NAGAO Takashi
In this chapter, I describe the particularity of Tanguy's image
compared to the visual images of Surrealism. Here I present a hypothesis
concerning the visual images of Surrealism and by comparing it with that of
Tanguy, I show the particularity of Tanguy’s images.
1. The Visual Images of Surrealism.
We cannot grasp the visual images
of Surrealism based on an aspect of form. For example, while Dalí’s image is
very three-dimentional, that of Miró is very flat. It is impossible to
synthesize these images into one style
from the point of view of form. William Rubin experimentally proposed the
schema: “automatist – abstract” (Miró, Masson), “academic
– illusionist” (Dalí,
Magritte). This is, however, just a variation of the schema “figurative -
abstract.”
Rosalind Krauss criticized this schema as a simple “List”. Referring
to the photography, she claimed that we should grasp the visual images of
Surrealism not from the aspect of form but from that of sign.
Surreality is, we could
say, nature convulsed into a kind of writing. The special access that
photography has to this experience is its privileged connection to the real. […]
They are presentations of that very reality as configured, or coded, or
written. […] what unites all surrealist
production is precisely this experience of nature as representation, physical
matter as writing. This is of course not a morphological coherence, but a
semiological one.
The “nature convulsed into a kind of
writing” is also expressed as the “reality constituted as sign”.
The practice of Surrealism consists of changing the reality into a sign which
signifies something other than itself. In this sense, we can think of the
visual images of Surrealism not from a formalist aspect (form, color, line) but
from a semiotic aspect.
I also understand Surrealism from the semiotic aspect; The visual
image is a construction consisting of signifiant and signifié.
As Krauss claims, the visual images of Surrealism refuse to resolve
into formal elements (form, color) and they signify something other than
themselves as signs. In other words, they refuse to unify signifiant and
signifié by being resolved into formal elements. Of course the images of Dalí
and Magritte refuse and in the images of Masson and Miró, which are not
necessarily clear representations, some signifé, for example, “fish” or “man”
are always present [fig.1, 2].
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| ［fig.1］André
Masson, The Battle of Fishes, 1926. |
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［fig.2］Joan
Mitó, Painting (The Man and the Pipe), 1925.
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In addition, Miró considers his image a kind of “idéogramme,”
Masson considers his automatic dessin as a process through which some images
arise from a “pure gesture.”
Even Arp who has a strong orientation to abstract art says that the
interpretation of the work was more important than the work itself in the 1920s.
Then what kinds of sign are in the visual images of Surrealism? An
important critic of Surrealism, Roger Caillois says:
In these two cases [the literature and the painting of Surrealism],
there are the image, nothing but the image, or the image above all; and which,
poetically or visually, are experiments to surprise, to propose questions. In a
word, they are images which are sign without assured or perceptible or fixed
signification; images which would be pure premonitions.
Dans
les deux cas, l’image et rien que l’image, ou l’image d’abord; et qui, poétique
ou visuelle, cherche à surprendre, à interroger. En un mot, une image qui est
signe sans signification assurrée ou perceptible ou univoque; une image qui
serait avertissement pur.
According to Caillois, the signs in Surrealism are not that of
general sense which are valuable to transmit information clearly. On the
contrary, they are valuable when they do not have a certain or perceptible or
fixed signification. In addition:
In other words, the priviledged given thing is not a sign because it
transmit a message. It is promoted to sign because, deprived naturally or
accidentally or squeezed deliberately of all conceivable signification, it
seems to continue to demand another signification, as a result, become apt to
be the support of an infinite fantasy.
Autrement dit, la donnée privilégiée n’est pas
signe parce qu’elle véhicule un message. Elle fut promue signe parce que,
privée naturellement ou accidentellement ou essorée délibérément de toute
signification concevable, elle semble continuer d’en exiger une et par
conséquent se trouve apte à devenir le support d’une rêverie infinie.
Namely, the image as such a sign does not
have fixed meaning and therefore it becomes possible to read various meanings
(fantasy) “infinitely”. Caillois calls this “infinite” or “null” image.
And it is in this very point, that Caillois criticizes Surrealism.
For Caillois, a classical thinker, the enigma and the mystery must be
elucidated. There must be an answer. Therefore Caillois criticizes as intellectual
negligence the attitude of Surrealism, creating the enigma without solution,
the sign without certain signification.
On the other hand, the recent discussions about Surrealism tend to
consider rather positively the particularity as sign which Caillois criticizes.
According to Suzuki Masao, for example, the attitude of André Breton to the
enigma is to “put an unknown and seducing sign in another context, maintaining
its charge as enigma in order to
observe what functions there.” It is “neither to leave the enigma intact nor to
interpret it in its own context, but to make it work and function.”
Suzuki says that this attitude of Breton is to “love” the object.
To love is not to understand but it is not the negation of relating,
the silence. To relate in a way other than to interpret, to relate to make it
work. Breton’s experiment to make the signs he met at the land of Hopi
“myth” was, in this sense, to love. We must notice this fact afresh.
So Breton never
rejected knowing much about the object, or in some cases even interpreting it.
He only paid attention to the vector which dissolves the relation to the object
into a known logic.
Caillois focused on the enigma in relation to the answer. Breton focused
on the state of the enigma itself. That is to say, Caillois’ criticism comes
from the difference in standpoints with Breton. In other words, the reflection
of Caillois does not vary very much from the recent context of the research of
Surrealism. According to Suzuki, the “enigma” in Surrealism should be “worked,”
it should not be resolved into one solution. The visual images of Surrealism
become “sign having no certain signification” because they become such an “enigma”.
We can see this trend in reseach on Surrealsm in the field of art
history. Françoise Levaillant says about the titles written in André Masson’s
drawing:
The titles inscribed at the base of the drawings have different
functions: giving ― by definition ― a “legibility” to the image, or intensifying,
on the contrary, its illegibility, or creating a text whose poetic quality
intensifies in combination with the image […]
To indicate the relation of
the text to the image, this infinitely subtle net of sense, always in suspension, and always increasing through its
author’s not pretend pleasure, “find a new word!”
Les titres inscrits en bas des dessins ont
différentes fonctions: soit qu’il confèrent ―― par définition ―― une « lisibilité » à
l’image, soit qu’ils renchérissent au contraire sur son illisibilité, soit
enfin qu’il créent un texte dont la qualité poétique se
renforce de sa combinaison avec une image […]
Pour désigner cette relation du
texte à l’image, ce
réseau du sens infiniment subtil,
toujours en suspens, et traversé de surcroît par la jubilation non feinte de
son auteur, … « trouvons un nouveau mot »!
The text of letters inscribed in the works
is meant to allow “reading” the visual images. On the other hand, if the
correspondence between the text and the visual images is unclear, “reading”
becomes “impossible.” [fig.3]. Though “the infinitely subtle net of sense” shows the possibility of infinite
interpretation, at the same time it shows the impossibility of interpretation;
namely we can never find the final decision.
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［fig.3］André
Masson, Angry Suns, 1925.
The title ”SOLEILS FURIEUX (Angry Suns),” was actually pasted on under it is written: ”NUIT BLANCH (White Night), ” “9 AVRIL 1925 (9 April 1925)."
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Miyashita Makoto presents the same point
of view by adopting the receptive aesthetics for the images of Paul Klee and
Max Ernst. Here the conflict between legibility and illegibility does not
persist between image and title, for example:
In the case of Ernst, the “accord of discord” in the oil works, for
example Elephant of Celebes, and in
the collage. The “inserted reality” by frottage and the new relations of images
made by that. The “controlled accident” occurs through the cooperation of the
accident inserted on the canvas by decalcomania and dripping and the other
images as the background of that.
All these were
probably the “blank” set by the artist to make the work more ambiguous and more
creative through the audiences’ active (creative) “intervention,” an
indispensable opportunity for all the new ways of painting structure creation.
The “blank” is the concept from Wolfgang
Iser.
Iser considers the many contradictions occuring between the storyteller and the
characters and the sequences as the “blank”. Readers in front of these “blanks”
try to fill in therein. That is to say, they try to give rational interpretions
in order to read the contradictions of the text consistently. The story,
however, finishes without giving ultimate solution to the readers. Readers
intervene irresistibly in the progress of the story by trying to fill in the “blank.”
Through this the work can become more and more ambiguous. Miyashita says here,
the works of Max Ernst have the function of trigering the audiences to intervene
in the progress of the work by filling in the contradictions among the images.
As a result, many interpretations occur therein, such as Iser’s “blank.”
While Caillois criticizes it, in Levaillant and Miyashita’s points
of view, the “infinite fantasy,” which occurs from the “sign without certain,
perceptible or fixed signification” is a positive element of the work.
On the basis of hereinbefore, I provide the following as a hypothesis
for the images of Surrealism: The images of Surrealism can be defined, as
Krauss claimed, not by formalistic but semiologic consistency. This semiologic
consistency is, according to Caillois, the “sign without certain, perceptible
or fixed signification.” Here I tentatively call this kind of image “opaque
image.”
Through this “opaque image,” infinite significations occur, but these
significations do not converge into one, sole meaning. I call this
characteristic “infinite” structure, after Callois.
2. Yves Tanguy’s Images.
If we compare the images of Tanguy with those of other surrealists
from the point of view of the “opaque image” and of “infinite” structure, what
can be said?
2-1.
First, there are some differences
in the mechanism through which an image becomes “opaque.”
The visual images of Surrealism
become “opaque” as a whole through a “gap” between the signs. I explicate this
through one of the most fundamental principles of Surrealism: the “dépaysement.”
Here I consider dépaysement as a method of production, or a principle of
creation.
The dépaysement, whose primary
meaning is “deportation,” means to remove an object from its proper context and
to place it in another. After the famous phrase of Lautréamont: “Beautiful like
the chance meeting upon a dissecting table of a sewing-machine with an
umbrella,” Ernst formulates the dépaysement and presents it as the most impotant
procedure of Surrealism.
Thanks to studying enthusiastically
the mechanism of inspiration, the surrealists have succeeded in discovering
certain essentially poetic processes whereby the plastic work’s elaboration can
be freed from the sway of the so-called conscious faculties. (…)
(…) I am inclined to say that it
amounts to the exploiting of the
fortuitous encounter upon a non-suitable plane of two mutually distant
realities (this being a paraphrase and generalization of the celebrated
Lautréamont quotation, “Beautiful like the chance meeting upon a dissecting
table of a sewing-machine with an umbrella”) or, to use a more handy
expression, the cultivation of the effects of a systematic putting out of place (…).
Though the problem is “plastic work,” Ersnt
refers to Latréamont’s quote, which is verbal expression. As such the system of
dépaysement focuses not on formalistic aspect, form, color, etc., but on the semiological aspect of
plastic work common to verbal expression. This is semiological coherence.
In the principle of dépaysement, the signs removed from their original
context (a
sewing-machine and an umbrella) are juxtaposed upon
completely different contexts (dissecting table). The juxtaposed signs are mutually distant, and the context these signs are put in is a non-suitable plane. So among these signs necessarily occurs a “gap.”
The signs which have lost their original contexts also lose their clear significations.
On the other hand, by losing their original contexts or by being juxtaposed
with other signs, they aqcuire the possibility for new significations. That is
to say, “legibility” occurs. However, because of the “gap” among the juxtaposed
signs or among the signs and their contexts, “illegibility” also occurs. The
signs are put in a suspended state of “net of sense.” Alternatively, among the
signs occurs a “blank.” There occurs an infinite possibility of interpretations
but they never arrive at one clear answer. This is “infinite” structure. Namely
the priciple of dépaysement creates the “opaque image.”
According to Ernst, ”Thanks to using, modifying and incidentally
systematizing this process, nearly all the surrealists, painters as well as
poets, have since its discovery been led from surprise to surprise.”
Of course, it is impossible to attribute the visual images of Surrealism
entirely to dépaysement. If we consider the dépaysement as a semiological
principle, we can, however, relate almost all visual images of Surrealism to
it. Typical examples are the collages by Ernst, or the images of Dalí and
Magritte, wherein the objects are separated from their proper contexts. The
photographs separate a part of reality by superposing a frame.
In the works of Masson and Miró, there is almost always some reference to
reality. As such their works are not unrelated to the principle of dépaysement.
Alternatively, we can think of the works of Masson and Miró in another
way. The discussion considering their works as “écriture” shows that in their
images linguistic signs (letters) and pictorial signs (line, color, form) are intermixed.
That is to say, two different kinds of signs
encounter each other upon the canvas. The “gap” occurs between the
liguistic signs and the pictorial signs [fig.4, 5]. The same can be said of the
frottage and the décalcomanie of Ernst. There, the “gap” occurs between the
physical traces from the frottage and the décalcomanie and the resulting signs:
a “bird” and a “forest” [fig.6, 7].
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［fig.4］André
Masson, Dessin for The Metaphor
(1942).
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［fig.5］Joan
Miró, Painting (Sable), 1925.
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［fig.6］Max
Ernst, The Grand Forest, 1927.
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［fig.7］Max
Ernst, Marlène (woman and child), 1940-41.
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On the other hand, the particularity of Tanguy’s images is the
impossibility of the dépaysement mentioned above.
In Tanguy’s works after 1928, where the signs having references to reality had
been replaced by the amorphous beings, the principle of dépaysement is
impossible. Because Tanguy’s amorphous beings have no definite reference to
reality, they are signs which cannot be named.
Concerning dépaysement, Ernst defines “the fortuitous encounter upon a non-suitable
plane of two mutually distant realities.” In this definition, the “two
realities” are “mutually distant,” so it must be clear what these realities
are. Each sign must have definite references to reality. In so doing, the “gap” among the signs or
among the signs and contexts can be recognized, and images can become “opaque
images” as a whole.
On the other hand, the amorphous
beings in Tanguy’s images have no definite references to reality. Tanguy’s
images are not real landscape. The amorphous beings (we can adress them only
like this) arranged in this imaginal space are not real. Even if they resemble something
real, ultimately they never have reference to reality. These “beings” could be,
for example, pebble-like, ameba-like, bone-like, machine-like, or they could “seem
soft” or “seem solid.” However, as they are images we cannot verify that they
are indeed soft or solid.
Thus it is not through dépaysement
that Tanguy’s images become “opaque.” The “gaps” among the signs do not occur
in Tanguy’s images because the signs constructing them have no definite
reference to reality. On the other hand, this means that Tanguy’s images
themselves are “signs having no fixed significations.” While surrealist visual
images become “opaque images” through a composite of the signs, Tanguy’s images
are themselves already “opaque images.” This is the first particularity of
Tanguy’s images.
2-2.
Another particularity of Tanguy’s images is in the “infinite”
structure. In Tanguy’s images the principle of dépaysement is impossible. Critics,
however, have identified various images in Tanguy’s works until now. How does “infinite”
structure in Tanguy’s images occur?
The amorphous beings constructing Tanguy’s images have no definite
reference to reality. We can also find this kind of image in those made by décalcomanie,
excluding the works which transform the trace of décalcomanie into other images
such as those of Max Ersnt, mentioned above.
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| ［fig.8］Óscar
Domínguez, [Untitled], 1937. |
Décalcomanie is a kind of painting technique. First, a painted paper
is placed on another paper, and then, the
second paper is stripped off, fixing the trace of paint. The images by décalcomanie
themselves have no definite reference to reality [fig.8]. The images occuring
here are formally very much “abstract.” These images, however, do not aim for
physical reality as paint or medium. André Breton says that the décalcomanie
should be added to the “secrets of surrealist magic,” and he adds:
To open the window on the most beautiful landscapes of this world
and of others at will.
Pour
ouvrir à volonté sa fenêtre sur les plus beaux paysages du monde et d’ailleurs
He considers the images made by décalcomanie,
“windows,” and he says after this:
What you have before you is perhaps only
the old paranoiac wall of da Vinci, but it is this wall that has been
perfected.
Ce
que vous avez devant vous n’est peut-être que le vieux mur paranoïaque de
Vinci, mais c’est ce mur porté à sa perfection.
The “paranoiac wall of da Vinci” comes from Leonardo da
Vinci’s painting lecture. By staring at formless objects like a stain on the
wall, we can perceive various images there which could be materials of
creation. That is to say, the images by décalcomanie prompt audiences to see
various images through those formally “abstract” things.
Images made by décalcomanie are similar to Tanguy’s images, because
they have no references to reality, and because audiences perceive various
significations within.
However, they should not be considered exactly the same. Images by décalcomanie
have no fixed signifié. On the other hand, Tanguy’s images are perfect
representations of something. That is to say, Tanguy paints “beings” which cast
shadows in the illusionary three-dimensional space. Thus these images have a
fixed signifié. This property of Tanguy’s images’ is a decisive departure from
images of décalcomanie.
This difference regulates the conditions of “infinite” structure of
both styles. The images by décalcomanie do not have a fixed signifié because
they occur by chance. It might even be said that the signifié is the physical
trace itself. However, when we consider them as “windows,” the forthcoming
images, in theory, have no limitation; as there is no fixed signifié from the
beginning, their interpretations have no limitation and each interpretation is
equally valid.
The images by décalcomanie essentialy have only the level of
physical traces as reality. However, while Tanguy’s images also have an
agglomeration of paint and brush traces as physical reality, there is another
level. It is that of illusion created by smooth brushing and by excluding
physical traces as much as possible. Rather than physical traces,Tanguy’s
images are better defined as three dimensional illusions. In this sense, Tanguy’s
images have fixed signifié differing from décalcomanie.
Tanguy’s images have no definite reference to reality; though they
have some fixed signifié, it is impossible to identify them. Due to this
property, various interpretations have been made until now [see chapter I].
However, this very property renders it impossible for these interpretations to
arrive at an essential signifié. In the case of décalcomanie, because there is
no fixed signifié, all interpretations are equally valid. In the case of Tanguy’s
images, unless we can identify “beings” as their fixed signifié, the act of
interpretation is essentially nonsense. The very act of interpretation is nullified. Regardless of this, Tanguy’s images
are decidedly illusionistic. However unlike typical illusionism they cannot be
considered an abstraction of a specific object.
This property of nullifying interpretation is another particularity
of Tanguy’s images. The surrealist visual images have “infinite” structure.
These images are suspended between legibility and illegibility but they do not
nullify interpretation. According to Levaillant and Miyashita, they actually
stimulate it. Tanguy’s images also stimulate audience interpretation. However, in
contrast with “infinite” structure, because Tanguy’s images have no definite
references to reality, and because they are perfect representations with three
dimensional illusion, they ultimately nullify the acts of interpretation.
2-3.
Tanguy’s images nullify interpretation. Therefore the problem of
titulation, which is at the border between the inside and the outside of any work,
arises. He scarcely spoke of his works. There is no text in his works except
for his signature, date, and names of persons to whom he dedicated the works.
Only words related to Tanguy’s images are titles.
Caillois says that because semiologic aspect is important in
surrealist paintings, titles have “extraordinary importance” and “thus those
titles are not simple titles but lexical equivalents of painted works.”
This claim, however, does not necessarily apply to Tanguy’s works. The
catalogue raisonné edited by Kay Sage and Pierre Matisse
includes the data of 463 works. Of those 139 have no titles and among those 75
works are untitled, 63 are unknown, and one is titled “untitled.” That is to
say, about a quarter of his works have no title. According to Gordon
Onslow-Ford, most of Tanguy’s works are titled by his friends. Furthermore, in
accordance with the discussions above, because Tanguy’s images have no definite
reference to reality, images and titles do not coincide.
It is not evident from his words how Tanguy thinks of his titles.
There is, however, a suggestive fact concerning this problem. On his first solo
exhibition, Tanguy, together with Breton, took his works’ titles from a book
concerning psychical research (concerning this problem, see also chapter V). At
a 1946 interview, Tanguy says:
I remember spending a whole
afternoon with him before the catalogue went to press searching through books
on psychiatry for statements of patients which we could use as titles for the
paintings. The Museum’s painting Mama,
Papa is Wounded! was one of them.
Concerning this fact, Jennifer Mundy has provided further details.
The book in question was Introduction to
the metapsycology,
written by Charles Richet, who was an authority on psychical research. This
book concerns wide paranormal phenomena: telepathy, premonition, levitation,
ectoplasm etc.. Tanguy and Breton
borrowed 13 titles and one subtitle for all the exhibited works.
Specifically, most are from the chapter on monition.
According to Mundy, these titles are not chosen randomly because there
are similarities between the titles and images. For example, Mama, Papa is Wounded! (1927) [fig.9],
refered to by Tanguy in his interview above, is taken from the following story
of premonition. At the very time his father
was wounded, suddenly the son woke up and said “mama, papa was wounded, but he
is not dead (Maman, papa est blessé, mais
il n’est pas mort).”
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［fig.9］Yves
Tanguy, Mama, Papa is Wounded!, 1927.
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Concerning this, Mundy says:
The title leads the reading of the
forms: in the foreground a large phallic shape bleeds billows of a dark
substance while near the horizon stands a rounded, (maternal?) form, surrounded
by smaller, satellite objects [...]. Clearly it would make the oddest of
families, […]
That is to say, the object in the
foreground is the bleeding father, and the objects near the horizon are his
familiy.
Tanguy took his works’ titles from another source also. What does
this mean? Mundy considers these titles as what awake audiences’ creative
interpretations. By taking
his titles from a book concerning psychical research, another level of context is
added to his works. Thus it becomes possible to “read” Tanguy’s work. Legibility
occurs here.
On the other hand, because Tanguy’s images have no definite
reference to reality, latent “illegibility” is always there. Even if the
context is clear like this case, it is not necessarily clear how to connect it
to the image. For example, in the case of Mama,
Papa is Wounded!, it is possible to think of several combinations of
father, mother and children. That is to say, the titles here functions to add
to the images an aspect of “legibility / illegibility.”
Is it possible to apply this point of view to all Tanguy’s works? Unlike
images, titles consist of words and therefore contribute to an aspect of legibility
by nature. Generally titles are considered to correspond to the image directly.
For example, a work titled “cat” represents a cat. Tanguy’s images, however,
have no definite reference to reality. Therefore the titles and the images do
not correspond clearly. There is already latent “illegibility.” By being
titled, this latent “illegibility” becomes overt. Like this the aspect of “legibility
/ illegibility” occurs. The titles of Tanguy’s works serve to add an aspect of “legibility
/ illegibility.”
2-4.
The aspect of “legibility / illegibility” occurs by being titled.
This gives at least a possibility for “reading” Tanguy’s images. When we take,
however, the problem of transition of Tanguy’s works into consideration, this aspect
may also be nullified.
From
1926 to 1927, in Tanguy’s works amorphous beings replace signs having
references to reality. Though during the 1920s, the space and the forms of the
beings and their shadows are sometimes ambiguous, in the early 1930s after his
trip to Africa, Tanguy’s style is established.
After that, while he did continue to elaborate his technique, his basic style
does not change. The structure where amorphous beings with no references to reality
are arranged before vast space, applies to almost all Tanguy’s works after
1928.
Tanguy’s images do change gradually but this is not a change of
style but of the state of motifs. The change in Tanguy’s images is the change
of the state of amorphous beings as main motifs.
The amorphous beings appear for the first time in The Storm (Black Landscape) (1926) or Dark Moon (1926). From 1926 to 1927,
Tanguy paints the amorphous being and signs having references to reality at the
same time. In 1928 Tanguy’s works are overtaken by the amorphous beings. During
the 1920s, the amorphous beings show forms like amoebae which are sparse and tend
to be floating in the air. After his trip to Africa
in 1930, the space gradually becomes transparent, and the beings come to have
fixed contours and assemble in the forefront of the canvas. In the 1940s, the
beings grow bigger with respect to the canvas, and take on more complex forms.
They ressemble solid mineral or machine. From the mid-1940s, signs of
propagation and spawning can be seen. In the 1950s, the beings become bigger
and bigger, more and more complex and propagate and spawn more and more. This
transition climaxes with Multiplication
of the Arcs, and then comes Tanguy’s last work, Imaginary Numbers (1954).
Tanguy’s body of works includes three characteristics: “continuity,”
“consistency,” and “autonomy.” “Continuity” means that Tanguy continued to
paint the same amorphous beings in the unchanged style. “Consistency” means
that these beings gradually become bigger, and more complex, and they propagate
more and more. That is to say, they consistently progress toward an extreme
state. What’s more, this consistency gives the impression that the images
change by their own will, suggesting an “autonomy” of the works.
The continuity, consistency and autonomy in transition within Tanguy’s
works are sometimes regarded as monotonous, but we can consider them as the
characteristic point of Tanguy’s images. They also nullify each image’s meaning.
Tanguy painted similar images
repeatedly. This continuity and the consistency, in which the works transition toward
an extreme state as a whole, gives an evergrowing impression of continuity and
similarity. That is to say, these characteristics sugggest that the works do
not resemble each other by chance but because they are in the same current. Thus
each work is determined by this current and is entirely independent from its
title.
As such the titles function to distinguish one work from another.
Normally, a work is connected to its title through its individuality. However,
if one work resembles another, the purpose of an individual title is
compromised. In Tanguy’s works, due to this continuity (similarity) emphasized by consistency
of transition, and due to the autonomy found therein, the connection between
title and image becomes weak. The more Tanguy paints the works along this
current of continuity, of consistency, of autonomy, the freer the images become
from the titles. Hence, Tanguy’s titles become “something like an ID number for
the works,”
losing individual meaning to an extreme degree.
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［fig.10］Pablo Picasso, Crucifixion, 1932.
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Furthermore, this operation weakens not only the meaning of titles
but also that of image itself. For example, though Crucifixion of Picasso [fig.10] resembles Tanguy’s image very much,
we can conclude this work depicts the scene of crucifixion. Tentatively, this
is possible with just its title. However, strictly speaking, we also need to
know its background; Picasso is a painter who basically paints real things, most
works of Picasso have realistic titles, there are other works which depict the
scene of crucifixion more realistically etc..
No difference between Picasso and Tanguy’s work could be determined solely by
the title “crucifixion.” The title may have no relation to the actual image; it
may simply function to add to a work an aspect of “legibility / illegibility”
like the case of Tanguy. Here, however, we accept Picasso’s title crucifixion as-is after judging
collectively from Picasso’s other works. That is to say, if an image of a work
is not clear, by comparing it to other works of the same painter, it becomes
possible to read that image.
In the case of Tanguy, however, comparing one work to another doesn’t
offer much insight. This is because, following 1928, Tanguy’s works have no
definite reference to reality. It is no use to compare one unknown thing to
another. In the case of Picasso, the fact that almost all his other works
depict real things, and that the title “crucifixion” is based on the general
image of crucifixion are clear, makes comparison effective. In the case of Tanguy’s images, due
to their “continuity,” they resemble each other very much. Therefore the act of
comparison is inefffective.
The continuity of Tanguy’s works also functions to nullify interpretation. Tanguy’s images are rendered
autonomous by their consistent continuity. Through consistent transition by
repeating similar images, Tanguy’s images are freed from the titles and their
meanings behind the work are diminished.
3. The Realm of Image
I have shown the particularity of Yves Tanguy’s images by comparing
them to surrealist visual images. Finally, based on the above, I suggest Tanguy’s
place relative to the surrealist visual images.
Tanguy’s images are “opaque images,” because the
elements composing them have no definite reference to reality and their nature nullifies
interpretation. These particularities can be described as an attempt to escape
from words entirely. This is different from other surrealist visual images,
which always keep their connection to words.
Plastic practices of surrealism always maintained their relation to
words. Ernst’s “collage roman,” letter signs in Masson’s and Miró’s works,
images and words in Magritte’s works, images of Dalí and, subsidiary to them, his
texts, the objects functioning by their creator’s desire. The priciple of dépaysement
was a paraphrase of Lautréamont’s line. The point of view of “legibility /
illegibility” and “blank” suggest that interpretations are indispensable to the
generation of works.
On
the other hand, Tanguy’s images reject the invasion of words into their realm. Even titles exist only minimaly at their very
edge, with only the image truly present within the proper realm. This realm of
image is irresolvable other than to image itself. Let’s remember Caillois’s
words: “there are the image, nothing but the image, or the image above all.”
If we think of the place of Tanguy’s realm in surrealism, the words
of Caillois are suggestive. André Breton’s words below offer an answer for this
question for the time being:
[…] without any immediate equivalent in nature, and which, it must
be pointed out, have not to this day yielded to any valid interpretation.
But first let us make short
shrift of all equivocation and say clearly that we are with these beings not in
the regions of abstraction but in the very heart
of the concrete.
Tanguy’s region is “in the very heart of the concrete.”
What is the “heart of the
concrete” according to Breton? Suzuki Masao has raised “concrete” as a keyword
to summarize the surrealist paintings.
According to Suzuki, this word is paired with the word “objective” for Breton
in the 1930s. Alternatively it is used as “concrete irrationality” by Dalí or
as “concrete art” by Arp. Suzuki considers this “concrete” thing to be “unnamed”
or “the thing which cannot acquire stable identity.”
If we interpret this word from the discussion above, “the concrete”
means image irresolvable other than to image itself. Though it clearly exists, it
is impossible to name. It cannot become a concrete concept, nor does it stay at
the level of material. That is the “concrete” thing, and its “heart,” that is
to say, its extreme form is Tanguy’s image.
From this point of view, we can reconceptualize the surrealist
visual image that which occurs from the “gaps” among signs, in the principle of
dépaysement, is this “concrete” thing. The sign loses “assured or perceptible
or fixed signification”; this means losing name and identity. Thus the image
cannot be exchanged with words as a whole (I have called this “opaque image”),
but appears as a “concrete” thing. The interpretations which occur from “gaps” among
the signs appear as possibilities to audiences. These possibilities (or
impossibilities) which have not become texts yet are the “concrete” thing.
While the surrealist visual images become a “concrete” thing through
the medium of words, Tanguy’s images become a “concrete” thing in themselves.
Therefore they themselves are the “heart” of “concrete” things. Thus Tanguy’s
images can be considered an extreme form of surrealist visual image. Breton
applauded Tanguy not only because he was faithful to Breton but also because he
saw a “heart” of surrealism in Tanguy.
Furthermore, if we consider Tanguy’s images as an extreme form of
surrealist visual image, the vector of the surrealist visual image becomes
clear. Tanguy’s images are irresolvable other than to images themselves. That
is to say, the “concrete” thing Breton refers to is what turns to image
decisively. What becomes clear by placing Tanguy’s images in the context of surrealist
visual images is this realm of image.
＊
Tanguy’s images attempt a complete escape from words. I call this
orientation toward inexchangeability with words, “silence.” Thus we can
understand Tanguy’s thorough refusal to talk about his own works to be
consistent with his image’s character. In a letter to a critic, Tanguy says:
I understand and find your questions very thoughtful unfortunately
it is absolutely impossible for me to respond. Please believe me that I mean no
ill will; but I cannot, nor, consequently, want to try to give a definition,
even a simple one, to what I paint. If I did try, I would risk very much
closing myself in a definition that would later become like a prison for me.
Je comprends et trouve très sensées vos questions
malheureusement il m’est absolument impossible d’y répondre. Croyez bien que ce
n’est pas de ma part de la mauvaise volonté; mais je ne peux, ni par conséquent
ne veux essayer de donner une définition, aussi simple soit elle, de ce que je
peint. Si je tentais de la faire je risquérais à tout jamais m’enfermer dans
une definition qui ne tarderai (sic.) pas à devenir pour moi comme une prison.
We can find the same claim in a
questionnaire done one year before his death.
And, to finish, should I seek the
reasons for my painting, I would feel that it would be a self-imprisonment.
We can also observe Tanguy’s attitude to
reject words from testimonies of his friends.
[…] Yves Tanguy refrains from making any statement concerning the
ends he proposes to realize, reveals not one of his designs and is too disdainful
to give the lie to those attributed to him […].
(André Breton)
Yves Tanguy was taciturn. He never
spoke of his painting, contrary to his contemporaries who eagerly tried to inform
us about their “research” or their “experiences.” (André Thirion)
Yves Tanguy était taciturne. Il ne parlait jamais de sa peinture au
rebours des contemporains tellement soucieux de nous mettre au courant de leurs
« recherches » ou de leurs « experiences ».
Concerning his works, as well as himself, Tanguy did not speak. When
one attempted a reflexion on his tableaux, at most he consented with a smile to
show that he did not disapprove. (Patrick Waldberg)
De cette œuvre, pas plus que de lui-même, Tanguy ne parlait. Lorsqu’il
arrivait que l’on fît une réflexion sur tel de ses tableaux, tout au plus
consentait-il à sourire pour montrer qu’il ne désapprouvait pas.
Throughout the twenty year exchange of letters with his friend,
Marcel Jean, Tanguy hardly spoke of his works.
This attitude of Tanguy is exceptional both as a twentieth century
painter and as a surrealist painter. Typical surrealist artists, for example,
Ernst, Masson, Arp, Miró, Magritte, Dalí, Giacometti, and Matta, spoke much of
their art in the form of writing or interview. Even Kay Sage, as a partner of Tanguy,
who maintained silence, wrote poems and an autobiographical text titled China Egg.
On the other hand, Tanguy published only two pieces of writing, “Weights and
Colors” (1931) and “Life of Object” (1933) in Surrealism au service de la révolution. Aside from these there were
only a few questionnaires and interviews. This is much less than those of the
painters mentioned above.
Tanguy did not seem to consider himself suited to write. When Macel
Jean asked Tanguy to write a foreword of his exhibition. Tanguy answered:
It is a grand proof of friendship to ask me to write a short
presentation for you. But sadly, I consider myself completely incompetent in
this field. So don’t think badly if I refuse this honor.
C’est une bien grande preuve d’amitié de me demander d’écrire une
petite présentation pour toi. Hélas, je me sens parfaitement nul dans ce
domaine. Ne m’en veux donc pas si je refuse platement cet honneur.
We should not, however, assume Tanguy’s
silence to be simply an issue of character or as outward posture. Following the
point of this chapter, Tanguy’s images themselves are oriented to
inexchangeability with words, to silence. A few critics made reference to this
point.
Since the very early years of his
career, however, Tanguy’s subjects have never referred directly to outer
appearances. They have referred to uncharted realms of the imagination, where
we are stirred by shapes we cannot hail or dismiss by name. (James Thrall Soby)
To my eyes the tableau is always speaking and but always it remains
mute: […] This contradiction between an immediate adhesion of mind and the
sensation of a definitive exclusion, I found it each time I saw the work of
Tanguy, though facing it words seem to me heavier and more awkward than ever.
(Jean-Chiristophe Bailly)
À mes yeux le tableau parle toujours et toujours il reste muet: […]
Cette contradiction entre une adhésion immédiate de l’esprit et le sentiment
d’une exclusion définitive, je la retrouvai à chaque nouvelle rencontre avec
l’œuvre de Tanguy, si bien que face à elle les mots me semblent plus lourds et
plus maladroits que jamais.
I have always had the impression, with Tanguy, that I was in a dream,
a book whose words, though familiar to me, were indecipherable. Where did the
sense go? (Yves Bonnefoy)
J’ai toujours eu l’impression, avec Tanguy, d’être
en rêve, devant un livre dont les mots me seraient, bien que familiers,
indéchiffrables. Où est passé le sens?
What anyone feels before the works of Yves Tanguy is a strange
silence which cannot be compared to any other artist and of which no one can
know how to speak of. Though we can think of Dalí or of Chirico or sometimes of
Miró, or even, the still life of the Baroque era, Tanguy’s works have a silence
which these paintings do not. It is this silence which we cannot help
questioning; Why does such a thing happen? […]
There is no other
painting wihich makes us feel the unspeakable sensation “there is nothing” to
this extent.
The sensation
that there is nothing to say from the start, the sensation that there was
nothing to say, there is nothing to say, there will be nothing to say, before
and now and after, and the sensation that even we who should say something are
not there, these sensations are present.
(Nibuya Takashi)
In this chapter, I have suggested Tanguy’s
particularity as orientation to inexchangeability to words, silence. After this
chapter, I examine from several points of view to what historical contexts this
particularity belongs. To start, in the next chapter, I consider Giorgio de
Chirico’s theory of metaphysical painting as an origin for Tanguy’s silence.
＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿
Abbreviations:
- Arp (1958): Jean Arp, “Looking,” in: James Thrall Soby (ed.), Arp (exh.cat.), The Museum of Modern Art, 1958, pp.12-16.
- Breton (1965): André Breton, Le surréalisme et la peinture, Gallimard, Paris, 1965.
- Breuning (1945): Margaret Breuning, “Surrealist Disillusion of Yves Tanguy,” in: Art Digest, vol.19, New York, 15 May 1945, p.9.
- Brion (1961): Marcel Brion, Art fantastique, Albin Michel, Paris, 1961.
- Caillois (1974): Roger Caillois, “L’univers des signes,” in: XXe siècle, vol.36, no.42, Paris, Juin 1974, unpagenated, reprinted in; Obliques précédé de images, images…, Stock, Paris, 1975.
- Jung (1958): Carl Gustav Jung, Ein Moderner Mythus, von Dingen, die am Himmel gesehen werden, Rascher Verlag, 1958.
- Krauss (1981): Rosalind Krauss, “The Photographic Conditions of Surrealism,” in: October, no.19, Winter 1981, pp.3-34, reprinted in; Rosalind Krauss, The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths, The MIT Press, 1985.
- Levaillant (1991): Françoise Levaillant, “Lisivilité vs illisibilité: dessins d’André Masson au début des années 20,” in: L’art, effacement et surgissement des figures. Hommage à Marc Le Bot, Publication de la Sorbonne, Paris, 1991, pp.87-105.
- Masson (1994): André Masson, Françoise Levaillant (ed.), Le rebelle du surréalisme. Écrits, Hermann, 1994.
- Matisse (1963): Pierre Matisse, Kay Sage (eds.), Yves Tanguy: Un recueil de ses œuvres / A Summary of His Works, Pierre Matisse, New York, 1963.
- Maur (2001): Karin von Maur (ed.), Yves Tanguy und der Surrealismus (exh.cat.), Staatsgalerie Stuttgart, Hatje Canz, Ostfildern-Ruit, 2000; John Brownjohn, John S. Southard (tr.), Yves Tanguy and Surrealism (exh.cat.), The Menil Collection (Houston), Hatje Canz, Ostfildern-Ruit, 2001.
- Miró (1977): Joan Miró, Georges Raillard, Ceci est la couleur des mes rêves, Seuil, Paris, 1977.
- Mundy (1983): Jennifer Mundy, ”Tanguy, Titles and Mediums,” in: Art History, vol.6, no.2, June 1983, pp.199-213.
- Rétrospective (1982): Yves Tanguy: Rétrospective 1925-1955 (exh.cat.), Centre Geoges Pompidou, Paris, 1982.
- Richet (1922): Charles Richet, Traité de métapsychique, Félix Alcan, Paris, 1922.
- Rubin (1966): William Rubin, “Toward a Critical Framework,” in: Artforum, vol.5, no.1, September 1966, pp.36-55.
- Sage (1996): Kay Sage, Elisabeth Manuel (tr.), Judith Suther (ed.), China Eggs / Les Oeufs de Porcelaine, Bilingual ed., Starbooks / L’étoile, 1996.
- Schmidt (1982): Katharina Schmidt (ed.), Yves Tanguy (exh.cat.), Staatliche Kunsthalle Baden-Baden, Prestel-Verlag, München, 1982.
- Soby (1949): James Thrall Soby, “Inland in the Subconscious: Yves Tanguy,” in: Magazine of Art, vol.42, New York, January 1949, pp.2-7.
- Sweeny (1946): James Johnson Sweeny, “Interview with Yves Tanguy,” in: The Museum of Modern Art Bulletin, vol.13, nos.4-5, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1946, pp.22-23.
- Tanguy (1954): “The Creative Process,” in: Art Digest, vol.28, no.8, New York, 15 January 1954, pp.14-16.
- Tanguy (1993): Yves Tanguy, Lettres de loin: Adressées à Marcel Jean, Le Dilettante, Paris, 1993.
- View (1942): View, vol.2, no.2 [Special Double Number: “Tanguy-Tchelitchew”], New York, May 1942, unpagenated.
- Waldberg (1977): Patrick Waldberg, Yves Tanguy, André de Rache, Bruxelle, 1977.
Notes
“The automatic drawing taking its
source in the unconscious, must appear like an unforeseeable nativity. The
first graphic apparition on the paper is pure gesture, rhythm, incantation, and
as a result: pure graffiti. It is the
first phase.
Levaillant (1991), pp.104-105.
