopolistsof spiritual things [who] havedenied
77 you [the Bourgeois]the right to feel and enjoy." (Fearfulof the massesand
scornful of his own class,Greenbergdecried the lack in democraticsociety
of just sucharistocracy,and sought to invent one in his image and install it in

18 1
 power.) The scathing sarcasmof Baudelaire'sappeal to the bourgeoisieto
complementtheir wealth and power with poetry does not belie his graspof
aestheticRealpolitik;it reflects it. Envyis beneath a self-mademan of taste
just astaste and intelligenceare the currencyof those who haveno other.A
man of the crowd, meanwhile,Baudelaire'smodel critic —like his archetypal
modern painter—relished the parade of contemporary fashion and was
78 participant observer of the often grotesque pageant of urban pleasure.
Although hating its presumption,hetherefore took an intenseinterestin the
manners of a bourgeoisiewhose reign had just begun.
Despite the horrendous cruelties and dislocationsof the century, their
reign has not ended, nor has the profound ambivalenceit stirs been lifted
from the consciousnessof the modern artists or intellectuals.Despite the
sometimesdespairingbut usuallywishful referencesto cultural "lateness"
that havelong beena feature of Greenberg'scriticismand currently punctu
ate the writing of his epigones,we are in fact in a period of high capitalism.
And, for all its structural debility and all the miseryand fraud it propagates,
capitalism has no rivals,only economic cyclesand internal competition. In
fact, rather than collapsingof its own weight —although partial collapses
alwaysthreaten —capitalism is about to reabsorbthe still weaker socialist
systemsthat have so long been its political adversaries.For worse and for
better, as Baudelairewas the first to acknowledge frankly, modernism is
bourgeois art, a fever graph of the enthusiasms,discontents, bad con
science,and bad faith of its patrons' and practitioners'class.So long asthat
classsurvivesand rules, modernism continues.Its contradictions are ours,
from which no revolution hassavedus in the past and none seemslikelyto
do so in the future. Resistanceof any meaningfulkind to the constraintsand
crimes of bourgeois society must therefore begin with the admissionand
constantlyupdatedappraisalof our compromisedpositionwithin it. Forif, in
its crisis-riddenand frequently brutal unfolding, that reality seemsintoler
able, neverthelesswe cannot stand apart from it and tell the truth.
The prospect before us is to reenter modernity in the fullness of its
enduring ambiguity, magnificence, and corruption. To that end we must
acknowledgeand surrenderto the complete if sometimestragic fascination
with contemporary life that Baudelairefirst demonstrated. More than
taste," in this regard, the basic credential of the critic is disciplined but
childlike avidity. In the final analysis,such desire often dictates that either
theories crumble or the sensibility and critical faculty atrophy. This
Baudelaireknew by experienceas well as instinct, and his words serve
permanent notice to those who, like Greenberg, seek to buttress the
testimony of their own experience,"a priori" truths, or borrowed authority.

Likeall myfriendsI havetried morethanonceto lockmyselfinsidea system,soto

pontificateas I liked.But a systemis a kind of damnationthat condemnsus to

18 2
 perpetual backsliding: we are alwayshavingto inventanother and this isa cruel form
of punishment. And every time my systemwas beautiful, big and spacious,conve
nient, tidy and polishedaboveall; at leastso it seemedto me. And everytime some
spontaneousunexpectedvitality would come and give lie to my puerile and old-
fashionedwisdom, much to be deplored daughter of Utopia ... Toescapefrom the
horror of these philosophic apostasiesI arrogantly resigned myself to modesty; I
became content to feel; I came back and sought sanctuary in an impeccable
79 naivete.

Stripped of Utopian illusions, we struggle to contemplate the confusing

spectacle before us with "an impeccable naivete" similarly distilled from
skepticism and appetite. Lately that vista encompasses a new Alexandria-
nism, for which Formalism provides the crucial buzz words. Exploiting the
notions of "quality" and aesthetic "purity," government now censors work
that troubles the public mind and challenges the public order. Flag art -from
Dread Scott Tyler to Johns —goes on trial while Wyeth pin-ups are enshrined
as patriotic icons and cynically applauded by embittered cognoscenti. At the
same time, the means and market for the production and dissemination of
images of high or low rank have reached a technical sophistication and
scope that vastly exceeds anything conceived of heretofore. Although
flawed in its formulation, Greenberg's dialectic of avant-garde and kitsch
thus remains at issue, its antitheses ever changing rather than fixed in their
opposition and its specific manifestations ever more phantasmagorical as
the years pass. At long last disabused of our own purity of intent and
suspicious of any project predicated on the near or far term perfection of
society, we are left, as modernity began, with only the intoxicating im
probabilities of our imagination and the vivid, often disquieting, actuality of
our perceptions.

i a 3
' NOTES 1 Clement Greenberg (hereafter referred to as Greenberg), in "Contribution to a Sym
posium, in Art and Culture: CriticalEssays(Boston, 1961), p. 124 (hereafter referred to asArt
and Culture).
2. Greenberg, quoted in ARTnews,September 1987, p. 16.
3. Greenberg, "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch," in Clement Greenberg: The CollectedEssaysand
Criticism, ed. John O'Brien, vol. 1: Perceptionsand Judgments 1939-1944 (Chicago and
London, 1986), p. 11 (hereafter referred to as Perceptionsand Judgments).
4. Greenberg,ibid. About the original useof the term, Greenberghas said: "Albert GerardJr.
used kitsch in Englishfor the first time, asfar as I know, in the mid-'30s, but the word seemsto
have caught on in English after my piece." "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch, Fifty Years Later, a
Conversationwith Saul Ostrow," Arts Magazine, December 1989, p. 57.
5. Writing in answerto an essayby Dwight MacDonaldon Sovietcinema,in which MacDonald
speculatedon the aesthetic instincts of the average Russianpeasant, Greenberg, in "Avant-
Garde and Kitsch," summonedhis own Russianpeasantto view a "battle scene" by llya Repin
and a painting by Picassoand then imagined his stereotype'sresponseto each.When the essay
was republishedin Art and Culture, Greenbergadded the following note: "PS.Tomy dismayI
learnedyearsafter I saw this in print that Repinneverpainteda battle scene;he wasn't that kind
of a painter. I attributed someoneelses picture to him. That showed my provincialismwith
regardto Russianart in the nineteenthcentury." Takingthis apology into account,one wonders
who painted the battle sceneGreenbergwas thinking of, if indeed any particular painting was
everat issue.Maybethe entire situation- peasant,Picasso,and unspecifiedbattle scene- was
equally hypothetical. Perhapsit was literary license,or the result of a regretted "provincialism
with regardto Russianart in the nineteenthcentury"; nevertheless,one suspectsthat the lapse
simplyresultedfrom Greenberg'srecklesscompulsionto schematizeaestheticproblemsand his
(at that time) little more than a layman'sknowledgeof art in general. In the end, Repin's"battle
scene," like much else in Greenberg'ssubsequentwriting, seemsthe invention of a Union
Square polemicist and Sundaypainter. Further, Greenberg'smost recent explanation of the
genesisof "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch" ("Avant-Gardeand Kitsch, Fifty YearsLater,"p. 57) makes
still plainerthe essentiallyinstrumental,if not wholly arbitrary,basisupon which he selectedhis
examples. "I had to choose my examplesfrom the visual arts becausea Russianpeasant
obviouslycouldn't be expectedto read any other languagethan Russian.... The namesthat
figured in 'Bohemia'were those of paintersand sculptors,only secondarilythose of writers. I'm
exaggeratinga bit, but I elected after that to take my examplesfrom poetry. I talk about Eliot
then EddieGuest... I also take EllaWheelerWilcox and RobertServicefor examplesof kitsch
verse.I didn't chooseexamplesfrom fiction becauseI didn't know what to choose.I guessany
pulp novel would have done but I couldn't think of any on par with Eddie Guest."
6. DelmoreSchwartz,"New Year'sEve,"in In DreamsBeginResponsibilitiesand Other Stories,
ed. and intro. JamesAtlas (1937; New York, 1978), p. 113.
7. StephenSpender,quoted in Christopher Isherwood, Christopherand His Kind (New York,
1976),p. 199. Othersin this period withdrew from politics even more completely.For instance,
in 1939 Herbert Readannounced,"In our decadent society ... art must enter into a monastic
phase. ... Art must now become individualistic,even hermetic. We must renounce, as the
most puerile delusion,the hope that art can ever again perform a socialfunction." Quoted in
Helena Lewis, The Politicsof Surrealism(New York, 1988), p. 158.
8. Greenberg, "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch," p. 22.
9. Respondingto overtures from the PartisanReview,Trotskydamned its contributors with
faint praise. In a letter of 1938 to Dwight MacDonald,he wrote: "It is my general impression
that the editors of PartisanRevieware capable,educatedand intelligent people but they have
nothing to say.. . . A world war is approaching. . . . Currentsof the highesttension are activein
all fields of culture and ideology. You evidently wish to create a small cultural monastery,
guarding itself from the outside world by skepticism,agnosticism and respectability."Leon
Trotskyon Literature and Art, ed. and intro. PaulN. Siegel(New York, 1981), pp. 101, 103.

1 84
 10. Greenberg, "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch," p. 8.

11. Surrealism: Last Snapshotof the European Intelligentsia," in Walter Benjamin, Reflec
tions: Essays,Aphorisms,Autobiographical Writings, ed. and intro. Peter Demetz (New York
and London, 1978), p. 187.

12. Struggling to establish their distance from the noninterventionist policy of socialist re
former Norman Thomas, as well as from the Right-wing isolationism of the America First
movement, Greenbergand MacDonaldperformed a seriesof ideological contortions, finally
claiming to be in line with the "revolutionarydefeatism" preachedby RosaLuxemburgduring
World War I. While these distinctions may seem arcane to the contemporary reader,they
highlight the degreeto which the authors had to strain to protect their basicpremisethat "the
issue[is] not war but revolution," and hencethat any support for Rooseveltor Churchill was
tantamount to collaborationwith incipientfascismin Americaand Britain.As to support for the
SovietUnion against Hitler,here Greenbergand MacDonalddisagreed,prompting Greenberg
to add the following footnote: "My position here, I admit, is a difficult one and open to serious
misunderstandingbut no matter: as Trotskysaid, "If we admit war [involvingthe SovietUnion]
without revolution,then the defeat of the SovietUnionis inevitable.If we admit this presentwar
without revolution,the defeat of humanity is inevitable."Greenberg's exculpatory"admission"
and jesuitical misappropriationof Trotsky'swords is no lessin characterthan his parting-shot
prediction of the future should his views go unheeded."10 Propositionson the War," Partisan
Review,July-August 1941, pp. 271-78. MacDonald'sand Greenberg's text is excludedfrom
the first volume of Greenberg's CollectedEssaysand Criticism,although "An AmericanView," a
1940 essayfor Horizonthat takesthe samebasicstand is printed there (pp. 38-41 ). Thisessay
suggeststhat a revolution in Britain and United States might trigger one in Nazi Germany.
Otherwise Greenbergsaw no important distinction between the interestsof Britishcapitalism
and those of Hitler-even going so far asto suggestthat only the leadershipof Churchillforced
the Germanpeople into Hitler'sranksin fear of a new VersaillesTreaty."Thisfear had converted
many a Germanfrom anti-Nazito pro-Nazi.Without this fear the Naziswould havehardly any
more moral reservesat their command than the erstwhile Allies. The bright future of plunder
which Hitler promiseshis people only convincesthe adolescents."Tocall this analysisMarxistis
bizarre in the extreme. To ascribe Greenberg'seventual change of heart regarding the Nazi
threat to de-Marxificationis, correspondingly,no lessbizarre.At any rate, by 1943 Greenberg
had enlisted in the Army Air Force. For a revealing,albeit refracted, image of Greenberg in
uniform see, War and the Intellectual: Reviewof War Diary by JeanMalaquais,"(Perceptions
and Judgments,pp. 190-93), in which Greenbergwrites of Malaquais,"His experienceposed
under what were almost laboratory conditions the problem of the right attitude towards his
fellow men, in the flesh, of the Marxist who is supposedto love them in the abstract."

13. Greenberg and MacDonald, "10 Propositionson the War," p. 275.

14. Greenberg and MacDonald, ibid., pp. 276-77.

15. Reflectinga deep split among the PartisanReview'seditors and contributors, Philip Rahv's
rejoinderto Greenbergand MacDonald,"10 Propositionsand 8 Errors,"was published in the
journal's November-December1941 issue.This critique of the authors' stancewith regard to
the impending war and analysisof their intellectual and rhetorical habits bears quoting at
length: "Their dicta outline a position which I cannot adopt as my own becauseI regard it as
morally absolutist and as politically representativeof a kind of academicrevolutionismwhich
we should have learned to discard long ago. . . . Again we read that the social revolution is
aroundthe cornerand that imperialismis tottering on the edge of the abyssand againwe fail to
recognizethe world as we know it.
Speaking for no movement, no party, certainly not for the working class, nor even any
influential grouping of intellectuals,the authors of the 10 Propositionsneverthelesswrite as if
they are backedup by massesof people and as if what has been happening is daily confirming
their prognosis.Theyrefuseto seeanything which does not fit into their apocalypticvisionof a
single cleansingand overpowering event which will once and for all clear away the existing

I 8 5
E social system in Britain and America, administer the coup de grace to the Hitler regime, and
c forthwith usher in socialism."(p. 449)
^ In passing,Rahvadded another useful observation: "Herewe havea seriesof bald assertions
Ul that wholly ignore the element of time, which is the one element one can least afford to
overlook in political calculations."(p. 501)
C "For in this article I am not arguing against a revolutionarypolicy in principle; I am arguing
J|j that in the absenceof a revolutionary movement and also becausecertain other essential
g conditionsarewanting, sucha policy [asthat of waiting for a revolutionaryparty to form itself in
E reaction to the war] is illusory.... At bottom all that Greenberg and MacDonaldare really
sayingis that if a revolutionaryparty existed it would not fail to act in a revolutionarymanner.
" Butthat isa tautology,not an insight." (p. 505) Fora detailed accountof the debateoverthe war
on the Left, seeTerryA. Cooney,TheRiseof the New YorkIntellectuals:PartisanReviewand Its
Circle(Madison, Wis., 1986).

16. Speakingto SaulOstrow in a 1989 interview ("Avant-Gardeand Kitsch, Fifty YearsLater,"

p. 57), Greenbergused the same languageas mine to describe his Marxism. "When I read it
[ Avant-Gardeand Kitsch"] now there are things about it that churn my stomach. Its Marxism
was too simplisticand maybetoo Bolshevistic.I was going along with the times, being trendy.
Most of my friends were Trotskyites,or nearly. The piece was smug and badly written;
sophomoric." Indeed, but Greenberg's attempts to escapethe onus of that smugnesscomes
too late. Reprintedin 1961 in Art and Culture,and as recentlyas 1985 in Pollockand After: The
CriticalDebate, FrancisFrascina,ed. (New York, 1985), "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch" was permit
ted to stand for fifty yearswithout comment from or substantiverevisionby its author. Only
after careful examination of Greenberg'swork began to unravel the expedienciesof his
argumentsand the abusesof power they occasionedhas he seenfit to engagein any measure
of self-criticism.Greenberg'srecent, offhand recantationamounts to little more than damage
control; tellingly, his remarkswere accompaniedby a patently competitive attack on Walter
Benjamin,whose authority has eclipsedhis, and whose earlier "The Work of Art in the Age of
Mechanical Reproduction"treats many of the themes in "Avant-Gardeand Kitsch" with far
more subtlety and with much more relevanceto contemporary art.

17. SeeLeonTrotsky,"The USSRin War," in TheBasicWritingsof Trotsky,ed. and intro. by Irving

Howe (New York, 1963), pp. 305-14.

18. LeonTrotsky,"Art and Politicsin Our Epoch," in Leon Trotskyon Literatureand Art, ed. and
intro. Paul N. Siegel(New York, 1981), pp. 105-6.

19. "Manifesto: Towardsa RevolutionaryFree Art" (1938), in Theoriesof Modern Art: A

SourceBook by Artists and Critics,ed. HerschelB. Chipp (Berkeley,LosAngeles,and London,
1968), p. 485. At the end of this manifesto, the signatoriesappealedfor a new coalition of
artists in opposition to fascismand Stalinism,to be calledthe FederationInternationalede ("Art
RevolutionnaireIndependant(FIARI).Although a journal was briefly published, nothing much
came of efforts to organize this group before Trotsky'sdeath and the outbreak of war. See
Lewis, Politicsof Surrealism,p. 147.

20. Greenberg, "The Late Thirties in New York," in Art and Culture, p. 230.

21. Meyer Schapiroaddressedthe problem of popular culture in an article entitled "Public Use
of Art" that appearedin the November1936 issueof Art Front, the journal of the Artists Union,
which representedthose working on the FederalArt Projects.In that essayhe posed what
Greenbergwould later call "kitsch," not only as a threat but also,given the attraction it held for
the average person, as an almost positive challenge to artists who sought to expresstheir
solidarity with the working classbut remainedstuck with a traditional bohemian idea of their
roleand subjectmatter."Thetruth," Schapirowrote, "is that public art alreadyexists.Thepublic
enjoysthe comics,the magazinepictures and the movieswith a directnessand wholehearted-
nesswhich can hardly be calledforth by the artistic painting and sculptureof our time. It may be
low-gradeand infantile public art, one which fixesillusions,degradestaste, and reducesart to a
commercialdevicefor exploiting feelings and anxietiesof the masses;but it is the art which

i aa
people love, which formed their taste and will undoubtedly affect their first responseto
whatever else is offered them. If the artist does not considerthis adequatepublic art he must
face the question: would his presentwork, his picturesof still-life, his landscapes,portraits and
abstractionsconstitute public art? Would it really reach the people as a whole?" (p. 4)
22. Greenberg was not alone in his desire to create a "third force" between Stalinismand
fascism.IgnacioSilone,whom he interviewed in 1939, was in fact a principalexponent of this
idea. Giventhe deploymentof political power at that moment, however,the reservesfor sucha
force simply did not exist. Nor could they be marshaledby urgent desireor idle talk. That was
the Left'stragedy,in face of which the imaginarylegionsof revolutionaryworkers calledfor by
Greenberg's debate-societyMarxismrepresentedno hope of relief.Philip Rahvthus concluded
his" 10 Propositionsand 8 Errors": "No, what has been lost in the pasttwo decadesthrough an
uninterrupted seriesof blunders,betrayals,and defeatscannot so easilybe regained.Oracular
appealsto history and a mereshow of will on the part of a few literary intransigentswill availus
nothing."
23. SusanNoyesPiattpoints out Greenberg'sdebt to Babbitt in her essay"Clement Greenberg
in the 1930s: A New Perspectiveon His Criticism" in Art Criticism,vol. 5, no. 3 (1989), p. 50.
This text is a valuable source for biographical information about Greenberg.
24. William Barrett, TheTruants:Adventuresamong the Intellectuals(GardenCity, N.Y.,1982),
p. 138.
25. Greenberg, "The Plight of Culture," in Art and Culture, pp. 22-33.
26. Ibid., p. 28.
27. Ibid., p. 33.
28. It is worth noting that during this period Greenberg's "Anti-Stalinism"led him to join the
increasinglyconservativegroup of former "socialists"in the PartisanReviewcirclewho gathered
around the Congressfor Cultural Freedom, an organization later discoveredto have been
subsidizedby the CIA. On another but related front, in 1951 Greenbergwas sued for libel by
the Nation- a publicationfor which he had previouslywritten - becausehe had assertedthat a
column by their foreign editor, J. Alvarez del Vayo, "invariably parallelsthat of Soviet propa
ganda." Greenberg'saccusationswere reprinted in the CongressionalRecordby none other
than Michigan CongressmanGeorge Dondero, who was then campaigning against modern
art, which he thought to be Communist-inspired.In the context of McCarthyismand Donder-
ism, Greenberg'sactivecampaignagainstsupposedSoviet"fellow travellers"madefor strange
aestheticbedfellowsand made his revisionistuseof Marxismin "The Plightof Culture" (1953)
even stranger still. SeeArt-as-Politics: TheAbstract-ExpressionistAvant-Gardeand Society by
Annette Cox (Ann Arbor and London, 1977, 1982, p. 142) and CongressmanDondero,
speaking on how the Nation magazineis sbrving Communism,in the CongressionalRecord,
82nd Cong., 1st sess.,May 4, 1951, pp. 4920-25.
29. VanWyck Brookshad coinedthe terms "highbrow" and "lowbrow" in 1914, bequeathing
to later generationsof intellectualsan insidiouslyanthropological metaphorfor explainingthe
relation of elite culture to that of the common man.
30. Greenberg, "The Present Prospectsof American Painting and Sculpture," in Clement
Greenberg: The CollectedEssaysand Criticism, ed. John O'Brian, vol. 2: Arrogant Purpose
1945-49 (Chicago and London, 1986), p. 163 (hereafter referred to as Arrogant Purpose).
31. T. J.Clark, "Clement Greenberg'sTheoryof Art," in Pollockand After: TheCriticalDebate,
ed. FrancisFrascina(New York, 1985), p. 50.
32. T. S. Eliot, "Tradition and the Individual Talent," in SelectedEssays(1932; London and
Boston, 1980), p. 19.
33. Greenberg, "Towardsa Newer Laocoon," in Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 32.
34. Greenberg, "Modernist Painting," in Art and Literature. An International Review,no. 4,
Spring 1965, p. 194.

f 87
IE 35. RenatoPoggioli, The Theoryof the Avant-Garde(Cambridge,Mass.,and London),p. 80.
E
q 36. Greenberg, "To Cope with Decadence,"in Modernism and Modernity. The Vancouver
H ConferencePapers,ed. BenjaminH. D. Buchhloh, SergeGuilbaut, and David Solkin (Halifax,
*" 1983),p. 163. In hisconversationwith SaulOstrow(seenote 4), Greenbergremarked,"But now
H normally I'm pessimisticand take Spenglermuch more seriously.I took him seriouslyfrom the
E beginning, although I detested his flavor."
IU
37. Greenberg,"Reviewof Exhibitionsof Marc Chagall,LyonelFeininger,and JacksonPollock,"
O
IE in Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 164.

38. Greenberg, "Review of the Whitney Annual and the Exhibition RomanticAmerica," in
Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 171.

39. Greenberg, "Towardsa Newer Laocoon," p. 37.

40. Greenberg, "Abstract Art," in Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 204.

41. PhilipRahvdid not like Greenberg,and both William Barrett in Truantsand William Phillips
in A PartisanView report Rahvas sayingthat Greenbergtook over the art beat becausethere
were no openings for a literary critic at the PartisanReview.

42. Piatt, "Clement Greenberg in the 1930s," p. 50.

43. Greenberg, "Reviewof Four Exhibitionsof Abstract Art," in Perceptionsand Judgments,

p. 104.

44. Greenberg,"Reviewof Mondrian'sNew York BoogieWoogie and Other New Acquisitions

at the Museum of Modern Art," in Perceptionsand Judgments,p. 153. (Mondrian'spainting is
presently titled Broadway Boogie Woogie.)

45. In a piece in Art Journal (Winter 1987), I was more forgiving of these errors, but in
retrospectI find it harderto understandhow Greenbergcould havemadesucha mistake,given
the long-establishedpracticesof the artist he presumed to judge in such severeterms.

46. Alfred H. Barr,Jr.,Matisse: His Art and His Public (New York, 1951), p. 265.

47. Barr'sdiagram is hardly unique in pointing up the "simultaneity" of events in the early
decadesof the century. In this regard, it is interesting to consider a book entitled The Isms
1914-1924. Publishedin a trilingual edition in Germanyin 1925, and coedited by El Lissitzky
and HansArp, it listssixteenismsin relateddevelopment,implicatinga clearrecognition on the
part of the authors—who were otherwise strongly committed to their own theories—of the
general plurality, rather than mutual exclusivity,of modernist styles.

48. Meyer Schapiro, "Nature of Abstract Art," reprinted in Modern Art: 19th and 20th
Centuries(New York, 1978), pp. 187-88.

49. Greenberg, "Bertolt Brecht'sPoetry," in Perceptionsand Judgments, pp. 49-62.

50. Greenberg, "SurrealistPainting," in Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 225.

51. Greenberg, "Seurat, Scienceand Art: Reviewof Georges Seurat by John Rewald," in
Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 169.

52. Greenbergdid, it seems,have an ear, or at least feet, responsiveto pop music. William
Barrettreports that hejitterbugged atTheClubin the 1950s(Truants,p. 132).Speakingto Saul
Ostrow ("Avant-Gardeand Kitsch, Fifty YearsLater,"p. 57), Greenbergconfirmed this, adding,
"Eventhough I loved and still do love popular music, and loved to dance, it [kitsch] bothered
me. . . . TodayI'm not as bothered by kitsch as I used to be. I was bothered by it when I was
growing up. I remember a record playerat collegethat went on forever.It was the repetition
that bothered me."

53. Greenberg,"Steig'sCartoons: Reviewof 'All Embarrassed'by William Steig," in Arrogant

Purpose,p. 11.

I 8B
54. Greenberg,"Under Forty: A Symposiumon American Literatureand the YoungerGenera
tion of American Jews," in Perceptionsand Judgments, p. 177.
55. Ibid., pp. 177-78.

56. Eliot, "Tradition and the Individual Talent," pp. 17, 21.
57. Greenberg, "Under Forty," p. 178.

58. Greenberg, "Kafka's Jewishness,"in Art and Culture, pp. 268-69.

59. Ibid. Both Allan Bloom in his book on the New York intellectualsand SusanNoyesPiatt in
her essayon Greenberg(Art Criticism,vol. 5, no. 3 [1989] pp. 47, 49-50, 61) draw attention to
the significanceof the critic's interestin the Halachicorder and its relationto the circumstances
of the assimilatedJew in the 1930s. See Bloom, ProdigalSons: The New YorkIntellectuals&
Their World (New York and Oxford, 1986), p. 154. I would also like to thank Rita Kaplanfor
providing me with reference materialson the Halacha.

60. Philip Guston, in "The PhiladelphiaPanel,"eds. Philip Paviaand Irving Sandler,It Is, vol. 5
(Spring 1960), p. 37.

61. As noted by Lucy Lippard {Ad Reinhardt[New York, 1981]), p. 120.

62. The importance of Greenberg's advocacy of "American-type" painting should not be

underestimated.Neither should it be overstated, however.While in many respectsthe most
articulate and—during the early-to-mid-1940s—the most aggressivepartisan of JacksonPol
lock and the other New YorkSchoolpaintershe favored, Greenbergwas not alone in recogniz
ing their importance. Certainly his was not the only "eye" capable of discerningthe pictorial
originality of their work. Downtown attention was alreadyfocused on theseartists, and critical
support in the general art presswas building. By the late 1940s, Thomas B. Hess,Abstract
Expressionism's great editorial champion, was presidingat Art News, from which position he
could guarantee frequent and extensive coverage by a range of writers who, for all their
differences in perspective,consistently supported Abstract Expressionistwork. Greenberg's
hold on the position of premier scout and shock-troop critic for the new American art,
therefore, has its basisin a modicum of fact -his early reviewsof Pollock,Robert Motherwell
and David Smith, in particular—yet it is more generally the stuff of legend and proprietary
professionalclaims. Freguentlyoverlooked but also significant was Greenberg'searly with
drawal of support from someof theseartists.Most notablewas hiscooling towards Pollockand
hisshift of loyaltyto "field" painterssuchas Clyfford Still, Mark Rothkoand BarnettNewman,a
shift that from the outset provokedhim to make invidiouscomparisonsbetween their work and
Pollock's.Having reviewed neither Pollock's1952 nor his 1954 exhibition, Greenbergarticu
lated his dissatisfactionwith the artist's course in the 1955 article that gave "American-Type
painting," its name "American-TypePainting,"in Art and Culture: CriticalEssays(Boston, 1961)
pp. 208-229. After praising Pollock'shuge "'sprinkled' canvasesof 1950," in which "value
contrasts" were "literally pulverized ... in a vaporized dust of interfused lights and darks,"
resulting in an absenceof depth, "complicatedness"of contour, and degree of abstractness
only glimpsed by Kandinsky,Greenbergwent on to chide Pollockfor reversingdirections: "But
in 1951 Pollockhad turned to the other extreme, as in a violent repentance,and had done a
seriesof painting, in linear blacksalone, that took back almost everything he had said in the
three previousyears."Thus,at the very moment when Greenbergcodified his ideasabout the
new art, he both granted Pollockcredit for past achievementand foreclosed on his future.
ReiteratingBernardBerenson'shardlyaxiomaticnotion that "in art, as in all mattersof the spirit,
ten yearsare the utmost, rarely reachedlimits of a generation," Greenbergtold Jeffrey Potter,
"Jackson. . . well he had his ten-year run." ConsideringGreenberg'sunshakableopinion that
JulesOlitskiwas the great painter of the pasttwenty-five years,the capriciousnessof his remark
resonateswith brutality if not outright vindictivenesstoward an artist who did not heed his
counsel. His "correction" of Smith's polychrome sculptures follows the same pattern of
possessiveresentment. Berenson'sobservation is from "The Decline of Art," in Bernard
Berenson,TheItalian Paintersof the Renaissance (London, 1932); for Greenberg'sremark to

18 9
E Potter,see Jeffrey Potter, Toa Violent Grave: An Oral History of JacksonPollock (New York
1985).
I-
111 63. Quoted in "Franz KlineTalking," in FrankO'Hara, StandingStill and Walkingin New York
(San Francisco,1983), p. 94.
E
III
B 64. Greenberg, "Review of Exhibitionsof Mondrian, Kandinskyand Pollock; of the Annual
Exhibitionof American Abstract Artists; and of the ExhibitionEuropeanArtists in America" in
E Arrogant Purpose,p. 17.

65. Willem de Kooning, in "What Abstract Art Means to Me," in ThomasB. Hess,Willem de
Kooning, catalogue of an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, p. 145.

66. Ibid.

67. DavidSmith, Aesthetics,the Artist, and the Audience," in DavidSmith, ed. Garnett McCoy
(New York and London, 1973), pp. 88, 105.

68. Willem de Kooning, quoted in Selden Rodman, Conversationswith Artists (New York
1961), p. 104.

69. De Kooning, "What Abstract Art Means to Me," p. 145.

70. Greenberg, "Modernist Painting," p. 193.

71. Claes Oldenburg, in Claes Oldenburg's Store Days, selected by Claes Oldenburg and
Emmet Williams (New York, 1967), p. 39.

72. ClaesOldenburg, quoted in BarbaraRose,ClaesOldenburg, catalogueof an exhibition at

the Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1970, p. 192.

73. Robert Warshow quoted in Norman Podhoretz,Making It (New York, 1967), p. 150.

74. My thanks to Leon Golub for this useful phrase.

75. Greenberg, "Review of Exhibitionsof Mondrian, Kandinsky,and Pollock; of the Annual

Exhibition of American Abstract Artists; and of the Exhibition EuropeanArtists in America "
p. 15.

76. CharlesBaudelaire,"What Is the Good of Criticism?" in Baudelaire:SelectedWritings on

Art and Arts, trans, and intro. P E. Charvet (Cambridge, 1972), p. 50.

77. CharlesBaudelaire,"Tothe Bourgeois,"in Baudelaire:SelectedWritingson Art and Artists,

trans, and intro. R E. Charvet (Cambridge, 1972), p. 47.

78. In his interestin contemporaryfashion, incidentally,he was not alone. StephaneMallarme,

whom Greenbergcites in Avant-Gardeand Kitsch" as a poet of radicalpurity, singlehandedly
wrote and edited his own fashion magazine,"La derniere mode," and for all his fastidiousness
seemsto have vastly enjoyed and artistically profited from the task.

79. Charles Baudelaire, "The Universal Salon of 1855: Fine Arts, I. Critical Method," in
Baudelaire:SelectedWritingson Art and Arts, trans,and intro. RE.Charvet(Cambridge,1972),
pp. 117-18.

1 90
 THE INDEPENDENT GROUP

BRITISH AND AMERICAN POP

ART, A "PALIMPCESTUOUS"

LEGACY

To understand the advertisements which appear in the New Yorker or

Gentry one must have taken a course in Dublin literature, read a Time
popularizing article on cybernetics, and have majored in Higher Chinese
Philosophy and Cosmetics. Such ads are packed with information -data
of a way of life and a standard of living which they are simultaneously
inventing and documenting. Ads which do not try to sell you the product
except as an accessory of a way of life. They are good "images" and
their technical virtuosity is almost magical. Many have involved as much
effort for one page as goes into the building of a coffee bar. And this
transient thing is making a bigger contribution to our visual climate than
any of the traditional fine arts. . . . Mass-production advertising is
establishing our whole pattern of life —principles, morals, aims, aspirations,
and standard of living. We must somehow get the measure of this intervention
1 if we are to match its powerful and exciting impulses with our own."

ALISON AND PETER SMITHSON, 1956

The surprising thing is that it took until the mid-fifties for artists to
realise that the visual world had been altered by the mass media and
changed dramatically enough to make it worth looking at again in terms
of painting. Magazines, movies, TV, newspapers, and comics for that
matter, assume great importance when we consider the percentage of
2 positively directed visual time they occupy in our society.

RICHARD HAMILTON, 1968

 In 1956 This is Tomorrow took place-a show generallyconsideredthe LY N N E
culmination of those activities, exhibitions, and discussionsthat had
3 preoccupiedthe IndependentGroup during the previousfour years. It was
also the year of another landmark exhibition in British art history. Entitled COOKE
Modern Art in the United States,and containing examplesof the much
discussedbut hitherto unseen(in England)Abstract Expressionistpainting,
this show was held at the TateGallery,the nationalmuseumfor the collection
4 of both historicalBritishand modern internationalart. Thetwo exhibitions
could hardly havebeen more different. Thefirst, stagedat the Whitechapel
Gallery,a noted venuefor contemporaryart in London'sthen impoverished
EastEnd, contained a dozen installations,which had the effect of turning
the whole galleryinto a vastenvironment.Thesehad beendevisedby twelve
separategroups, each of which notionally contained at leastone artist and
one architect among its three or four members. That each acted quite
independentlyof the others enhancedthe very different areasof concern
they represented, so that, alongside much Constructivist-relatedwork,
referencesto popular culture of diverse kinds, as well as to primitivism,
archeology,and anthropology could be discerned, especially in the two
most memorableand prophetic installations.Both of these were by mem
bersof the IndependentGroup: one by the RichardHamilton-JohnMcHale-
John Voelcker trio, and the other by the quartet comprising Eduardo
5 Paolozzi,Nigel Henderson,and Alison and Peter Smithson.
Nearthe entranceto the exhibition the visitor encounteredthe Hamilton-
McHale-Voelckerconstruction (fig. 208) with its perspectivallydistorted ar
chitectural spacescrammedwith contemporaryvisual material of the most
diversekinds and scales,culled from movies,astronomy,comics,food and
consumer-goodsadvertisements.All of this intermingledwith soundsfrom a
juke box competingwith the highly amplified recordingsof the voicesof pre
vious visitors,as well as with different smells.The effect sought was some
thing closeto multisensorydisorientation.The other historicallysignificant
installation,bycontrast,compriseda kindof minimallivingspace,a rude lean-
to patio-cum-pavilion (fig. 209) containing a variety of battered homely
objects- a bicyclewheel, a trumpet, a TVset- symbolsof a devastatedpast
and/orfuture life lainout asan archeologistmight displaythe materialculture
6 that had been unearthedduring an excavationof some lost society.
TheTateshow was a far more conventionalaffair, in part becauseit was a
straightforward surveyof twentieth-century American painting and sculp
ture and in part becauseit containedfew echoesof that avowedlypopulist
and participatory spirit that animated most of the This is Tomorrowpartici
pants for whom, according to the press release,"The doors of the Ivory
7 Towerarewide open." Thekeyto the excitementit generatedlay in the fact
that it provided local artists with their first direct exposure to Abstract
Expressionistpainting.

19 3
 If both exhibitions attracted considerable public attention and media
coverage,it may be supposedthat in large part the audiencesfor the two
were, notwithstanding some overlap from the younger art community,
distinctively different. Certainly,the legaciesattributed to each are quite
separate-separate rather than conflicting.
TheAmericanshow was followed three yearslater by another exhibition,
held again at the Tate Gallery,this time devoted exclusivelyto Abstract
8 Expressionism,loosely defined. Stimulated by this example, a number of
Britishartists began to make large-format color-field paintings,which they
perceivedto be radicallyabstract in configuration. Bandingtogether, they
presentedtheir work in 1960 at the RBAGalleriesin a polemicalexhibition
entitled Situation. A follow-up show was held the next year.The debt of
these painters, who included John Hoyland, Robyn Denny, and Bernard
Cohen among their number, to their American forebears was openly ac
knowledged. No ambiguity attends the transition of influence and inspira
tion from the most recent American works in the 1956 show to those that
herald the debut of these British abstract artists coming to maturity in the
earlysixties,nor to their belief that the centralstrandsof high modernism,as
defined in the writings of critics like Clement Greenberg,were being actively
9 carried forward in their art.
The legacyof This is Tomorrowis altogether more complexand problem
atic. First,it is important to note that, although the most discussedsections
of the show were provided by erstwhile members of the Independent
Group, the group itself had by then formally disbanded. Nevertheless,in
hindsightthis show, rather than any of their other multifariousactivities,has
been deemedthe inceptionof PopArt and hencehas been consideredtheir
most significant contribution to the history of art. And RichardHamilton's
small collage (fig. 210), which was designed for reproduction in the cata
logue and as a poster,but not for inclusionin the display,has subsequently
been lauded as the talisman of that moment, the first Pop icon.
In 1961 a number of young painters, most of whom had trained at the
RoyalCollege of Art in London, were included together in an anthology
exhibition at the I.C.A., called Young Contemporaries:notable among the
participantswere DavidHockney,DerekBoshier,PatrickCaulfield,and Peter
Phillips. They, too, were soon to become celebrated as Pop artists. The
connections between the members of the Independent Group and the
younger sixties Pop painters, are, however,difficult to determine precisely,
being more circuitousthan direct, more circumstantialthan causal.At most,
the former seemto havecontributed to a cultural climate conduciveto the
development of a figurative art that drew for its imagery and spirit-in a
free-wheeling, hedonistic, subjective way —on contemporary youth and
media culture.
It is important to remember,too, that it was only in 1957 that Richard

1 94
 Hamilton executed the first of his paintings to incorporate motifs, tech
niques, and styles derived from the mass media. This was Hommage a
Chrysler Corps (fig. 211), a painting he later described as

a compilationof themesderivedfrom the glossies.Themain motif, the vehicle,breaks

down into an anthology of presentationtechniques.One passage,for example,runs
from a prim emulation of in-focus photographedgloss to out-of-focus gloss to an
artist's representationof chrome to an ad-man'ssign meaning"chrome." Piecesare
taken from Chrysler'sPlymouth and Imperial ads, there is some General Motors
materialand a bit of a Pontiac.. . . Thesex-symbolis, asso often happensin the ads,
10 engaged in a display of affection for the vehicle.

(Nonetheless, as Lawrence Alloway soon pointed out, there are significant

traces in Hamilton's mode of composing, as well as in his manner of layering
meaning, of Duchamp's art, and of The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors,
11 Even in particular.)
Equally telling is the fact the other leading artist to have been connected
with the Independent Group, Eduardo Paolozzi (see figs. 2 12 and 2 13), was
at that moment better termed a New Brutalist than a Pop artist, if any
12 labeling is required. Although since the 1940s he had made numerous
small collages in which he incorporated barely modified material drawn
from comics and down-market pin-ups, Paolozzi's main activity as an artist
at this point was the creation of bronze sculptures of anthropomorphic
hybrids. Closer to primeval monsters than to futuristic robots —given their
fractured carapaces constructed by embedding into wax sheets myriad
small objects of various kinds, and imbued with a quasiexistentialist angst —
these battered figures were more redolent of Surrealist grotesquerie than of
any contemporary fascination with the new ethos of the mass media and
consumer consumption. In addition, most of the other key artists associated
with the Independent Group, notably Nigel Henderson, John McHale (see
figs. 214 and 215), and William Turnbull, were closer in their interests and
concerns to Paolozzi than to Hamilton, whose painting up to then had
principally involved questions relating to perception and in ways that, ulti
13 mately, could be traced back through Duchamp to Cezanne.
While the proliferation of elements often associated with particularly low-
grade forms of mass culture caused many to see in Hamilton and Co.'s
installation for This is Tomorrow a Dadaist effect if not intent, the focus of
their thought was very different. As demonstrated both by the catalogue (in
the layout of Hamilton's collage opposite a black-and-white image that
ambiguously hovered between positive and negative figure-ground read
ings), and by their juxtaposition in the show of admass imagery with effects
generated by devices frequently used in the realm of fine art, such as
perspectival distortions, they sought to render sensory, and especially visual,

19 5
 perception ambiguous. However,the lessonsenshrined in this multimedia
high/low" cultural interplay were not presented didactically; what was
understood by most participants was apprehended intuitively and
experientially.14
Since Paolozzi'sdebts, by contrast, were more to Surrealism,which he
had studied in Parisin the forties and to which thereafter he remained
aligned, at least in his own eyes,his approach to massculture was signifi
cantly different. 15 While in his sculpturethis involvedthe metamorphosisof
popular-culture items into high art, in his contributions to Independent
Groupactivitieshe betrayeda more ethnographicslant.16 However,overthe
course of the fifties his fascinationwith low-grade massculture gradually
was overlainwith a pessimistic,existentiallyinflectedview of the contempo
rary world, a view that later drew him to the science-fictionwriter J. G.
Ballard,with whom he sharesa mistrustof technology,or at leastof modern
17 man's responsesto technology.
Yetthis New Brutalistethos- as it manifesteditself within the framework
of the Independent Group-was perhaps best expressednot in This is
Tomorrowbut in the exhibition that that samequartet of Paolozzi,Hender
son, and the Smithsons,together with RonaldJenkins,had organizedfor the
I.C.A. in London in 1953. Entitled Parallelof Life and Art (fig. 216), it
comprisedover one hundred imagesgarneredfrom a wide variety of visual
sources,rephotographedand then printed, often enlarged,on grainypaper.
Divestedof labelsand captions,and thus often defying easyidentification,
thesephotographswere arrangedin a labyrinthineinstallationthat createda
seamless,encompassing,heterarchicalmelange. Among the few fine-art
images included alongside reproductions of children's drawings, hiero
glyphs,and "primitive" art were photographsof works by Dubuffet, Pollock,
and Klee; the majority, however, were images taken from other fields,
especiallyfrom the sciences,technology, and photo-journalism—images
that often resulted from the latest developments in the particular fields,
suchas microscopicphotography,aerialphotography,photo-finish cameras,
and high-speed flash. Photography was seen to play a key role in this
egalitarianview of the recentlyexpandedvisualworld, in which, according
to the cataloguestatement, scientific and artistic information ought to be
18 regarded as aspects of a single whole. Yet for many critics the overall
impressiongiven by the show, which they deemed more attentive to the
ugliness or horrors of everyday life than to its ostensible beauties, was
disquieting—testimony to the effectivenessof what ReynerBanham, an
other member of the IndependentGroup and a leadingwriter on architec
ture and design, described as its subversiveinnovation, the flouting of
humanisticconventionsof beauty in order to emphasizeviolence,distor
19 tion, obscurity, and a certain amount of 'humeur noir.'"
The principalgoals of this exhibition were therefore very similar to those

19 G
 that later underpinnedThis is Tomorrow,at least as outlined by Lawrence
Alloway (the leading art critic within the Independent Group) in his cata
logue introduction to that show: "A result of this exhibition is to opposethe
specialization of the arts. ... An exhibition like this ... is a lesson in
spectatorship,which cuts across the learned responsesof conventional
20 reception." Yet such goals were but the baseline of the Independent
Group's endeavors: the implications they foresaw from a radical shift in
cultural valueswere as important to them. In anticipation of the extensive
social reconstructionthey hoped would result from that shift, it was neces
sary,they believed,to begin to devisewaysof studyingthe new phenomena
that were rapidly overtaking and redefining the field of popular culture,
both the novel technologies and the proliferating mass media.
Fundamentalto any assessmentof the legacyof the IndependentGroup
asa whole (aswell asto the problem of connectingthe artists belongingto it
with the RoyalCollegePop painters)is the fact that the IndependentGroup
was not primarily engaged in making artworks. Discussionwas its first
concern, manifested most importantly in the seriesof seminarsconvened
exclusivelyfor its closely selected membership but also in certain public
lectures devised for the I.C.A., its parent organization. Supplementaryto
21 that was the curating, designing,and installingof exhibitions. Whether in
debates or in exhibition making, the activities of the Independent Group
were always collaborative. Both its vitality and the source of its historical
significancelay in the flexibility and opennesswith which it accommodated
the amiablycompeting, interdisciplinaryinterestsof its leadingprotagonists.
At no point, however,did it issueeither joint statements or manifestoes,
though many of its leading figures did publish articles on topics that had
provedthe focus of much discussionamong the group. The artworks that a
number of them made while memberswere, consequently,ancillaryto its
existence,no more influential on nor determined by the group activity than,
say,the academicresearchon the pioneersof the earlymodern movementin
architecturethat concurrentlypreoccupiedReynerBanhamas a postgradu
ate student at the Courtauld Institute, or the lectures LawrenceAlloway
preparedon aspectsof the historicalcollectionas a temporary employeeof
the Tate Gallery.
The young artists emerging from the RoyalCollegein the early sixties,by
contrast, were painterstout court. They incorporatedinto their art imagery
culled from the latest, most up-to-date aspectsof their visualenvironment,
its sitesof leisure,pleasure,and desire.Theirswas an enthusiastic,personal,
and uncritical responseto an Englandin the first full flush of a newly won
economic prosperity,a prosperity that, by the end of the fifties, had trans
formed the incipient consumerismof the mid-decadeinto an unprecedent
ed boom in spending. But not only did theseyoung sixtiesartists not share
their predecessors'critical distancefrom the immediate environment, they

19 7
 HI did not engage in theoretical or cultural studies of the kind that were the
o hallmark of the Independent Group.
u However, it was not only the fact of their belonging to different genera-
iii tions with vastly separate interests that distinguishes these two groups;
| equally telling were the effects on them of the rapidly changing socio-
> cultural milieus in which they began their careers. This so-called open society
of the later fifties was a very different place from the prewar Orwellian
England in which Hamilton and many of his peers had been raised, and from
the dour working-class Scottish environment in which Paolozzi and Turnbull
had passed their youth. Growing up in the interwar years, their lives then
radically altered by the outbreak of hostilities, the members of the Indepen
dent Group eagerly welcomed the postwar reconstruction program
whereby the newly elected Labour government sought to effect a more
egalitarian society through a (partial) redistribution of wealth, reforms in
education and health care, and the creation of a welfare state aimed
specifically at improving the living standards of the lower echelons of
22 society. While their involvement in cultural studies was inevitably fueled by
their Leftist sympathies, and their aesthetics informed by their political
ideals, the methods they employed were never didactic nor overtly polem
ical. By contrast, the work of the younger artists was saturated in dreams,
fantasy, and play; maturing in the wake of the somewhat belatedly achieved
prosperity, they constructed for themselves a world in which comics, games,
pin-ups, and other leisure pursuits had become all-pervasive.
Thus those for whom the impact of This is Tomorrow may, initially at least,
have been greatest are unlikely to have been the generation who came to
artistic maturity in the sixties. Rather, it was certain individuals who shared
with the Independent Group a critically self-conscious attitude to the pres
ent, and who welcomed the cultural implications consequent on those
social changes that burgeoned, not without a certain opposition, during the
first half of the fifties. Instead of merely taking them for granted as did later
generations, such viewers embraced the rapidly spreading novel forms of
popular culture —such as glossy picture magazines, widescreen movies, TV,
and LP records —with an impatient, if knowing, excitement. Among these,
J. G. Ballard can be considered exemplary, given his enthusiasm for a show
he found "fresh and revolutionary":

To go to the Whitechapel in 1956 and see my experienceof the real world being
commented upon, played back to me with all kinds of ironic gestures, that was
tremendouslyexciting. I could reallyrecreatethe future, that was the future, not the
past. And Abstract Expressionismstruck me as being about yesterday,was pro
foundly retrospective,profoundly passive,and it wasn't serious.. . . Abstract Expres
sionism didn t share the overlapping,jostling vocabulariesof science,technology,
advertising,the new realmsof communication."This Is Tomorrow" came on a year

1 98
 before the flight of the first Sputnik, but the technologiesthat launchedthe space
age were already underpinning the consumer-goodssociety in those days. How
23 much of this did Abstract Expressionismrepresent?

What distinguishes Ballard's response- just as it informed the debates of the

Independent Group -was a preoccupation with questioning the roles and
relationships traditionally accorded high and low culture, with undermining
the entrenched and elitist determinants of cultural leadership and value, and
with thereby contributing to the redrawing of social boundaries.
The intensely contested struggles in the cultural field during the fifties did
not erupt solely between the likes of the Independent Group and conserva
tive defenders of the status quo, such as Evelyn Waugh, who vehemently
opposed what they regarded as the denigration and subversion of the
highest ideals and achievements of the British heritage by the onslaughts of
popular culture, but between them and certain critics on the Left, most
notably Richard Hoggart and George Orwell, who tried to defend what they
regarded as an authentic working-class culture against the incursions of
24 mass culture. The product of a rootless, urban, consumer society-a
society typified by the United States, which was then the most industrialized
of all countries -this new American mass culture was anathema to them,
the insidious destroyer of an indigenous popular culture.
Banham, Alloway, Hamilton, Paolozzi, and others in the Independent
Group interpreted the situation very differently. Agreeing that the funda
mental issues involved more than the ascription of value to other forms of
culture than the entrenched high-art ones, they, however, defined these
issues as pertaining ultimately to democracy. By substituting for the norma
tive hierarchies embodied in notions of good and bad taste a continuum in
which all forms of culture were held to be equally valid and significant, and
hence of equal status, culture would become, as Alloway phrased it, re
lated to modern arrangements of knowledge in non-hierarchic forms . . .
[as] shown by the influence of anthropology and sociology on the human
25 ities." This expanded notion of culture could then serve as an active agent
of social change, they believed, since in its popular manifestations it re
sponded not only to economic needs but to the social and psychological
desires of individuals and subgroups. Because its audiences were able to
appropriate and reshape its meanings in response to their collective needs, it
contributed, they argued, to greater social mobility and self-determination.
They advocated the furtherance of a consumerist society, one inevitably
dominated by the mass media because, as Brian Wallis notes, consumption
to them was "a socially legitimate activity which yields potential for individ
ual and collective transformation by embodying certain cultural needs,
26 pleasures and beliefs."
Their optimistic vision is epitomized in the role Banham accorded the

t 9 9
 ^ product critic in the design of manufactured goods: he stressed not only the
o critics responsibility to the audience but his function as a conduit of the
27 u audience s desires and needs. In a similar vein, Hamilton's acts of discrimi-
m nation between various types of admass presentation were directed to an
z audience whose abilities to differentiate keenly between the smallest
> nuances and inflections when making choices and readings based on related
material he thoroughly appreciated. The affectionate wit that informs his
work, and much of Banham's writing, is in part an expression of the positive
freedom that each felt was gained by those consumers able to move
knowledgeably and confidently within this expanding socio-cultural milieu.
As Banham phrased it, "Pop puts the ultimate command in the hands if not
of the consumer, then at least of the consumer's appointed agent."': Dick
28 Hebdige aptly characterizes this as a politics of pleasure.
From their inception the Independent Group had brought a socio-
anthropological approach to their inquiries, impelled as they were by a
deep-seated interest in examining all the manifestations of contemporary
culture, ranging across the spectrum from the proliferation of down-market
mass culture to the innovative products spawned by science and the new
technologies. Their lecture series for 1952-53, for example, included
Banham discussing "Machine Aesthetics"; Jasia S. Shapiro, helicopter de
sign, the philosopher A. J. Ayer, the "Principle of Verification"; Peter Floud,
"Victorian and Edwardian Decorative Arts"; as well as two crystallographers
talking on their specializations. Their early curatorial endeavors were likewise
characterized by a fascination with the whole of the visual environment and
with its rapid expansion through technological innovation and, in particular,
photography, since it was this, the most modern of media, that largely made
such expansion possible, via its constantly proliferating new guises.
Yet their understanding of contemporary visual languages, especially
those emerging in the world of design to which most of them brought an
informed, even specialized knowledge, was predicated on an historical as
9 well as a sociological reading. 2 When it came, for example, to the exhibi
tion Man, Machine and Motion (fig. 217), whose subject was the ways in
which people today have extended their compass on the world around them
through inventions that aid autonomous motion, Hamilton, the show's
principal organizer, took a characteristically long and encompassing view,
considering everything from Francesco de Giorgio's fifteenth-century draw
ings of a proto-bathosphere to the latest in aeronautics and in sci-fi predic
tions. Typically,the medium through which the material was presented, was
photography But equally telling was the decision to concentrate exclusively
on images that depicted the human figure in active engagement with the
machine. Technological development was not the primary concern, rather it
was the plethora of means whereby mankind makes active sense of the
contemporary world. In the catalogue introduction Hamilton, writing jointly

zoo
 with LawrenceGowing, stressedthe affectivity of photographsthat contain
the human body, as a prelude to emphasizingthe necessityof devising
myths and rituals by which such technologicaldevelopmentscan be made
30 psychologicallymeaningful. The concern for active participation on the
part of the viewer that thesestatementsimply was carriedthrough into the
design of the exhibition. An environmental installation of photographic
panelsin a rectlinearmazelikedisplay,it was arrangedto ensure that new
conjunctionsof images constantly came into play as the spectator moved
through the space. While not overtly didactic, it nonethelessforced the
viewerto be active,requiringan engagedresponseto the constantlyshifting
31 flow of material.
The particular interestthat LawrenceAlloway and John McHale,who was
then just back from a year studying in the Department of Design at Yale
University,shared in popular culture came to the fore in the series of
meetingsthey organizedfor the IndependentGroup in the winter of 1954-
55. This significantly changedthe tenor of the group's activities,according
to RichardHamilton: "What had beencliquey,Britishand laudablyacademic
became through their joint influence, cliquey, mid-Atlantic, adventurous,
32 irreverentand relevant." Havingmore contentioussocialimplications,this
theme alsogeneratedgreater controversyoutside the group'sconfinesthan
had their previoussubjects.Yet however passionatetheir interest in mass
culture, it did not imply an assault on high culture per se, nor, as noted
above,was it pursuedat its expense.Equallysignificant, but more unprece
dented, was the fact that the IndependentGroup brought to their study of
popular culture that combination of seriousnessand pleasure that they
brought to all their activities:there was nevera hint of slumming,of treating
it as a chic form of escape.Thus when Banham,for example,lectured on
developmentsin car styling, he treated his subjectwith the kind of informed
and disciplined methodology that he used to address issuesin architec
33 ture; and when Hamilton analyzed the different effects produced by
varioustypes of photography,he deployedan expertisecomparableto that
he used in differentiating between methods and techniquesfound in tradi
tional printmaking. Collectively,they pursued an approach that argued for
the appropriatenessof design to its context, contending that architecture,
with its long life expectancy,requireddifferent design decisionsfrom those
34 attending an expendable,more rapidly outdated item like a toaster. They
were thus attentive to the high level of discriminationand sophistication,
akin to connoisseurship,that informed audiences,fans, and aficionados
alike bring to bear on their cultural choices,irrespectiveof the status of the
genre in question 35
In exploringthese issuesin their work, most of the artists in the Indepen
dent Group stayed within the realm of what was unquestionably high
cultural activity: painting and sculpture. And whereas their theoretical

2 1
 ^ positions, as expressedin Independent Group activity, in seminars,exhibi
ts tions, writing, and lectures,may haveat times beencontroversial,their work
u as fine artists was readily accepted in mainstream venues and contexts,
uj often by the very people who were otherwise opposed to them as well as
36 z being themselvesthe implicit objects of their critiques. Paolozzi'sbronze
> sculptures,for example,were unproblematicallyendorsedalongsidethose
of a rising generation of younger sculptors.Therewas no conflict with the
guardiansof high culture sincein his works, as in Hamilton'spaintingsof the
late fifties, mass-culturalelementswere being incorporatedinto the realm
of high-art activity in ways that were perceivednot to threaten it; indeed,
theirs was an approach with a venerable tradition. Similarly,it could be
argued that Banham'sthesis, later published as Theoryand Design in the
FirstMachineAge, though ground-breakingin terms of the wealth of new
information it uncoveredand the originality of certain governing ideas,was
far from subversivein its approachto the study of earlymodernism,depend
ing as it did on the mainstaysof architectural scholarship: key architects,
37 major buildings, and so forth.
While by questioningthe absolutist hierarchiesand elitist franchise that
subtended high art, the membersof the Independent Group could be said
to have attacked certain of its foundations, they cannot be said to have
attempted to undermine modernism as such. Their approach was firmly
rooted in the legacy of early European modernism, that of the interwar
years,of the Bauhaus,of Duchampand Joyce,among others. Theydid not
acceptthe notion that the modernist heritage had passedto New Yorkand
was currentlycentered in Abstract Expressionism, asdid those of their British
peersfor whom the showsof Americanart held at the TateGalleryat the end
36 of the fifties provedso influential. LikeBallardin 1956, they,too, felt that it
failed to offer a persuasivemodel for a contemporary practice. As the
quotations cited at the beginning of this essayattest, their interest in mass
culture was doubly determined. In dominating and conditioning the visual
data of contemporarylifestyles,and therefore requiringan informed under
standingfor modern living, popular culture warranted closestudy; in alter
ing the visuallandscape,it becomea crucial,evenpreeminentsourcefor the
modern artist to consider.

While the Pop Art that emerged in Britain in the sixties was widely,
enthusiastically,and rapidly embraced, in the United Statesit was bitterly
39 contested. However,its various advocatesand denunciatorscannot be
divided along the lines of radical and conservative,academic and avant-
garde, for what Pop Art initially seemed to propose was a far greater
challengethan that which was normally implied in the shift from one art
movement to another, that is, by a change in subject and/or style. The

202
 situation in Englandwas not comparable: neither the art objects made by
members of the Independent Group nor the paintings of the sixties Pop
artists offer equivalentchallengesto those notions of originality,authorship,
and innovationthat lie at the heart of modernism,evento the very category
of art qua art, that AmericanPopArt at its most rigorousand trenchant was
believedto posit. In aestheticterms, the Britishstrainscould be condemned,
or celebrated,for being vulgar,tasteless,and jejeune; but in no sensedid
40 they present more fundamental assaultson normative categories. And
similarly in social terms: the Independent Group was expansionistand
accumulativein its targets and only incidentally confrontational and con-
testatory,while British Popof the sixtiesoffered far lessthreat to the status
quo than did either pop music or fashion. In fact, its ready acceptanceat a
general level could be ascribed in part to the ease with which it was
assimilatedinto the new manifestationsthen sweeping the field of music,
fashion, and design, manifestationsthat cumulativelybecamepromoted as
Pop culture, and hence as key elements in the scene soon known as
"Swinging London."
The emergenceof American PopArt in 1962 arousedenormouscontro
versy among the defenders of high culture, following as it did at least a
decadeof anxiousdefensivenessby those mandarins41 In their determina
tion to safeguard high culture, certain strategies had been adopted to
present Abstract Expressionismas a pinnacleof high-art achievement,one
which had to be segregatedfrom the incursionsof all forms of kitsch.Tothis
end, the degree to which de Kooning, for example, drew on both mass-
42 cultural imagery and its themes was ignored or heavily underplayed.
Robert Rauschenberg's combines,which preservedunalteredthe factuality,
the "given" quality,of their preformed mass-culturalelementswere, at least
at first, able to be marginalizedby being considereda form of Neo-Dada.
Thusit was JasperJohns'spaintingsthat, in the late fifties, cameto represent
a major threat to the hegemony of Abstract Expressionism:for notwith
standing his virtuosity in handling paint, his overtly banal subject matter
appeared highly provocative in the face of those transcendental ideals
purportedly manifest in Abstract Expressionism.
The question of the relationship between high and low culture grew
increasinglyexplosive with the steadily expanding proliferation of mass
culture into all areasof daily life, a fact demonstratedfirst by the furor that
surroundedthe earliestshow to bring together many of the American Pop
protagonists, SidneyJanis's1962 New Realistsexhibition, and second, by
the way that the greatest controversycentered around Andy Warhol (see
figs. 218 and 219) and Roy Lichtenstein(see figs. 220 and 221), painters
whose work not only drew on advertisingand media imageryfor its subject
matter but which, more importantly, utilized the conventions and tech
niquesof massreproduction in representingit 43 Moreover,in addition to
 ^ their seeming not to transform admassmaterial, both artists presented it
o on a scaleand in a format that directly challengedseriouspainting on its
u own ground. Unlike such patently avant-garde activity as "happenings,"
u which adopted means, materials, and techniques, and even operated in
z venues, that were regarded as in some way alternative-nonart or
> antiart- American Pop Art sought to locate itself at the very heart of the
mainstream.Thiswas undoubtedly done highly consciously,for all its chief
protagonists had, in their youth, flirted with or grown through phasesof
Abstract Expressionistpainting. Moreover, since all had backgrounds in
commercial art, they were thoroughly conversant with the normative
distinctions that separatedthe two realms, their different codes, conven
44 tions, and values. They therefore offered a challenge to prevailing
concernsand larger cultural valuesof an order that the more conventional
British artists emerging from the RoyalCollege could not match. It was a
kind of challenge that the Independent Group, operating in a quite
different cultural matrix, did not seek to posit.
It is not surprisingthat no sustainedparallelsor significant connections
can be drawn between the emergenceof PopArt in Britain and the United
States.This involvesmore than the likelihood of local differencesobscuring
or modifying related impulses; rather it depends on the substantiallydif
ferent socio-culturalcontexts in which each burgeoned. Suchconnections
have nonethelessfrequently been drawn largely becauseof the ways in
which the history of PopArt was first written. Were it not for the personal
circumstancesof LawrenceAlloway's life, the Independent Group might
never havebecomea component integral to any discussionof PopArt, nor
might such weight have been given, at least in the early accounts,to its
45 manifestationsin Britain in the sixties.
Alloway coinedthe term "Pop" initiallyto refer to the widespreadinterest
in popular culture as it was expressedby the membersof the Independent
Group in their discussions,lectures,and other group activities.A particular
interest of his, he fostered it wherever he was most active and influential,
suchas in the seminarseriesheld at the I.C.A.during the winter of 1953-54
He was then, almost predictably,attracted by the arrival of certain younger
British artists, mostly from the RoyalCollege,who used it as the source of
imageryin their paintings; and he subsequentlymodified the meaningof the
term to accommodatethem, dubbing their work, collectively,Pop Art. In
1962 he movedto the United States,where he quickly becamean influential
curator of pioneeringexhibitionsdevoted to the work of key participants in
what had emerged there under several rubrics before it finally became
definitively known as Pop Art.
In later writing a history of the postwar art in Britainthat drew on popular
culture for its imageryand, sometimes,style,Alloway cojoined Popand Pop
Art in a quasilinearunfolding, which conformed to the progressivistevolu-

204
 tionary models then prevailingin art history—and the Independent Group
46 became the progenitors of Pop Art. It is worth noting, however,that
although Alloway had written extensivelyon variousart and popular culture
topics during the yearsof the IndependentGroup,and although at that time
he also reviewedthe work of its key artists Paolozziand Hamilton in highly
favorableterms, he nevermentioned, let alone discussed,the group during
its existence47 If it was in large part due to Alloway that the Independent
Group cameto havea recognizedplacein those historiesof PopArt written
in the sixties,thereafter its stature waned as the preeminenceof certain of
its American principalsgrew and the careersof others elsewheredeclined.
Bythe beginningof the eighties,in generalhistoriesof twentieth-century art
it was often reduced to little more than a cursory citation, a singular
prefiguration, an obligatory footnote 48
BritishPopArt of the sixtieshaswith time suffered a similareclipse,being
increasinglyseenas but one, local, manifestationamong many,and argua
bly not a crucial one at that. The prodigious spreadof the massmedia and
consumer culture throughout the Western world from the mid-fifties on
ward was rarely separablein most placesfrom the infiltration of American
influence—in the guiseof both high and low cultural forms. Thisgenerated
a rangeof reactionsthroughout Europein which responseto the former was
inextricablylinked to a responseto the latter,and the resultswere deemed,
collectively, manifestations of Pop Art. Overlooked then, and so never
commandeeredunderthat rubric, the works made during the 1960s by the
German Capitalist RealistsGerhard Richter and Sigmar Polkenow appear
both more substantialand more significant, in the ways that they address
the challengesoffered by this proliferating massculture than do those of
any other non-NewYork "Pop"artists—the Britishincluded with the singu
lar exceptionof RichardHamilton 49Only recently,however,hasdue atten
tion begun to be accorded them in the English-speakingworld: this will
doubtless in turn contribute significantly to the rewriting of the standard
histories of Pop Art, which to date are still largely determined by the
perspectivestaken by certain British and American authors of the sixties.
If by the later part of that decade (American) Pop Art seemedto have
swept all before it, havingbeen assimilatedinto mainstreamaccountsof the
developmentof modern art as a paralleland counterpoint to contemporary
50 abstraction, developmentsin the seventiesled to its being reconsideredin
very different terms. In the wake of the Conceptualistsinstitutional critique
and deconstructionof the art object, its languagesand forms, PopArt came
51 under increasing attack, especiallyfrom the Left. Far from offering a
critigue or evenexposureof the dominant valuesof late capitalistconsumer
societyas had formerly been argued, most notably in continental Europe,it
was now seen to be thoroughly implicated in them, collusive and com
2 plicity Most historicalaccountsattempting, with the benefits of hindsight,

205
 ^ to assess its contribution to modernism have henceforth concentrated on
° little else.
u By contrast, those artists and writers who came to maturity in the late
u seventies had grown up in a media-saturated world and were therefore
z attuned, it is argued, to the dominating effects of the electronics media and
>j information technologies not only on the current visual landscape and its
^ languages but on all conscious thoughts and unconscious desires. To them
there seems no possibility of offering any critique from outside this context,
that is, of providing a critique that is not itself marked by some degree of
complicity with the prevailing ideology. Framed by the new theoretical
writing emerging from poststructuralist authors, most recent investigations
of Pop Art have therefore taken a different course, and a somewhat more
positive reading has ensued -or at least one that may be construed as
positive within an increasingly negative overview of Western culture at
large. Media-literate in new ways, interpretations of this kind have been
particularly forthcoming from those influenced by the writing of Jean
Baudrillard, who has played a seminal role in the United States throughout
the eighties in the thinking and development of many younger artists and
53 writers.
Most of the advocates of American Pop in the later sixties sought to argue
for its high quality in orthodox terms, that is, for its formal affinities with
concurrent modes of vanguard abstraction, and thus for its place in the
mainstream of modernist expression. In so doing, they masked or sup
pressed, at least for a time, consideration of what has recently, once again,
been considered essential to the radicality of its challenge, namely, its
fundamental assault on certain central tenets of modernism; originality,
authenticity, and innovation. Congruent with this has been the realization,
admittedly more dependent on the example of Warhol than of Pop Art as a
whole, that it is inextricably caught within the operations of the culture
industry at large and yet at best not fully subservient to them. As Benjamin
Buchloh argues;

the contradictions evidenced in the work's consistentlyambivalent relationshipto

both mass culture and high art . . . [were crucial to] the way in which Warhol
underlinedat all times that the governingformal determination of his work was the
distribution form of the commodity object and that the work obeyed the same
principlesthat determine the objects of the cultural industry at large.^

This and related interpretations have given Warhol's art immense potency in
the eighties, since even more than the issues pertaining to simulation and
appropriation, the question of the commodification of the artwork has come
to the fore. But the centrality of these questions to the postmodernist
debate is such that Pop Art as a whole has gained renewed significance —so

ZOE
 much so, in fact, that Paul Taylorwas recently able to claim quite per
suasively,in the introduction to an anthology of theoreticalwritings devoted
to this subject: "Two and a half decadesafter the event, Pop Art has re-
emerged as the most influential movement in the contemporary art
55 world."
Whereasshifting theoretical perspectiveslargelyaccountfor the different
readingsthat contribute to the renewed interest in PopArt in general,the
case of the Independent Group stands somewhat apart. For what was
initially required was the retrieval of information long lost or otherwise
obscured: only following that did it becomepossibleto begin to reassessits
56 contribution to the field of cultural studies,aswell asto the history of art.
In the event, it is that contribution to cultural studies that has tended to
dominate recent accounts,both becauseof its endeavorsto create a high/
low continuum, and its ideal of making the simultaneousappreciationof all
types of culture not only possible but desirable.In this it anticipated the
levelingof hierarchiesand the blurring of boundariesthat havebecomethe
hallmark of the contemporary situation in which, according to Fredric
Jameson,the cultural, the social, and the economic are no longer easily
57 distinguishedfrom one another.
While the Independent Group undoubtedly warrants homagesfrom the
sphereof cultural studiesas well as from that of design history,where the
sophisticatedacuity of its analysesof product designare still pioneering,this
should not preclude acknowledgment of certain crucial differences that
separatethe fifties from the presentand so renderit ultimately lessmemora
58 ble as a model than as an exemplar. Suchdifferencesstem from changes
both in theory and in society.Thus, for example,the belief that the mass
media possessintrinsicallyliberating or democratic appeal—which is cur
rently blocked or suppressedby the ruling groups or the power interestsin
whose hands they lie—is currently in question; and far from a greater
heterogeneity resulting from a proliferation of the massmedia, increasing
control and homogenizationoccur as power becomesvestedin the handsof
59 a few giant corporations. Moreover, recent studies of the producer-
marketing-consumerrelationship no longer accord such weight and influ
ence to the consumer as did Banham, his colleagues,and others in the
fifties; instead, control is believed to belong to the machinationsof the
mediating/marketingforces, manifestin the ever-increasingpower of adver
tising and the electronicsmedia.And still other studiesdraw attention to the
high costs in ecological terms of a society geared to expendability and
obsolescence.Congruent with all this is the unprecedented significance
now attributed to languageand representationin the determining of iden
tity, desires,and needs.
However,when placed against those current theories that offer a re
lentlesslypessimisticvision, one that only too often manifests itself in the

2 7
 aestheticarena in cynical,parodic self-mockery,the more modestlycircum
scribedand qualified, optimistic and amusedlyaffectionate stanceadopted
by the IndependentGroup positssomethingvery different. Lessmanichean
and lessdeterministic,more pragmaticand more nuancedin its approaches
than arethose encompassingsocialtheoriesoffered recentlyby most French
writers and their American cohorts, it would presumablyagree with those
who argue that there is a degreeof emancipationto be found in consump
tion in general, that consumption satisfiesneeds, and that, even though
those needscan be distorted to an amazing degree,every need containsa
60 smaller or larger kernel of authenticity.
Equallyimportant was their advocacyof popular culture for its capacityto
articulate alternativecultural identities on the marginsof dominant groups.
By crediting massculture with a subversiveand/or a progressivepotential,
with the possibility of decentering and redistributing cultural power, they
herald the ways in which contemporary postmodern theory has turned
increasinglyto popular-cultureexemplarsfor its modelsfor cultural plurality
and resistance.Irrespectiveof how cliched and stereotyped they may have
become,it is out of those myths and rituals generated by massculture that
subversiveif temporary subcultures, like punk, may flourish, and such
progressivehybrid subgenresas the techno-sci-fi of William Gibson bur
61 geon. While possiblyno more than a form of licensednegation, subcul
tures neverthelessattain a quotient of autonomy,which givesthem space
for certain emancipatorystancesand gestures.
But notwithstanding their precedent in drawing attention to such mar
ginalized phenomena,it is not there that the modern-day counterparts to
the IndependentGroup are to be sought. For it was ultimately mainstream
cultural forms, seen as the crucial bearersof meaning, value, and power,
that preoccupiedthem. Theirdescendantsare far more likely to be dissect
ing the "social symbology" of advertising, fashion, or rock music for
62 Artforum than to be writing copy for TheFace. Equally,they are more likely
to be confronting issuesrelated to massproduction, display,and consump
tion through the creation of art objects, as does, sayAllan McCollum, than
resigning themselves to a reproductive practice embodying a cynical
nihilism.

208
1. Alison and PeterSmithson, "But TodayWe Collect Ads," Ark, (1956), reprinted in Modern NOTES
Dreams-the Riseand Falland Riseof Pop,ed. BrianWallis(Cambridge,Mass.,1988),pp. 53-
55 (hereafter referred to as Modern Dreams).
2. RichardHamilton, "RoyLichtenstein,"StudioInternational,vol. 175, no. 896. January1968,
p. 23.
3. Theexhibition was not organizedby the IndependentGroup(hereafterreferredto as IG)but
byTheoCrosby,editor of Architectural Design.Fora detailedstudy of the origin and form of the
show,seeGrahamWhitham, "This IsTomorrow: Genesisof an Exhibition," in Modern Dreams,
pp. 35-39.
4. Modern Art in the United Statescontained the work of Arshile Gorky,Willem de Kooning,
JacksonPollock, Mark Rothko, and Clyfford Still; about 110 artists were representedin all.
Pollock'swork had in fact already been shown in London, in a group exhibition entitled
OpposingForcesheld at the I.C.A. in 1953. ThomasHessgavea lecture entitled "New Abstract
Paintersin America" at the I.C.A. in November1951; at a seriesof lecturesat the I.C.A. in the
winter of 1953-54, Tonidel Renzio,a member of the IG, discussedAction Paintingunder the
title "Non-FormalPainting." ReynerBanhamarguesthat to the Smithsons,who first encoun
tered Pollock'swork at the VeniceBiennaleof 1950, "he becamea sort of patron saint even
before his sensationaland much publicizeddeath"; ReynerBanham,TheNew Brutalism: Ethic
or Aesthetic?(New York, 1966), p. 61. One of HansNamuth'spictures of Pollockin his studio
was includedin Parallelof Life and Art (an exhibition at the I.C.A. in 1953); for the organizershe
representedsomethingthat was very much in concert with the prevailingimpulseof the show,
a flouting of humanistic conventionsof beauty in lieu of violence, distortion and obscurity.

5. For a detailed study of the formation and activities of the IG, see Anne Massey,"The
IndependentGroup: Towardsa Redefinition,"Burlington Magazine,no. 1,009, April 1987, pp.
232-42 (hereafter referred to as "Towardsa Redefinition").
6. Kenneth Framptondescribedit acutelyas a "symbolictemenos-a metaphoricalbackyard,
an ironic interpretation of Laugier'sprimitive hut of 1753 in terms of the backyard reality of
Bethnal Green"; Kenneth Frampton, "New Brutalism and the Welfare State: 1949-59," in
Modern Dreams,p. 48. Paolozzihad stayedwith the Nigel Hendersons,who lived in Bethnal
Green; an anthropologist, Nigel'swife, Judy,was working on a project that involveda study of
backyardsin that community.
7. Lawrence Alloway, introduction to This Is Tomorrow,catalogue of an exhibition at the
Whitechapel Gallery,London, 1956, n.pag.
8. Entitled The New American Painting,this exhibition contained the work of JamesBrooks,
SamFrancis,PhilipGuston, and GraceHartigan, in addition to that of Pollock,de Kooning,and
other "First Generation" Abstract Expressionists.
9. The continuity of this initial impetus was maintained especiallythrough the figure of
Anthony Caro, the sole sculptor invited to participate. Greenberg'sadvocacyof his sculpture
and the continuing influence of Greenberg'stheories in Britain are well documented.

10. Hamilton, quoted in RichardMorphet, introduction to RichardHamilton, catalogueof an

exhibition at the Tate Gallery,London, 1971, pp. 32-33.
11 Of the related painting She, which grew out of an investigationHamilton undertook into
consumergoods for an IG lecture, LawrenceAlloway wrote: "She extends the most elliptical
sign languageof the art world (minted by MarcelDuchamp)to consumergoods.The painting is
characterisedby the cool, cleanhygienicsurfaceof kitchenequipment and the detailing hasthe
crisp, fine points of ads or explanatory booklets on the products that Hamilton is painting ;
"Artists as Consumers,"Image, no. 3, c. February 1961, pp. 14-19. Later he added, equally
validly, "The twentieth century experience of overlapping and clustered sign systems is
Hamilton's organisingprinciple"; LawrenceAlloway, "Pop Culture and Pop Art, Art Interna
tional, July 1969, p. 19.

209
 2. New Brutalism" is a term that was applied more often to the architecture of the
Smithsons.For further discussion,see Frampton, "New Brutalism," pp. 47-51 Some years
later, Paolozziand the Smithsonsattempted to disassociatethemselvesfrom the IG.
13. Fora detailed examinationof Hamilton'searlywork, see Morphet, Introduction to Richard
Hamilton. Certain of these differencesshould also be attributed to the markedly contrasting
temperaments and sensibilitiesof Paolozziand Hamilton. Whereasthe former is prolix the
latter is terse; whereasthe former is anti-academic,the latter demonstratesa spareintellectual-
ism; whereasthe former mined tawdry pulp publications-often cheapand nasty,violent and
sexist-the latter admired industrial design, the glossies,and other sophisticated products
essentialto the manufacturingof consumerdreams; and whereasthe former found an element
of fantasyand horror inherent in actuality,the latter regardedits latestforms of expressionwith
what has been aptly termed "an irony of affirmation." Their differences in attitude could
'fferenCe critically aboutT^ ^ ^ d between Paving somethingreceptivelyand thinking

14. LawrenceAlloway later summarizedtheir collectiveapproach: "Any lessonsin consump

tion or in style must occur insidethe patternsof entertainment ... and not weigh it down like a
pigeon with TheNaked and the Dead tied to its leg"; LawrenceAlloway, "The Long Front of
Culture (1959),reprinted in JohnRusselland SuziGablik,PopArt Redefined{London 1969) p
42 (hereafter referred to as Pop Art Redefined).

15^ See SpeculativeIllustrations:EduardoPaolozziin Conversationwith J.G. Ballardand Frank

Whitford," Studio International, vol.183, no. 937 (October 1971), p. 136.
16. Paolozzihas had a greater interest than most of the IG members in the products of
indigenouscultures and preindustrialsocieties.Whereasin his art of the fifties his aim was to
metamorphosehis found material into bronzes(rather than leaveit in a preformed state as
occursin assemblagework), in the activitieshe undertook as a member of the IG- suchas'his
famous lecture of 1952), Paolozzi'sattitude to his sourceswas what might be called ethno
graphicsurrealism.In that pioneeringlecture, Paolozzipresentedunder an epidiascopea large
number of tear sheetswithout recognizableorder, logical connection, or commentary the
materialincludedpainted coversfrom Amazing ScienceFiction,advertisementsfor Cadillacand
Chevroletcars,a pageof drawingsfrom the Disneyfilm Mother GooseGoesto Hollywood and
sheetsof United StatesArmy aircraft insigniaaswell as robots performing varioustasks usually
with the help of humans. It was not until a decade later that he incorporated some of this
material into his art, in the graphic suite Bunk.

17. For a more detailed discussionof the relation between Ballardand Paolozzi see Eugenie
Tsai, The Sci-FiConnection: The IG, J. G. Ballard,and Robert Smithson," in Modern Dreams
pp. 71-75.

18 Note should be taken of the influential role played by certain celebrated photo books
including Laszlo Moholy-Nagy's Vision in Motion (1947), D'Arcy Wentworth Thompson's
Growth and Form (1916; 1st American edn. 1942), Amedee Ozenfant's Foundations of
Modern Art (1931), and Sigfried Giedion's Mechanization TakesCommand (1948) on the
thinking of the IG. According to Diane Kirkpatrick (Eduardo Paolozzi[London 1970] p 19)
thesebooks,together with "Gutkind's Our WorldFrom TheAir, and Kepes'sTheNew Landscape
each presenteddifferent aspectsof the new visualfrontiers which Kepesdescribedas 'magni-
tlcal 'cat'on of °P data, expansionand compressionof events in time, expansionof the eye's
sensitivity range, and modulations of signals.'"
19. Banham, New Brutalism, p. 62.
20. Alloway, Introduction to ThisIs Tomorrow,n.pag.

21. For a detailed discussionof the exhibitions organized by membersof the IG see Judith
Barry, Designed Aesthetic: Exhibition Design and the Independent Group" in Modern
Dreams, pp. 41-45.

22. For a fuller account of the social changestaking place in Britain at this time and their

2 I
implicationsfor responsesto popular culture, see Arthur Marwick, The Explosionof British
Society 1914-1970 (1963; reprinted London, 1971); Christopher Booker, The Neophiliacs
(London, 1969); Dick Hebdige, "Towardsa Cartography of Taste1935-1962," Block, no. 4,
1981, pp. 39-56. Note that the Labour party came into power at the end of the war with a
campaigndesignedto "face the future." In 1951 the Conservativeswere returned to office; by
the end of the decadethey were promoting their causewith the slogan "You'veneverhad it so
good"; Marwick, Explosion,p. 139.
23. Ballard, quoted in "SpeculativeIllustrations," p. 139.
24. See Hebdige, "Towardsa Cartography of Taste."Note that Banhamand, following him,
Hebdige,havesuggestedthat the IG was fundamentallya class-basedchallengeto bourgeois
valuesand attitudes.Thishas beenconvincinglycalledinto questionby Anne Masseyand Penny
Sparkein their seminalstudy of the IG, "Towardsa Redefinition. Bycontrast, the doyensof the
various sixties Pop phenomena-fashion, art, music, etc. —stressedtheir "classlessness," an
absenceof overt classassociationsthat was quite new in Britain.

25. Alloway, "Long Front of Culture," p. 41.

26. Brian Wallis, "Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow: The Independent Group and
Popular Culture," in Modern Dreams, p. 16.
27. Reyner Banham describesthe role of the product critic in "A Throw-Away Aesthetic"
(1955), published as "Industrial Design and Popular Art" in Industrial Design, March 1960,
reprinted in PennySparke,ed., ReynerBanham: Design By Choice(New York, 1981), p. 93.
28. SeeReynerBanham,"The Atavismof the Short-DistanceMini-Cyclist"(1964), reprinted in
Sparke, ReynerBanham, p. 89; and Dick Hebdige, "In Poor Taste: Notes on Pop (1983),
reprinted by Dick Hebdige,Hiding in the Light: On Imagesand Things(London, 1988), p. 141.

29. As Judith Barry points out ("Designed Aesthetic," p. 41), "ReynerBanhamwas a design
historian and critic, Alison and PeterSmithson,JamesStirling,Colin St. John Wilson, and Alan ^
Colquhoun were architects, Theo Crosby and Edward Wright were graphic designers,and _
RichardHamilton taught design at the Central Schoolof Arts and Crafts." Arguing incisively ^
that "design, rather than fine art, was the language through which they observed and ™
apprehendedthe structure of their environmentand the technology which was reshapingit, m
Barry likens the group to a design team in an architect'soffice as distinct from the artist in a 0
studio. However,her analogy attributes too much coherenceand too great a directednessto ™
the IG. It was more like an informal study group. Comparisonshould be made with The Club, -h
which De Kooningand a number of his peersformed in New York in the early 1950s. Thiswas n
alsoa carefullyselectedgroup,one that alsomet informallyfor scheduledlecturesand debates. O
The keydifference isthat although scientists,poets, and philosopherswere invitedto talk at The ^
Club, there was no brief for popular culture, and indeedsucharts asphotographytended to be
dismissedby many(though not by de Kooning),accordingto the photographerAaron Siskind,a ^
founding member and longtime friend of certain of the Abstract Expressionists. _i

30. Becausethis exhibition seemsto encapsulatemuch which was in the early 1950s funda- ^
mental to the anthropological and theoretical approach of Hamilton and Banham,together
with manyothers in the IG, it isworth quoting at somelength from the catalogueMan, Machine ^
and Motion (May 1955, n.pag.). In the introduction, Hamilton and Gowing wrote: "A photo- >
graph of an early aeroplane standing unattended has a distinct and separate beauty: the
elaborate geometry of it engagesthe eye. But when a man gets into the machinehe gives it ^
quite another meaning.The look of it excitesus in a different way, both more intimate, less ^
abstract, and more unexpected. The conventional aesthetic appreciation of machines—the >
view that the beautyof a machineliesin a harmoniousfitnessfor its function —doesnot prepare
usfor this new excitement. . . . The photographsin fact discoverman in a new relationship.It is
a relationshipascherishedand asfull of feeling asthat earlierrelation,familiar in art, between a
horseand its rider.The relationshipis now different, and more profound. The new rider has not
merely exchangedthe potentialities of one creature for those of another. He has realisedan

2 11
 aspirationwhich liesdeeper than thought, the longing for a power with no natural limits; he
finds himself in real life the super-humaninhabitant of his dearestfantasy.That the fantasy is
dear to us we cannot doubt. ... The aeroplane,which evolvedwith the illogicalwastefulness
of a biologicalevolution,was born of a myth. It was a fantasyfor centuriesbefore any man flew.
Evennow, in the interstellarspaces,the myth, the fiction, is again ahead. . . . Thisexhibition is
chiefly concerned with a fantasy still hardly articulate in the dream-life in which men &
machineslive together, the life which is with us now. ... The new union of man and machine
possesses aspositivea compositecharacter[asthat of the centaur]and liberatesa deeper,more
fearsomehuman impulse It creates,as we watch, its own myth. The myth, the poetry, is
needed: man hasno other meansof assimilatingdisruptiveexperienceto the balancedfabric of
thought and feeling. It is the purpose of this exhibition to examinethe beginningsof just this
process,and to isolatesomeof the visualmaterialon which new myths are based."Thus,it was
lessthe technical applicationsof these new inventionsthat concerned Hamilton and Gowing
than how the perceptionsand socialidentities of contemporaryconsumerswere transformed.

31. Note that this assumptionof an activeengagementby the spectatorwas alsofundamental

to Hamilton'searly paintings,which were alwaysmotivated by specificideaslater investigated
in the processof picture-making.

32. RichardHamilton, "Comments on John McHaleand His Work," in TheExpendableIkon:

Worksby John McHale, catalogueof an exhibition at the Albright-Knox Art Gallery,Buffalo
N.Y., 1984, p. 89.

33. Banhams model in this regard was Erwin Panofsky,to whom he paid tribute when he
wrote: "We are faced with the unprecedentedsituation of the massdistribution of sophistica
tion. It may not be profound art appreciation,it may not be profound learningin music,but it is
an ability to discriminate.... [It entails] a degree of sophisticationwhich is a genuinecultural
innovation,and we reallydon't know a damn thing about it yet . . . Forguidanceon how to do it
one is driven back (as so often) to quotation from Panofsky'sfamous but alas very little read
essayon the movies"; "Atavismof the Short-DistanceMini-Cyclist," p. 89.

34. For Banham and many of the IG, "Borax," which he defined as "an anti-Purist, but
eyecatchingvocabularyof design," was not in bad taste but simplyin "a designlanguagewhich
can be used badly or well"; ReynerBanham,"MachineAesthetic," Architectural Review,April
1955, p. 228.

35. Banhamdiscussesthe professionalismand expertiseof the Poppractitioner in "Design by

Choice" (1961; reprinted in PennySparke,ed„ ReynerBanham,p. 106) and the sophistication
of audiencesin "Atavismof the Short-DistanceMini-Cyclist," p. 88. In "Long Front Of Culture"
(pp. 41-43), Alloway arguesthat individualsin a consumersociety,armed with their high level
of decoding skills, preservetheir integrity within the group. Seealso John McHale's"The Fine
Arts in the MassMedia" (reprinted in PopArt Redefined,p. 44-47), which stressesboth the
diversityof the massaudienceand the fact that there is no needto choosebetween instancesof
high and low culture-that it is possibleto appreciate both simultaneously.

36. Paolozziwas, for example, one of eight young British sculptors who representedGreat
Britain at the VeniceBiennaleof 1952. Herbert Readcoined the term "Geometry of Fear" to
characterizetheir work, which he admired. For a fuller discussionof the antipathy the IG felt
towards Read'saesthetic,see Masseyand Sparke,"Towardsa Redefinition."Paolozziwas also
included in New Imagesof Man, an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art, New York, in
1957, curated by PeterSelz,who was soon to become a virulent critic of American Pop Art

37. Banham'sthesis, "Theoryand Designin the FirstMachineAge," was published in 1960 in

Londonby the Architectural Pressand in New Yorkby PraegerPublishers.(Certainof Banham's
later studiesof architecture,that is, architectureconceivedin the widest sense,suchas his book
devotedto LosAngeles,are more radicalin their methodology.)Note that this is true, too, of the
Smithsons,as PatriciaPhillipsattestswhen shestates,"The Smithsonschoseto work within the
established territory of architectural convention. . . . [They] took ideas from popular phe-

2 12
nomena in order to empower the users of architecture"; Patricia Phillips, "Why Is Pop So
Unpopular?" in Modern Dreams, p. 123.
38. Exceptionshould be made here for LawrenceAlloway.What is notable about these early
modernistsand others admired by certain membersof the group, such as PaulKlee and Jean
Dubuffet, are the ways in which their work reinventedor otherwise renewed itself by identify
ing with what Thomas Crow aptly calls "marginal, 'nonartistic' forms of expressivityand
display."Thisis an approachwith a long lineagein modernistart; seeThomasCrow, "Modern
ism and MassCulture in the VisualArts" (1983), reprinted in FrancisFrascina,ed., Pollockand
After: The Critical Debate (New York, 1985), p. 233. JamesJoycewas the subject of the first
exhibition organized on the permanent premisesof the I.C.A. in Dover Street, London, in
1950-James Joyce.His Life and Work-for which RichardHamilton designedthe exhibition
catalogue.Ulyssesis the subjectof a seriesof etchingsthat Hamilton began in the 1940s and is
continuing; see RichardHamilton, catalogueof an exhibition at the Orchard Gallery,London
derry, 1988.
39. For a fuller discussionof the critics of American PopArt, seeCarol Anne Mahsun,PopArt
and the Critics (1981), dissertation, Ann Arbor, Mich., and London, 1987.
40. The British 1960s Pop artists, whose effect upon the aestheticstatus quo was little more
than stylistic, were so rapidly assimilatedthat comparisonshave been drawn with the Pre-
RaphaeliteBrotherhood. Theseare apt in a number of respects: as regardsthe speed with
which each group becamecelebrated;as regardstheir mutual interest in what might be called
exotic subject matter; and as regardsthe fundamentally provincialcharacterof their concerns,
at least as realized in their art.
41. Opponents ranged from those on (or formerly on) the Left, such as Clement Greenberg,
Irving Howe, and Dwight MacDonald,to conservativessuch as JoseOrtega y Gassetand T. S.
Eliot. Greenberg'smost notable essayon the subject of "high/low" was "Avant-Gardeand
Kitsch," first published in 1939, and reprinted many times. But see also Greenberg's"The
PresentProspectsof American Paintingand Sculpture," Horizon, nos. 93-94, October 1947.
Seealso Dwight MacDonald,"A Theory of MassCulture," Diogenes,vol. 3 (1953). Typicalof
these defendersof high culture (though he tended to overstatehis arguments)was ErieLoran,
who castigatedthe Pop artists (especiallyRoyLichtenstein,who borrowed from his Cezanne
compositionaldiagrams),while viewing Abstract Expressionism asa demonstrationof the true
meaningof free democracy... in America." ForLoran,the NewYorkSchoolpaintingswere the
"most advancedproducts of the human mind, comparablein some ways to achievementsin
physicsand chemistry."ForErieLoran,see"Cezanneand Lichtenstein: Problemsof Transforma
tion," Artforum, vol. 2 (September1963), pp. 34—35; "Pop Artists or Copy Cats, Art News,
September 1963, pp. 48-49, 61. The statements by Loran quoted in this note are from
"Cezanneand Lichtenstein,"p. 35. Therewas a generaldifference in approachto much mass
culture between writers in the United Statesand the IG. Among the first American books to
surveythe subject in any detail was an anthology entitled Mass Culture: The PopularArts in
America, edited by Bernard Rosenbergand David Manning White and published in 1957. It
contained the work of fifty-one writers concerned with the social effects of the media on
American life. In their introduction to the texts, the editors commented that when they were
seeking representativeviewpoints they found many more excoriatorsthan defendersof mass
culture. Moreover,most of the defenders, including White himself, argued in favor of mass
culture on the grounds it spreadhigh culture to new audiences,instancingthe presentationof
Shakespeare,ballet, and opera on TV and the boom in paperbackpublishing,which had led to
the reprinting of Dostoevskyas well as pulp writers. Unlikethe IG, they did not value it in itself,
on its own account.That the IG was aware of at leastsomeof thesedebatesis indicatedby the
fact that in a 1958 article, "The Arts and the Mass Media," Lawrence Alloway attacked
Greenberg'sessay"Avant-Gardeand Kitsch," objecting to his reduction of the massmedia to
"ersatz culture . . . destined for those who are insensibleto the value of genuine culture";
reprinted in MichaelCompton, PopArt, London, New York,Sydney,and Toronto, 1970, p. 154.
Marshall McLuhan's The Mechanical Bride, published in 1951, was also discussed at IG
 Ill
* meetings. More than half the book was given over to reproductionsof advertisementsand

nS
^ntary sTgmhcTnce ° ^ ^ half W3SdeVOtedt0 3 rom on their
u
6*
°'p
0
-nterest
n
V-
P
nu 111 Thnm p ' ' sa the P' and Mom-ism was only first studied in 1972 in
z ThomasB. Hesss Pinupand Icon," Art NewsAnnual, vol. 38 (1972), pp. 223-37. Note that De
z
°m
-a
'P^s
rtmercia| > in NewYo k th" • C techp in Rotterdam,had worked in that held
n New York in the mterwar years,and maintaineda lifelong interest in popular art forms-an
interest expressedin his art in diverseways.

43. The New Realistsshow at the Sidney JanisGallery,New York, contained the works of
W rho Lich enstem,Oldenburg, and Rosenguist,among the fourteen artists exhibited For a
ange of early responsesto (American)Pop Art, see the symposium held at the Museum of
Modern Art, New York,on December13, 1962, in which the participants included PeterSelz

'^er
°ny
-e publkhed a t Magazine,
published in Arts M Kramer ASht
April 1963, Le Ste,nber9 and Stan
pp. 36-45. Kunitz Thlswas la

re
'!!f theVr graP " na,Ure Uchtensteini at this moment did not even
have the degree of respectabilitythat certain types of photographic reproduction had Thev
were consequentlyconsideredthat much more shockingat first. Similarly,in his paintingsAndJ
Warhol simulated a style of advertisingcopy very different from the chic high-style advertise
mentshe madeasan award-winning designerfor suchup-market clientsas I. Miller and fogue.

teial
T
°P EnalithT,r r SU earlypubllca,ioTCP Art,aconsiderable
number
wereby
Engl, h authors^See,,n addition to Alloway for example, "The Developmentof BritishPop" in
'PAr
An
'^'
d Pel IP 1r
Ywk°°'«> PP "-68; tohn Russell."British Art," in Pop
^defined; and Compton, Pop Art One of the first and most important shows curated by
Alloway was SixPaintersand the Object,which includedwork by Jim Dine,Lichtenstem jasper
Johns, Robert Rauschenberg.JamesRosenquist.and Warhol. „ opened a, the Solomon R
Guggenheim Museum ,n New York in 1963 and then traveled to the Los Angeles County
Museum of Art, where Alloway added a companion, West-Coas.-based show Six More

'u
d
pp-
Cen,ial b T his,ory
onseveral
occas,ons;
the
most
inf — a
aSSey
f-rn^
he, ^986^? 40 n and Pann Spar "The Myth of the IndependentGroup," Block, no. 10
Ut
'"h
°Sam
d
ublisha
8 time HYJ 1 ° Ba Wh Wribn9was als0be,n9P widely at this
ime did no, menhon the IG in print until the winter of ,962-63, in an article published in
entitled
otif Who IsThisPop?"in which he arguedthat all subsequentmanifestationsof Pop
P sensibility were indebted to the IG. 0,TO

See,for example,RobertHughes,TheShockofthe/Vew(New York.1980) Norbert Lynton

y'b
h':
%
a
e
°l1ThisisWrow^S
' wi^o e of Modern
,98 Art ™«
Word.
without, however,naming the IG. John Russellomitted all mention of the IG, Pop,and British
Popfrom his accountof twentieth-century art, TheMeaningsof Modem A,t( New York, , 98 , ).

'd lat hnTha "''a* Rkhard Hamilton in Pedlar, would repayclosercomparison,given

hat both are modernistartistscommitted to bringing a critical, articulate, contestatoryaddress

US
"° and stvlew n T"* ^ Va ,yPK °' 'magery
and styles converge, neither has confined himself to a conventional Pop Art approach For
example during the 1960s, Hamilton executeda seriesof works inspiredby the "classicalBraun
products designedby Dieter Rams,which, according,0 the artist, "attempted ,0 inboduce a
ntradiction into the lexicon of source material of Pop.They posed the question- does the
subject-matter in most American PopArt significantlyexcludethose products of massculture
which might be the choice of a New York Museum of Modern Art 'Good Design' committee
rorn our scrutiny? ( conceptAechnology>artwork," in Richard Hamilton, catalogue of an

"'°C
5 ''! kh0lm newsDhot hT Ml,!ee S, ,989 P 221 Recen,lyRichter baa *»»> on
ws photographsfrom the popular pressfor his seriesof works basedon the Baader-Meinhof
9 g, a seriesthat raisesthe possibility of a contemporary history painting.

2 I A
50. Robert Rosenblum,for example ("Pop Art and Non-PopArt," Art and Literature, vol. 5
[Summer1964], reprinted in PopArt Redefined,pp. 53-56), arguedthat "the initially unsettling
imageryof PopArt will quickly be dispelledby the numbing effects of iconographicfamiliarity
and ephemeralor enduring pictorial valueswill becomeexplicit . . . this boundarybetween Pop
and abstract art is an illusory one," an argument that John Russelland Suzi Gablik sought to
secondin PopArt Redefined.In doing so, they reinforcedstatementsthat many of the artists,
most notably Lichtenstein,were then making about their work. But, as LisaTicknerhaspointed
out in a discussionof Allen Jones'sart ("AllenJonesin Retrospect:A SerpentineReview,"Block,
no. 1 (1979), the problem with trying to focus on form and formal issuesalone is that images
are not nonhierarchical,interchangeable,and equitable. Shecontinues(p. 41), "It has seemed
crudely philistineto talk about the socialand psychologicalrelevanceof the material—but any
understandingof art asa signifying practicemust breakwith the form/content distinction(with
the accompanyingimplicationthat the 'art' liesin the 'form'), and must attempt to comprehend
both the specificitiesof art as a particular kind of activity, and the way in which this activity
transformsor endorsesmeaningsthat lie both within and beyondit." It isjust this which certain
of the more doctrinaireanalystsof Popsignallyfail to do; see,for example,DonaldKuspit, "Pop
Art: A ReactionaryRealism,"Art Journal, Fall 1976, pp. 31-38.
51. Typicalof these analyses,which focus on the commodity character of art in capitalist
societies,is the argument advancedby Donald Kuspit, in "Pop Art: A ReactionaryRealism."

52. Andreas Huyssenhas analysedthe reasonswhy in West GermanyPopwas taken to be a

subcultural, indigenousundergroundstatement, at once critical of capitalistconsumersociety
and yet emancipatoryin its effects; seeAndreasHuyssen,"The Cultural Politicsof Pop" (1975),
reprinted in Taylor,Post-PopArt (MIT Press,Cambridge, Mass.: 1989) pp. 45-78.
53. The most prolific and well known of the theoristswho, informed by Marxistand linguistic
theories,haveexaminedlate capitalismasa societyof consumption,JeanBaudrillard("Pop: An
Art of Consumption?"[ 1970], reprinted in Taylor)arguesthat the (American)Popartistscannot
be "reproached for their commercial success,and for accepting it without shame. ... It is
logical for an art that does not oppose the world of objects but exploresits system,to enter
itself into the system.It is eventhe end of a certain hypocrisyand radicalillogicality. ... Yet it is
difficult to accuseeither Warholor the Popartists of bad faith : their exactinglogic collideswith
a certain sociologicaland cultural status of art, about which they can do nothing. It is this
powerlessnesswhich their ideology conveys.When they try to desacrilizetheir practice,society
sacrilizesthem all the more. Added to which is the fact that their attempt —however radicalit
might be —to secularizeart, in its themes and its practice, leads to an exaltation and an
unprecedentedmanifestationof the sacredin art. . . . [T]he author'scontent or intentions are
not enough: it is the structuresof culture production which are decisive... in PopArt. . . . [I]ts
smile epitomizes its whole ambiguity: it is not the smile of critical distance, it is the smile of
collusion." (Taylor,pp. 36, 40-41, 44) For recent exhibitions that feature art indebted to
Baudrillard'sand related ideas,seeA Forestof Signs,catalogueof an exhibition at the Museum
of ContemporaryArt, LosAngeles, 1989; and Image World: Art and Media Culture,catalogue
of an exhibition at the Whitney Museum of American Art, New York, 1989.
54. BenjaminH. D. Buchloh,"The Andy Warhol Line," in The Work of Andy Warhol,ed. Gary
Garrels (Seattle, 1989), p. 55.
55. Introduction to PaulTaylor,op.cit., p. 11.
56. The principal agent of retrieval was the 1988 exhibition and accompanyinganthology-
catalogue, Modern Dreams. This is Tomorrow Today,a reconstruction of the two key IG
contributions to This is Tomorrow,was one of a seriesof four exhibitionson the theme held at
the Clocktower Gallery,New York,between October 22, 1987, and June12, 1988. Twofurther
exhibitionsdevoted to the IG are scheduledto be held in 1990, at the I.C.A., London, and the
Museumof ContemporaryArt, LosAngeles.That Alloway and—still more surprising- Banham
havenot receivedthe recognitionthat they deserveis demonstratedby the following statement
by Steven Connor.(Postmodern Culture: An Introduction to Theoriesof the Contemporary

2 15
 Ill
* cultural text ' H ^ ^ ^ 30 explosionof interest in a whole range of
tural texts and practiceswhich had previouslybeen scorned by, or remained invisibleto
a academic criticism. Contemporary cultural critics, following the inspiring lead of Richard
u
Hoggart, RaymondWilliams, Roland Barthes and Stuart Hall, take as the,' subjects sooh
ui
z airstyles,shopping,gamesand socialrituals,and unabashedlybring to bearon theseareasthe
z same degree of theoretical sophisticationas they would to any hfch cultura ar ,Tact o h
> Alloway and Banhamwere initially far more receptivethan was Hoggart to ^he new forms o
-I
massculture, and more engaged by them than was Williams.

57. For a fuller account, see Connor,Postmodern Culture, pp. 43-50.

58. Thisshould be seenin relationto the growing attention now being paid not only to the field

«
ar
ng
f"
nsh,p
"'° iz, r r, ,he
escai
re,a,be,we ~ *
entieth century. See, for example, JamesSloan Allen, The Romanceof Commerceand

59. SeeMarvin Heiferman,"Everywhere,All the Time,for Everybody,"in Image World, p. 32

?'
'S
ne
h
9
ar
AUed
bdw" Elected e? Par, HaSPU ,hK " throu Indies See his
'
Punk: Seealso
DanGraham
" po,ifoi «
61. See Huyssen,"Cultural Politics," p. 62.

62. Theapt phraseis Banham's(NewBrutalism,p. 62) In September1985 Artfnmm

e,rwitty, incisive and informed approachesand styles,which wear their intelligenceeasily Cf

"q ReynerBanham, "Vehiclesof Desire," Art September 1 iq«. r o ? y
AestMd'Archnectural Revtew,April 1955; and Glenn O'Brien,''"LikeArt: The^ew Adsand
eir Gift of Art. EaselDoesIt," Artforum, vol. 24, no 1 (September1985) n 9 Thp
« ,G contributed occasionally- Cambr^e 0^
Magazine,lor example-were specialist,not general in orientation. '

Z I E
'
golde
day
s
What is now just an afternoon's glide from the rusting culture capitals PETER
of the EastCoastto the beige carpet hoveringabovethe L.A. Basin
can still, in the absenceof regulated airfare, revert to what it was from VJ
Day to the moment the first sprigs of weed cropped up in the cracks of PLACEN5
PresidentEisenhower'sbeloved Interstate Highwaysystem: a grinding five-
day drive through two distinct and interdicting cultures (plump, pie-fed
Midwestern and lean, beef-ranchSouthwestern)before you hit the pene
plain leading down from San Bernardino, ultimately to arrive at the acid-
cliffed coastlineat Santa Monica, and hearthe breezewhistling through all
those fluorescent joggers' shorts.
That's as it's experienced,of course, from an undeconstructedEastern
point of view,which seesSouthernCalifornia—no matter how manytens of
millionsof people it shelters—asan outpost, asthe farthest westward reach
(unlessyou count Hawaii,in which caseyou might aswell count WakeIsland)
of the sooty, coal-based,faux-Greekarchitecture of the mind that consti
tutes, for lackof a more euphoniousterm, modern Americancivilization.But
before the snowbirdsstarted perchingon westbound trains and headingfor
the tourist hotelsand real estate booms (1887, 1906, 1923, and World War
II),Southern California was peopled by NativeAmericans,Spaniards,Mexi
cans, a sprinkling of Brits, and the occasionaltimber-forted Russian.Seen
from another perspective,Southern California is the northern reach of the
complex,songful civilizationsto the south. And it's the easternreach—if not
an almost wholly owned subsidiary—of something even more formidable
acrossan oceanwhich, evenin mindseducatedby flat mapspulled down in
grade school classlike movie screens,is alwaysdreamt accurately,curving
magnificentlya quarter-wayaround the globe, making the Atlantic look like
a puddle. Only briefly, in the larger schemeof things, was the displaced
Connecticut cozinessof Ozzie'sfilm-set abode a reasonablemetaphor for
the collectiveaspirationsof the newestdwellersin this former desert; and in
only a flicker-fractionof that moment did the questionthat aroseamong a
tiny few of them matter a tinker's damn: "Is this painting [let's say a hard-
edged, bright yellow canvas,adorned with a bold, red-and-black "Annie"
right off the old comic strip, and executedwith a cold-bloodedsign painter's
neatness]a pure, unadulterated, good-in-its-own-right, museum-bound,
high-culture 'achievement,'or has it been polluted beyond redemption by
all-too-visible, low-rent, and smart-ass references to newspapers and
billboards?"
Tobe sure,the answerdid matter supremelyfor a few LosAngelesartists,
in a few galleries,with a few critics, and to a few curators—almost all of
whom were middle-classwhite guys. (Once, I gave a slide lecture at an
Easternuniversitywithin the intellectual orbit of New York and was asked
afterward what excuseI could offer for being cited —with an asteriskfor
extra villainy, no less—on a Guerilla Girls poster fingering chauvinstcritics

2 19
 Who'd reviewedonly a paltry percentageof women artists.I answeredthat I
m did most of my reviewingfor in the late ,960s and early
Artforu
1970s at
ime when most of the significant art that appeared in the gallerieswas
produced by a k,nd of "boys club." As we headedfor the door, I heard the
voice of my interrogator speakingto a friend. "Boysclub?" she spat. "Fuck

Unfair insensitive,overblown, and self-important pebble it may be under

he crush of the inexorableglacier of the greater history of everything els!
jl!on hi ques (about bright yellow painting) was asked and it's still
tetory; „ d,d bend a bi, the course of a tributary of the now-affL^
mainstreamof modern art (admittedly only a watery trickle off the sunlit
sur aceof the glacier),M convincea generationof artists to payattention to
certain issuesand styles,did convinceanother generationthat it had Oedipal
businessto take care of before it could proceed (slaythe fathers who slew
fathers who slew . . .), and did, finally,confuse the businessof what art
was fine, what art was coarse,what art was noble, what ar, was snide what
'nidn
l-m
P
9 h
ded ist past''and hT h 9enes ™th the tissueof the formal
ly"*" mere,y
bubbied
up
from
the
"It is as if you tipped the United Statesup," said that noted hob-nobber

"Where elsecould they go but California, land of sunshineand oranges?"

' com Panae WeSt that noted tour 9uide through the lost soulsof these
ommonplace people. "Once there, they discover that sunshine isn't

? ad0
'9
f"ran90S
°C
assion fruit"' ' ^ 90t tlr6d ° ° eVe ° aV pears and P
They-these commonplacepeople-longed for an egalitarianparadisein

tS
re
''°
Ver
ian
°P
'ety
Wly 25 OOoT9r0Ve r S PaVinQ ° <The Ut Soc drew
5,000 a meeting in the Hollywood Bowl in 1934, and the Ham and Eggs
movement,with its sloganof "Thirty dollarseveryThursday,"got 45 percent
the vote on a referendum item in 1938.) The last thing these refugees
from Americas dry breadbasketsand eroded dustbowls wanted in their
midst wasa stuccoreplicaof Easternhighbrowculture, with its cold removal
of art rom the oasis-dreamsof everydaylife. Fortunately(for them) the
didn t havemuch of an entrenchedadversary.LosAngeles'stradition of fine

raphi
9
ca«y fromthe " T ^ ***** ^ 9eo removedas it was
from the constant transatlanticdustingsof the Europeanstuff that the East
Coast got. Isolatedas well from the Spanishand Mexican culture ,hat
attempted to overrun, settler civilization was also bunkered against the
rrage of modern art revolutions that convulsed the first third of the
twentieth century.The occasionalemigre modernist(ThomasMann, Archi-
penko, or the double agent Man Ray) and a squadron of significant
architects(Irving Gill, Greene& Greene,RichardNeutra, RaymondSchindler,
and, intermittently, FrankLloydWright) couldn't bring SouthernCalifornia's
visual arts out from the shadow of movieland.
Ah yes,the movies.ThomasEdisontried them for a while on Long Island,
but the weather finally got to him, or rather the lack of weather beckoned
his successorswest. (Some Southern Californians still say,"We're having
weather today" over the phone to the East.Theymeanthat the endlessroll
of days bathed in hazy dry sun has been temporarily broken by a freak
rainstorm.) Shooting westerns in which the tall and strangely lipsticked
cowboy unmasked (and beat to a pulp) the corrupt saloon owner and
thereby won the heart of the tightly curled and strangely chubby ranch
daughterwas much easieraroundweatherlessVasquezRocksand Corrigan-
ville. The milling, tuxedo'd smoker/dancersseekingdivorcesor solvingmur
dersin Arctic white angora "New York" hotel roomswere more easilygot on
film in cavernoussoundstagesneedingno insulationfrom northern winters.
If a little high culture talent was calledfor (to grind as tracelesslyas possible
into the final product), the moguls could easily rent it: SalvadorDali for
Fantasia,William Faulknerfor TheBig Sleep.And for high-classlooks, movie-
set architecturecould be trucked out into the interrupted farmland that was
beginning to think of itself as a city: fake Mayan, fake Gothic, fake Nor
mandy,fake Tudor,fake Victorian.Theclicheis real: a metropolisbuilt on the
illusionsthat nobody and nothing was here before the common white folk
slid in from points east, and that-given enough lightbulbs-the "empty"
Basincould be turned into Oz. HortensePowdermaker(a name so apt one
suspects an investigator from the Hays Office) labeled it precisely: The
Dream Factory.
In dreams, nothing stands still, and dreamers in a land of dreams
desperatelyneed to move. After the wars (that second global holocaust,
Korea, the Barry Sadler chapter of Vietnam), the movement became
dizzying: "Valley housewives in Chrysler wagons filled with bobbing
towheads sliding acrossthree lanesfull bore at 80 mph to make the off-
ramp nearest the Safeway; dented, matte-finished VW buses crammed
with stoned hippies and ecology flag stickers doing 25 mph up the
CahuengaPassin the center lane; balding copper tubing salesmenwith sex
problems taking it out in ludicrous stock fake-racing cars named Cuda,
'Mach 1,' 'HeavyChevy,'and '240Z'; eight Chicanolow-riders hunchedin a
chartreuse'64 Chevyriding three inchesoff the pavementwith dark brown
windows all around, 'Hold on, I'm coming' scripted flossily on the rear side
glass, no shocks at all, and beating you to the divider in a rumble of
acceleratingmacho; contented, hog-jowled execswallowing in Mark IVsor
Cadillacsoblivious to everything outside the ice-cold air conditioner and

2 2 1
 blue windows; precarious,tilting campers christened 'Hal's Corral' wob
bling on the hazardstrips, threatening to drop the superfluous Honda bike
on your hood; and other smug, self-congratulatory,'conscientious,'darting
3 drivers of inconspicuoussmall sedans, like myself."
Artists in the "boys club" had been corn fed on automobile dreams,
which, as much asanything else,lured them to California; they admired the
Old and Modern Masterslessthan they did GeorgeBarris,who by the 1950s
had raisedthe kustom kar to the status of CatherineIV in Rubens'satelier.
Cherriedout," the term of most deliciousapprovalfor a perfectly whited
and window-frosted storefront studio in Venice, east Hollywood, Pico-
Arlington, or TempleStreet,was borrowed from flat-toppers kandy-appling
their chopped and channeled Mercs.
The brotherhood of the fast lane is a necessarilyadolescentcommunity.It
defiesresponsibility(which is basedon obligations,which won't stick to you
if you manage to keep moving) and loathes settling (which is caused by
getting one of life'sflat tires and havingto pull to the curb); it desires- asdo
adolescent males—the privilegesof a physicallymature body and the ex
emptions of a child's heart. It's Ed (Kookie) Byrnespopping gum and tilt-
head combing his Brylcreemedstrands in the gaze of a rear-view mirror,
packingoccasionalheatand deputized now and then by EfremZimbalist,Jr.,
to punch people and catch criminals,but economicallybetrothed only to a
cushy non-job parking hipsters' cars on the SunsetStrip at Dino's.It is, in
short, high school. What a seat on the museum board and a corporate
airplaneare to the ossifiedprosperityof proper middle-agedculture, so are
a seat at the moviesand a car to its high schoolembryo. Evenmore so thirty
years ago when the "boys club" was forming: the older guys—Billy Al
Bengston(seefig. 222), Ed Moses,Craig Kauffman (see fig. 223), Robert
Irwin —alreadya raucousstable at the FerusGallery,the younger guns—Ed
Ruscha(seefig. 224), JoeGoode, DeWaineValentine—only recentlyarrived
from the PlainsStates.In the rosiestsubsequenttimes, Ruschawould come
to date actresses(Samantha Eggar, Candy Clark, Lauren Hutton) and
Bengston would drive a Cadillac. Once, this writer would find himself
squeezingaround said bronze vehicle, parked gleaming in the driveway of
RikoMizuno'sgallery,and would say,by way of the smallesttalk to the artist,
who appearedsuddenlyat the door, that he admired the labor requiredto
keepsuch a sheenon the beast. "They havemen," Bengstonreplied, "who
do that sort of thing."
Surethey did, and sure they still do, but not as many as worked for the
fine old families of the East,againstwhom artists (back there) lined up with
the rest of the woolly-coated radical intellectuals.In Southern California,
artists like Bengston didn't see themselvesas soldiers in the war of spirit
against the Old (as in Master) and rich; if they rebelled against anything,
'twas effete modernism, that cake of big, stiff, didactic Mexican muralist
heroicsfrosted with sweeping Rico Lebruncharcoalstrokesand deft, inky
brushlicks. They saw the artist as a light-blue collar worker- not an
unsophisticatedfactory hand, but not smooth-skinned,hands-off middle
management,either. They saw him rather like the generally(if not univer
sally)competent owner-operatorof a smallauto body shop,the kind of guy
who- pulling his gleaming pickup truck into the reservedparking slot in
front of the leased light-industrial space between the stereo distributor's
and the custom surfboard maker's,readyfor a day'swork -could not only
handlethe Bondite and belt sanderhimself,but could also keep the books
and hustle businessat (outdoor) cocktail parties.An artist, they envisioned,
worked not in some creaky downtown loft under third-degree-ishyellow
bulbs, but in daylight, or under good fluorescents,in an airy,swept space.
He labored not with the barnacled, Beaux-Artsimplements of Bohemia,
but with the crisp, honest tools of Manifest Destinyrealized: metal rulers,
masking tape, enamel paints, stainless steel, glass, Plexi, drywall, and
chrome.
Almost as much work went into the workplace as into the work itself:
lighting, faring, truing, coving, frosting, polishing. In the beginning of it,
Bengstonmade his locallyfamous statement about artists needingto shake
off the old Northern California sensibility(meaningcold-water-flatAbstract
Expressionism, aswitnessedin the BayArea by the likesof Mark Rothkoand
Clyfford Still), putting on clean clothes and getting down to being artists,
instead of professionalexistential sufferers. In the afterglow (that is, after
these NASA-writ-smallclean rooms ceasedto be meansto the objects and
becameends in themselves,resemblingthe receptionareaat SandozHQ in
Switzerland),a hired female voice could be heard to answer the (probably
white) phone in one of them, "Larry Bell Enterprises,"and Bengstonwrote
an art-magazinearticle rating his colleagues'workspacesby such indicesas
street noise.
It's the immigrant story told once again, only lighter and cheerier,with a
safety net this time; insteadof the dispossessed of EasternEuropehuddling
in the steerage bowels of dank freighters, riding out the storms for the
chance to get to the Lower East Side to grasp the first grimy rung, as
ragpickersand cobblers,on the ladder up and out of servitude,these were
guys speeding in cars acrossthe desert from the midwest (Bengstonfrom
Kansas,Ruschaand JoeGoodefrom Oklahoma)for a chanceto reinventthe
artist as a kind of handsome,daredevildentist. And like most immigrants in
a new land, they were grateful. Gratitude shows up as a subtext in the art, ^
particularlythe Popstuff: beneath the putative criticism of popular culture o
(which is, after all, somewhat perfunctory- just repeatingits devicesout of °
context), there's a vein of thankfulness: Happy to be here, working in the
sun, starting a businessof my own. Only in America.Only in California.Only >
in L.A. "

22 3
 J Becauseit sprung, practically full-born and with very little midwifery,
iu from the head of Marcel Duchamp, Pop Art in New York had a museum-
^ baiting edge to it; the entirety of its being seemedconcernedwith sabotag-
^ ing the idea of the speciallycrafted, finely adjusted,and individuallytouched
K art object. JasperJohnsand RobertRauschenbergrealizedearlyon (publicly
J" in the mid-1950s, but certainly sooner in their heads) that Duchamp's
ui prescienceabout the endgame of modern art was actually more inspiring
than defeating. Just because Duchamp had said, in effect, "Forget the
ultimate futility of trying to checkmatethe Renaissance king with an attack
of Cubist knights; just stick a urinal in a museumand call it a draw," didn't
mean that the jig was finally up. Modern art in the shadow of Duchamp
could, they found, actually glow with the tension of its own imminent
demise.The trick was to balancethe mandatory radicality of iconography
(targets, maps,stenciledwords, stuffed crows and goats, cardboard boxes)
with recognizablyfine art riffs (encausticbrushstrokes,graceful composi
tion). The hard-corePopartistswho quicklyfollowed sought to heightenthe
tension by lowering further the ambience: they removed most of the
remnantsof academicpainting (mutated through Willem de Kooningfrom
Dutch realism into American Abstract Expressionism)and reinstalled Du
champ'spotty as silk-screenedsoup cansand plastercheeseburgers.Harold
Rosenbergcalled PopArt "advertisingart advertisingitself as art that hates
4 advertising." Although Rosenbergwould hardly have liked to find himself
aestheticallybedded down with Clement Greenberg,another critical sen
sibility whose subjects did (forgotten by most) range beyond the narrow
boundsof Gotham, his pronunciamiento is a specificapplication of Green-
berg's opposition of avant-gardeand kitsch (popular culture knock-offs of
fine art mannerisms)in the bellwether 1939 essayentitled-what else?-
'Avant-Gardeand Kitsch." PopArt, for both critics, tried to be avant-garde
by looking like kitsch (for example,RoyLichtenstein'sinflating to the status
of painting a kind of realistic comic-book drawing previously deflated
from academicart) and ended up being simply a nasty kitsch for hipsters
instead of a warm and fuzzy one for sguares.However nose-thumbingly
cleverit might be (both Rosenbergand Greenbergbelieved),PopArt wasn't
quite real art, the sort that belonged in high culture's museums.
Although, in Los Angeles, Pop Art was partly perceived as an upstart
plaintiff attacking a stuffy, hidebound defendant, the antiart stakeswere
considerablysmaller.Insteadof fine art itself in the docket, 'twas only a few
moribund stylistic accomplices.As Nancy Marmer put it: "On the West
Coast,and this is especiallytrue for the fluid SouthernCaliforniascene,Pop
Art has rightly been consideredthe active ingredient in a general house-
cleaningthat during the pastthree or four yearshasall but exterminatedthe
lasttracesof prestigefor local and imitative versionsof Abstract Expression
ism, for second-generationBay Area figurative, and for stillborn Lebrun-

224
 Mexican-Expressionism; in other words, it has functioned most significantly
5 as a transition, an opening wedge."
In Southern California, Pop Art was received as something almost natural.
What L.A. liked about Pop Art was not that it was rebellious, but that it was
clean and colorful, and that it made it possible for the art cognoscenti to
enjoy the stupidly enjoyable popular culture that dominated everybody
else's lives without feeling intellectually guilty about it. When Pop Art's
Eastern exemplar, Andy Warhol, showed in Los Angeles (his first gallery
exhibition of Pop Art —soup can paintings —was held, incidentally, not in
New York, but at the Ferus Gallery in Los Angeles in 1962), he was welcomed
not as a Duchampian punk, but as a Norman Rockwell for the smart set. He
reminded Henry Hopkins, for instance, of warm, childhood lunchtimes: "To
those of us who grew up during the cream-colored thirties . . . when good,
hot soup sustained us between digging caves in the vacant lot and having
'clod' fights without fear of being tabbed as juvenile delinquents . . . this
6 show has special significance." Pop Art in Los Angeles, especially the
homegrown kind, had a kind of natural integrity; it wasn't just another
modernist so-bad-it's-good test of the bourgeoisie's ability to take a satirical
punch, but rather a slightly askew view of the cosmos in which God probably
did look and talk like George Burns sitting down to the breakfast special at
one of those glass-and-gravel-roof blast-off coffee shops with a parking lot
bigger than all of heaven. In those halcyon days when thirty serious galleries
dotted that decorator's ganglium of the Sunset Strip known as La Cienega
Boulevard, when the sweet, rubbery smell of flat white latex wall paint and
the hot, chic brightness of skeletal track lighting inside austere westside
cubes made an outing in the L.A. art world as antiseptically dutiful as giving
the Karmann Ghia a light wax on a Saturday morning, Pop Art was the brisk,
pervasive breeze that put a little existential tang into the trip:

JoniCarsonat the burlesquepalace—the dayswhen the lastof the strippershad limp

parodiesof machoshow-biz names,like FranSinatra. . . the last time you were able
to mix public sex with polite nightclub going . . . The RussiansAre Coming, The
RussiansAre Coming, that godawful loud movie from the daysof big-budget laffs
and revisionistsentiment about the Commies. . . 'Vincent Edwardsat the Copa,' the
PeterPrincipleof TV actors putting on tuxes and usingtheir full first namesto riseto
incompetence as pseudo-classylounge acts, when you could still manufacture
croonersfrom DailyVarietyads . . . advertisementsfor mortuaries,Kahlua,and drag a
races... The Sol Hurok Building,a pitiful stucco pomposity whose addresslooked
good only on stationery . . . Viki Carr opening for somebodyin LasVegas,then she o
becamea star,then shesangfor a discountdepartment store—life in the fast lane ... ^
The RighteousBrothers(white fake soul) and Schwab'sdrugstore (where nobody z
o
waited to be discoveredanymore),and all those carsgetting eight milesto the gallon >
7 ... all gone, and none of it missed in the sunny ever-present. ^

22 5
 No doubt about it, the light in LosAngelesis different, and all the artists—
from the earliest nineteenth-century knapsack landscapepainters to the
most militantly nonvisual neophyte post-whateversmustering out of Cat
Arts —havenoticed it. Froma Greek-likehigh sun, whose baking raysspeed
unfettered through a dry sky and glance off hostile hills and a moodless
Pacific,the light infuseseverything. The smog, some of whose relentlessly
cooked photochemicalsare as poisonousin BeverlyHillsas in El Monte, cuts
the shadowsand evensthe glare. Fromthe dust of the art world's continu
ous city-mongering, the light raiseskernelsof truth: New York is (by com
parison,of course)vertical, cold, dark, and therefore rude, expensive,and
criminal,whereasL.A. is horizontal,warm, light, and therefore (relatively,of
course)friendly, cheap, and safe. Or it was a while ago:
"In my absence I had forgotten 'L.A. Space'—its horizonless murk.
Cropped off on the inland side by the crisp silhouette of mountains and
dissolvingin all other directions into the Pacific,it had no middle distance.
There was only a gritty, fly-specked near and a hazy, enigmatic far, and
nothing in between. There was a democratic magic about it, though. It
accommodatedboth the realistand the romantic in its sudden bifocal vistas,
and it 'belonged' to Ed Ruscha—as certainly as the mountain villages of
8 Spain 'belonged' to the Cubists."
Rather more Ruscha(see fig. 222) "belonged" to the light, becauseit
democratizedart for him. How can a royalisthierarchyof the visualarts (and
the timelessbeautiestherein and the reveredmastersthereof) maintain its
hold on the imagination, except in a tragedian'smurk slashedoccasionally
(but gracefully)by sabersof candescence?In the hazedoverall brillianceof
L.A.,a bus-benchad isthe equalof a landscapein oils.What the former lacks
in touch it recoversin resolution; what the latter gains in nuanceit losesin
languor.Ruschacould thus find the perfect intersectionof the two : the bus-
bench ad transferred to canvas,fared and trued to hold its own against a
bare white gallery wall, and the landscapein oils relievedof its shadows,
dullness,and rural fuzz.
But the light also levitated the art —if not in what conventional critics
would call "quality," at least in metaphysicalambition. Like other emigres
suffering alienation and displacement,Southern Californians (more so in
their naivete then than in their sophisticationnow) long for a rescuefrom
materialism, from the hard physical facts of scarcity and surplus, from
havingto make a living among the millions of other seekersof fortune and
ease who've turned hard-eyed on the trail, from the reality of the semi-
tropics offering doom aswell asopportunity. Theyseethat the sunset'sruby
warmth is more embracingin the skythan it is on the ground; they conclude
that Utopia isfreedom from not only hungerand thirst, but gravity and mass
as well. Their litany of spiritualist movementshave been prayerchimes for
the end of the rainbow: ThePurpleMother,TheMan from Lemuria,Krotona,
Mankind United, Stereometry,New Thought, Mighty I AM. With the artists
in the 1960s-for the most part a secular,level-headedbunch-the longing
for transcendencehaslodged itself in a car-customizer'scraftsmanship,and
in a particular,distinctly non-bozeartsfamily of materials: plastic. DeWain
Valentineand PeterAlexandercastit into (respectively)man-sizetransparent
discsand tall, evanescentwedges; EdMosesslatheredthe flexiblevarietyon
canvasas encompassingpainterly halos; Craig Kauffman vacuum-formed
and spraypainted it into pearlescentovoidsfrom Mars; RonDavisturned it
into a psychedelicdomesticator of Abstract Expressionism;and Robert
Irwin, with a little help from inventive lighting, allowed it to vaporize
optically into somethingapproachingthe spiritual. In sum, the artiststook a
label, "plastic"-usually indicating the cheap, pretentious, and fake-that
had oft beenappliedto their city and gaveit backsomemeasureof dignity. If
not Mondrian's,at least the aerospaceindustry's.
When Robert Irwin was still a paint-on-canvasabstractartist (before the
bars became floating discs and the discs became cleansed and rarified
interior spaces),he forbade his work be reproduced in magazinesand
cataloguesbecause,he reasoned,a work of art which stakeda good deal of
its worth on its autonomous nonrepresentationof anything outside itself
shouldn't turn right around and allow something else—especiallya tiny,
half-toned photographic plate—to representit. To allow an illustration to
stand in for the painting would imply that the painting stood in for some
thing else and, probably,that the something else stood in for something
else,and so on, up the line to God. In art, the Mighty I AM could flow into
Mankind United only directly, immediately, democratically, nonhierar-
chically—not through some successionof aestheticmelting pots, big com
mon ones pouring their evaporatedand filtered contents into successively
smaller and more preciousvessels.

During the 1950s and part of the 1960s much contemporaryart in L.A.
was but a pale reflection of New York's: Abstract Expressionism,"new
images of man," the sleaziervariety of Pop Art, and the rest of it. But
somethingelsedid happenthat was strictly unto L.A. Climate, rootlessness,
residualand misguidedoptimism, technology,and a halo of spiritualismall
came together, somehow, into a friendly, antiseptic Pop Art pursued by
Ruscha,and the "light and space"art pioneeredby Irwin. Tobe sure,a lot of
lesserartistsfiled in behind and beganturning out —like Benetton manufac
tures fancy sweatshirts-the elegant odes to commonplace culture, the
paeansto dry-cleanedinteriors, and the admixtures of both that signified
"L.A. art." But for a while, L.A. gave you something you couldn't get
anywhere else.
If any artist, from the safety of a generation'sretrospect,could be saidto
 havebeenthe fusion, then perhapsit was JohnMcCracken(seefig. 225). His
plank sculptureswere asobdurate and beguilinglyordinaryasa Bengston
emblem or a Ruschaword, but, with their practicallymirrored surfacesand
delicate lean againstthe gallery wall, as atmosphericas an Irwin disc. With
none of the preachinessof a Carl Andre and better looking than most
DonaldJudds,they were, for a brief and art historicallyneglectedmoment,
unselfconsciouslysure of themselves.In the alchemy of the not-quite-
seamlessblend of Popand Light & Spaceubiquitous in real life, they could be
had just for the astute looking. The photographer Lewis Baltzcaptured it a
little later: the seeminglydematerializedside of a one-storystucco building
(transcendent,a la RobertIrwin), a sliverof curb or parking lot or telephone
line (Pop),and the little stainsand cracksthat are remindful of the inevitable
human imperfection of it all. The Big DoNut Drive-Inmeets the horizon of
the sea and (yearslater,after a blinding flash) begetsThe RodenCrater,an
Edenesquerecreationof the L.A. Basin,before the avocadowas eaten from
the tree of knowledge, before the Great Corruption, before, in effect, art
came to town.
And a real democratizationthere was in the best art in L.A. in the 1960s.
None of this phony romancing about the People,either muscleboundor
gaunt, and none of this self-congratulatory declension of materials and
methodsas in New YorkPop... but rather an honestaffection for motorcy
cle logos,sergeant'sstripes,gas-stationarchitecture,and sign painting. And
who could haveaskedfor anything more unhierarchicalthan the cool rooms
of Light & Space?No object-versus-ground,no thing-versus-context,no
major-versus-minorpassages(making FrankStella'ssolution to the "nurse
maid painting" he despisedseem a little halfhearted: what you see in his
mid-1960s paintingsis not so much an egalitariansurfaceasjust another big
jewel - more simply cut than most, perhaps- set againsta gallerywall), no
goods for sale.Thearty borrowingsfrom street signageand the transforma
tions of galleriesinto less-is-moremonk'sgrottos were neverpart of an elitist
plot to excludeanybody.Au contraire, it was hoped that by both parodying
and evaporatingthe relianceon mass-producedobjects that imprisonedus
all, one generationof artists could finally find the paradisethat had eluded
everyoneelse.Comewith open eyesand an open heart, the art seemedto
say,and the most wondrous perceptionsof all are availableto anyonejust
willing to look. (RobertIrwin, in lectures,usedto hold up his open palm with
fingers splayedvertically,with the thumb on top, to signify the hierarchical
way things were in the world. He'd flip it, thumb to bottom, and saythis is
what allegedrevolutionarieswere after.Thenhe'd smileand flatten his hand
out, palm hoveringparallelto the floor, no finger higher than the other, and
say this is the way he wanted things to be.)
These days, looking back, it all seemsa little quaint. The ground-view
magnificenceof a Standardstation embellishedby searchlightsagainst an
otherwise clear and empty sky, has disappeared behind the pile-driven
foundationsfor a Bladerunnermetropolis rising in its place.The airy univer
sality of a floating disc has been impeachedby a pluralism that, perhaps
rightly,seesthe longing for a purgativeone-nessas a cultural yoke, insensi
tive to the rich brew of ethnic, sexual,political,and philosophicalflavorsthat
is Southern California at the end of the century. Paradise,of necessity,has
been once again postponed.

1. FrankLloyd Wright, quoted in Carey McWilliams,Southern California: An Islandupon the NOTES

Land (Santa Barbara, 1971), p. 181.
2. NathanaelWest, The Day of the Locust (1939; reprinted New York, 1983), p. 192.

3. Peter Plagens,"Los Angeles: The Ecologyof Evil," from Moonlight Blues: An Artist's Art
Criticism (Ann Arbor, 1986), pp. 215-16.

4. Harold Rosenberg,TheAnxious Object (New York, 1964), p. 74.

5. NancyMarmer,"West Coast Pop," in Lucy Lippard, ed., PopArt (New York, 1966), p. 147.

6. Henry T. Hopkins, review of an Andy Warhol exhibition at the FerusGallery,Los Angeles,

[Artform, vol. I, 1962), in Amy Baker,ed., Artforum: 20 Yearsof Looking (Ann Arbor, Mich.,
1984), p. 274.
7. Peter Plagens,"Ed Ruscha,Seriously,"in The Worksof Edward Ruscha(New York, 1982),
p. 35.
8. Dave Hickey,"AvailableLight" in ibid., p. 22.

229
 THE LAST CAUSE

AT THE BETHANY THEATER

UNTIL JUNE 23
A play" they call it. No need to look for better billing. "Musical" would ROGER
be claiming too much. TheLast Causeplaysoff everything, including
theater,art history,the culture itself,aboveall the audience.Fornow, I'll call it
an absurdisthistory playthat setsout to explorethe neglectedwellspringsof
SHATTUCK
modern art. Without inventinga singlepersonor place,PhyllisDeForesthas
written a three-act semidocumentarywith a new set of charactersfor each
act. Aristotle's dramatic unities do not preside here. For all its grab-bag
ingredients, this episodic musical play provides generous entertainment,
especiallyif you know a few random facts about modern art after Impres
sionism and have undertaken an annual pilgrimage to your regional mu
seum of modern art. In caseyou don't or haven't, I supply program notes
from the Playbillat the end of this review.
Don't expect artists' studios and attics. La Bohemelies far away across
severalmountain ranges.TheLast Causechoosespublic placesin which to
presenta culture inversion-a phraseI model on "temperature inversion"in
meteorology.While following the circus-likeaction, you keep wondering
preciselywhat elements have reversedthemselvesin this world turned
upside down. I cannot summarizethe story, not having found one. Here's
what happens on the stage of the Bethany.
Act I. It is summer 1912 insidethe SimplicissimusCabaret in Schwabing,
the artists' suburb of Munich. The high walls are crowded with paintingsin
all modern mannersfrom Impressionismto Expressionism.Beforethe eve
ning'sentertainment begins,two young men are excitedlycomparingnotes
about how much is happeningall over Europe.In Paris,Cubismand Primitiv-
ism and Simultanismand a new group calledthe Sectiond'Or.Thenthere's
The Donkey'sTailexhibit of all the craziesin Moscow. Marinetti touring his
Futurist circusto one capital after another with thunderous advancepub
licity. Rumorsof a committee of Americanartists scouring Europein search
of works to include in a major show in New York next year.Above all, both
young men are excited and puzzled about developments right here in
Schwabing.One name keepscoming up: the RussianKandinsky,who has
lived and worked here for fifteen years.The thin, handsomeone with a
Frenchaccent and slick hair saysthat even Apollinaire praised Kandinsky's
Improvisationat the Salon des Independantsin Paristhis spring—called it
"Matisse'stheory of instinct carriedto the point of pure chance."The other
young man with soft features and a soft voice quotes from the book
Kandinskyhas just published called Concerningthe Spiritual in Art. Every
artist in Europeis talking about it. Sincethe wave theory of the electron has
annihilated matter, objects can no longer be representedas solid. We have
come to the turning point, Kandinskyclaims.Paintingwill be like music,like
the poetry of pure sound.
Meanwhile, on the tiny stage of the Simplicissimusa slender young
woman hasstarted singingdark songsabout whoresand criminals.A cousin

23 1
u of Frankenstein's monsteraccompaniesher on the piano. A third young man
3 ridesright into the cabareton his bicycleto join the others, one of whom he
j- met hereyesterday.Theysingelaboratebantering introductionsthat provide
x the information we need. The jaunty cyclist in his thirties is Paul Klee a
w Schwabing regular from Switzerland. On a recent trip to Paris where he
J visited Delaunay'sstudio, Klee heard about the young FrenchmanMarcel
Duchamp, whose painting Nude Descendinga Staircasehad just been
K excludedfrom the Independants.They now shake hands.Asked to explain
^ what he'sdoing in Munich, Duchampsingsan aria about the fourth dimen
sion, alchemy,circularmotion, and getting awayfrom Paris.Thethird young
man, Hansor JeanArp, recitesstrangelyshapedlinesof poetry about clouds
and goblins and producesweightlessstone sculpture from under the table
Klee introduces the visitors to the singer in her page-boy bob, Emmy
Henmngs,and to the dour pianist, Hugo Ball,avid anarchistand dramaturge
of the municipal theater.
At this point the action developssome momentum as the cabaretfills up
The famous playwright Wedekind wanders in with his guitar and accom
paniesEmmyin a set of his sexy-sentimentaltorch songs.Quantitiesof beer
and wine disappear.Duchampdanceswith severalgirls. Kleelaughinglytells
his friends two anecdotes. At an exhibit of French Impressionistart in
Moscow severalyearsago, Kandinskylooked at a painting and saw not a
recognizableobject or place or person but just forms, pure painting The
power of the canvaswas all the greaterfor this disappearanceof the subject.
(The catalogue stated that it was a haystack by Monet.) Later, here in
Munich, Kandinskycame into his studio one day and couldn't recognize,
couldn't identify one of his own works. (It was standing on its side.) Same
reaction: the subject can be dispensedwith. Purespiritual forcesand forms
will take its place.
Klee seemsimpatient with these claims and points out one of his own
paintings hanging on the wall of the Simplicissimus.Immediatelywe see it
blown up on a scrim hanging in front of the set. Worksby Arp and Duchamp
follow Klee's.Arp talks softly and passionatelyabout concreteart, like pieces
of fruit, like pebblesin a brook. Thescrim fades out. A portly man in a well-
cut suit, smokinga cigar,comesin and sitswith the three youngerartists: it is
Kandinsky.He talks like a book, like his book. "Our most ordinary actions
become solemn and portentous if we don't understandwhat's going on.
Imagine several men preparing to lift a heavy weight. Their movements
appear mysteriousand dramatic- until you havethe explanation.Then the
charm disappears.Functionalmeaning negatesabstract, spiritual meaning.
Just look at this scene.If you didn't know we were in a cabaret, you might
think it was a church service.Or the end of the world."
The celebrationbecomesfrenetic. Before long only Klee, Duchamp,and
Arp are left, slightly tipsy.Theymake a solemnthree-sidedwager.Arp bets

232
that he will make art objects so self-containedand pure that they can be
placedout in the woods or in a field without frame or pedestal.Concreteart,
natural art. Klee cannot stop talking about his illustrations for Voltaire's
Candide.Hewill make it impossibleto tell the difference between children's
drawingsand the most avant-gardepainting. Duchampdoes a ritual dance
in front of Klee'sbicyclestill leaningagainstthe wall. "I'll put a stool under
one of those wheels and pass it off as a work of art. The claim will be
enough. It's impossibleto make something that is not a work of art." The
three artists are resolute and exultant at the same time. Their handshake
sealsan historic pact, which they swearto revealto no one. Theirconspiracy
will changethe path of painting. As the curtain goesdown they are laughing
wildly with their arms around one another.
Act II. Setin a New Yorkhotel dining room during the twenties, DeForest's
secondact doesnot allow the energyreleasedin the first to subsidefor long.
Graduallythe placesat a round table center stagefill up with actorswearing
nameson their backslike football players.Ordinarydinersat the surrounding
tablesform a gawking audience.Dorothy Parkerchassesin on point singing
"I'm always chasing Rimbauds."Amiable and worried, Marc Connelly has
barelysat down before GeorgeKaufmanamblesby and rubs Connelly'sbald
pate. "That feels just like my wife's bottom." Connellyreachesup to touch
the same spot and performs a mock Eureka."It does, by golly, it does!"
H. L. Mencken introduces a Frenchartist on his third trip to New York.
MarcelDuchamptestily correctsMenckenand identifieshimselfasa profes
sional chessplayer.Out of his sleevehe pulls a folding chessboard.
"I'll give you a sentencewith horticulture," Parkerannouncesto no one in
particular. Everyonefreezes.She savorsthe silencebefore going on. "You
can lead a whore to culture . .
A stout pixiewith glassesand a sign sayingAlexanderWoollcott arrivesin
time to cut her off at the pass. . . but you can't make her think. You must
work on your timing, darling. This is my new friend, Harpo Marx from the
vaudeville/'//SaySheIs.It opened last night on Broadwayand fills my column
today in the Times.You all have orders to go see it. Orders."
Harpo, fully accoutered, simply beams at everyone.
Now launchedon a course it never followed in history, the Algonquin
RoundTablecareersfrom prank to wisecrackto slapstick.Woollcott orders
every item on the menu not containing the letter "e." Duchamp charms
Parkerinto a chessgame. The diners at the other tables have given up all
pretenseof eating in order to gape and applaud. Harpo and Kaufmansmile
at one another acrossthe table like two conspirators."How do you manifest
yourself on stage, Mr. Marx?" Kaufman asks. Harpo holds up a warning
finger, honks a horn hidden under his garments, and summons his three
brothersfrom the wings. Grouchoswingsin on a chandelier.Theirattempt to
saveHarpo from the denizensof Broadwayand the high priestsof the New
 Yorkeris foiled by a Gargantuanfigure who holds everyoneat bay by just
windmilling his arms. "I saw them first, in RhodeIsland," he sings."They're
mine." The sign on his back saysHerman Mankiewicz.
When an unsteadyorder has returned with the four Marxesstanding like
captive slaveson the table, Woollcott and Mankiewiczauction them off to
Kaufmanand S.J. Perelman,who hassneakedin while no one was looking.
The two writers declaim in unisonthat they will transform vaudevilleinto a
film medium that will lift Americanculture to new heightsof the ridiculous.
The four brothers perform a ritual slow-motion hat-changing routine—it
could be Cocoanutsor Waiting for Godot. Woollcott starts a toast. "This is
morethan a galadayfor usall." Grouchosquelchesanyeffusion. "A gal a day
is enough for me. I can't handle any more." His volcanic clouds of cigar
smoke put everyoneto sleep, including himself, to close the act.
Having laughed uproariously,the audience looked puzzled during the
second intermission.Almost everyonecame back to see where it was all
going. What can you extrapolate from two such widely separatedpoints?
Act III. After the high-jinksof the Algonquin RoundTableoccupiedby the
Marx Brothers,the third act starts off as a solemncourtroom hearing.In the
Cafe Cyranoin Paris,the SurrealistAndre Bretonsits asa red-robedjudge to
settle severaldisputes. It must be about 1929 or 1930. This time there's a
tourist guide with a megaphonestrapped to his face to identify the players.
Heseemsto be bringing a Hirschfeldcaricatureto life. In one corner Jacques
Prevertis singing protest songsand accompanyinghimself on a concertina.
A dandified Aragon holdsa book by Lautreamontin his right hand, and one
by Leninin his left, and narratesa long, elaboratedream about the top deck
of a bus to Marcel Duchamp,who is bolting a crank to his bicyclewheel
while he playschesswith Man Ray.HansArp, the perfect eggheadsculpted
by his own fine hand, is arm wrestling without much conviction with Dali,
costumedas himself.The handsomeversionof Dr.Caligariprowling upstage
is Antonin Artaud. The walls are coveredwith generic Surrealistpaintings.
Throughoutthe act young ladiesin the cafe play musicalchairsto soft tango
music.
After Breton has gaveledthe meeting to doubtful order, the poet Paul
Eluard stands up to give the report from the Committee on Proverbs.
Suitablyscrambled,they come out along the lines of "One good mistress
deservesanother." Politics raises its head. Severalmembers vehemently
protest their leaders'having recentlyjoined the Party,thus surrenderingthe
Surrealistrevolution to the Communistrevolution and Partydirectives.Ara
gon defendsthe Sovietexperimentasa gloriousanticapitalistvisionthat will
transform the world. Fromthe rear Artaud growls that no illusorychange in
the classsystemwill contribute one iota to the spiritual salvationof a single
individualin the room. Bretonannounceshis decisionby quoting scripture.
" 'Transformthe world,' Marx said; 'Change life,' Rimbaudsaid.Thesetwo
watchwords are one and the same." Mixed cheersand boos.
The next order of businessis the role of art. An earnestyoung Surrealist,
Max Morise, gives a historical report. Breton himself originally attacked all
forms of art. Hecalledart a "lamentableexpedient," an "alibi" distractingus
from more important activitieslike transforming everydaylife and liberating
love. The term "artist" can be attached to no true Surrealist. Duchamp
abandoned all forms of art years ago for chess. Pierre Naville, another
Surrealist,said it most trenchantly,"Everyoneknows by now that there is no
such thing as Surrealistpainting." Cheers.Morise sits down.
Man Ray—for some obscure reasondisplayinga Frenchaccent—risesto
croon a laconicbluessong called "The Objectsof My Affection." Paintings,
photographs, sculptures, mere things—they amuse, annoy, bemuse, be
wilder, mystify,demystify.It turns into a jingle with "Art without art" as the
refrain. Duchampjoins in with a single repeatedobbligato, "Object o' fart.
Object o' fart." It's not clear that anyone has paid much attention. Chess,
arm wrestling, and some heavyflirting have been going on throughout.
Artaud, a professionalham actor,stridesforward now and brushesevery
thing asidewith a Mephistopheliansweepof hiscloak. Forgetabout art. The
greatestwork of the Surrealistrevolution, a veritable hymn to anarchyand
intellectual liberation, is not any book or painting or even any work pro
duced by this bunch of cafe lizards in Paris.Artaud's voice has developed
great power. The Marx brothers films Monkey Businessand HorseFeathers
elevatesight gags and word gamesto a levelof magic that becomesboth
terrifying and beautiful. How is it that the American senseof humor can
send us the most extreme and original works of our era?The Marx brothers
havetapped the poetry of our insanitythe way Danmaskcarversexpressthe
terror and beauty of African magic. We're nevergoing to find the Surrealist
spirit in a cafe any more than in the Ecoledes BeauxArts or in the weekly
meeting of a Communist cell. "I move that the meeting be adjourned!
Artaud shouts. "I move that Surrealismbe adjourned! I movethat Parisbe
adjourned so that we can go see the Marx brothers!

KlaverStriva
CavourTavina
ScaverKavina
OkarTriva.

Artaud's chant of bruitist poetry accompaniedby African drums gathers

momentum and goes out of control. Morise and Aragon escort him out of
the cafe.
With noble gestures Breton sings a powerful baritone aria to calm the
u waters, while off to one side a series of disturbing Surrealist paintings
appearon the scrim. "Literatureand art accompanyus into adult life liketoys
j- we cannot give up. All around us as we speak, reality itself is at stake. The
x great modern painters-Chirico and Ernst,Arp and Masson,Miro and Man
ui Ray,even Braqueand Picassowithout their Cubist price tags- havetaught
J us to abandon the bird in hand for anything stirring in the bush, to elect
shadow over substance every time. That way lies black humor, lies the
c marvelous."
^ Amid acclamationsBreton proposesa toast to the marvelous.Helped by
Man Ray,Duchamp pedals his captive celestial bicycle wheel to unprece
dented speeds.Thewhole cafe and its occupantsdisappearbehindthe scrim
showinga clip of comic-apocalypticwar footage from the end of DuckSoup
Finalcurtain.
By canny costume changes,the fourteen actors in TheLast Causecreate
the impressionof a cast of hundreds.The director falls back on the same
crescendoeffect in each act and succeedsin keeping our attention. The
Marxian invasion in the second act provides the only burst of dramatic
action. No one seemsto take the occasionalmusicalnumbersvery seriously.
Spoof is king. Nor did the producerbudget much for sets.Themost stunning
visual effects occur when the projection of immenselyenlarged modern
paintings on the scrim engulfs the stage. For a short interval the actors'
voicesemanatefrom behind a delicatelytrembling veil of images- fantastic
yet familiar. These moments create the kind of spectacledreamed of by
German Expressionists and RussianFuturists,and by the FrenchSymbolists
before them. On this huge scalelyricismand farce cohabit without tensions.

What then shall we do with this drunken sailor of a play? Where did it
come from? Where is it going? What does it mean? In great and small
museumsall over the Westernworld, carefullyworded placardsaccompany
travelingexhibits in order to explainto an obedient public shifts in style and
recognizedstagesin artists' lives.PhyllisDeForesthascopied down someof
the wall signsand rewritten them for the stage.In the processshehaswoven
a messageinto the play, a view of events approaching an art-historical
agenda.Behindthe entertainment liesa fairly simplethesisabout the flow of
the arts sincewhat we like to call the "turn" of our century. Her thesisgoes
something like this: "A widespread outbreak of wit, children'sart, chance,
and primitive forms squeezed high seriousnessout of painting without
removing the spiritual element. Some groups became impatient with the
whole privilegedcategory of art." A manifesto?An entertainment for savvy
intellectuals?Writing about his collaborationwith Picabiaand Satiein 1924
on the film Entr'acte, ReneClair lifts a corner of the curtain draped over a
large segment of twentieth-century art. "I hope that one day a future

236
doctoral candidatewill write a thesison the role of mystificationin contem
porary art." By having so many jesters around, DeForestseems to be
signalingus that she is really in earnest.We shall haveto scrutinizehow she
put this pageant together.
IsDeForestour Vasariwriting anotherLivesof theArtists? Betterquestion:
cansheget awaywith shuffling and dealingherfile cardssowhimsically?For
shehasread modern art history like a buccaneerseizingtreasureon the high
seas.Duchampdid travel to Munich in the summer of 1912 and produced
there the major early studies for the Great Glass in his new mechanical
visceralstyle.We do not know what elsehappenedto him there —whom he
met and where he stayed.But PaulKlee,a Munich residentsince1906, had
gone backto Switzerlandthat summer,and Arp's Munich visit had comethe
year before. Hugo Ball worked in Munich in 1912 but not as house;piano
player at the Simplicissimus.Though he reigned during the twenties and
thirties over a large province of American letters, H. L. Mencken never
attended an Algonquin RoundTableluncheonand regardedNew York as a
suburb of Baltimore. When in New York during the twenties, Duchamp
playedhis practicaljokes with the Arensberg crowd, not in the Algonquin,
and made visits on the side to Man Ray'splace in New Jersey.On the other
hand, Harpo Marx (not his brothers) did play poker and vigorous croquet
with the Algonquin group and even turned up for lunch. Don't ask me to
straighten out Surrealistmembershipin the earlythirties in Paris,a period of
constant turnover and bickering about politics and women. The Cafe
Cyranoservedas a Surrealistheadquartersfor many years,but at a slightly
earlier period. So far as I can tell the dialogue in all three acts is based on
availablesources—once or twice removed. DeForesthas invented nothing
and altered everything. It's quite a feat.
There'sone act missing from The Last Cause.All prewar Europeanart
movementsflowed into Zurich during World War I as into the neckof a great
funnel. In 1916 at the CabaretVoltaire, Hugo Balland JeanArp and (later)
Tristan Tzara submitted all these movements to the fusion processthey
named Dada.Later,Dadaflowed out again into the Europeanbloodstream.
Theremay be good reasonwhy DeForestdidn't write this act. In an oblique,
differently weighted play called TravestiesusingJoyceand Tzara,TomStop-
pard has "done" Zurich. But Stoppardexploresonly that one moment, not a
hypothetical culture curve covering two decades.
TheLast Causehasthe skewed documentary quality of good caricature.
The telescopingsand displacementsdo not distort the truth. They reveala
flow of eventsthat we might not otherwise perceive.DeForestbringsto life
for us three successiveartists' hangouts where discussionleadstoward a
displacementof art toward verbal wit and languagegames.Shepicks two
strands to hold her package together: Duchamp and the Marx brothers.
Where doesthe supremelyunflappable Duchamp,who neversucceededin
 u turning his back on art, intersect the unstoppable Marx brothers? Even in
"real life" the brothers began emptying the contents of the inkwells when
I. they visited their own bank on East 60th Street in Manhattan. To find the link,
* you don't have to seek out a big word like surrealism. Duchamp and the
in Marxes spot the visual and verbal anomalies of life as they go by and capture
jc them in displays of unmatched waggishness.
The first act leavesthings somewhat unclear. It is true that Duchamp, Klee,
^u
d
* se c anc re follow Kandinsky into the new high seriousness of pure
^ abstraction. But they did not for that reason reject spiritual content. For all
his jokes about "ironic causation" and his elaborate hoaxes, Duchamp never
gave up alchemy and a special relation to the fourth dimension. Klee's high-
wire act between cartoon and abstraction never carries him away from a
region of the imagination devoted to sacredness, mystery, and childhood.
Arp, perhaps the greatest artist of the three by traditional standards of form
and execution, was also an original and influential poet writing in both
German and French. Like his sculpture, his poems create a fairy-tale uni
verse, which hovers between the pastoral and the preposterous. In all three
artists the pervasive deployment of blague, of joke, leaves intact the spiritual
and the aesthetic dimensions of art. They bring it down to earth without
lowering it.
Nothing new here. I remember that my college art-history textbook by
E. H. Gombrich carried a schematically posed illustration of Christ in the
Templefrom a medieval English Psalter.After looking at it for a moment, you
notice in the wide lower margin a beautifully rendered graffiti of a hunting
scene with horses and a trained hawk catching a duck. The naturalistic
drawing - lower on the page, and lower in the artistic hierarchy established
by religion in that era -is wonderfully joyous. That joy keeps peeping
through the details of Renaissance painting as facetiae and bizzarria until it
surfaces fully in Brueghel and Rabelais. Crowds of people and objects
overflow their works, the way multiplying things fill a Marx brothers film and
an lonesco play.
By now we should be able to tell what, if anything, is going on in the three
acts of The Last Cause, and whether it all arises from more than mere
mystification. I suggested at the opening of this review that DeForest is
examining a culture inversion, a world turned upside down. But what has
been reversed? A century and a half ago by writing a preface to his romantic
drama, Cromwell, Victor Hugo produced one of the early manifestoes of the
modern. In that preface he identified the two elements that have been
reversed in our culture inversion.

It is the fertile union of the grotesquewith the sublimethat givesbirth to the genius
of the modern, so complex and varied in its forms, so inexhaustiblein its creations,
and in that respect clearly opposed to the uniform simplicity of ancient genius.

238
In the ancient epic, Hugo argues a little perilously, the ideal and the sublime
leave little room for comedy and buffoonery. Falstaff, Harlequin,
Scaramouche, and Goethe's Mephistopheles have brought us myriad new
forms of humanity tending more toward the grotesque than toward the
sublime. Hugo sees this reversal as the essence of the modern spirit.
A generation later, developing his ideas on the "Grand Style" of painting in
Volume III of Modern Painters, John Ruskin seized on the same term that
Victor Hugo made much of:

A fine grotesque is the expression,in a moment, by a seriesof symbols thrown

together in bold and fearlessconnection,of truths which it would havetaken a long
time to expressin any verbalway,and of which the connectionis left for the beholder
to work out for himself; the gaps, left or overleapedby the hasteof the imagination,
forming the grotesque character.

In these two quotations Hugo and Ruskin offer us a way of understanding

both the episodic structure of The Last Cause and its message about the
grotesque and the comic infiltrating the realm of the sublime in modern art.
High and low have changed places.
DeForest has assembled into a play three widely separated, half-
imaginary incidents in the story of the modern arts in order to suggest a new
dispensation between sublime and grotesque. It all turns, she implies, on
free-wheeling wit and unhousebroken imagination. Despite his moments of
thralldom at Kairouan in deepest Tunisia, Klee refused to give up the
vocabulary of children's art. The Marx brothers —above all, Groucho, backed
by the impressive battery of Algonquin writers who thought up his rapid-fire
one-liners —anchored themselves firmly to the age (eight to ten?) when
nothing trembles a child's reality and tickles its funny bone so seismically as a
stupid pun. "What's that in the road? A head?" The Marx brothers thrived on
such fare. Correspondingly, DeForest didn't have to invent the doctored
proverbs the Surrealists throw at one another in her third act. In 1920 the
poet Eluard put out a little magazine called Proverbe to which every loyal
Dadaist contributed travestied proverbs. Then they all tried to figure out the
originals. Even the first sentence of Breton's long sermon known as the
Surrealist Manifesto transposes a well-known proverb.
I find myself welcoming the fantasy conspiracy hatched in the first act of
this roller-coaster play. Three young artists turn up one night in 1912 in a
Munich cabaret and make a tipsy compact that will change the course of
modern art. Yes, Vasari and Apollinaire would have approved of DeForest's
principle of dramatic composition : one good mystification deserves another.
The following two acts, while hilarious in spots, do not attain an equally
convincing level of art-historical whimsy. I assume that DeForest's title refers
to the vital role of comedians and artists in an unsettled world. While all
 around us compulsivelyinterviewed pundits propose wildly contradictory
solutionsto our crises,TheLast Causesuggeststhat only artful comedycan
save us from ourselves.Good tonic.

PROGRAM Apollinaire, Guillaume, d. 1918. French modernist poet, journalist, critic, early champion of
Cubism. r

NOTES FOR Aragon, Louis, d. 1982. French poet and novelist, founder with Breton of Surrealism in 1924,
abandoned it for Communist party.
THE LAST Arensberg, Walter and Louise, d. 1953-54. Major American collectors and patrons of Du-
champ, Picabia, American Dada group.
CAUSE
Artaud, Antonin, d. 1948. French actor, director, poet, active in Surrealist group during early

Ball, Hugo, d. 1927. German writer, dramaturge, cabaret musician, poet. Founded Cabaret
Voltaire in 1916 with Arp.

Clair, Rene, d. 1981 . French film director and writer. Close to Dada and Surrealism in early years.

Connelly, Marc, d. 1981 . American playwright and Hollywood scriptwriter. Early collaborator of
George Kaufman.

Delaunay, Robert, d. 1941. French painter, launched Simultanism with Apollinaire.

Donkey's Tail. Large Moscow exhibit of Russian avant-garde art organized in 1912 by Larionov
Goncharova, Malevich, Tatlin.

Eluard, Paul, d. 1952. French Surrealist poet, wrote often on painting.

Hennings, Emmy, d. 1948. German cabaret singer and occasional poet. Accompanied Ball to
Zurich.

Hugo, Victor, d. 1885. French romantic poet, dramatist, novelist.

Kaufman, George S„ d. 1961 . American playwright, screenwriter, leading Broadway figure for
thirty years.

Mankiewicz, Herman, d. 1953. American screenwriter and Hollywood producer began as

journalist in New York.

Man Ray, d. 1976. American photographer and artist. Moved to Paris in 1921 and worked
closely with Dada and Surrealist groups.

Marinetti, Filippo, d. 1944. Italian poet and writer. Organizer and champion of Italian Futurism.

Mencken, H. L„ d. 1956. American journalist, critic, lexicographer.

Morise, Max. Minor early Surrealist.

Naville, Pierre. Surrealist and political journalist.

Parker, Dorothy, d. 1967. American poet, fiction writer, and acerbic journalist.

Perelman, S. J., d. 1979. American journalist, short story writer, Hollywood script writer.

Picabia, Francis, d. 1953. French painter and author, a founder of French Dada.

Prevert, Jacques, d. 1977. French poet, song- and screenwriter, early Surrealist.

240
Rimbaud, Arthur, d. 1891. French prodigy-poet. Author of "A Season in Hell" and
"Illuminations."
Ruskin,John, d. 1900. Englishwriter on art, architecture,and literature. Champion of Turner.

Satie, Erik, d. 1925. Frenchcomposer and musicalwit.

Section d'or. An eclectic group show in October 1912 of painters who dissentedfrom the
Braque-Picasso version of Cubism. Included Gleizes,Metzinger,the Duchamp brothers, and
Kupka.
Tzara,Tristan,d. 1963. Roumanianwriter, carried Zurich Dada to Paris.

Wedekind, Frank,d. 1918. German dramatist in Munich, forerunner of Expressionism.

Woollcott, Alexander,d. 1943. American journalist and powerful New York drama critic in
1920s and 1930s.

Artaud, Antonin. "Les FreresMarx au cinema du Pantheon." Nouvelle RevueFranqaise,ler BIBLIOGRAPHY

janvier 1932.
Adamson, Joe. Groucho,Harpo, Chico and SometimesZeppo. NY: Simon & Schuster,1973.

Appignanesi, Lisa. The Cabaret. NY: Universe,1976.

Arp, [Jean],On My Way.NY: Wittenborn, 1948.

Der Blaue Reiter,ed. Klaus Lankheit. Munich: Piper,1965.
Breton, Andre. La Cle des champs. Paris: Pauvert, 1967.
. "Le surrealisteet la peinture." La RevolutionSurrealiste,1925-27.
Case, Frank. Talesof a WaywardInn. NY: FrederickA. Stokes, 1938.
Clair, Rene. "En guise d'epigraphe." Cinemad'hier, cinema d'aujoud'hui. Paris: NRF,1970.

Gehring, Des D. The Marx Brothers: A Bio-Bibliography.NY: Greenwood, 1987.

Goldstein, Malcolm. George S. Kaufman, His Life, His Theater.NY: Oxford, 1979.

Gombrich, E. H. The Story of Art. London: Phaidon, 1951.

Harriman, Margaret Case. The ViciousCircle. NY: Rinehart, 1951.

Hugo, Victor. "Prefacede Cromwell." 1927.

Kandinsky,Wassily.Concerningthe Spiritualin Art. NY: Wittenborn, 1947. Also "The Problem
of Form" (1912) and "Reminiscences"(1913).
Klee, Paul. Diaries 1898-1918. Berkeley: U. of California, 1964.

Lanchner,Carolyn, ed. Paul Klee. NY: Museum of Modern Art, 1987.

Lebel, Robert. Sur Marcel Duchamp. Paris:Trianon, 1959.

Man Ray."Preface."In TheArt of Assemblage,ed. William Seitz.NY: Museum of Modern Art,
1961
Marcel Duchamp,ed. Anne d'Harnoncourt and KynastonMcShine.NY: Museum of Modern
Art, 1973.
Matthews, J. H. Surrealismand Film. Ann Arbor: U. of Michigan, 1971.
Mencken, H. L. TheAmerican Scene: A Reader,ed. H. F.Cairns. NY: Knopf, 1969.

24 1
¥ Mencken, H. L. SelectedPrejudices.NY: Knopf, 1927.

3 Meredith, Scott. George S. Kaufman and His Friends.NY: Doubleday,1974.

Nadeau, Maurice. The History of Surrealism.NY: Macmillan 1965

I Read,Herbert. Arp. London: Thamesand Hudson 1968

ui
c Ruskin,John. Modern Painters,vol. Ill, part IV. NY: Wiley & Halsted, 1856.

[J Shattuck, Roger.The Banquet Years.NY: Harcourt, Brace, 1959.

O Stoppard, Tom. Travesties.NY: Grove, 1975.

Willett, John. Expressionism.NY: MacGraw-Hill, 1970.

242
INDEX Abramtsevo art colony, 136
Artists' Tavern in
abstractart, 170, 172-73, 176-77
Rome (P van Laer), 28; fig. 31
Abstract Expressionism, 176-78, 193-94
art schools, 54
198-200,202-4,223-24,227 assemblage, 179
academicism, 53-54, 151-52, 180-83
actualites, 94-97, 101 Attempted Assassination of the Queen of
advertisement Spain . . . (Guys), 64; fig. 61
for Campari, 120; fig. 118 Au Bon Marche (Picasso), 97, 98, 101
121; fig. 100
for Conductor Corp. of Riga 150' fiq
183 automobiles, 221-22

for Durov and pig, 143; fig. 159 Autre Monde, Un (Grandville), 70-71
for film Eagle, 150; fig. 187 avante-garde, 54, 135-52, 162-63, 166-
70, 174, 183, 224
for film State Councillor's Love 150- fiq
186 Aviator, The (Malevich), 144
Ayer, A. J., 200
for galoshes (Rodchenko), 150; fig. 184
for I. Miller Shoes (Warhol), 203- fiq
218
Babbitt, Irving, 167
for insulation, 150; fig. 185
Baker's signboard (Russian), 145; fig. 167
for Mettsger Corporation, 147; fig. 176
Bakery in Moscow (photograph) 145- fjq
for Mount Airy Lodge, 203; fig. 221
168
advertising, 87-90, 97-98, 101, 104,
Balkan Wars, 94-95
119-23, 145-46, 148-51, 224
Ball, Hugo, 240
Aeroplanes, Les (Gris), 123; fig. 128
Ballard, J. G„ 196, 198-200
aesthetics, 177-78
Baltz, Lewis, 228
Afternoon in the Garden of the Tuileries
(Dore), 67; fig. 65 bamboccianti (Flemish painters), 28
Banham, Reyner, 196, 197, 199-200 202
Airplane over a Train (Goncharova), 147
207
airplanes, 147
Bar at the Folies-Bergeres (Manet)
Alarm Clock, The (Rivera), 120; fig. 115
121
Alexander, Peter, 227
Aiken, Henry, 58 Barbershop (Rozanova), 146
Baroque, 34
Alloway, Lawrence, 197, 199, 201, 204-5
allusion, 90-91 Barr, Alfred H., Jr., 118, 172-73
"The Development of Abstract Art"
Alphabet Book" (Russian), 148; fig. 180
(chart), 172; fig. 196
amateur art, 58-59
Barrett, William, 167
America, 127-28
Baths (Puni), 146
American art, 177-79, 193-94
202-8 Baudelaire, Charles, 62, 64-67, 71 74
181-83
Andre, Carl, 228
Baudrillard, Jean, 206
Anis del Mono (Gris), 123; fig. 133
Bay Area, 223
Annie (Ruscha), 222; fig. 224
Antiphilos (Greek artist), 35 Beata Ludovica Albertoni (Bernini) 34- fiq
37 ' > y-
Apollinaire, Guillaume, 240
Zone, 118, 127 Beaumont, Charles de, 68
Beggar at the Bakery Window (Gericault)
Apostle Jean Journet Setting Out on the
57
Conquest of Universal Harmony, The
Bell, Larry, 223
(Courbet), 62; fig. 56
Bengston, Billy Al, 223
Aragon, Louis, 240
archaic style, 20 Chaney, 222, 226; fig. 222
Berenson, Bernard, 167
Archipenko, Alexander, 221
Bernini, Gian Lorenzo, 21-38
Arch of Constantine, 20; fig. 6
Ardmboldo (Italian), 35 Beata Ludovica Albertoni, 34; fig. 37
Arensberg, Walter, 240 Bust of Cardinal Scipione Borghese 29'
fig. 32
Aretino, Pietro, 31
Ars Moriendi (type of book), 34 Caricature of Cardinal Scipione Borghese
24, 28; fig. 15
Artaud, Antonin, 240
art criticism, 161, 171-74, 180-83 Caricature of Don Virginio Orsini (copv)
24; fig. 16
art for art's sake, 163-69
artist, role of, 36-37, 53-54, 222-23 Caricature of Pope Innocent XI, 21, 32
fig. 8

244
 Portrait of Cardinal Scipione Borghese, Bust of Cardinal Scipione Borghese
24; fig. 18 (Bernini), 29; fig. 32
Portrait of Sisinio Poli, 24; fig. 17
Portrait of the Captain of the Papal
Guard of Pope Urban VIII, 24; fig. 16 cafe-concert, 84-86
Profile of Innocent XI (attrib.), 32, 33; cake mold (Mexican), 126; fig. 142
fig. 35 California, 219-29
Urban VIII, 26; fig. 24 Campari, advertisement for, 120; fig.
Bertall (A. d'Arnoux), 68, 69 118
Black Still Life (Shevchenko), 145 canards, 55-57
Bloch, Jeanne, 85-86 capitalism, 182-83, 205-6
Blue Rose exhibit, 140 caricature, 21-38, 69
body painting, 141-42 Caricature of Cardinal Scipione Borghese
Bogorodsky, Fedor, 146 (Bernini), 24, 28; fig. 15
Bolshakov, Konstantin, 141 Caricature of Don Virginio Orsini (copy
Bonnard, Pierre, 128 after Bernini), 24; fig. 16
Bonnaud, Dominique Caricature of Paintings in the Salon of
La Revue de I'Ambigu, 103; fig. 110 1848 (anon, engraving), 69; fig. 67
Borgia, Gaspare, 30 Caricature of Pope Innocent XI (Bernini),
Bosch, Hieronymus 21, 32; fig. 8
Drollery, 35; fig. 41 Carmina (Grillo Monoculo), 36; fig. 42
Boshier, Derek, 194 Caroto, Giovanni Francesco
Bottle and Glass (Picasso), 97, 98, 119; fig. Boy with Drawing, 25; fig. 22
101 Carracci, Agostino, 22
Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glass, and Carracci, Annibale, 29
Newspaper (Picasso), 96, 101, 102; Heads and a Figure (attrib.), 22; fig. 9
fig. 99 Cart Loaded with Wounded Soldiers
Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glass, Guitar and (Gericault), 56
Newspaper (Picasso), 97, 101; fig. 103 cartoons, 122-23
Bowl with Fruit, Violin, and Wineglass Catholic Church, 36
(Picasso), 101 ; fig. 108 Caulfield, Patrick, 194
Boy with Drawing (Caroto), 25; fig. 22 Celle-Bruere, La
"Bracciano, Paolo Giordano II, duke of" relief, 20; fig. 7
(bust) (after Bernini), 37; fig. 43 Chagall, Marc, 139, 140, 144, 170
Braque, Georges, 87, 105, 119, 124, 126— Chahut, Le( Seurat), 174; fig. 199
27 Cham (A. de Noe), 68, 69
Checkerboard: Tivoli-Cinema, 127; fig. Champfleury (Jules Fleury-Husson), 59-63
145 Chaney (Bengston), 222, 226; fig. 222
Glass and Bottle: Fourrures, 121; fig. Chardin, Jean-Baptiste, 124
124 Charging Chasseur (anon, engraving), 55;
Guitar and Program: Statue d'epouvante, fig. 45
127; fig. 146 Charging Chasseur, The (Gericault), 55; fig.
Still Life on a Table: Gillette, 119; fig. 44
112 Charles Baudelaire (Manet), 181 ; fig. 207
Still Life with Tenora, 126; fig. 143 Checkerboard: Tivoli-Cinema (Braque), 127;
Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even, fig. 145
The (Duchamp), 195 children's drawings, 25-28
British art, 57-58, 193-208 Christina of Sweden, Queen, 36
broadsheets, 59-63 circus, 84-85, 140, 143
Broadway Boogie Woogie (Mondrian), 172; Circus Dancer (Larionov), 140
fig. 195 Clair, Ren£, 240
"Bruits de guerre et bruits de paix" (Gris), classicism, 19-21, 70-72, 151-52
123; fig. 130 Clytemnestra (Daumier), 72; fig. 71
Buchloh, Benjamin, 206 Clytemnestra Contemplating the Murder of
Buguet, Henri, 88-90 Agamemnon (Guerin), 72; fig. 72
Bullfighter, The (Gris), 123; fig. 132 Cocteau, Jean, 84
Burial at Ornans, A (Courbet), 61 ; fig. 54 Coeur6, Sebastien
Burliuk, David, 139, 141, 142, 144, 145 Fualdes Dragged into the Murder House,
Headless Barber, 140 56; fig. 48

245
 Coginard, Theodore
David, Jacques-Louis, 54
Royaume du Calembour, Le (poster for
The Intervention of the Sabine Women,
revue), 90; fig. 90
72; fig. 74
Cohen, Bernard, 194
Davis, Ron, 227
collage, 86-88, 94-106, 124, 148-49
Davis, Stuart, 128
151
mural in Gar Sparks's Nut Shop, 128' fig
Color Field painting, 163, 180, 194
147
comic theater, 29-30
death and dying, 34
commedia dell'arte, 29
Death of Moriens, The (de Hooghe), 34-
commercial art, 121-24, 149-51 fig. 36
Comoedia illustre, personified in a revue, DeForest, Phyllis, 231
93; fig. 94
Degas, Edgar
Composition with Mona Lisa (Malevich),
Spartan Boys and Girls Exercising 72'
139; fig. 150
fig. 73
Conceptualists, 205-6
Degres des Ages (F. Georgin), 62; fig. 55
Conductor Corp. of Riga, advertisement for, de Hooghe, Romeyn
150; fig. 183
The Death of Moriens, 34; fig. 36
Connelly, Marc, 240
De humana physiognomia (woodcuts)
Constantine, Emperor, 20
(della Porta), 23; fig. 12
Constructivism, 149-50, 172
de Jallais, A.
consumerism, 199-200, 207-8
Le Petit Journal (poster for revue), 89;
Corot, Camille, 126
fig. 89
costume, 83, 92-93
de Kock, Paul
of newspaper Le Journal, 93; fig. 96
La grande ville, 66
by V. Tatlin, 140; fig. 151
de Kooning, Willem, 177, 178, 179, 203
Counter Reformation, 33-35 224
Courbet, Gustave, 61-63
Monroe, Marilyn, 178; fig. 205
The Apostle Jean Journet Setting Out on de la Marck, Erard
the Conquest of Universal Harmony, tomb, 34; fig. 38
62; fig. 56
Delaunay, Robert, 137, 240
A Burial at Ornans, 61; fig. 54
Delaunay, Sonia, 137
The Meeting, 63; fig. 59
"simultaneous dress," 83; fig. 78
The Sleepers, 67; fig. 64
della Porta, Giambattista
courtesan-prostitute, 73-75
De humana physiognomia (woodcuts)
Couture, Thomas, 120
23; fig. 12
Cranach, Lucas
Delorme, Hugues
Pope Leo X as the Antichrist, 22; fig. 10
La Revue de I'Olympia, 101 ; fig. 109
Creation of the Sun and Moon
Demuth, Charles, 128
(Michelangelo), 27; fig. 28 Denny, Robyn, 194
crickets, 35-36
"Development of Abstract Art" (chart)
Crossword Puzzles, The (Gris), 120; fig (Barr), 172; fig. 196
119
Diable a Paris, Le, 66
Cubism, 83-106, 117-28, 137-38, 143 Diaghilev, Sergei, 136
172-73, 177
Dieudonne, Robert
Cubism (Lebedev), 145
Et Voila! (revue), 83; fig. 77
Cubo-Futurism, 145-46, 148
Donkey's Tail exhibit, 240
culture, see high culture; low culture
Don't Tell Me When to Stop (McCracken),
228; fig. 225
Dore, Gustave, 69
Dada, 173
Afternoon in the Garden of the Tuileries,
Dali, Salvador, 221
67; fig. 65
dance, popular, 83, 142
d'Ostoya
Daniel, Leon
magazine cover, 92; fig. 91
La R'vu ... u ... el, 100; fig. 107
Drama in the Futurists' Cabaret No. 13
Daumier, Honore, 66, 68, 69, 71-72
(film), 142
Clytemnestra, 72; fig. 71
drawing, 23-24
Histoire ancienne, 71-72
Drawing of Heads and Profiles (attrib.
The Nights of Penelope, 71; fig. 70
Leonardo), 25; fig. 21
Pygmalion, 71; fig. 69
Dreyfus, Robert, 89-90

24G
Drollery (Bosch), 35; fig. 41 Franqais peints par eux-memes (illustrated
Dubuffet, Jean, 178 book), 66, 67
Duchamp, Marcel, 122, 125, 173, 224 French art, 137-38
The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Freund, Gisele
Bachelors, Even, 195 Walter Benjamin (portrait), 164; fig. 190
Durer, Albrecht Friedman, Arnold
drawing in letter to W. Pirckheimer, 25; Interior with Daisies, 170; fig. 193
fig. 19 Fualdes Dragged into the Murder House
Durov, Anatolii, 143 (Gericault), 56; fig. 47
advertisement for, 143; fig. 159 Fualdes Dragged into the Murder House
Durov, Vladimir, 143 (S. Coeure), 56; fig. 48
Dydyshko, Konstantin, 144 full-face portraiture, 24
Dynamic City (Klucis), 151 Futurism, 84, 142, 143, 147-48

Eagle (film) Galice, Ludovic

advertisement for, 150; fig. 187 poster for Jeanne Bloch, 86; fig. 84
East Coker-T.S.E. (Guston), 176; fig. 202 Gaust-Chaba (V. Stepanova), 148; fig. 181
Eilshemius, Louis, 170 Gavarni (French illustrator), 66, 68
Eliot, T. S., 167-68, 175 genre art, 57, 66-69
elitism, 168-69 Georgin, F.
Elsa Kruger and Mak dancing the Tango of Les Degres des Ages, 62; fig. 55
Death, 142; fig. 157 Gericault, Theodore, 54-59
Eluard, Paul, 240 Beggar at the Bakery Window, 57
English art, 57-58, 193-208 Cart Loaded with Wounded Soldiers, 56
Englishman in Moscow (Malevich), 144 The Charging Chasseur (sketch), 55; fig.
engravings, popular, 55-56 44
Enlightenment, 53 The Epsom Downs Derby, 58; fig. 51
Epidaurus, altar from, 20; figs. 4, 5 Fualdes Dragged into the Murder House,
Epinal publishers, 60-61 56; fig. 47
Epsom Downs Derby, The (Gericault), 58; Paralytic Woman, 57
fig. 51 The Piper, 57; fig. 50
Erasmus of Rotterdam Raft of the Medusa, 55, 57
manuscript page, 25; fig. 20 Return from Russia, 56; fig. 49
Ermolaeva, Vera, 145 Signboard of a Farrier, 55; fig. 46
Establishment, the, 54, 69-71 The Start of the Barberi Race, 58; fig. 53
Et Voila! (R. Dieudonne), 83; fig. 77 Various Subjects Drawn from Life and on
Exter, Alexandra, 142, 150 Stone, 57
Gibson, William, 208
Gignoux, Regis, 103
Fall of Phaeton, The (Michelangelo), 23; Gill, Irving, 221
fig. 13 Girl with a Ball (Lichtenstein), 203; fig. 220
Fantomas (Gris), 127; fig. 144 Glass and Bottle: Fourrures (Braque), 121;
fascism, 164-66 fig. 124
Faulkner, William, 221 Glass and Bottle of Bass (Picasso), 103; fig.
Felt Boot (Kurdov), 145 111
Filonov, Pavel, 143 Glass and Bottle of Suze (Picasso), 92, 97;
fine art, 117-18, 150-52 fig. 92
flags, 125, 183 Gold Marilyn Monroe (Warhol), 178; fig.
Flemish painting, 28 206
Floud, Peter, 200 Goncharova, Natalia, 135-37, 140-42,
folk art, 58-59, 135-52, 168 146
formalism, 19, 161, 166, 183 Airplane over a Train, 147
found objects, 179 portrait of, with painted face, 141 ; fig.
4 Gats: Plat del Dia (Picasso), 122; fig. 127 153
Fragson, Harry Rayist Garden, 141
illustration of musical score, 83; fig. Still Life with Ham, 145; fig. 166
81 Goode, Joe, 222, 223
newspaper portrait, 83; fig. 80 Gorky, Arshile, 177

247
 graffiti, 25-28, 141
Just What Is It That Makes Today's
Grande ville. La (de Kock), 66
Homes So Different, So Appealing?,
Grandville (J.-l.-l. Gerard), 66, 68
194; fig. 210
Mile. Leucothoe in the Role of Phaedra,
70; fig. 68 Hamilton-McHale-Voelcker
installation at This Is Tomorrow exhibit,
Un Autre Monde, 70-71
193; fig. 208
Greek art, 19-20
Havre, picture postcard of (sent by
Greenberg, Clement, 117, 118, 161-83
Picasso), 125; fig. 138
194, 224
Headless Barber (Burliuk), 140
Greene & Greene, 221
Head of a Man with a Moustache (Picasso)
Grevin (French illustrator), 68
121; fig. 123
Grillo Monoculo
Heads and a Figure (attrib. Carracci), 22;
Carmina, 36; fig. 42
fig. 9
Gris, Juan, 105, 123-24
Heartfield, John, 173
Les Aeroplanes, 123; fig. 128
Henderson, Nigel, 195
Anis del Mono, 123; fig. 133
Henderson, Paolozzi, the Smithsons
"Bruits de guerre et bruits de paix"
installation at Man, Machine and Motion
(illustration from), 123; fig. 130
exhibit, 196; fig. 216
The Bullfighter, 123; fig. 132
installation at This Is Tomorrow exhibit,
The Crossword Puzzles, 120; fig. 119 193; fig. 209
Fantomas, 127; fig. 144
Hennings, Emmy, 240
The Man in the Cafe, 123; fig. 129
Herder, Johann Gottfried von, 53
The Package of Quaker Oats, 121* fig
herrings and mackerels, 143-44
120
high culture, 19-21, 117-18, 142-43,
The Smoker, 123; fig. 131
162-69, 180-83, 199-204, 219-20
Still Life with Plaque, 125; fig. 135
Histoire ancienne (Daumier), 71-72
Syphon and Bottles, 120; fig. 116
Hockney, David, 194
The Torero, 124
Hofmann, Hans, 171
Grosz, George, 173
Hoggart, Richard, 199
Group of Five Grotesque Heads, A
Hommage a Chrysler Corps. (Hamilton),
(Leonardo), 23; fig. 11
195; fig. 211
grylloi, 35
horticulture, 139-40
Guenzburg, Horace, 136
House A xi 9 (Olynthus)
Guerin, Pierre, 55
mosaics, 19; fig. 3
Clytemnestra Contemplating the Murder
How to Look at a Cubist Painting"
of Agamemnon, 72; fig. 72
(Reinhardt), 177; fig. 203
Phaedra and Hippolytus, 70
"How to Look Out" (Reinhardt), 177- fig
Guitar (Picasso), 126; fig. 141
204
Guitar and Program: Statue d'epouvante
Hoyland, John, 194
(Braque), 127; fig. 146
Hugo, Victor, 240
Guitar, Sheet Music, and Glass (Picasso),
87, 94, 97, 101, 102, 103; fig. 87
Guston, Philip, 176-77
East Coker-T.S.E., 176; fig. 202
Guys, Constantin, 64-66, 68
Icehead (McHale), 195; fig. 214
Attempted Assassination of the Queen
illustrators, 64-69
of Spain in the Long Gallery of the
images populaires, 59-63
Royal Palace, Madrid, February 2,
Impressionists, 128
1852, 64; fig. 61
Independent Group, 193-208
Gypsy in Tiraspol (Larionov), 143; fig. 158
Innocent XI, 32-36
medal of, 34; fig. 39
insect illustrations, 35-36
intellectuals, 174-76
Hairdresser (Puni), 146
Interior of the Buurkerk at Utrecht (P
Hamilton, Richard, 192, 198-202, 205
Saenredam), 27; figs. 29, 30
Horn mage a Chrysler Corps. 195' fig
211 Interior with Daisies (Friedman), 170; fig. 193
Intervention of the Sabine Women, The
installation view of Man, Machine and
(David), 72; fig. 74
Motion exhibit, 200; fig. 217
Irwin, Robert, 222, 227, 228
Jack of Diamonds exhibit, 137-38, 143 Legay, Marcel, 86-87
Jameson, Fredric, 207 Leger, Fernand
Janis, Sidney, 203 The Syphon, 120; fig. 117
Jester, The (Lubok of Farnos), 140, 143; fig. Lenin, V. I., 82
152 Lentulov, Aristarkh, 139
Jewishness, 174-76 Moscow, 137; fig. 148
Johns, Jasper, 117, 118, 161, 163, 180, Leonardo da Vinci
183, 203, 224 Drawing of Heads and Profiles (attrib.),
"jou, "journal, 87, 93-94, 99 25; fig. 21
Journal, Le A Group of Five Grotesque Heads, 23;
newspaper costume, 93; fig. 96 fig. 11
Judd, Donald, 228 Leoni, Ottavio
Just What Is It That Makes Today's Homes Portrait of Gian Lorenzo Bernini, 24; fig.
So Different, So Appealing? 14
(Hamilton), 194; fig. 210 Leonov, Georgii
untitled watercolor, 148; fig. 178
Liard, The Philosophical Rag-Picker (Travies
Kafka, Franz, 175-76 de Villers), 63; fig. 57
Kahnweiler, Daniel-Henry, 118 Lichtenstein, Roy, 117, 1 19, 120, 122, 224
Kamensky, Vasilii, 141, 142 Girl with a Ball, 203; fig. 220
Kandinsky, Vasilii, 135, 173 Li-Dantiu Faram (Zdanevich), 148; fig. 179
Kant, 167 Lissitzky, El, 150
Kauffman, Craig, 227 literature, popular, 127
Untitled Wall Relief, 222; fig. 223 Lithographic Print Shop of F. Delpech, The
Kaufman, George S., 240 (Vernet), 66; fig. 62
Kholodnaia, Vera, 142 lithography, 56
kitsch, 162, 175, 179, 183, 203, 224 Loaves (Larionov), 145
Kline, Franz, 177 Loaves (Mashkov), 145
Klucis, Gustav, 149 Lomazzo, Gian Paolo, 21
Dynamic City, 151 Los Angeles, 219-29
postcard by, 151 ; fig. 188 Louis XIV, 34, 37
Konchalovsky (Russian artist), 143 low culture, 19-21, 117-18, 142-43,
Still Life with Loaves, 145 150-51, 199-200, 219-20
Kruchenykh, Alexei, 143 lubok, 136, 139, 143
Kruger, Elsa, 142 Lubok of Farnos
Kupreianov, Nikolai, 139 The Jester, 140, 143; fig. 152
Kurdov, Valentin
Felt Boot, 145
Kuznetsov, Pavel, 140 MacDonald, Dwight, 165
Machine-Made America II (McHale), 195;
fig. 215
Lafreri, Antonio magazine cover
Pasquino, 31; fig. 34 by d'Ostoya, 92; fig. 91
Lami (French illustrator), 68 of Partisan Review, 164; fig. 189
Large Coca-Cola (Warhol), 203; fig. 219 Maiakovsky, Vladimir, 142, 144, 145-46
Larionov, Mikhail, 135-37, 139-43, 146 illustration for poem (V. Tatlin), 144; fig.
Circus Dancer, 140 163
Gypsy in Tiraspol, 143; fig. 158 mainstream, 170, 204-8
Loaves, 145 Ma Jolie (Woman with a Zither or Guitar)
Portrait of Tatlin, 141 (Picasso), 83, 117; fig. 79
Sausage and Mackerel, 144; fig. 162 Mak (Pavel Ivanov), 142
Soldier Relaxing, 141 Malagis, Vladimir, 143
Venus, 141; fig. 154 Malevich, Kazimir, 136-40, 143, 145, 173
Walk in a Provincial Town, 143 The Aviator, 144
Lebedev, Vladimir Composition with Mona Lisa, 139; fig. 150
Cubism, 145 Englishman in Moscow, 144
Lebrun, Rico, 223 Simultaneous Death of a Man in an'
Le-Dantiu, Mikhail, 141, 143 Airplane and on the Railroad, 147
Leftist politics, 164-68, 198 Soldier of the First Division, 141
 Suprematist Composition: Red Square Miklukho-Maklai, Nikolai, 136
and Black Square, 172; fig. 194 Minotaure
Tailor, 146; fig. 173
picture of Breton, Rivera, and Trosky,
Woman at a Poster Column, 142; fig 166; fig. 191
156
Miro, Joan
Woman at a Tram Stop, 147
Untitled (Composition), 173; fig. 198
Mamontov, Elizaveta and Savva, 136
mixed media, 119-20, 124-26, 203, 224
Man, Machine and Motion exhibit, 200-1
Mile. Leucothoe in the Role of Phaedra
installation by Henderson, Paolozzi, the (Grandville), 70; fig. 68
Smithsons, 196; fig. 216
modernism, 19, 65-69, 84-85, 162, 169-
installation by Richard Hamilton, 200;
70, 173, 177, 179-83, 194, 202,
fig. 217
222-24
Manet, Edouard, 67-69, 73-75, 174
modern life, 117-28, 136-39, 147-49
Bar at the Folies-Bergeres, 12 1 Mondrian, Piet
Charles Baudelaire, 181; fig. 207
Broadway Boogie Woogie, 172; fig. 195
Music in the Tuileries, 67; fig. 66
Monnier (French illustrator), 66, 68
Olympia, 73; fig. 75
Monroe, Marilyn (de Kooning), 178; fig. 205
Man in the Cafe, The (Gris), 123; fig. 129 Morise, Max, 240
Mankiewicz, Herman, 240
Moscow (Lentulov), 137; fig. 148
Mann, Thomas, 221
Moses, Ed, 222, 227
Man Ray, 221, 240
"Mossieu Reac" (Nadar), 63, 69; fig. 60
Mansurov, Pavel, 144
Mount Airy Lodge, advertisement for 203"
Marinetti, Filippo, 84, 85, 240
fig. 221
Marmer, Nancy, 224
movies, 127, 142, 221
Marxism, 164-69
Muller, Charles, 103
Marxist Quarterly
Murphy, Gerald, 127
title page, 166; fig. 192
Razor, 120; fig. 113
Mashkov, Ilia
music, folk, 126
Loaves, 145
music, popular, 126-27
Self-Portrait with Petr Konchalovsky, music halls, 83-106, 174
138; fig. 149
Music in the Tuileries (Manet), 67; fig.
mass media, 179, 199-200, 205-8 66
McCollum, Allan, 208
Mz 151. Wenzel Kind (Knave Child)
McCracken, John
(Schwitters), 173; fig. 197
Don't Tell Me When to Stop, 228; fig
225
McHale, John, 201
Nadar (Gaspar Felix Tournachon)
Icehead, 195; fig. 214
"Mossieu Reac," 63, 69; fig. 60
Machine-Made America II, 195; fig. 215 naturalism, 20-21
medal
nature, 53-54
of Innocent XI, 34; fig. 39
"Nautical Rope and Mirror" (anon.), 125;
of Pius V, 35; fig. 40
fig. 136
Meeting, The (Courbet), 63; fig. 59 Naville, Pierre, 240
Meierkhold, Vsevolod, 150
Neo-Nationalism, 136
Mencken, H. L., 240
Neo-Primitivism, 143
Menkov, Mikhail
Neutra, Richard, 221
Tram No. 6, 147
New Brutalism, 195-96
Mettsger Corporation, advertisement for Newman, Barnett, 177
photography, 147; fig. 176
newspaper costume, 93; fig. 96
Michelangelo, 24, 26-27
newspapers, 55-56, 64-69, 87-89, 92-
Creation of the Sun and Moon (Sistine
97, 101, 104-5, 121-22, 139, 148-
Chapel), 27; fig. 28 49
The Fall of Phaeton, 23; fig. 13 New York, 127
Sonnet about the Sistine Ceiling, 27; fig
Nights of Penelope, The (Daumier), 71 fig
27
70
Wall Drawings (workshop of), 26; fig
Notre Avenir est dans I'Air (Picasso), 96,
26
125; fig. 98
Mignon, picture postcard of (sent by
Nouveau Siecle, Le, personified in a revue,
Braque), 126; fig. 139 93; fig. 95
Oldenburg, Claes, 122, 179 Ma Jolie (Woman with a Zither or
Olitski, Jules, 161, 163, 180 Guitar), 83, 117; fig. 79
Olympia (Manet), 73; fig. 75 Notre Avenir est dans I Air, 96, 125; fig.
Orwell, George, 199 -7 98
"Ossian," 54 Portrait of a Girl, 122; fig. 125
The Restaurant, 122; fig. 126
Sheet of Music and Guitar, 86; fig. 85
Package of Quaker Oats, The (Gris), 121; sketchbook drawing of Jeanne Bloch,
fig. 120 86; fig. 83
paints, 124-25 sketchbook drawing of music hall
Paolo Giordano II, duke of Bracciano (after performers, 85; fig. 82
Bernini), 37; fig. 43 Souvenir du Havre, 125; fig. 137
Paolozzi, Eduardo, 198, 199, 202, 205 Spanish Still Life, 125; fig. 134
St. Sebastian No. 2, 195; fig. 213 Still Life with Biscuits, 121 ; fig. 122
Yours Till the Boys Come Home, 195; fig. Still Life with Chair Caning, 87, 125; fig.
212 88
Parallel of Life and Art exhibit, 196-97 Syphon, Glass, Newspaper and Violin,
Paralytic Woman (Gericault), 57 97, 101; fig. 102
Paris Fin de Regne (revue) Table with Bottle, Wineglass, and
impersonation of spectators, 98; fig. 104 Newspaper, 95; fig. 97
Parker, Dorothy, 240 Violin and Sheet Music, 86; fig. 86
parody, 70-75 Woman with a Mandolin, 126; fig. 140
Partisan Review (magazine), 164 picture plane, 118
cover, 164; fig. 189 picture publishing, 59-69
pasquinade, 31-32 pigs, 143
Pasquino (Lafreri), 31 ; fig. 34 Piper, The (Gericault), 57; fig. 50
Pasquino (Roman statue), 31 ; fig. 33 Pirosmanashvili, Niko, 143
Pater, Walter, 167 Sow and Piglets, 143, 144; fig. 160
Pellerin company, 60 Pius V, 34-35
penseurs (primitifs), 54 medal of, 35; fig. 40
Perelman, S. J., 240 plastic, 227
Petit Journal, Le (A. de Jallais), 89; fig. 89 poetry, 53, 148-49
Petrov-Vodkin, Kuzma, 143 Poggioli, Renato, 170
Still Life with Herring, 144; fig. 161 Polke, Sigmar, 205
Phaedra and Hippolytus (Guerin), 70 Pollock, Jackson, 173, 177, 178
Phillips, Peter, 194 Pompeii, graffiti from, 26; fig. 23
photography, 146, 196, 200-1 Pop Art, 117-28, 179, 193-208, 223-29
photomontage, 151 Pope Leo X as the Antichrist (Cranach), 22;
physiognomies, 23 fig. 10
Picabia, Francis, 240 Popova, Liubov, 137, 146, 150
Picasso, Pablo, 83-106, 120-22, 124— popular art, 19, 55-69, 135-52, 162,
27 167-70, 173-83, 201-8
Au Bon Marche, 97, 98, 101, 121; fig. Portrait of a Girl (Picasso), 122; fig. 125
100 Portrait of Cardinal Scipione Borghese
Bottle and Glass, 97, 98, 119; fig. 101 (Bernini), 24; fig. 18
Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glass, and Portrait of Gian Lorenzo Bernini (Leoni),
Newspaper, 96, 101, 102; fig. 99 24; fig. 14
Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glass, Guitar and Portrait of Sisinio Poli (Bernini), 24; fig. 17
Newspaper, 97, 101; fig. 103 Portrait of Tatlin (Larionov), 141
Bowl with Fruit, Violin, and Wineglass, Portrait of the Captain of the Papal Guard
101; fig. 108 of Pope Urban VIII (Bernini), 24; fig.
4 Gats: Plat del Dia, 122; fig. 127 16
Glass and Bottle of Bass, 103; fig. 111 portraiture, 23-26
Glass and Bottle of Suze, 92, 97; fig. 92 postcard
Guitar, 126; fig. 141 by G. Klucis, 151; fig. 188
Guitar, Sheet Music, and Glass, 87, 94, of Havre, sent by Picasso, 125; fig. 138
97, 101, 102, 103; fig. 87 of Mignon, sent by Braque, 126; fig.
Head of a Man with a Moustache, 121; 139
fig. 123 postcard art, 125-26, 151

2 5 1
 poster art, 149-51 Still Life with Carafe, 120; fig. 114
poster for Jeanne Bloch, 86; fig. 84 Rodchenko, Aleksandr, 138, 139, 142, 147,
postmodernism, 181 149-51
poststructuralism, 206 advertisement for galoshes, 150; fig. 184
Pougin, Arthur, 89 Ticket No. 7, 149; fig. 182
presentation drawing, 23 Wallpaper, 146
Prevert, Jacques, 240 Rogovin, Nikolai, 146
primitive art, 19, 59-63 Roman antiquity, 20, 31
printed images, 59-63 graffiti from, 26
Privalova, Antonina, 142 Romanesque style, 20-21
profile, 24 Romanticism, 53-54
Profile of Innocent XI (attrib. Bernini), 32, Rome, 36
33; fig. 35 Room (Rozanova), 146
propaganda, 151 Rosenberg, Harold, 166, 224
Puni, Ivan Rosenblum, Robert, 87
Baths, 146 Rothko, Mark, 177, 223
Hairdresser, 146 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 53
Washing Windows, 146; fig. 171 Royaume du Calembour, Le (T. Coginard),
puns, 87-88, 90-91, 93-96, 98-100, 90; fig. 90
105, 118 Rozanova, Olga, 138, 143
Pygmalion (Daumier), 71; fig. 69 Barbershop, 146
Room, 146
Untitled (collage) (attrib.), 146; fig. 174
quality, 180, 183 Work box, 146; fig. 175
Rubens, Peter Paul
Suzanna in the Bath, 73
Raft of the Medusa (Gericault), 55, 57 Rubin, William, 117
Rauschenberg, Robert, 117, 118, 161, Runge, Philipp Otto, 53
163, 179, 180, 203, 224 Ruscha, Edward, 223, 226, 227
Rayism, 144 Annie, 222; fig. 224
Rayist Garden (Goncharova), 141 Ruskin, John, 241
Razor (G. Murphy), 120; fig. 113 Russian modernism, 135-52
realists, 67 Russian Revolution, 149-52
reform, social, 37 R'vu . . . u ... el. La (Daniel), 100; fig.
Reinhardt, Ad 107
"How to Look at a Cubist Painting,"
177; fig. 203
"How to Look Out," 177; fig. 204 Saenredam, Pieter
Renaissance, 21-38 Interior of the Buurkerk at Utrecht, 27;
Renoir, Auguste, 59 figs. 29, 30
Repin, I. Y., 162 St. Peter's Cathedral, 34
Rerikh (Roerich), Nikolai, 136 St. Sebastian No. 2 (Paolozzi), 195; fig.
Restaurant, The (Picasso), 122; fig. 126 213
Return from Russia (Gericault), 56; fig. 49 Salmon, Andre, 104-5
revolution, 165-66 Salon art, 61, 69-71
Revolution of 1830, 60 Sapunov, Nikolai, 140
Revolution of 1848, 63 Satie, Erik, 241
revue (French theater), 88-106 satire, social, 22, 28-32, 36-38, 69
Revue de I'Ambigu, La (D. Bonnaud), 103; Sausage and Mackerel (Larionov), 144; fig.
fig. 110 162
impersonation of performers, 100; fig. Schapiro, Meyer, 62, 166, 172
106 Schindler, Raymond, 221
Revue de I'Olympia, La (H. Delorme), 101; Schwartz, Delmore, 163
fig. 109 Schwitters, Kurt, 149, 173
Richter, Gerhard, 205 Mz 151. Wenzel Kind (Knave Child), 173;
Rimbaud, Arthur, 241 fig. 197
"Rip" and Bosquet, 103 science fiction, 196
Rivera, Diego sculpture, 24, 31-32
The Alarm Clock, 120; fig. 115 Section d'or, 241

252
Self-Portrait with Petr Konchalovsky Sow and Piglets (N. Pirosmanashvili), 143,
(Mashkov), 138; fig. 149 144; fig. 160
Senkin, Sergei, 149, 151 Spanish Still Life (Picasso), 125; fig. 134
Seurat, Georges, 128, 174 Spartan Boys and Girls Exercising (Degas),
Le Chahut, 174; fig. 199 72; fig. 73
Severini, Gino Spender, Stephen, 163
Still Life: Quaker Oats, 121; fig. 121 Spengler, Oswald, 170
sexual emancipation, 142 sporting art, 57-58
sexual puns, 87, 99 Stalinism, 166
sgrafitto decorations (Palazzo Bartolini- Start of the Barberi Race, The (Gericault),
Salimbeni), 26; fig. 25 58; fig. 53
Shapiro, Jasia S., 200 State Councillor's Love (film)
Shaw, Charles, 128 advertisement for, 150; fig. 186
sheet music, 86-88 Stein, William
Sheet of Music and Guitar (Picasso), 86; "Who Am I?" (cartoon), 174; fig. 201
fig. 85 "Whoever Wants the Answer Must Come
Shevchenko, Aleksandr, 135, 137, 139, to Me" (cartoon), 174; fig. 200
141, 144 Stella, Frank, 228
Black Still Life, 145 Stenberg, Georgii and Vladimir, 150
Signboard Still Life: Wine and Fruit, 145; Stepanova, Varvara, 135, 149-51
fig. 164 Gaust-Chaba, 148; fig. 181
Venus, 141; fig. 155 Still, Clyfford, 177, 223
Woman Ironing, 145; fig. 170 still life, 119-21
Shterenberg, David Still Life on a Table: Gillette (Braque), 119;
Still Life with Lamp and Herring, 144 fig. 112
"Signboard advertising fish" (Russian), 146; Still Life: Quaker Oats (Severini), 121; fig.
fig. 172 121
signboard art, 59, 122, 144-46 Still Life with Biscuits (Picasso), 121; fig.
Signboard of a Farrier (Gericault), 55; fig. 122
46 Still Life with Carafe (Rivera), 120; fig. 114
"Signboard of woman ironing" (Russian), Still Life with Chair Caning (Picasso), 87,
145; fig. 169 125; fig. 88
"Signboard representing a ham" (Russian), Still Life with Ham (Goncharova), 145; fig.
145; fig. 165 166
Signboard Still Life: Wine and Fruit Still Life with Herring (K. Petrov-Vodkin),
(Shevchenko), 145; fig. 164 144; fig. 161
Simultaneous Death of a Man in an Still Life with Lamp and Herring
Airplane and on the Railroad (Shterenberg), 144
(Malevich), 147 Still Life with Loaves (Konchalovsky), 145
"simultaneous dress" (S. Delaunay), 83; fig. Still Life with Plaque (Gris), 125; fig. 135
78 Still Life with Tenora (Braque), 126; fig.
Sistine Chapel, 26-27 143
Skuie, I. A., 139 Stravinsky, Igor, 127
Sleepers, The (Courbet), 67; fig. 64 Suetin, Nikolai, 147
Smith, David, 4 78 design for tram panel, 147; fig. 177
Smithson, Alison, 192 Suprematism, 147, 148
Smithson, Peter, 192 Suprematist Composition: Red Square and
Smoker, The (Gris), 123; fig. 131 Black Square (Malevich), 172; fig. 194
social class, 168-70, 181-83 Surrealism, 163, 164, 173, 178
socialism, 164-66, 182-83 Suzanna in the Bath (Rubens), 73
Socialist Realism, 151-52 Syphon, The (Leger), 120; fig. 117
Soldier of the First Division (Malevich), 141 Syphon and Bottles (Gris), 120; fig. 116
Soldier Relaxing (Larionov), 141 Syphon, Glass, Newspaper and Violin
songs, popular, 83-84, 86-88, 117 (Picasso), 97, 101; fig. 102
Sonnet about the Sistine Ceiling
(Michelangelo), 27; fig. 27
Southern California, 219-29 Table with Bottle, Wineglass, and 2
Souvenir du Havre (Picasso), 125; fig. Newspaper (Picasso), 95; fig. 97 ^
137 Tailor (Malevich), 146; fig. 173 X

2 5 3
 Talashkino retreat, 136 Vasnetsov, Viktor, 136
tango, 142 Vasnetsov, Yurii, 144
Tatlin, Vladimir, 136, 137, 140, 144, 147 Venus (Larionov), 141; fig. 154
"costume for a pipe player," 140; fig. Venus (Shevchenko), 141; fig. 155
151 Venus of Urbino (Titian), 73; fig.
illustration for Maiakovsky poem, 144; 76
fig. 163 Vernet, Carle, 55
tattooing, 141 The Lithographic Print Shop of F.
Taylor, Paul, 207 Delpech, 66; fig. 62
Teaboy Beating Hephestion and Grey Falcon Vernet, Horace, 56
at Epsom (anon, etching), 58; fig. 52 Vesnin, Alexander, 150
technology, 117, 119-21, 167-68 Villa of Good Fortune (Olynthus)
Teikhman's advertisement for insulation, mosaic depicting Achilles, Thetis, and
150; fig. 185 Nereids, 19; fig. 1
Telingater, Solomon, 149, 151 mosaics with inscriptions and symbols,
Tenisheva, Maria, 136 19; fig. 2
theater, 140-42 Villon, Jacques
This Is Tomorrow exhibit, 193-95, 198 sheet-music illustration, 99; fig. 105
installation by Hamilton, McHale, and Viltard, Emile, illustrated as "compere de
Voelcker, 193; fig. 208 revues," 93; fig. 93
installation by Henderson, Paolozzi, the Violin and Sheet Music (Picasso), 86; fig.
Smithsons, 193; fig. 209 86
Ticket No. I (Rodchenko), 149; fig. 182 Vuillard, Edouard, 128
Titian vulgarity, 178-79
Venus of Urbino, 73; fig. 76
top hats, 145-46
Torero, The (Gris), 124
Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri de, 59, 128, 174 Walk in a Provincial Town (Larionov), 143
Tram No. 6 (Menkov), 147 Wall Drawings (workshop of Michelangelo),
trams, 147 26; fig. 26
Travies de Villers, Charles-Joseph, 68 Wallis, Brian, 199
Liard, The Philosophical Rag-Picker, 63; wallpaper, 146
fig. 57 Wa//paper (Rodchenko), 146
trompe I'oeil, 125 Walter Benjamin (portrait) (G. Freund),
Trotsky, Leon, 164 164; fig. 190
Turnbull, William, 195, 198 Wandering Jew, 62-63
Two Nude Women Asleep (anon, etching), Wandering Jew, The (anon, woodcut), 63;
67; fig. 63 fig. 58
Tyler, Dread Scott, 183 Warhol, Andy, 117, 119, 120, 179, 206,
typography in art, 87-88, 92-95, 118, 225
148 advertisement for I. Miller Shoes, 203;
Tzara, Tristan, 241 fig. 218
Gold Marilyn Monroe, 178; fig. 206
Large Coca-Cola, 203; fig. 219
Untitled (collage) (attrib. Rozanova), 146; Warshow, Robert, 180
fig. 174 Washing Windows (Puni), 146; fig. 171
Untitled (Composition) (Miro), 173; fig. 198 Waugh, Evelyn, 199
Untitled Wall Relief (C. Kauffman), 222; Wedekind, Frank, 241
fig. 223 West, Nathanael, 220
urban folklore, 144-46 "Who Am I?" (Steig), 174; fig. 201
urban life, 136-39 "Whoever Wants the Answer Must Come
Urban VIII (Bernini), 26; fig. 24 to Me" (Steig), 174; fig. 200
Woman at a Poster Column (Malevich),
142; fig. 156
Valentine, DeWaine, 222, 227 Woman at a Tram Stop (Malevich), 147
van Laer, Pieter Woman Ironing (Shevchenko), 145; fig.
Artists' Tavern in Rome, 28; fig. 31 170
Various Subjects Drawn from Life and on Woman with a Mandolin (Picasso), 126;
Stone (Gericault), 57 fig. 140

254
woodcuts, 59-63 Young, Edward, 53
Woollcott, Alexander, 241 Yours Till the Boys Come Home (Paolozzi),
Wordsworth, William, 53 195; fig. 212
Workbox (Rozanova), 146; fig. 175
World War II, 163-66
Wright, Frank Lloyd, 220, 221 Zdanevich, Ilia, 141-43
Wyeth, Andrew, 161, 163, 183 Li-Dantiu Faram, 148; fig. 179

255
 ILLUSTRATIONS

IN THE CAPTIONS,
DIMENSIONS ARE GIVEN HEIGHT FIRST.

DIMENSIONS FOR WORKS ON PAPER ARE FOR

THE ENTIRE SHEET, UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED.

DRAWINGS AND PAPIER COLLES ARE ON PAPER

UNLESS ANOTHER SUPPORT IS SPECIFIED.

WHEN DATES FOR WORKS OF ART ARE IN DOUBT,

THE INFORMATION IS IN BRACKETS.
 IRVING LAVIN

HIGH AND LOW

BEFORE THEIR TIME

1 . Villa of Good Fortune,Olynthus.Early4th cen

tury b.c. Pebblemosaic with a representationof
Achilles, Thetis and Nereids,c. 19' 8" x 9' 10"
(c. 600 x 300 cm)

2 . Villa of Good Fortune, Olynthus. Eutychia

mosaic.Early4th century b.c. Pebblemosaicswith
inscriptionsand symbols, including double axe,
swastika, and wheel of fortune. Dimensions
unavailable

3 . HouseA xi 9, Olynthus. Early4th century b.c.

Pebble mosaics with various symbols, including
/s"(600
1 swastikaand double axe. 19' 8W' x 9' 10
x 800 cm)
4 . « 5 . Front and side views of an altar from Epidaurus.Late 4th century
b.c. NationalArcheologicalMuseum,Athens
 6. Arch of Constantine, Rome.315. Medallions
and frieze on north side, with medallions of
Hadrian(117-138)

7. South portal, La Celle-Bruere.12th century.

Twofighting figures; relief signed by Frotoardus

te
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pis
2
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p.-. ~^®Sp v.
 8 . Gian LorenzoBernini.Caricatureof PopeInno
/ie"
3 cent XI. c. 1676-80. Pen and ink, AV2 x 7
(11.4 x 18.2 cm). Museum der bildenden Kunste,
Leipzig

8mrtW!i
V< "^1
J

m
9 . Attributed to Annibale Carracci.Headsand a
Figure,c. 1595. Penand brown ink over someblack
/s"(17.2
5 chalk, with brown wash, 6% x 4 x 11.7
cm).Windsor Castle,RoyalLibrary,no. 1928

Tbtticbiifb'*
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*#'mfc$pff£» tortiaq » .
2>er»<tpflm4«Jglc?cfo meberfyffhrtyttmmbcrtey0erift
1 . LucasCranach. PopeLeoX as the Antichrist.
Woodcut. From PassionalChristi und Antichristi,
feyrttfyi&frwt
vfft>a& fcffro(flicker
wufr?gcfralt
nid?tgcmwi
1521. Reprinted,D. G. Kaweran,ed. (Berlin,1885),
tetttmbec. cenftontitmio>c*6*bif*
ill. 19. Princeton University Libraries, Princeton,
®er25<tpftiftaUm»0Ufmvnbrqcl?m
New Jersey
gottenJcfytmrio22, C if
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ct tnn h*c fclevrteytlii nsfusin:afnt circuit,i fratisfnftr* f;.illinacei, perdices, & coturnices; qiucfere fimilemnafum
Jtciet <(>rimtHr>cumhttmMo .tJeittjmtJifornumcjjiy.jo, infij labent.Cumcnimfcmin.xouis iucubant.marcsdimicantpu-
Jtj. rtbendo. gnauique inter fe conferunt.quosccclibesvocant, qui victus
i>i pugna foerit,vi&oris Vencrcm patitur,necniliafuovi-
dfcoreVubigitur,exAriftotele:& miiltos amicoscognouieiuf-
modi nafo praeditos, huic cnormi luxurix gencri obnoxios.
Fingunt Poccx Iouem aquilx forma Ganymedemrapuille,
fubtali figmentoid fortaile innuentcs.ALlianus etiam icluieu-
monem huic turpitudiniobnoxium dixit. Tali nafo Satyri
& Silcni ab antiquis effigiati funt, & tali nafo etiam Socra
tes ipfe prxditus hiit.nam Xenophoa Socratcm Silcnislir.ii-
lem hiiflc, & preffisnaribus fcribit.
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monicis; Qui nafutn concauum habcnt, ante frontemrottrn-
dum , & fupereminentera rotundum , luxuriofi funt , & ad
galk>srefcruntur. Nos , cum ciufmodi nafumignoriremas,
turn Ariftotelici textus corruptione, turn interprets tranfla-
tione , gallosconfuluimus,atque diligenti eorum infpeft io-
ne, ita textu & fenfumverbis accommodauimus,habet cnim
gallinaceusgallus ante frontem in confiniovallecuiamquan-
dam, vel incauum quoddam, & parseanafi ante frontem ro
tunda, & inde frons a nafo ad capillorum radicem,velut cir-
culi circumferentia eft.Vt verba textus tranflatadicant:Qui
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tundas, cifcur ferentiam vero fupra aflurgentem ,&c.hos
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i i . Leonardo da Vinci. A Group of Five Gro

/ie"
1 tesqueHeads,c.1494. Penand ink, 10V4 x 8
(26 x 20.5 cm).Windsor Castle, RoyalLibrary,no.
12495r

1 2 . Physiognomical types. Woodcuts. From

Giambattistadella Porta, De humana physiog-
nomia (Vico Equense, 1586; reprinted, Rouen,
1650), pp.116f. Princeton University Libraries,
Princeton,New Jersey

1 3. Michelangelo. The Fall of Phaeton. 1533.

/ie"(41.3 Blackchalk, 16V4x 9
3 x 23.4 cm).Wind
sorCastle,RoyalLibrary,no. 12766
 1 4 . Ottavio Leoni.Portrait of Gian LorenzoBer
nini. 1622. Red and black chalk heightenedwith
/i6"
11 white, 9V* x 6 (23.5 x 17 cm). Biblioteca
Marucelliana,Florence,vol. H.I, fol. 15

1 S . Gian LorenzoBernini.Caricatureof Cardinal

Scipione Borghese. 1632. Pen and ink on paper,
/3s"
7ie 10 x 7 (27.4 x 20 cm). Biblioteca Apos-
tolica Vaticana,VaticanCity, MS Chigi P VI 4 fol
15

1 6. Left: Anonymous. Caricature of Don Vir-

ginio Orsini (copy of an original by Gian Lorenzo
Bernini) n.d. Right: Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Portrait
of the Captain of the Papal Guard of Pope Urban
/3i6"(18.8
1s VIII. Before 1644. Penand ink, 7 x 10
x 25.6 cm). Istituto Nazionale per la Grafica,
Rome.FondoCorsini127521 (579)

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f «*

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 1 7. Gian Lorenzo Bernini.Portrait of SisinioPoli. 1638. Blackand
/5ie"
7i6 red chalk with white heightening, 10 x 8 (26.2 x 21.5 cm).
The PierpontMorgan Library,New York,no. IV,174

1 B . Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Portrait of CardinalScipioneBorghese.

1632.Redchalkand graphite,9% x 7Va"(25.2 x 18.4 cm).The Pier
pont Morgan Library,New York,no. IV, 176
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1 9 . Albrecht Durer.Drawing in letter to Willibald Pirckheimer(detail). 1506. Stadtbibliothek,Nuremberg,Pirckh,394,:

ZD. Erasmus of Rotterdam. Manuscript page.

Before 1524. Universitatsbibliothek,Basel,Mscr.C
Via 68, p.146

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 2 1 . Leonardoda Vinci (?). Drawing of headsand
/14 profiles,c. 1507. Red and black chalk, 11 x
" 7y,6 (28.6 x 18 cm). RoyalLibrary,Windsor Cas
tle,no. 12673v

2 2 . GiovanniFrancescoCaroto. Boy with Drawing, c. 1540. Oil on

/9ie"
7 ie panel, 14 x 11 (37 x 29 cm). Museo del Castelvecchio,
Verona

2 3 . Ancient graffiti on the walls of buildings at Romeand Pompeii

 2 4 Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Urban VIII. c. 1630. Black and red chalk wall drawiro
%W(61 (much restored),24 x 14 x 37 cm).Villa della Maddalena,Muccia

2 S . Sgraffito decorations.Courtyard, PalazzoBartolini-Salimbeni,Florence

 6 'Jvt*

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Z G . Michelangeloand assistants.WallDrawings,c. 1530. Charcoal 2 7 . Michelangelo.Sonnetabout the SistineCeiling. 1511-17. Pen
on plaster.New Sacristy,SanLorenzo,Florence and ink. Archivio Buonarotti,Florence,vol. XIII,fol. 111

28. Michelangelo. Creation of the Sun and Moon (detail). 1508-12.

Fresco.VaticanPalace,SistineChapel,VaticanCity
 2 9 . Pieter Saenredam.Interior of the Buurkerk
/ie
11 at Utrecht. 1644. Oil on oak panel, 23 x 193/4"
(60.1 x 50.1 cm).The NationalGallery,London

3 . PieterSaenredam.Interior of the Buurkerkat Utrecht, (detail)

/ie"
3 3 1 . Pietervan Laer.Artists Tavernin Rome.c. 1630. Penwith brown ink and brown wash, 8 x 10
(20.3 x 25.8 cm). StaatlicheMuseen PreussischerKulturbesitz, Kupferstichkabinett,EastBerlin,no. Kd2
 3 2 . Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Bust of Cardinal Scipione Borghese.
/i6"(78
11 1532. Marble, 30 cm) high. BorgheseGallery Rome

3 3 . Pasquino.Copy of a mid-3rd century b.c. original. Marble,

/ie"
9 6' 3 (192 cm) high. Piazzadi Pasquino,Rome

34. Antonio Lafreri. Pasquino.1550. Engraving.From Speculum

romanaemagnificentlae.The BeineckeRareBook and ManuscriptLi
brary,YaleUniversity New Haven,Conn.
. SPIEGEL VAN EEN SALIGHE DOODT. ?9 Print,

3 5 . Gian LorenzoBernini(?).Profile of Innocent

/i XI. 1676-80. Red chalk, 7Vi x 513 s" (19.1 x
14.8 cm). Istituto Nazionaleper la Grafica, Rome,
FondoCorsini127535(578)

3 6 . Romeynde Hooghe. TheDeath of Morlens.

Engraving.FromDavidDe la Vigne,SpiegelVanEen
SaaligheDoodt (Antwerp, 1673?), p. 39. The New
YorkPublicLibrary.Astor,Lenoxand Tilden Founda
tions. SpencerCollection

lefts metluyderfiemroepende
, Vaderin utvehandenbeTseleickmynen<W? Will
metghelotghden
hooftfjnengeeftghegbelven.
Luc. 23, ^ ' ||
Gelyckde laeftewoordenChrifti dicnden,ora fynengecftaen fyncnVader||
te be\ elen, ioo moet oockden Kranckenin't uyterftc fvn zielaen hem
bevelen,om die t'ontfanghenin de armen fynergoddelyckeghenade. II
<L
Aenfieten doet finer dit Voor-keldt.
3 7 . Gian LorenzoBernini.BeataLudovicaAlber-
tom. 1671-74. Marble,over life-size.SanFrancisco
a Ripa,Altieri Chapel, Rome
 3 8 . Tombof Erardde la Marck(formerly in Liege,
Cathedral).1528. Engraving.FromJ.J.Boissard,Ro-
I cardinally marca:
I hoc wumumctttutn, | manaeurbis topographiaeet antiquitatum, part IV,
I quod hie loco Titulj I
Iponitvr, Lcodrj in cho| tome II (Frankfurt, 1597-1602), title page
j ro S,Lamport j ex
I oricnalto deau - I
raio Jibj j

/ie"
/9ie" 39. Medal of Innocent XI with PiusV on the reverse.1676-89. 1 (3.9 cm). 4 . Medal of PiusV. 1571. 19 (4 cm).Trustees
Trustees
of the BritishMuseum, London of the BritishMuseum, London
 4 2 . Title page, Carmina apposita Grillo Mono-
culo: ad Pasqulllu(Rome,1526)

jCstrmi'iiaappofita^ilfo
tl&onocalorad
iPafquilfu

4 I . HieronymusBosch(shop of HieronymusCock),c. 1150-70. Drollery.Engrav

ing, 11% x 8V2"(29.5 x 21.6 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
ElishaWhittelsey Collection; ElishaWhittelsey Fund, 1960, no. 60.576.6

4 3 . Anonymous.Bustof PaoloGiordanoII, Duke

of Bracciano(copy after a model of 1632 by Gian
"
/8
5 Lorenzo Bernini),c.1635. Marble, 34 (88 cm)
high. CastleOrsini-Odescalchi,Bracciano
 LORENZ EITNER

SUBJECTS FROM COMMON LIFE

IN THE REAL LANGUAGE OF MEN

'/•ft

44. TheodoreGericault. Sketchfor The Charging Chasseur.1812.

/1l
3/i6
4" Oilon paper,mounted on canvas,20 x 15 (52.5 x 40 cm).
Museedu Louvre,Paris

tty/t'/f/' dh/ ( /ttfJJftfji/ r// /<f F/r//'r/f > /v/

4 5 . Anonymous.ChargingChasseur,c. 1810. Coloredetching, im

/s"(18
7 age 7 x 4 x 12.3 cm). Privatecollection

4E. Theodore Gericault. Signboard of a Farrier,c. 1814. Oil on

/3i6
1 i6"(122 wooden panel,48 x 40 x 102 cm). KunsthausZurich
 47. Theodore Gericault. FuaidesDraggedinto
the Murder House. 1818, Penand wash, m x
/i6"(18.3
5 9 x 25,2 cm). Presentwhereabouts un
known. Formerlycollection Duede Trevise,Paris

1 B . SebastienCoeure.FuaidesDragged into the Murder House. 1818. Lithograph,dimensionsunavailable.Privatecollection

St.
1
 49. Theodore Gericault. Return from Russia,c. 1818. Lithograph
/i6"(33.5
3i6 : printed in two tones, image 13 x 10 x 25.9 cm). Delteil
13. StanfordUniversityMuseumof Art. Gift of the Committeefor Art
at Stanford

SO. Theodore Gericault. The Piper. 1821. Litho

/ie"
3 graph,image 12% x 9 (31.5 x 23.3 cm). Delteil
30. Stanford University Museum of Art. Mortimer
c. LeventrittFund
 S I . Theodore Gericault. The Epsom Downs
Derby. 1821. Oil on canvas,36 Vi x 4874"(92x
122.5 cm). Museedu Louvre,Paris

5 2 . Anonymous. Teaboy Beating Hephestion

and GreyFalconat Epsom. 1801. Coloredetching,
/2
1 image 3 x 6" (8.8 x 15.4 cm). Privatecollection

5 3 . TheodoreGericault. TheStart of the Barberi

Race.1817. Oil on paper,mounted on canvas,Wk
"(45
,/2 x 23 x 60 cm). Museedu Louvre,Paris
54. GustaveCourbet.A Burialat Ornans.1850. Oil on canvas,10' 4" x 21' 11" (315 x 668 cm). Museed'Orsay,Paris

5 S . F.Georgin.LesDegresdes Ages. 1826. Hand-coloredwoodcut, dimensionsunavailable.PellerinCollection,Epinal

 L'APQTRE JIAN JOUBNET
yv %%vLx cvrujtiiu Oc am xlTt.-

5 B . GustaveCourbet. TheApostle JeanJournet

Setting Out on the Conquestof UniversalHarmony. XSL&aUB
,
/ie
7
1 1850. Lithograph, image 9 x 6 Vie"(24 x 17 . 1
cm). Stanford UniversityMuseum of Art. Museum
PurchaseFund s 7 . Charles-Joseph Traviesde Villers.Liard, ThePhilosophicalRag-
"(25
6 Picker.1834. Lithograph,image9% x 9y, x 23 cm).Stanford
UniversityMuseum of Art. Museum PurchaseFund 6,
Re
Me

5B. Anonymous. The WanderingJew. c. 1820.

Hand-coloredwoodcut. Reproducedasthe frontis
piece to Champfleury (Jules Fleury), Histoire de
I'imageriepopulaire, Paris,1869

6 S 9 . GustaveCourbet. TheMeeting. 1854. Oil on canvas,50'y, x 58W (129

x 149 cm). Musee Fabre,Montpellier
 II ne neglige pas d'ajouier, aupies des paysans,
que les republicans sont tous des parlngeux ,
qui veulent tout en commun, meme les pay-
sannes,

60. Nadar(Gaspar FelixTournachon)."Mossieu

Reac."Wood engraving. From La RevueComique,
May1849

G 1 . Constantin Guys. Attempted Assassination

of the Queen of Spain in the Long Galleryof the
RoyalPalace,Madrid, February2, 1852. 1852. Pen
with ink and wash. 9% x 9W' (25 x 23.5 cm).
Stanford University Museum of Art. Mortimer
c. Leventritt Fund
M.BUM

G Z . CarleVernet. TheLithographicPrint Shopof

:A F. Delpech. 1818. Lithograph, image 6 x 9V2"
(17 x 24.5 cm). Stanford UniversityMuseum of
Art. Museum PurchaseFund
/s
7 63 . Anonymous. Two Nude Women Asleep, c. 1840. Etching, 6 x 9" (17 x 22.7 cm). Private
collection

/s""
1
A
3 6 4 . GustaveCourbet. TheSleepers.1866. Oil on canvas,53 x 6' 6 (135 x 200 cm).Villede
Paris,Museedu Petit Palais,Paris
 G5 . GustaveDore. Afternoon in the Garden of
theTuileries (originallytitled Promenadesaux Tui
leries,la grande allee de deux heures a quatre).
Woodengraving.From Le Journal pour rire, April
1849

B B . EdouardManet. Music in the Tuileries.1862. <C Stmu #f r»8iE»8* pail* 8Ht[

/2"(76.2
1 Oilon canvas,30 x 46 x 118.1 cm).The
NationalGallery,London

B 7 . Anonymous. Caricatureof Paintingsin the

Salonof 1848. Wood engraving. From Le Journal
pourrire, April 1848
 6 8 . Grandville(J.-l.-l.Gerard).Mile Leucothoein the Roleof Phae
dra. Hand-coloredwood engraving.From UnAutre Monde, 1844

70. Honore Daumier.The Nights of Penelope,(from HistoireAn

/7ie
5 ie" cienne). 1842. Lithograph, image 9 x 7 (23.7 x 18.9cm).
Delteil 930. Stanford UniversityMuseum of Art. Museum Purchase
Fund

69. Honore Daumier.Pygmalion (from Histoire Ancienne). 1841.

/s"
3 Lithograph,image 9% x 8 (25 x 21.2 cm). Delteil 971. Stanford
UniversityArt Museum. Museum PurchaseFund
 A 7 1 . Honore Daumier.Clytemnestra.1850. Lithograph, image 93 72. Pierre Guerin. Clytemnestra Contemplating the Murder of
1s"
52"(24.8
/15
/i6"(342 x8 x 21.7 cm). Delteil 1980. Privatecollection Agamemnon. 1817. Oil on canvas,11' 2 x 10' 7 x 325
cm). Museedu Louvre,Paris

/s
7 7 3 . EdgarDegas.SpartanBoysand GirlsExercising,c. 1860-62; reworked until 1880. Oil on canvas,42 x 61"
(109 x 155 cm).The NationalGallery,London
 7 4 . Jacques-Louis
David. TheIntervention of the
15
/i6" SabineWomen. 1799. Oil on canvas,12' 7 x
/4"(386
3 17' x 520 cm). Museedu Louvre,Paris

7 5 . EdouardManet. Olympia. 1863. Oil on can

/s"
3
/i6"
13 vas, 51 x 6' 2 (130.5 x 190 cm). Musee
d'Orsay,Paris

7 E . Titian. Venusof Urbino. 1538. Oil on canvas,

47 x 65" (119.4 x 165.1 cm). Uffizi Gallery,
Florence
 JEFFREY 5. WEI55

PICASSO, COLLAGE,

AND THE MUSIC HALL

7 7 . Armand Berthezasa Cubist painter in the revueEt Voila! by RobertDieudonne,

performedat the Theatredes Capucinesin fall 1911. FromLe Theatre,December[I],
1911,p. 24. BibliothequeNationale,Paris

PVT.

7 8 . Sonia Delaunayin a "simultaneousdress"of

her own design, which she wore to the Bal Bulier.
1913. FromMontjoie!, April-June,1914, p. 24
 EXCELSIOR

Attractions
Une des chansons de Fragson
a I'Alhambra
Un air delicieusement prenant dont les or-
chestres de tziganes ont fait la vogue et que
tout Paris fredonne, cl'exquises paroles pou-
vant etre chantees par tout le nionde. un ar-

Ma-non, ma j© - lie. Mow cmnr tc dit

jour? rout nous, Ie* V/\ ros jmtenl ma mie tcur ©titiNsowera

7 9 . Pablo Picasso. Ma Jolie (Woman with a

Zither or Guitar). Paris,winter, 1911-12. Oil on doit- m i© ft t> • sow £ eou le lap dono £ $tm » Ik
/4"(100
3s canvas,39 x 25 x 65.4 cm). Daix430.
The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Acquired
through the Lillie P BlissBequest doit©* m tre pre ttm - re thaw » t»on

tiste merveilleux qui la detaille avec un art

unique : voila ce qui explique le sucees qu'ob-
tient Fragson tons les soirs a TAlhambra dans
la romance Dcrntcre chanson, La musique est
8 t . The ma jolie refrain from "Dernierechanson" by Harry Fragson,as it a
in Excelsior,October 5, 1911, p. 9. BibliothequeHistoriquede la Ville de Paris

8 . Harry Fragson on the occasion of his en

gagement at the Alhambra music hall in October
1911. From Comoediaillustre, October 1, 1911,
p. 27. The NewYorkPublicLibraryat LincolnCenter.
Astor,Lenoxand Tilden Foundations.BillyRoseThe
atre Collection
/4"
1 82. PabloPicasso.Sketchbook drawing. 1901-02. Pencilon paper, 5Va x 8
(13x 21 cm).Carnet 102, p. 19V.Musee Picasso,Paris

83. PabloPicasso.Sketchbookdrawing. 1901-

02.Pencilon paper,5Vax 8V4"(13 x 21 cm).Car-
net102,p. 41V. Musee Picasso,Paris

a 4 . LudovicGalice.Posterfor JeanneBlochat La
Scalamusichall. 1890s. Museede la Publicite,Paris
 B 5 . PabloPicasso.Sheetof Music and Guitar.Paris,autumn 1912.
Pastedpapers.Dimensionsunavailable.Daix 521. SuccessionPicasso

B 7 . Pablo Picasso.Guitar,SheetMusic, and Glass.Paris,afterNo

/7s vember 18, 1912. Pasted paper, gouache, and charcoal, 18 x
/s"(47.9
3 14 x 36.5 cm). Daix 513. Marion Koogler McNayArtMu
seum, SanAntonio. Bequestof Marion KooglerMcNay

8B . Pablo Picasso.Still Life with Chair Caning. Paris,[May] 1912

Collageof oil, oilcloth, and pastedpaper on canvas(oval),surrounded
/54"(27
3s by rope, 10 x 13 x 35 cm). Daix466. MuseePicasso, Paris

BE. Pablo Picasso.Violin and Sheet Music. Autumn 1912. Papers

1
/ie"
13 pastedon the lid of a cardboardbox, 30 !/ie x 24 (78 x 63 cm).
Daix519. Musee Picasso,Paris
 8 9 . Posterfor the revueLe PetitJournalby A. de
Jallaisand Naze,performed at the Theatre-Dejazet
in October 1864. From Robert Dreyfus,Petite His-
toire de la revue de fin d'annee (Paris, 1909),
p. XXVII.Bibliothequede I'Arsenal,Paris
[liaiTE

LE PETIT JOURNAL
Tlict m QltATKR ACTES ET BOOM TABLEAUX H0.XT VB MOLOSCt

Par MM. A. DE JALLAIS rt NAZE

REPRESS
NTLE POORLA PREMIERS.
fOIS, A PARIS
„ SB* LE THEATRE-
B&AZGT,
LE 20 0CT08RE<86*
umujm mvvtu 6 *>e m, eloErr dejaxet, — pRp.orsm m. — cmwats oessinEs par , execlTt s par

LE ROYAUME
DUCALEMBOUR
REVUEm L'ANSlsE189S, MfeEE BE CHANT,EN TBOISACTUSET BIX TABLEAUX
Bar MM TMEOIHIRt CM6S1ABO e< CIAIHVIUE
Ktnisunti foe* I a nnitac rois \ Paris, sup it ttitesn tsss pari Arts, If 8 BfcsstBK tSSS

9 O . Posterfor the revue Le Royaumedu Calembour by Theodore Coginard and

Clairville,performed at the TheatredesVarietesin 1855. From Robert Dreyfus,Petite
Histoirede la revuede fin d'annee (Paris,1909), p. XV.Bibliothequede IArsenal,Paris

9 1 . d'Ostoya.Coverof L'Assietteau beurre, December31, 1910. BibliothequeNa

tional, Paris
 9 2 . PabloPicasso.Glassand Bottle of Suze.Paris,after November18, 1912. Pasted
paper,gouache,and charcoal,25% x 19%"(65.4 x 50.1 cm). Daix523. Washington
UniversityGalleryof Art, St. Louis.Universitypurchase,KendeSaleFund, 1946

9 3 . EmileViltard, Comperede revues,"in 1855. From Robert Dreyfus,Petite His-

toire de la revue de fin d'annee (Paris,1909),frontispiece. Bibliothequede I'Arsenal,
Paris &MILEVILTAUD,
compare tie revues.
 Mile J. Dkmony

94. J. Demony as the magazine Comoedia il-

/usfreattheOlympiamusichall in winter 1908-09.
FromComoediaillustre, January15, 1909, p. 76.
Bibliotheque
Nationale,Paris

9 5 . Blondinette d'Alaza as the newspaper Le

NouveauSieclein La GrandeRevueby M. Millot and
L. Boyer,performed at the Olympia music hall in
spring 1910. From Le Nouveau Siecle, June 26,
1910, p. 1. BibliothequeNationale,Paris

9 E . Le Journal newspaper costume. From Le

Panorama, "Paris la nuit," no.1, c. 1900. Biblio
theque de I'Arsenal,Paris
 9 7 . Pablo Picasso.Tablewith Bottle, Wineglass,and Newspaper.Paris,afterDe- 11
/3s"
7s cember4, 1912. Pastedpaper,charcoal,and gouacheon paper,24 x 18 (62x Ja
48 cm).MuseeNationald'Art Moderne,CentreGeorgesPompidou,Paris.Gift of Henri ca
Laugier 55

9 8 . PabloPicasso.Notre Avenir est dans I'Air.Paris,spring 1912. Oil on ovalcanvas

/i6
11 framed with rope, 8 x 13" (22 x 33 cm). Daix465. SuccessionPicasso

fc
9 9 . Pablo Picasso.Bottle of Vieux Marc, Glass,and Newspaper.After March15, an
1913. Charcoaland pasted and pinned paper,24% x 19W (63 x 49 cm). Musee pa
Nationald Art Moderne, Centre GeorgesPompidou,Paris.Gift of Henri Laugier 62
 too. PabloPicasso.Au Bon Marche. Paris,after
January
25-26, 1913. Oil and pasted papers on
/i6"
3 cardboard,9Va x 12 (23.5 x 31 cm). Daix
557.LudwigCollection,Aachen

1 1 . Pablo Picasso.Bottle and Glass.Autumn-winter, 1912. Charcoal,graphite,

/s
3 and newsprint on paper,24 x I8V2" (62 x 47.1 cm). Daix 543. The Menil Collec
tion, Houston

102. Pablo Picasso.Syphon, Glass,Newspaper

and Violin. Paris,after December3, 1912. Pasted
/8"(47
5 papersand charcoalon paper,I8V2 x 24 x
62.5cm). Daix 528. Moderna Museet, Stockholm
 I 03 . PabloPicasso.Bottle of VieuxMarc, Glass,GuitarandNews
paper. Ceret, spring 1913. Pastedpapersand pen and ink drawing,
"3s(46.7
/8
5 18 x 24 x 62.5 cm). Daix604. TateGallery,London

FIGARO

I O 4 . Performersimpersonatingspectatorsin the revue ParisFin de RegnebyRip

and Bosquet,performed at the Theatredes Capucinesin winter 1912-13. FromCom-
oedia illustre, January20, 1913, p. 360. BibliothequeNationale,Paris
Zr44irpir
mi/m
Scan

1 O 5 . JacquesVillon. Cover illustration for the sheet music of the song "Collages"
by Gil and Gaston Maquis, 1898
 1 OB. The actor Mounet-Sully and the comic Dranem imperso
nated in LaRevuede I'Ambiguby DominiqueBonnaud,NumaBlesand
LucienBoyer,performed at the Theatrede I'Ambigu-Comiquein win
ter 1911-12. From Comoediaillustre, December15, 1911, p. 190.
The New YorkPublicLibraryat LincolnCenter.Astor,Lenoxand Tilden
Foundations.Billy RoseTheatreCollection

¥mmm
htm H

1 O 7 . "Madame Job" and "Louis XIV" in La R'vu ... u ... e! by

LeonDaniel,performed at the Boitea Fursyin February1913. FromLe
Music-Hall,February15, 1913, p. 7. BibliothequeNationale,Paris

JRNAL

1 8 . Pablo Picasso.Bowl with Fruit, Violin, and Wineglass.Paris,

begun after December2, 1912; completed after January21, 1913.
Pastedpaper,watercolor,chalk, oil, and charcoalon cardboard,25V2
x 19V2"(64.8x 49.5 cm). Daix530. PhiladelphiaMuseumof Art. A.
E. GallatinCollection,no. 52-61-106
 10 9. The cafe-concert I'Alcazar d'ete as it
looked during the 1860s, in La Revuede I'Olympia
by Hugues Delorme, performed at the Olympia
musichall in fall 1913. FromComoediaillustre,Oc
tober 20, 1913, p. 80. BibliothequeNationale,Paris

1 1 . "A I'Elysee,"a tableau from La Revuede

I'Ambigu by Dominique Bonnaud, Numa Blesand
Lucien Boyer, performed at the Theatre de
I'Ambigu-Comique. From Le Theatre, January[I]
1912, p. 17. Libraryof Congress,Washington,D.C.

111. Pablo Picasso.Glass and Bottle of Bass.

Paris,spring 1914. Pastedpapersand charcoalon
cardboard,2OV2x 26%" (52 x 67 cm). Daix684.
Privatecollection
 ROBERT ROSENBLUM
1 i 2 . Georges Braque. Still Life on a Table:
CUBISM AS POP ART
Gillette.[Paris,early 1914] Charcoal,pasted paper,
/a"
3 andgouache,18% x 24 (48 x 62 cm). Musee
Nationald'Art Moderne, Centre Georges Pom
pidou,Paris

113. Gerald Murphy. Razor.1924.

/s
5 Oil on canvas,32 x 36%" (82.9 x
91.4 cm). Dallas Museum of Art.
Foundationfor the Arts Collection;
gift of the artist
/1i6"
9 ie IIS. Diego Rivera.TheAlarm Clock. 1914. Oil on canvas,20 x 25 (51x
65 cm). FridaKahlo Museum Collection,Coyoacan,Mexico

114. Diego Rivera.Still Life with Carafe. 1914.

/2"(35.5
1 Collageand gouacheon paper,14 x 7 x
29 cm). Property of the Governor of the State of
Veracruz

1 I G. Juan Gris. Syphon and Bottles. 1910. Oil

/ie
7 on cardboard, transferred to canvas, 22 x
18%" (57 x 48 cm). Mr. and Mrs. Gonzalez,Paris
 117. FernandLeger.The Syphon. 1924. Oil on
/s"
1 canvas,25% x 18 (65.1 x 46 cm). Albright-
KnoxArt Gallery,Buffalo. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Gor
don Bunshaft, 1977

CAMPARI
£qp&ukfi
EXIGEZ-LX
dans tous lea Grands Cafli
el les Grands Sara
118. Advertisementfor Campari. FromLe Matin, September12, 1924, p. 3
 119. Juan Gris. The CrosswordPuzzles.1925.
/s"(33
1 Oil on canvas,13 x 16 x 41 cm). Private
collection

1 2 . Juan Gris. The Packageof Quaker Oats.

/8"(44.5
5 1915. Oil on canvas,171/2x 14 x 37 cm).
Presentwhereabouts unknown

12 1. Gino Severini. Still Life: Quaker Oats.

/5ie"(60
1s 1917. Oil on canvas,23 x 20 x 51 cm).
CollectionEricEstorick
/s
1 122. PabloPicasso.Still Life with Biscuits.Avignon, summer 1914. Pencil,12 x 123. Pablo Picasso.Head of a Man with a
19"(20.1 x 48.2 cm). Musee Picasso,Paris Moustache. [Ceret] after May 6, 1913. Ink on
newspaper,21% x 14%" (55.5 x 37.4 cm). Pri
vate collection

124. GeorgesBraque.Glassand Bottle: Fourrures.[Paris,winter] 1913-14. Charcoaland pasted paper, 18%

x 24%" (48 x 62 cm). Privatecollection, Switzerland
 12 5. PabloPicasso.Portrait of a Girl. Avignon, summer 1914.Oil
/8 on canvas,511 x 38" (130 x 96.5 cm). Daix 784. MuseeNational
dArt Moderne, Centre GeorgesPompidou,Paris.Bequestof George
Salles

1 2G. Pablo Picasso.The Restaurant.Paris[spring 1914], Oil on cut-out canvas,

/9i6"(37
5i6 14 x 19 x 49 cm). Daix703. SuccessionPicasso

12 7. PabloPicasso.4 Gats: Plat del Dia (design

for a menu), c. 1900. Colored chalk, watercolor,
and wash, dimensions unavailable. Private
collection

m %y
"AP.QI
 1 2 8 . Juan Gris.LesAeroplanes.Cover page from LAssietteau beurre, November
14, 1908

& skis,

/1s"
52 12 9. Juan Gris. TheMan in the Cafe. 1912. Oil on canvas,50 x 34 (128 x
87.9 cm). PhiladelphiaMuseum of Art. Louiseand Walter ArensbergCollection

13 0. Juan Gris. Illustration from "Bruits de

guerreet bruits de paix," LAssietteau beurre, Oc
tober 3, 1908, p. 439
A
3 13 1. Juan Gris. The Smoker.1913. Oil on canvas,16 x 21W
(73 x 54 cm).Thyssen-Bornemisza
Collection,Lugano

13 2. JuanGris.TheBullfighter.1913. Oil on canvas,36V4x 23%"

(92 x 60 cm). Privatecollection

13 3. Juan Gris.Anis del Mono. 1914. Oil, crayon,and collaged paper on canvas,
/2"(41.8
12 16 x 9 x 24 cm). Privatecollection
 134. Pablo Picasso.SpanishStill Life. Paris,spring 1912. Oil on
/s
1 canvas(oval),18 x 13" (46 x 33 cm). Daix476. Museed'Art Mo-
derne, Villeneuve-dAscq.Gift of Genevieveand JeanMasurel

13 5. Juan Gris.Still Life with Plaque.December

1917. Oil on canvas,25% x 32" (65.5 x 81 cm).
OeffentlicheKunstsammlungBasel,Kunstmuseum
 1 3 E . Nauticalrope and mirror. Photographedin Toulon, 1977

137. PabloPicasso.Souvenirdu Havre.Paris[May] 1912. Oil and enamelon canvas

/1s"(92
54 (oval),36 x 25 x 65 cm). Daix458. Privatecollection

13 8. Picture postcard of Le Havre; sent by

Braqueto D.-H. Kahnweiler,November27, 1912
 I 39 . Picture postcard sent by Picassoto D.-H. Kahnweiler,August 13, 1911

A d\iGno

f 40. Pablo Picasso.Woman with a Mandolin. Paris,spring 1910

/2"
1 Oil on canvas(oval),31Vi x 25 (80 x 64 cm). Daix 341. Private
collection, Switzerland

14 1. Pablo Picasso.Guitar. Paris[winter 1912-13]. Construction

/1s"(77.5
52 of sheet metal, string, and wire, 30 x 13% x 7 x 35 x
19.3 cm).The Museum of Modern Art, New York.Gift of the artist

1 42. Tin cake mold (Mexico). 12V2"(31.8 cm) high. Collection

Ariane and Alain Kirili
 14 3. GeorgesBraque.Still Life with Tenora(for
merlycalledClarinet).[Sorgues,summer 1913] Pas
ted paper,oil, charcoal,chalk,and pencilon canvas,
37V2 x 47%" (95.2 x 120.3 cm).The Museum of
Modern Art, New York. Nelson A. Rockefeller
Bequest

144. JuanGris.Fantomas(Pipeand Newspaper).1915.Oil

/1s"
72 on canvas,23 x 28 (59.8 x 73.3 cm). NationalGallery
of Art, Washington, D.C.ChesterDaleFund

14 5. Georges Braque. Checkerboard: Tivoli-

Cinema.Sorgues,after October 31, 1913. Gesso,
/4
3 pasted paper,charcoal,and oil on canvas,25 x
/14" 36 (65.5 x 92 cm). Collection A. Rosengart,
Lucerne
 I4G. GeorgesBraque.Guitar and Program: Statued'epouvante. Sorgues,November1913. Charcoal,gouache,and
/s"(73
3 pastedpaper on paper,28% x 39 x 100 cm). Musee Picasso,Paris

14 7. Stuart Davis.Mural in Gar Sparks'sNut Shop,Newark,New Jersey.1921. Destroyed

 JOHN E. BOWLT

A BRAZEN CAN-CAN

IN THE TEMPLE OF ART

I 48. Aristarkh Lentulov.Moscow. 1913. Oil on

/9ie"
7 canvaswith collage, 6' 5 x 6' 2 (197 x
189 cm). StateTretiakovGallery,Moscow

149. Ilia Mashkov.Self-Portrait with Petr Konchalovsky.1910. Oil on canvas,6'

/i6"(208
5 9%" x 8' 10 x 270 cm). State RussianMuseum, Leningrad

mnm

1 5 O . KasimirMalevich.Compositionwith Mona Lisa.1914. Oil on canvaswith col

/72"(62
1ie lage, 24 x 19 x 49.5 cm). Privatecollection
 15 1. Vladimir Tatlin.Costumefor a PipePlayerin TheEmperorMaximilianand His
/i6"(32
11 DisobedientSonAdolf. 1911. Watercolorand ink, 12% x 7 x 19.5cm). Col
lection Ninaand Nikita D. Lobanov-Rostovsky,
London

4MRAiy)Ni

/3ie"
7 s 15 2. Lubok of Farnos.TheJester.18th century.Coloredwoodcut, 14 x 11
(36.5 x 29 cm). PushkinMuseum of FineArts, Moscow

[AAemHHAHEEorfejnoH
kH/viewHoczroPEMiioti
C05OK35ecmB6W€fi5jnOH3OBymZMeHA Iff"
WHOC& KP4CH0H HOC* n TPMA^jH TV.tf
HAAXBAACA^KAK* BTAHUAE^
AAHU£ EALUMA1IHOE8RAACA*5'
AKOAnAKZ cmPOMZ HAA€AZi^;^^
noAHy mmAHU harjaeaz ?cof
«MZ OSOAQKSA ? HARHHOXOA/
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wiTi :?y

ttohHt*
 HIT

153. NatalieGontcharova,her face decoratedwith Rayistdesigns.1913. Fromthe

journal Teatr v Karrikaturakh ("Theater in Caricatures"),Moscow, September21
1913, p. 9

154. Mikhail Larionov.Venus.1912. Oil on can

/i6" vas, 26 x 33' 1 (66 x 85.5 cm). State Russian
Museum, Leningrad

1 5 5 . Aleksandr Shevchenko. Venus. 1915.

/i Gouache, IV2 x 91 6" (19 x 23 cm). Collection
TatianaRubinshtein,Moscow
 156. Kasimir Malevich. Woman at a Poster Column. 1914. Oil on canvaswith collage,
/i6
/15
3
ie"(71 15 x 25 x 64 cm). StedelijkMuseum, Amsterdam

157. ElsaKrugerand Mak dancing the Tangoof Death, c. 1912.

 158. Mikhail Larionov.Gypsyin Tiraspol,c. 1907. Oil on canvas,
/8
3 37 x 31%" (95 x 81 cm). Presentwhereabouts unknown. For
merly StateTretiakovGallery,Moscow

15 9. Advertisementfor Anatolii Durov and his pig. c. 1907

1 G . Niko Pirosmanashvili.Sow and Piglets,c.

1910. Oil on cardboard,31% x 39%" (80 x 100
cm). StateMuseum of Arts, Tbilisi
 1 B 1 . Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin.Still Life with Her
/ie
3
/ie"(58
13 ring. 1918. 22 x 34 x 88.5 cm). State
RussianMuseum, Leningrad

/s
1 1 S2 . Mikhail Larionov.Sausageand Mackret. 1912. Oil on canvas,18 x 24" (46
x 61 cm). Ludwig Museum, Cologne

1 B 3 . Vladimir Tatlin.Illustration for Vladimir Mayakovsky'spoem "Vyveskam"("To

Signboards").Publishedin Trebnikhtroikh ("Prayer-Bookof Three"),Moscow, 1913
 1 64. AleksandrShevchenko.SignboardStill Life: Wine and Fruit.
/ie
1 1913. Oil on canvas,32 x 34%" (81.5 x 87 cm). StateTretiakov
Gallery,Moscow

I B 5 . Suspendedsignboard in wood represent

ing a ham. c. 1900. StateMuseumof the Historyof
V
K>VV..V, ,%%
the City of Leningrad

1 6 7 . Baker'ssignboard, c. 1900

IBB. Natalie Gontcharova.Still Life with Ham, 1912. Oil on can

/i6
3 vas,27 x 21%" (69 x 55 cm). State RussianMuseum, Leningrad
 16 8. Photographof a Moscow bakery,c. 1900

1 E 9 . Signboardrepresentinga woman ironing.

Late 19th century

/7i6 17 1. Ivan Puni. WashingWindows. 1915. Oil on canvas,33 x

/s"
3 26 (85 x 67 cm). Privatecollection

1 70. Aleksandr Shevchenko.Woman Ironing.

1920. Oil on canvas,37 x 32V2"(94 x 82.5 cm).
StateRussianMuseum, Leningrad
 17 2. Signboardadvertisinglive fish. Early1900s

/ie"(16.2
5 173. KasimirMalevich.Tailor.1914. Pencil,6% x 4 x
11 cm). Museum Ludwig, Cologne

nopTHP'/

a 174. 0'9 Rozanova(?). Untitled. 1916. Collageon paper,8% x

6%" (21.2 x 16.9 cm). © 1981 George Costakis.The GeorgeCos-
takis Collection(owned by Art Co., Ltd.)

A versionof this imageappearsin a book called 7978(Tiflis, 1917)by

VasiliiKamensky,Alexi Kruchenykh,et al.
/ie
13 1 75. Olga Rozanova.Workbox. 1915. Oil on canvaswith collage, 22 x 25"
(58 x 33 cm). StateTretiakovGallery,Moscow

1 76. Advertisementfor photographyon zinc undertaken by the Mettsger Corpo

ration, Moscow, 1898. From Al Suvorin,ed., Vsia Miskva na 1898 god (Moscow:
Chicherin,1898),p. 9 of commercialwhite pages

1/
JIM111
E

MHPA

17 7. Nikolai Suetin. Designfor a tram panel in

Vitebsk, c. 1920. Reproducedas a postcard in
1932. CollectionAlex Rabinovich,New York
 ubl
mu mmicOxa u' ii' if
aa;i£xa it tt v
Kpbl ti
Mpbi If
apbl ir |.
'aCapblif ir if Ir
4 I" If if
X<*tUJH4pO»!
KOuiKax'iHx.MaH3Mypv», ci.IIm
BblHHfiit Epmi uiafiaiiibl/iati xMblcincH
nacraMOK C yxaiaDSiKacn,plO<inHncOuina
hH'I8HJKblCTbp»xt.mHt xbOiuhs
aaTYpwn iijiuiin.icH cbOk 3K)xi><iiit
KpaMM3HfltiMJi/;HHbflMcy ItHJllOxviHT
hxA'iht ;iuuiai.()i)ny
xaxA'iin MaiiaMOijiiuy

1 7B. Georgii Leonov.Untitled. 1889. Watercolor and India ink

lu Aj|bmlaCH
3a6i>pioi(H'mKap>i
Ma«ARiina
with collage,dimensionsunavailable.StateTretiakovGallery,Moscow
xydllox >uanapflcafi
saxYxy BWniOmmt
nyfiiiHT3fOnMb
6y>nA'is» capvr/M
J5mi;a
hWmxvtpoTT TB

17 9. Ilia Zdanevich.Pagefrom Li-Dantiu Faram(Paris:41 degres,

1923)

mwrnitjuim'

f 8 O . Pagefrom a Russianalphabet book. 1900

fev- aPWW f

Oo Kk
MaKi>
Oca. ...MaKa. Cvkt.. Koca.
.Mn.ua. oca! oca!'
-Mama. c.omt>!"
-Mana. y eoaa yet.!*
CaM'i,Cama.
Coin,. Caiaa Maiua.
Ky-ity! ityiiy!
Ma/ oca/ Kama. ...Kamy Kysyinita.
A'/K/.ffo. /a
' /fceuta,' oca, w/

c- o o oat.
Komua. ' (
y KVMa
Konrea.| Mama... Jiaa-b.: Carna...aocy.
Jy/cra. 3^/c^ata xeea-
 18 2. Aleksandr Rodchenko. Ticket No. 1.
1919. Collagewith colored papersand postcards,
/ie"
7 14 x 8 (35.5 x 21.5 cm). Rodchenkoand
StepanovaArchive

-)xyflowHc
o»Md
swtfv.

iHoen.
We1

,3iyvu«wou
18 1. Varvara Stepanova. Gaust-Chaba. Mos
/7s cow. 1919. Watercolor on newspaper, 6 x
/i6"(17.5
l3 10 x 27.5cm). Privatecollection

18 4. Aleksandr Rodchenko.Advertisementfor
galoshes.1923

PE2MHBTPECT
1QUIMTHMKB HOI
lO.OOO.OOOnAPh

BE3bfC/108HDE PyHATE/lbCTBD
3A6b! CLLiyH] flPOHHDCTb
mnrnrnmn mipiFM EHHMwqbepuimctbobahh^
no nATEHTAM'bN? 80?0- 18561.
- 18597- 17380

18 3. Advertisement for galoshesproduced by

the ConductorCorporation, Riga.c. 1910
 185. Advertisement for Teikhman's insulation materials, St. Petersburg, c. 1906.
F= From Ezhegodnik . . . (St. Petersburg, 1906)

TEPMOflHTt ,
^ ... ' .. •— ...f.'l

Memwmwr ***** *A*4 A*********************** ******** i****A**lu

TO0/5PHU<EeT5O
0?8asilKiE!*?MJHi[/lb^BO^!g^ECfli*6M!iH*Hlll6Hl
) SCflMI
TP£6(K ,kap/ii> «pH/innn-bh k p<<
BIHISMt
. JMM MOCHBA.Tecpcnas.
Ko3Mu«iti
nep.,a. Eaxpy-
^.TEHXMAHl UiHHa,
hb.N; 234. Te«<j>oni>Ns 5-1644.
n
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CeHcaitin! CcHcaiAix ! CeHcanin!

185. Poster advertising the film State Coun 18 7. Poster advertising the film Eagle, c. 1915.
cillor's Love. c. 1915. From Vestnik kinematografii From Vestnik kinematografii (Moscow, 1915), no.
(Moscow, 1915), no. 115, p, 17 115, p. 88

s5v
frj it ; ,m ' 'Bbcnw^MwsMAnMwn t?
5 P AKU.
0"BO
,AXaHHfOHHOB"b
HK .

188. Gustav Klutsis. Photomontage printed in

colors on postcard for the All-Union Spartakiada,
/16
/15
3
ie"(15.1 Moscow. 1928. 5 x 4 x 10.6 cm). ©
1981 George Costakis. The George Costakis Col
lection (owned by Art Co., Ltd.)
 ROBERT STORR

NO JOY IN MUDVILLE

PARTISA

FALL 19 3 9
AN INTERVIEWWITH l&NAZIO SHONE
JAMES RORTY 1 90. GiseleFreund.Walter Benjamin.Paris,1937. Photograph
Tt» Sod»fa<rtiwiof MwtraKng
CLEMENTGREENBERG

LOUISEBOGAN
TRePoetry o( PaalEfcterd
PAUL ELUAR0
,*TO WOHLSTETTER S WHITE ** °
Who Are tin Frimb of SemarRiw?
THE WAR OE THE NEUTRALS:
Ai> I

SHERWOOOANDERSON » UON& NMUJN&

KENNETH
RSXROTH
• C. 6 JACKSON
» R,f.
BLACKMVR
« HORACEGREGORY ROBERT
NTZSERAUJ • ROBERT PENNWARREN

18 9. Coverof PartisanReview,Fall 1939

19 1. Andre Breton, Diego Rivera,LeonTrotsky.

Mexico, 1938. FromMinotaure, May 1939, p. 48

i
 19 2. Title page of Marxist Quarterly,January-March 1937

MARXIST QUARTERLY
January-March t 0 N T E N T S
*937 Challenge
By the Editors
Science and Socialism
By Benjamin G'mzhurg
Farm Labor in Fascist Italy
By Carl T. Schmidt
Marxism and Values
By Sidney Hook
The American Revolution:
Economic Aspects By Louis M. Hacker
Hoard t/f HJtiort
.Jattm Rurnh&tn Materialism and Spooks
Lewi* Corey By Friedrich En gels
Francis A, Hrrwoti Nature of Abstract Art
WUi Herberg By Meyer Schapiro
Corn** Lamoat
New Aspects of Cyclical Crises
<*mr$e Novact: By Bertram D. Wolfe
Meyer Sobapire
Sterling D. Spew
Social Origins of Nominalism
Bertram D, Wolfe By Edward Conze
Herbert 2am Metaphysics of Reaction
By Bern Brandon
American Class Relations
By Lewis Corey
American Marxist REVIEWS OF ROOKS
Association DialecticalMaterialism By TheodoreB. Br&meld
Dmumen by GeorgeSimpson
PresideHi
Militarism and Democracy By Herbert Znm
Sterling I), Spm>
Set'p-Tretu American Trade Unionism By Sti rling D, Speru
rn Religion and Revolution By Corliss Lamont
Francis A. Henton Vebien and Marxism By Lewis Corey
'life New Era in a Novel By James Rorty

.VIasxjst tJt. Afaciu.y, 28 Vwty Street, New York City.

3?? • Friuted at the LtB*«ACPstss, 80 Fourth Avenue, New York City

193. Arnold Friedman.Interior with Daisies,c. 1942-46. Oil on

canvas.20 x 24" (50.8 x 60.9 cm). Privatecollection. Courtesyof
Salander-O'Reilly
Galleries,Inc., New York

19 4. Kasimir Malevich.SuprematistComposition: Red Squareand Black Square.

/2"
1 1915. Oil on canvas,28 x 17 (71.1 x 44.5 cm).The Museumof Modern Art, New
York
A
* ig mm
"m

195. Alfred H. Barr, Jr. "The Development of

ern Art, New York, 1936

"
"o

Abstract Art." Chart prepared for the exhibition

"Cubism and Abstract Art," The Museum of Mod
H

Redon
x:
| JAPANESE
1

PRINTS

NEAR-EASTERN
ART
1

*
I

FAUVISM
1905

(ABSTRACT)
EXPRESSIONISM
Munich
19 5. Piet Mondrian. BroadwayBoogie Woogie.
1942-43. Oil on canvas,50 x 50" (127 x 127
cm).The Museum of Modern Art, New York.Given
anonymously

Gauguin
d. 1903
SY NTH ETISM
1888Pont-Aven,

FUTURISM
Paris

I NEGRO

Milan
t
Cezan

SCULPTDRE

Brancusi
ESTHETIC
MACHINE
ORPHISM
1912
Seuratd. 1891
neo-impressionism

CUBISM

SUPREMATISM
Moscow
CONSTRUCTIVISM
Rousseau

191C

Moscow 1915

(ABSTRACT)
DADAISM DESTIJLand
Zurich N EO PL ASTICISM
PURISM
Berlin
*den 1918 Pans * Le

^ BAUHAUS
(abstract) Weimar

SURREALISM MODERN
1924
ARCHITECTURE

Y
)935 NON-GEOMETRICALABSTRACTART GEOMETRICALABSTRACTART

1940 1940
 197. Kurt Schwitters.Mz 151. WenzelKind (KnaveChild). 1921.
/4
3 Collage,6 x 5Vfe"(17.1 x 12.9 cm). SprengelMuseum, Hannover.
Extendedloan from Marlborough FineArt (London)Ltd.

&£baafehi*S
1M Siftor boa S3»ait iinkrL.

198. Joan Miro. Untitled (Composition). 1933. Drawing/collage

with sandpaper,postcards,decoupage, pencil on brown prepared
paper,41% x 27%" (105.7 x 70.2 cm). Mrs. E.A. BergmanCollec
tion, Chicago

/i6
9 199. GeorgesSeurat.Le Chahut. 1889-90. Oil on canvas.66
x 54%"(169 x 139cm). RijksmuseumKroller-Muller,Otterlo
 202. Philip Guston. East Coker-T. S. E. 1979.
Oil on canvas.40 x 48" (101.6 x 122 cm). Private
collection,Woodstock.CourtesyDavidMcKeeGal
lery,New York
The "T. S. E." in the title of this imaginary portrait
refers to T. S. Eliot, author of Four Quartets, of
ZOO . William Steig. "Whoever 20 1. William Steig. "Who Am I?." which "EastCoker" is one.
Wantsthe Answer Must Come to Me." From William Steig, All Embarrassed,
From William Steig, The Lonely Ones, Duell, Sloan and Pearce, New York,
Duell, Sloan and Pearce, New York, 1944, p. 71
1942, p. 43, n.42

Here's the beginning of an explanation

mowTO
LOOK
AT
ACUBIST
PAINTING
of modern art. After we've studied it a
little more, we'll tell you a little more
-about surrealism, abstraction, or what
ever you want, by Ad Keinhardt.

A cubist painting is not a "picture" or a window-frame-hole-in-the-wall, but a

If you think that every painting should look like something real, then you live in
new object hung on the wall and is part of the early twentieth century s over
that century (long gone ) that believed the real world was a matter of what things
look like. This art of imitation and illusion "saw" things from a Hired, absolute turning of traditional ideas of time and space It explored its world (1908) from
point of view (later satirized bv surrealist painters who make something look not many relative points of view (later developed into abstract painting which shows
only like one thing but also like si* or seven other things ). what lines, colors and spaces do, and mean, by themselves).

The form of o glass from a The form of the glass from Theformsof the gloss, all glasses;
fined point of view at one twopointsof viewat the scire and all things,from many rotative
instantin one fight(opticalif- time (a child knowsits form points of view expressed simul
lesion,perspective,
modeling) instead of merely seeing it} taneouslyon a flat surfate

ZO 3 . Ad Reinhardt."How to Look at a Cubist Painting." FromPM., January27, 1946. © Copyright 1990 Anna Reinhardt
 What does not tolerate
either visual or verbal
cliches?
High, fine and
pure ART

2 4 . Ad Reinhardt."How to Look Out" (detail). From PM., June

23, 1946. © Coppyright 1990 Anna Reinhardt

2 E . Andy Warhol. Gold Marilyn Monroe. 1962. Syntheticpoly

mer paint, silkscreened,and oil on canvas,6' 11" x 57" (211.4 x
144.7 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Philip
Johnson

2 0S.Willem de Kooning. Marilyn Monroe.

1954. Oil on canvas.50 x 30" (127 x 76.2 cm).
NeubergerMuseum, State Universityof New York
at Purchase.Gift of RoyR. Neuberger £>«• Mar^et i 065 '- A. Se.tmDr,;

2 O 7 . Edouard Manet. Charles Baudelaire.

/4"
1 1868. Etching, third plate, 4th state, 3% x 3
(9.7 x 8.3 cm)
 LYNNE COOKE

THE INDEPENDENT GROUP

208. Richard Hamilton, John McHale, and John Voelcker. Sequence of views around Hamilton-McHale-Voelckerpavilion
at "This IsTomorrow"exhibition. 1956. Whitechapel Art Gallery,London

'^maScoPE

2 9 . Nigel Henderson, Eduardo Paolozzi, Alison and Peter

Smithson.Installationview of Patioand Pavilionat "This IsTomorrow
exhibition. 1956. Whitechapel Art Gallery,London

2 1 . RichardHamilton.Just What Is It That Makes Today'sHomes

/2"(30.5
1 So Different, So Appealing? 1956. Collage, 12 x 18 x 47
cm). Kunsthalle,Tubingen.SammlungZundel
 2 11. RichardHamilton. Hommagea ChryslerCorps.1957. Oil, metal foil, and col
lage on panel,48 x 32" (121.9 x 81.3 cm). Privatecollection, London

2 12. Eduardo Paolozzi. Yours Till the Boys

/4"
3 ComeHome. 1951. Collageon paper,14% x 9
(36.2 x 24.8 cm).TateGallery,London
A"
3 2 13. Eduardo Paolozzi.St. SebastianNo. 2. 1957. Bronze,7' (215 cm) high.
The SolomonR. GuggenheimMuseum, New York

2 14. John McHale.Icehead.1957. Collage,39V2 x 28V6"(100 x 72.4 cm). Col

lection Magda Cordell McHale,Buffalo

2 15. John McHale.Machine-MadeAmerica II. 1956. Collage,23 x 17" (58.4 x

43.2 cm). Privatecollection
2 1 B. Nigel Henderson, Eduardo Paolozzi,and
Alison and Peter Smithson. Installation view of
"Parallelof Life and Art" exhibition. 1953. Institute
of ContemporaryArts, London

2 17. Richard Hamilton. Installation view of

"Man, Machineand Motion" exhibition. 1955. Hat-
ton Gallery,Newcastleupon Tyne

2 1 B . Andy Warhol. Advertisementfor I. Miller Shoes.From The New York Times,

September25, 1955, p. 85
 2 19. Andy Warhol. LargeCoca-Cola.1962. Syntheticpolymer paint on canvas,6'
10" x 57" (208 x 145 cm). Privatecollection

HONEYMOON or vacation!
FORTHEPEOPLE
WHOKHOW THEDIFFERENCE!
HAVETHETIMEOFYOURLIFE
At Oneof America's
) Fines!& MostPopularResorts! 2 2 . RoyLichtenstein.Girl with Ball. 1961. Oil
and synthetic polymer paint on canvas,6OV4 x
INDOORPOOL* HEALTHCLUB PRIVATELAKE
LUXURIOUS
ACCOM,• DANCING
» TOPSHOWS, 361/4"(153 x 91.9 cm). The Museum of Modern
SPECIAL HONEYMOON PACKAGE KATES Art, New York.Gift of PhilipJohnson
I tcatitvrt Bkltt V • Hen^ moonen BMetB
li t SmartToBeWithThe , . Ca
MOUNT AIRY LODGE
Mt Potono 2, Po. ITI7) S39-7I3J
Dirtet Lin* N.Y.C.4 Suborlit 212.220-0842
N.Y.C.Office:212.874-S877(Cell knytmo)

NEW YORK STATE NEW YORK STATE

2 2 1. Advertisementfor Mount Airy Lodge. 1961

 PETER PLACENS

GOLDEN DAYS

222. Billy Al Bengston. Chaney.1965. Oil and

lacqueron masonite,61 x 47" (155 x 119.4 cm).
Privatecollection

223. Craig Kauffman. Untitled Wall Relief.

1967. Vacuum-formedPlexiglas,6' x 52" x 15"
(182.9 x 132 x 38.1 cm). Los Angeles County
Museum of Art. Gift of the KleinerFoundation
 2 24. Edward Ruscha.Annie. 1962. Oil on canvas,6' x 67" (182.9 x 170.2 cm).
Privatecollection

2 2 5. John McCracken.Don't TellMe When to Stop. 1966-67. Lacquer,fiberglass,

"
/2
1 plywood, 10' x 20 x 3 (304.8 x 52.1 x 8.9 cm). LosAngeles County Mu
seum of Art. Gift of the KleinerFoundationthrough the ContemporaryArt Council
 A

PHOTOGRAPH Photographs reproduced in this volume have been provided, in the majority of cases, by the owners or custodians
of the works, indicated in the captions. Individual works of art appearing here may be additionally protected by
copyright in the United States of America or abroad, and may not be reproduced in any form without the
CREDITS permission of the copyright owners.

© Succession Picasso, for each work appearing with the following credit: Musee d'Art Moderne de la Ville de
Paris; Musee National d'Art Moderne, Centre National d'Art et de Culture Georges Pompidou, Paris; Musee
Picasso, Paris; and the following illustrations: 85,98, and 126. S.PA.D.E.M., Paris, is the exclusive French agent for
reproduction rights for Picasso and Gris, and A.D.A.G.R for Braque and Villon. S.I.A.E., Rome, is the exclusive
Italian agent for reproduction rights for Severini. Cosmopress, Geneva, is the exclusive European agent for
reproduction rights for Schwitters. A.R.S., New York, is the exclusive United States agent for S.PA.D.E.M. and
A.D.A.G.R, and V.A.G.A., New York, is the exclusive United States agent for Cosmopress. Additional picture
reproduction rights, where relevant, reserved by S.PA.D.E.M., A.D.A.G.R, S.I.A.E., and Cosmopress.

The following list applies to photographs for which a separate acknowledgment is due. Numbers refer to figures.
4, 5: Evangelia Zaukare, Athens; 6: Alinari, Rome; 7: Zodiaque, St. Leger Vauban; 9, 11, 13: © Her Majesty the
Queen; 14: Isabella Sansoni, Florence; 22: Courtesy L. Canali, Rome; 21 : © Her Majesty the Queen; 24: Raponi
Angelo, Muccia; 26: Scala/Art Resource, New York; 27: Gabinetto Fotografico Soprintendenza Beni Artistici e
Storici di Firenze; 28: Alinari/Art Resource, New York; 31 : Jorg R Anders, East Berlin; 32: Gabinetto Fotografico,
Rome; 33: Alinari/Art Resource, New York; 35: Oscar Savio, Rome; 37: Anderson/Art Resource, New York; 39,
40: Warburg Institute, London; 43: Gabinetto Fotografico Nazionale, Rome; 46: Walter Drayer, Zurich; 48:
Cabinet des Estampes, Paris; 51: Cliche des Reunion des Musees Nationaux de France, Paris, © R.M.N.-
5.RA.D.E.M. Paris; 53: Bulloz, Paris; 55: Cliche des Reunion des Musees Nationaux de France, Paris, © R.M.N.-
S.RA.D.E.M.; 59: Claude O'Sughrue, Montpellier; 64: Bulloz, Paris; 74, 75: Cliche des Reunion des Musees
Nationaux de France, Paris, © R.M.N. -S.PA.D.E.M.; 76: Alinari, Rome; 81 : Jeff rey Weiss, New York; 82, 83, 88:
Cliche des Reunion des Musees Nationaux de France, Paris, © R.M.N. -S.PA.D.E.M.; 99: Lauros-Giraudon, Paris;
101: Paul Hester, Houston; 102: Statens Konstmuseer, Stockholm; 116: Galerie Louise Leiris, Paris; 118: Jim
Strong, Hempstead, N.Y.; 123: Andre Koti, Paris; 125: Cliche des Reunion des Musees Nationaux de France, Paris,
© R.M.N. -S.PA.D.E.M.; 128: Ann Norton, New York; 130: The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York;
133: Paulus Leeser,New York; 136: Robert Rosenblum, New York; 138, 139: Archives Galerie Louise Leiris, Paris;
142: Ariane Lopez-Huici, New York; 162: Rheinisches Bildarchiv, Cologne; 166, 167, 168: Photocourtesy of Alia
Povelikhina, Leningrad; 173: Rheinisches Bildarchiv, Cologne; 189: Photo Bryan Berkey, New York, © Partisan
Review, Inc.; 190: © Gisele Freund/Photoresearchers, Inc., New York; 192: Bryan Burkey, New York; 197: ©
Cosmopress, Geneva; 202: Bevan Davies, New York; 205: Jim Frank, New York; 208: Richard Hamilton; 209:
John Maltby, London; 211: Robert E. Mates and Susan Lazarus, New York; 213: Robert E. Mates, New York; 214:
Peter Muscato, New York; 216: Nigel Henderson, London (both); 217: Richard Hamilton; fig. 221 : Bryan Burkey,
New York.

PHOTOGRAPH The following citations, specifying secondary sources of some illustrations published herein, are intended as
scholarly supplements to the caption information for each image. Numbers refer to figures. 1: David Moore
Robinson, "The Villa of Good Fortune at Olynthus," American Journal of Archaeology, v. 38, 1934, pi. XXX; 2:

SOURCES Robinson, p. 504, fig. 2; 3: Robinson, pi. XXXI; 23: V. Vaananen, ed., Graffiti del Palatino. II. Domus Tlberlana
(Helsinki, 1970), pp. 121,213 and J.-P Cebe, La Caricature et la parodie dans le monde romain antique des origins
a Juvenal (Pahs, 1966), p. XIX, 3, 6; 25: Gunther and Christel Thiem, Toskanische Fassaden-Dekoration (Munich:
Bruckmann Verlag, 1964), pi. 101 ; 42: Fernando and Renato Silenzi, Pasquino. Cinquecento Pasquinate (Milan,
1933), ill. opp. p. 100; 105: Colette de Ginestet and Catherine Pouillon, Jacques Villon. Les Estampes et les
Illustrations, catalogue raisonne (Paris, 1979), no. E.20; 114: Ramon Favela, Diego Rivera. The Cubist Years,exh.
cat. (Phoenix Art Museum, 1984), cat. n. 123; 115: The Frida Kahlo Museum (Mexico, 1970), p. 25, lower right;
119: Douglas Cooper, Juan Gris: Catalogue raisonne (Paris, 1977), p. 345, n. 521 ; 120: Cooper, p. 191 , n. 125;
121 : Daniela Fonti, Gino Severini. Catalogo reg/onafo (Milan, 1988), p. 259, n. 283; 127: Robert Rosenblum, "The
Typography of Cubism" in Picasso in Retrospect, eds. R. Penrose and J. Golding (New York, 1973), p. 74, fig. 125;
129: Mark Rosenthal, Juan Gris, exh. cat. (New York, 1983), p. 10; 132: Cooper, p. 87, n. 50; 147: Diane Kelder,
ed., Stuart Daws (New York, 1971), fig. 17; 157: Natalia Sheremetievskaia, Tanetsna estrate (Moscow, 1985), p.
24; 159: Anatolii Durov, Vzhizni i na arene (Moscow, 1984), between pp. 64 and 65; 169: Panorama iskusstv 78
(Moscow, 1979), p. 253; 172: Panorama iskusstv 78 (Moscow, 1979), p. 247; 178: Yurii Gerchuk, Zhivye veschi
(Moscow, 1977), p. 67; fig. 183: Nina Baurina, Russkii plakat, vtoraia polovina XlX-nachalo XX veka (Leningrad,
1988), p. 107; 184: German Karginov, Rodchenko (Budapest, 1975; London, 1979), p. 108; 191 : © Photo, Fritz
Bach, from Minotaure, No. 12-13, May 1939, p. 48 (Geneva, Switzerland: Editions d'art Albert Skira; Reprint,
New York: Arno, 1968); 203, 204: Thomas B. Hess, The Art Comics and Satires of Ad Reinhardt, exh. cat.
(Dusseldorf : Kunsthalle; Rome: Marlborough, 1975), n.p.; 207: Marcel Guerin. L'Oeuvre grave de Manet. (Paris,
1944); 215: Photo Theo Crosby. From Architectural Review, vol. 121 , May 1957, cover; 219: "Success is a job in
New York . . . " The Early Art and Businessof Andy Warhol, exh. cat. (New York: Grey Art Gallery and Study Center,
New York University, and Pittsburgh: The Carnegie Museum of Art, 1989), p. 13, fig. 13, cat. 140.
TheMuseumof ModernArt

300062991
 At theendofthetwentiethcentury, wehavebecome accustomed to theideathat
thevisualslangof modernculture— fromthethickoutlinesofcomic-strip draw-
ings,through the bold,blaringcolorsof billboards, to
syncopated fragments of newspaperheadlines —
canbe made part of the languageof seriousart. But
we alsoknow that these transformations— the carica-
tured face in seriouspainting,the soup-can labelon the
museumwall —havebeena sourceof controversy and
disapproval since their first appearances. How did
thismomentous transformation in our senseof the hier-
archy of high and low art begin?What are its central
recurringissues, andwhoareits authors? ModernArt and
Popular Culture: Readingsin High & Low offers critical
and scholarly essayson seminalmomentsin this history,
From Bernini's caricatures to the art of the Russianavant-
garde,from the musichallsof Parisin the BelleEpoque to the
sunlit studiosof LosAngelesin the sixties,someof the most
distinguished art historians andcriticsof ourtimeofferindividual
<
o perspectiveson the modernistrevolutionin high and low.
Thecontributorsto ModernArt and PopularCultureare JOHNE.
on
o
I BOWLT,LYNNE COOKE,LORENZEITNER,IRVINGLAVIN,
r-.
o
oo
PETER PLAGENS, ROBERT ROSENBLUM, ROGERSHATTUCK,
I
o
ROBERT STORR, andJEFFREY S.WEISS.Theessays werecorn-
O
missionedand editedby KIRKVARNEDOE, Director of the
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ca
Department of Painting andSculptureisbn a-aioi-BMbb-a
0\ I
at New York's Museumof Modern 5 2 99 5

ON

Art, and ADAM GOPNIK,art criticof the

NewYorker, whohavealsowrittenthebook'sintroduction. 780810 924666