Cubism and Reflexivity

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Picasso, Cubism, and ReflexivityAuthor(s): Edward F. FrySource: Art Journal, Vol. 47, No. 4, Revising Cubism (Winter, 1988), pp. 296-310Published by: College Art Association

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Picasso Cubism n d eflexivity

By EdwardF. FryThe interpretationof Cubism has agreat bearingon the understandingof modernism,and the understandingofmodernismplays in turn a central role inmost of twentieth-century art to thisday. Yet only a narrow range of viewsregarding preciselyhow an overall inter-pretation of Cubism may relate to theart of the last hundred years hasemerged. One is that Cubism was thecornerstone of twentieth-century artbecause it broke with past traditiondefinitively; established modernistflatness, opticality, and involvementwith the medium of art; and thus sanc-tioned a new tradition that would lead tononobjectiveartas well as to assemblageand to other modernist principlesandpractices.This essentially formalist viewhas now been supplemented, but notdisplaced, by what might be called alinguistic or semiological position,whereby Cubism becomes the first, pio-neeringexemplarof a modernist playof signs, which refer not to the exteriorworld but to other signs and to otherworks of art. What both the formalistand the linguistic approaches have incommon is the idea that Cubism is artabout art, and that it was one of theearliest instances in which the relationof art to otherart and to the autonomousconditions of art was both manifest andsovereign.Such approachesmay be clas-sified, broadly, as Kantian, withouttheir being,however,an adequate appli-cation of the full range of Kant'sthought.Another set of approaches considersCubism, and above all Picasso's Cub-ism, to be concerned with the externalworld or with a more or less directresponse to the external world. Theseapproaches include, at one extreme,analysesof the psychologyor perceptualprocessesof vision, or, at the other, thesociology of life in early-twentieth-cen-tury Paris; and this second, socialapproachalso includesthe particularsofprivatelives and the psychodynamicsof

the unconscious in relation to personalexperience.All such views have in com-mon a restrictedhistorical dimension oran emphasison personalbiography;andthey also rely on an idea of art as therecord of a subjective response to anobjective world. This dualist, subject-object approach is in fact a version ofpre-Kantian,correspondence heoriesoftruth, in which art becomes a passivemirrorheld up either to the world or tothe mind experiencingthe world.'Both kindsof approachesmay be use-ful in some instances, but not usefulenough; yet the Kantian tradition hasthe decisiveadvantageof its inextricablerelationshipto the principlesof Enlight-enmentmodernity,if not of modernism.2The problemwith the Kantianapproachuntil now is that it has not been suffi-ciently historical or critical, and alsothat the emphasis on aesthetic auton-omy has overshadowed the implicationsof Kant's synthetic a priori for the criti-cal evaluation of past historical tradi-tions. It would seem today to be desir-able and even necessary that Kantianaesthetic autonomy be providedwith amore powerful critical and historicalfocus, in what might be called a movetowards a detranscendentalized, neo-Hegelian transformation of Kantianaesthetics.3 I would propose to do thiswith respect to Cubism by identifyingthe tradition to which it is related, toexamine the critical nature of that rela-tionship in every respect, and to deter-mine the implications of that criticalrelationship for our understanding ofmodernism. Another way of saying allthis is to propose that Cubism was theend of something rather than a begin-ning, but that this end, as critique, wasin turnthe beginningof somethingnew.Cubism was just yesterday, it seems,but we must cross barriersboth of timeand of cultural traditions to reach it; andthese barriers are greaterthan one real-izes. The distance of three quartersof acentury between Cubism and the pres-

ent is approximately the same as thatwhich separatedthe young Picasso fromDelacroix, or the young Manet fromDavid. But David, Delacroix, Manet,and Picasso, despite all theirdifferences,shared as a common heritage the tradi-tion of a humanistic, classical, andCatholic-even if secularized or agnos-tic Catholic-Europe that only margin-ally exists as a living tradition. For ourunderstanding of Cubism, the mostimportant aspect of this heritage is itsdensely mediated relationshipsbetweenthought and experience; and it is theclassical at the heart of this heritagethat is now more distant from us thanwas Poussin from the Cubists.I claim that the special achievementof Cubism,and above all of Picasso, wasto reinventclassical, mediatedrepresen-tation, and in that reinvention also totransform it so as to reveal its centralconventions and mental processes. Thisachievement of Picasso, and to a lesserextent of other Cubists, was that of theclassical mind's becoming aware of itsmeans for thinkingand representingtheworld even as it carries out that repre-sentation. This is an event that may becalled reflexive.4 There is no simplevisual or literary metaphor for de-scribing reflexivity, because it involvesno passive mirrorbeing held up beforeeither nature or the human mind. At thesimplest level, reflexivity is comparableto the sudden discovery that one hasbeen speaking prose all one's life; or toseeing a play within a play and thusbeing reminded of the fictional natureofdrama; or, in a more mundaneexample,reflexivity is like a color plate printedout of register,the result of which is theviewer's awareness that many colorimpressionsare superimposed o make asingle reproduction. More generally,reflexivity may be understood as theself-demonstration of any complex, uni-fied system or entity, generated by aperturbationor change in any aspect ofthat system;and this change may be one

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of intensification, substitution, subtrac-tion, or displacement.Cubism, and specifically the Cubismof Picasso, is one of the first, most fullydeveloped instances of reflexivity in themodernera, certainly in the visual arts.This reflexive self-demonstration is aspecies of critical self-consciousness,and as subjective, emancipatory self-knowledge it is the fulfillment of thedeepest aspirations of Kantian Enlight-enment ideals. Cubism marks themoment when, within Enlightenmentmodernity,the consequencesof Kantiancritique are fully realized within thesecular, aesthetic modernity of a givencultural tradition, in this case the tradi-tion of classicism: Cubism is the firstinstance of an aesthetic modernism. ButCubism also, by its very success in dem-onstrating the classical system fromwithin the classic and in creating a dis-tance, a difference, between the classicand the Cubist transformation of theclassic, therebyset in motion a dialectic.The emergenceof the antithesis classic/Cubist-classic became the tragic dramaof post-Cubist French art, the nonreso-lution of which resultedeither in a retro-gression into neo-classicism or inthe stasis of an academicized Cubistorthodoxy; or, at best, in the persis-tence of a latent classicism in theguise of the Surrealist perturbationsofCartesianism.5T his theoretical frameworkdoes notcome out of thin air but from theevidence of Cubist worksof art and theirrelation to the classical tradition. Inorder to study that relation it is neitheruseful nor necessaryto review the entireclassical theoryand practice of art sincethe Renaissance, but rather to examinecertain crucial issues, namely ico-nography, draftsmanship, perspectiveand space-time, illusionism, and thesemiotics of representation.Cubism has, supposedly, no ico-nography, only motifs-figures, stilllife, very occasionally a landscape-thesame range of motifs to be found inmuch of nonacademicart since the mid-dle of the nineteenth century. Braquehas far fewer figures than Picasso,because Braque had very little classicaltraining compared with Picasso. BothBraqueand Picasso neglect landscapeincomparison with Gleizes, Metzinger,Leger, or Delaunay, many of whomdepicted the variousspectacles of indus-trial progress :the Eiffel Tower, rail-roads,airplanes,as well as such fruits ofan industrial mass society as organizedsporting events, weekend recreations,and other communal and popularactivities.

In contrast, Picasso, Braque, and,later, Gris relied overwhelmingly oncafe life, studio interiors,and other sur-roundings of their marginal and bohe-mian existence. But all of these sub-iconographic motifs should also bedifferentiated both from classical ico-nography and from the abortive effortsof the Symbolists to invent ex nihilo anew, post-Christian version of tradi-tional iconography. One may insteadpropose that the iconographicsituationof Cubism is a potentially anarchisticrejectionof all pre-Enlightenmentvaluestructures, whether literary and hu-manist, religious and transcendental,aristocratic or bourgeois, along with allextrapersonal values generally. Evenwhen group activities are depicted-bethey bathers, rugby teams, or woodcut-ters-they are the activities of individu-als as members of an anonymousgroup.These are also physicalratherthan men-tal, and thereforeidealist, endeavors; orany idealist reference would immedi-ately imply assent to an extraindividualrealm and would be, with respect to theindividual, transcendent. Cubism thusdisplays the personal, socially alienatedand antibourgeois characteristics ofmodernWesternbourgeoishigh culture.Picasso and Braque, the most privateand in fact secretive of the Cubists, addtwo further characteristics of their ownto this modern, private anti-idealism:Braque's affinity for private aestheticpleasure and delectation, particularlyhis version of Symbolist synaesthesia inthe convergence of art and music; andPicasso's obsession with the most pri-vate, physical, and anti-idealist ofinterests-sexual desire and lust.Braque's preoccupation with musicand musical instruments is evident inthe frequencyof their appearancein hisworks,as frequentas that of women andof guitars or violins as alter egos ofwomen in Picasso.Picasso'sDemoisellesis nothing less than an early, climacticstatement about sexual desire and itsconsequences; but the Demoiselles isalso, along with a very few paintings of1908, one of the last moments before1914 in which Picasso made use of thescenographic tradition of classical art.6In a strict sense, traditionaliconographydisappears from Picasso almost com-pletely between 1908 and World War I,as it does also to a lesser degree fromvirtually the entire Cubist movement.Yet by 1911 and 1912 the anti-idealisttheme of desire resurfaces in Picasso,not in any orthodox or manifest way butobliquely, as verbal superscripts or asnewspaperclippingsor even as sly visualpuns about bottles, playing cards, andother implied references to sexual play.7

This oblique iconography, which alsoincludesanarchistpolitical references-not surprisingwith the fiercelyindividu-alist and antibourgeois Picasso8-appeared when he was on the verge ofeffecting a comparably radical changein the illusionistic and representationalmethods of the classical tradition, theresult of which wouldbe an approximateequivalence between visual and verbalsigns.It is a dogma of modernism that formand content are not separable;that formis content and that content is form.There is nevertheless a tension, as wellas the parallelismof a deliberately sun-dered unity, between form and contentin Cubism, not on the level of manifestcontent as in the Demoiselles but withthe oblique iconography of verbal andtypographical references. It was ob-viously impossible for Picasso to incar-nate in forms the full range of impli-cations available in wordplay. Thiswordplay was instead superimposedupon, or juxtaposed to, a repertoire ofsubclassical motifs. The words mightrefer to Picasso'sradicallyantibourgeoisaffirmation of sexual desire or to hisequally antibourgeoisresponseto socialand political conflict, as in the Balkancrisis of 1912; but in either case, hejuxtaposed these verbal references totheirvisual analogue:his radical,Cubisttransformation of classical representa-tion. The quandaryconfronting Picassowas that any fusion of word and imagewould have constituted a new versionofthe old, mediated, classical idealism inwhich, for example, instead of his sig-

naling us about his intense feelings forhis beautiful Eva, his ma jolie, hewould have had to invest her with theattributes of Venus or Helen of Troy oras Susannah spied upon by lustfulelders.9 Picasso's disincarnation of theword, his Cubist splitting apart of wordand image, his dissolution of an icono-graphic sign into signified and signifier,is in fact a powerfulmeans of illuminat-ing those classical conventions whichhad united them in, say, the iconog-raphyfor Saint Catherine or for Apollo;for any such classical iconographicsignhad dependedon the memorization of aconflated relationship between a givenfigure or dramatic event, including itsiconographicattributes,and its intendedsignification.A second issue central to the under-standing of Cubism is its relation-ship to classical draftsmanship and tothe mental processes,knownas disegnoor disegno interno, underlying thatdraftsmanship.?0Once again, the centralfigure is and must be Picasso, for he

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alone among Cubists was a great drafts-man. A classical draftsman must beinvolved simultaneouslywith three fac-tors: what he sees; what he knows as apriori knowledge about what he sees;and what the conventionsare, inheritedfrom past art, for drawingwhat he seesand knows.It is that threefold characterof classical disegno (empirical observa-tion, a priori knowledge, inherited con-ventions) which Cubism, and above allPicasso, lays bare.As with iconography,this process began with changes in con-ventions, so as to establish a differencebetweenknowledgeand conventionsandthereby to call attention to that differ-ence. The re-establishmentof such dif-ferences not only illuminates the classi-cal but also de-academicizes it. For asexperience is gradually absorbed intoknowledge, and the pictorial conven-tions for depicting that knowledge aredeveloped, knowledge and conventiontend to collapse into a single entity,which is thenceforth used wheneverneeded and thus eventually becomes anacademicvisual cliche. In this academicprocessof establishinga visual languagewhat is graduallylost is both new, origi-nal experienceand the resulting, neces-sarily critical reassessment of existingknowledge. There is nevertheless aninherentdifficultyand limitation in thisde-academicizing operation, which isthat after so many generationsof classi-cal representation there is little likeli-hood of any artist inventinga new, moreaccurate or faithful means of drawingahuman figure or still-life object. There-fore, it is unlikely that the classicalconventions devised for such tasks willbe surpassed. To this limit must beadded a far more important difficulty,which is that any new knowledgederived from experience of the world,even as long ago as the early twentiethcentury, has been and continues to benonvisual,or at least not apprehensibleby the nakedeye, and thus not pertinentto the representationalvisual arts. Thusan ambitious, creative artist within theclassical tradition may at best attemptto function as a creative critic of thattradition;which is exactly what occursin Cubist draftsmanship.Some of the Cubist means devised forthis purpose thus become almost self-explanatory.For a figuralartist such asPicasso, the example of African tribalsculpturewas a godsend, not just for itssinister and primal connotations at thetime of the Demoiselles but also for itssuggestions of alternatives to the reduc-tive, a priori knowledge codified in theclassical canons of human proportions.It was probablyfor similar reasons thatPicasso respondedin 1907 and 1908 to

the treatment of figuresin Gauguin andto the subclassical,almost primitive,fig-ure style in Cezanne's late bather com-positions,the receptionof which encour-aged the latent academicism of aMaurice Denis just as it stimulated De-rain, Vlaminck, and others to turntowards an anticlassicism that wassuperficially comparable to that ofPicasso.One of the most striking ways inwhichPicasso and the Cubists effectedareflexive transformation of classicaldraftsmanshipwas throughthe negationor inversionof means used for the repre-sentation of organicforms:straight lineswere substituted for the curved con-tours 1 f a still-life objector of a humanface or body;and organic volumes werereplacedby a new set of quasi-geometricvolumes, the facets of which became theplanar building blocks of AnalyticCubism. The geometries of these con-tours and volumes and the outlines ofthe resulting planar facets were, how-ever,neverprecisely regularin a strict, apriori and thereforeacademic sense butwere ratherthe result of empiricaldeci-sions. By this criterionone may differen-tiate between Picasso and Braque andsuch artists as Gris and the members ofthe Section d'Or group: the frequentrecourse of the latter to golden sectionand modular geometries betrayed theiraffinityfor Cartesian a priori thought, atendency that may be traced backthroughSeurat or the Ecole des Beaux-Arts and even David to the long tradi-tion of Frenchclassicism itself. The newCubist draftsmanship of Picasso andBraque, however, bore a symmetricalbut opposing relationship to the classi-cal, underlyingwhich was an extraordi-nary intellectual and experientialfeat: aCubist representation from 1909 to1911 involved the direct visual observa-tion of the world;previousknowledgeofthe motif, if any; masteryof the classicalconventions for representation;and thesimultaneous Cubist transformations ofthose conventions as the motif was beingrepresented.The visual consequence of Cubistfacets proliferating across a pictorialsurface then unleashed further reflexivetransformations of classical representa-tion. Instead of generalized, reductive,classical volumes, modeled by chiar-oscuro, within an illusionistic space,Cubist draftsmanship presented amental, reductive construct of nonvolu-metric volumes, with nonillusionisticchiaroscuro, within a shallow but nev-ertheless depicted space.12Along with anewversion of classical, mediatedrepre-sentation Cubism also produced a newversion of classical coherence,now in the

guise of pictorial, planar units ratherthan as canons, geometries, and theinterrelationshipsof figures. And as inthe best classical art, Cubism generatedthe condition of overdetermination, inwhich a single line or area performedmultiple roles in representationas wellas in overallcompositionalcoherence.The Cubist treatment of space andtime is directly but reflexivelyrelated to the classical tradition. In thattradition, all aspects of a subject arepresented in such a way as to concen-trate and unify the underlyingidea, be itthe depictionof a myth or allegoryor ofa pregnant moment that summarizespast, present, and future in a singlepictorial image. Such ideas or momentswere in turnrepresented n an illusionis-tic space mediatedby the conventionsofone-point perspective, in which space isunderstood o be measurable andcontin-uous in all of its depicted extensions.These conventions of mediated time andspace are so fundamental a part ofWestern representation that they areoften accepted, at least unconsciously,as natural rather than cultural phenom-ena. Cubism unveilsthese mediated con-ventions and re-presentsthem reflexive-ly. The question of space is perhapsthemost immediate and familiar aspect ofCubism, for at first glance it is totallyabsent. Yet when we look at paintingsby Picasso and Braque from 1909onward we discover that there is almostalways a foregroundand a background:figures, for example, are portrayed inrooms, cafes, or studios with objectsbehind them and often in front of them.We also discover that the faceted planesof Analytic Cubism overlapeach other,and that therefore some planes must bein frontof others. These planar overlaysare not consistent,however,for a contig-uous group of planes may in one placeindicate a given spatial recession butelsewhere contradict that recession; acontradiction that may include the link-age of a figure to its backgroundthrough so-calledpassage. But this sin-gle most conspicuous and imitated for-mal aspect of Cubism is notjust a clevertrick that may or may not have beengleaned from Cezanne and that sup-posedly points towards future abstrac-tion. Rather, it is at once a denial andanaffirmation of classical space, effectedfrom within the tradition of perspectivalillusionism itself. The affirmation is inthe receding steps from plane to plane,comparable to the evenly measurablespace of one-point perspective; thedenial is the disruptionand scramblingof that recession. The reflexivityof self-awareness arises from the juxtaposed

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presenceof both affirmationand denial.The questionof time and the so-calledfourth dimensionhas been debated eversince the birth of Cubism.13 t has beensuggested by countless critics sincebefore 1914 that the Cubists incorpo-rated in their works the results of obser-vations made over a periodof time, andthus that when we see a figure or anobject in a Cubist paintingwe are some-how shown all sides of it at once.14Thereis a variationof this space-time theme inpaintings by Metzinger and others, andin such poets of the periodas the Apolli-naire of Zone (1912), Cendrars, andHenri-Martin Barzun, according towhich two or more locales are simulta-neously present to the viewer or to themind of the reader. This simultaneity,15which was often linkedat the time to thethemes of Progressand Universal Broth-erhood,implieda privilegedif not divineor Prometheanvantage point, or at leastthe view obtainable from the recentlyinvented airplane.Also implied was thecentral role of a Bergsonian,cumulativememory in human cognition.'6 I shallnot comment here on the more mysticalaspects of fourth dimensionalism, par-ticularly among Russian writers andartists, since that would lead away fromthe more interesting problemof whetherthere is evidence of such space-time inPicasso and Braque.What one does see, beginning withPicasso's folded noses in 1907-8, withthe combined front and side views offaces and bodies in 1909 and after, andwith bird's-eyeviews of table tops and ofglasses and bottles and even the varioussides of a die cube, is something suspi-ciously like space-time and the Bergson-ian summation of remembered experi-ence in the present.17But this is notsimultaneity in the manner of Metzin-ger: space-time abnormalities occur inPicasso and Braqueonly in relation to asingle given figure or object. These phe-nomena are in fact related to the classi-cal renderingof objects in space, includ-ing the anatomical or geometricalknowledge needed for a rendering inperspectivalspace, because such knowl-edge requiresthe experientialand intel-lectual involvement with an entire vol-ume and notjust that partvisible from asingle point. This is a kind of cognitivemastery that may be acquiredonly overa period of time and includes observa-tions from many sides. Thus we maytruthfully say that space-time and thefourth dimension are already present inclassical disegno; and one is then led tosuspect that Bergsonianduree is but onefurther instance of the nineteenth-cen-tury devolution of classical idea intoprocess and experience. As heir to the

classical as well as to the nineteenthcentury, Picasso acknowledged botheven while he was struggling to create anew version of disegno. The relation ofold to new here is curious but revealing:instead of the pregnantmoment chosenin classical art for the presentationof anidea, Cubism dethrones idea in favor ofphenomenology and re-presents, in ahighly self-conscious and intellectual-ized manner, the physical and mentalprocessessubsumed within the idealismof classical representation.The supposed space-time aspect ofPicasso's Cubism, which amounted tothe uncoveringof the role of memory inknowledge, was also the establishmentof a new difference: between thesequence experience-knowledge-mem-ory, on the one hand, and the closedrealm of purely a priori knowledge, onthe other. Thus was reinstated,and rein-stated critically, another interactiverelationship in the epistemologicaltriad-experience/knowledge/conven-tion-of the classic; it is a triad thatshould better be called a hermeneuticcircle than the partial and somewhatmisleading notion of making andmatching championed by Gombrich,with Karl Popper's influence lurking inthe shadows.'8The very possibility of a fourth-dimensional space-time requires thepriorexistence of illusionistic space;andillusionistic space, a very cornerstone ofWestern classical painting, is exactlywhat Picasso, followedby other Cubists,wouldgraduallyeliminate in favor of anequivalent mental, invented space, con-taining objects that themselvesoccupiedno illusionistic space. The faceted, over-lapping planes of Analytic Cubismfrom1909 to 1911 were a partial solution tothis reflexive transformation of spatialconventions, but they did not in them-selves eliminate the illusionism on whichthey depended for their contradictoryscramblings of spatial recession. Thetransformation of spatial illusionismrequiredmore drastic measures, includ-ing the very choice of motifs to bedepicted. Thus landscape,with its inevi-tably illusionist recessions,virtuallydis-appearedfrom the work of Picasso andBraque after 1909, except for a fewisolated experiments incorporatingdis-tant views; the human figure, however,so long as no groundplane was present,offered fewer insuperable spatialdepths. Still life, with objectson a table,posed the problemof the table top itselfas a horizontal recession into space. Asolution, already suggested by Ce-zanne's later still lifes, was to tilt thetable top until it coincided with thepictorial surface, thus creating the so-

called tableau-objet. But even in atableau-objet there remained the prob-lem of a nonillusionistrepresentationofstill-life objects unless those objectswere themselves flat, such as the letters,stamps, calling cards, newspapers, andsheet music of papiers colles, wherethese flat objects themselves wereincluded, in whole or in part, as Ready-mades, or were mimicked as imitationReadymades. A similar mimicking wasachievedby the manipulationof paint tosimulate hair or wood graining. Beyondthese solutions, however, nothing morecould be done about objects supposedlyseen from above except to continue todepict them as if seen from the side, intheir characteristicprofiles.This fictionwas made palatable by a refinement indraftsmanship by which a compositespace-time image of aerial views andreductive or inverted profiles wouldindicate the object in question. Theresidual illusionism of this solutionwould not be surmounted until Picassoand Braque effected a further transfor-mation in the semiotics of Western rep-resentation, during the second half of1912.This transformationmay be linkedtocertain specific events, the first ofwhich was that Picasso very probablyacquired a somewhat unusual kind ofAfrican mask during a trip to Marseillewith Braque in August 1912.19 ThisWobe or, as it is now called, Grebomask,20 n which all the facial featuresare depicted by projectionsof equal dis-tance from a common rear plane, is ofextreme importance for the history ofCubism at exactly this moment ofimpasse,for two reasons: he volume of ahumanhead is independentof sculpturalmass;and the features are recognizable,at least to a Western observer,only bythe interactionbetween previousknowl-edge of a humanface and the contextualinterrelationshipsof the otherwise verysimilar projections.21In relation to classical art, such arepresentation s yet another instance ofthe Cubist critical illumination of theclassical hermeneutic circle, with theseparationof volume from mass reopen-ing the relationshipbetween knowledgeand convention, and with contextualrepresentationre-establishing the rela-tionships among knowledge, memory,and experience. But the role of contextin representationhas few purely visualprecedents in the Western, predomi-nantly mimetic classical tradition of theplastic arts. Contextualism is instead acharacteristicof the grammatical struc-ture of language where, for example, asubject, verb, and object constitute a

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sentenceeven if, as in Mallarmeandothers, he wordorders at firstunclear.A secondparallelwith language s theabsenceof an externalreferent; or inmuchofAfrican ribalarta givensculp-ture is modelednot so muchon visualexperienceas on its fidelity to theprevious xamples f thesametype.There are neverthelessprecedentsboth in Cubism and in the classicaltradition or whatwemustcall thecon-textualismof signs. Thus the facetedplanes of Analytic Cubism, althoughsimilarthroughout painting,refer todifferent lementsof a motif ndifferentareas, ust as a singlepictorialmethodforimitatinghair orwoodgrainingwaslater used to referto different urfacesor objects.In traditionalart, however,context plays a role not so much inrelation to representationas to ico-nography,where a groupof symbolicfiguresmay be in any one of variouspossiblearrangementso long as theyfulfill herequirementsf a pre-existingtext. Both in traditionalart and inCubism,memoryplaysanenormous ethiddenrole; but in contrastto tradi-tionalpaintingCubism eplaces he roleof rememberedconographicextswiththe memoriesof perceptual nd cogni-tive experience.This displacementofidea by process,experience,and mem-ory-similar to what occurs in Cubistdisegnoandthe fourthdimension -isthenreintellectualizeds eideticCubistsigns.Thusthe presenceof an exactlyrequisitenumberof scrambledor dis-placedsigns for, say, humanfeatureswill generatea contextualreadingofthosesigns and createthe nonmimeticrepresentationf a human ace.Theinfluence f a Grebomask,how-ever, n whichthe interchangeabilityfmassandvolumespredominantnd hecontextualism f signs, althoughpres-ent, is not of equal importance,notsurprisinglyirstappearedn Picasso'sexperimentwith a new kind of sculp-ture.Theartist's nitialresponseo thismask was dramatically videntin thesuddenappearance f a seriesof draw-ings (Figs. 1 and 2),22 then in drawingsandpaintingsof a guitar,23ll doneatSorgues in southern France. Theseworkswere then followedby a card-boardconstructionf a guitar(Fig. 3),perhapsbegunin southernFrancebutmoreprobablyn Parisduring heearlyautumn of 1912.24 This constructionincorporatesan interchangebetweenmassand volume n whichvirtualvol-umes, all projectingequal distancesfroma rearplane,may be readwithacertainnecessarydegreeof contextual-ity as signs for the variouspartsof aguitar. nthiswork here s nolongeran

Fig. 1 PabloPicasso,Head,August Fig. 2 PabloPicasso,Head August1912, ink on paper,51/8x 33/8 .Paris, 1912, ink on paper,51/8x 33/8 . aris,MuseePicasso. MuseePicasso.insideand outsideof an object,nor isthereacentral oreorpointofreference.Traditional culpturaldisplacementofspacebymeansof mass s bothaffirmedand denied, just as representationdepends on an interplay between apriori knowledgeand the contextualrelationshipsf all elements.This Gui-tar is a reflexive ransformation f theclassical radition f sculpture.Butonlyat the levelof mentalprocedure oesitofferany suggestions or the reflexivetransformationf pictorial llusionism.ForPicasso,the pictorialequivalentofthe Grebo mask was Braque's firstpapiercolle,ofSeptember 912.25In this work,Braqueused imitationwood-grainedwallpapero signifyboththewooden rontof a table andthewallbehind he table,relyingon contextforsignificationust as he andPicassohaddonepreviouslywith painted mitationwood graining.But in deployinghispastedpaperstripsBraquealso disre-gardedthe contoursof the objectstowhich heyreferred,n a newversionofAnalyticCubistpassage. Whetherde-liberateor not, thisuncoupling f formfromcolorandoutlinewas thepictorialequivalent f thedisassociation f massfromvolume na Grebomask.With theclues offered by these discoveries,PicassoandthenBraquewerereadytocarryout the final transformations fclassicalrepresentation.Picasso'sfirst fully realizedpapiercolle, Guitar, Sheet Music, and Glass(Fig. 4) of late November 1912,26 s alandmark of Cubist reflexivity and

aboveall of representation ithout llu-sionism.The wallpaperbackground,rratherground, f thiswork uggests hatthe motif is on a wall, exceptthat theobjectsrepresentedouldonly be on aflathorizontalurface.Thusby contextthe wallpapermust be understood osignifyatable;but,againbycontext, hewallpapern the centersignifiespartofa guitar.Thisdoubleshift in significa-tion is nothingotherthan visual pun-ning, comparable o the puns in thenewspaperragmentandthe sheet mu-sic. A composite ignof a glassis drawnona whitesheet of paper,which n turnsignifies hecolorless,ight-transmittingtransparencyfglassand,moregeneral-ly, the glass itself. But now the color,shape,andform of the depictedobjectno longercoincideand the three,takentogether, join the other flat pastedpapers.There s no illusionism f spacehere, but there are spatial cues: thenewspapers on the table,andso is theglass;the guitar s apparently n topofthe newspaperbut also on top of theglass;and the sheetmusic s bothonthetablewith theglassbutalsolyingontopof theguitar.This s a mentalversionofthecontradictorypatialrelationshipsnAnalytic Cubism, except that nowinsteadof scrambledllusionistic pacethere s a scrambledmental pace;or,aswassaidat the time,there is no longertrompe 'oeil but trompe 'esprit.Thereflexiveransformationf classicalrepresentations complete.Thispapiercolleis one of thesimplestbut mostperfectof its kind; n the next300 Art Journal



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two years Picasso, and especiallyBraque,woulddevelopthis new pictoriallanguage to remarkableheights of com-plexity and subtleness. Thus in certainpapiers colles, notably in the Still Lifewith Compote and Violin (Fig. 5),27 theuse of a single paper material for multi-ple significationsreachesextremes, withnewsprint signifying contextually afloor, a table top, a glass, part of a fruitdish and also a newspaperitself. In thisnew world of the papier colle what is atwork is a principle of multivalency, inwhich at least one usage of papercorre-sponds to its original identity, or is atleast identifiable in its original, neces-sarily flat, role.Then by a second princi-ple, which one might call associativeambiguity, all other usages also enterinto a complicity of nonillusionisticflat-ness no matter what their various con-textual significationsmight be. The onlytwo additional methods devised byPicasso and Braque in order to circum-vent illusionismwere the mixing of sandwith pigment, so as to anchora pictorialsurface in flat physicality,28and theimitation of papier colle materials inpainting, which was a combination ofboth trompe l'oeil and trompel'esprit and first appeared in early1913.29By the beginning of 1913 the projectof Cubismwas thus essentiallyreal-ized, with every classical conventionturned inside out and the entire herme-

Fig. 3 Pablo Picasso, Still Life withGuitar and Bottle, February-March1913, constructionwith cardboardandstring, c. 42 x 31 x 10 ;no longerextant except for the Guitar,October-November 1912, 261/8x 133/8x 75/8 . ew York, The Museum ofModernArt.

neutic circle critically illuminated. Atthis moment Picasso felt sufficientlyconfident, finally, to test Cubism in aseries of confrontations, the first ofwhich was to measure Cubism againsttraditional illusionism in Still Life withCompote and Violin (see Fig. 5). Whatwas unknownuntil now about this workis that it was made over a period ofseveral weeks, beginning in the first tendays of December 1912, and not com-pleted until late January 1913, after alittle-known trip by the artist to hisfamily in Barcelona.30 t is tempting toassociate cerebral Cubism with Franceand the classical tradition with Spainand Picasso's father, an academic paint-er, and thus to construe the entireCubist enterpriseas the artist's struggleto overcomethe father. Whether such apsychoanalytic approach to Picasso isfruitful is debatable, but it would notappear to answer any but the mostsuperficialissues posedby Cubism.This testing of one tradition of repre-sentation against another was closelyfollowed by two further confrontations,the firstof which probablywas Picasso'sjuxtaposing of Cubist representationtoordinary objects in the external world,as is seen in an environmentvisible in anextraordinary photograph (Fig. 6)taken in the artist's studio on the Boule-vardRaspail in early 1913.31This photo-graph records the demonstration of aprogressive, interlocking metamorpho-sis, from Cubist representation to theexternal world. In the background is aconstructionof a violin which hangson alarge sketch of a figure at a table, withdepictionsof a glass and a bottle and anindication of a newspaper;attached tothis sketch are newsprint cutouts ofarms playing a real guitar; and in frontis a newsprintcutout of a figure seatedat an actual table, on which are a realbottle, pipe, and cup. In addition to thetesting of Cubism against the externalworld,this photographcontainsa clue toan equally interestingjuxtaposition. Onthe wall in the background are twoobjects, one of which, to the left, is thepapier colle known as Au Bon Marche(Fig. 7) containing a newsclipping ofJanuary 25, 1913, which places thiswork immediately after the completionof Still Life with Compote and Violin.To the right of the papier colle is asecond object, a sheet of paper withstenciled cross lines as in the bottle ofAu Bon Marche; this stenciled bottlewas part of a relief ensemble (see Fig.3), no longer existing, that incorporatedthe cardboard Guitar.32 Au BonMarche, cited by Rosenblumfor its sex-ual punning, bears more careful scruti-ny. By contextual analysis and elimina-

Fig. 4 Pablo Picasso, Guitar,SheetMusic, and Glass, November 1912,pasted papers,gouache and charcoalonpaper, 187/8 x 143/8 .San Antonio,MarionKooglerMcNay Art Museum,Bequestof MarionKoogler McNay.tion of alternatives the scene may beunderstood as a cafe with a bottle andglass on a table. Seated behindthe tableis a woman of apparently easy virtue,whose head is indicated by a newspaperadvertisement,body (conflated with thetable) by a clothing-storelabel, and legsbeneath the table by clippings with thepun LUN B TROU ICI. The full punthus reads AU BON MARCHE LUNB TROU ICI, which may be translatedas One may make a hole here inexpen-sively. 33This sexual, verbal, and visualdouble entendreis also particularlynot-able for its nonillusionistic indication ofpictorial depth and space relations,emphasized by the scale disparitybetween the woman's head and themuchlargerbottle andglass;and also byPicasso'scunninguse of the shape of theAu Bon Marche label, which as a paral-lelogram evokes illusionist recessioneven as its identity as printedpaper alsodenies that recession.

The papier colle Au Bon Marche is asummit of pictorial Cubism. It is asradicallydefinitiveas any single work ofthe Cubist era in its passionately anti-idealist iconography, in the reflexivetension it establishes between tradi-tional illusionismand a negation of illu-sionistic space, and in its contextualmanipulation of image and word; amanipulation that no longer simplyextendsthe Cubist splitting of signs intoparallelcategoriesof signifierand signi-fied but also inaugurates a new Cubist

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painting with sculptural modeling andsculpture with pictorial frontality.34This Cubistparagone thus accomplishesyet another reflexive transformation ofthe classic, at a moment of historicalsymmetry that marks the creative con-clusion of the classical tradition.The questionremainswhethersyn-thetic, collage Cubism marks abreak in the Western tradition from thevisual to the linguistic: away from theworld of experience,howevermediated,to a world of signifiers signifying othersignifiers, including past art, with realexperience relegated to the status of anabsent referent.35 In other words, isCubisman artistic language about artis-tic language and thus a revitalized,cre-

ative species of academicism? Or is itabout something else? One should notbe seduced by the convenient synchro-nicity of Saussure's theories, particu-larly those concerning langue andparole, despite the roleof punningambi-guities in collage Cubism. There is aninsurmountable barrier between lan-guage, written or spoken, and the visualarts: one may read a language or onemay speak it, but one may only see animage even if, as in papiers colls, onereads its accompanyingtexts as part ofthe Cubist disincarnation of icono-graphic tradition. If an image istranslated into words it loses all its par-ticularities and becomes fatally conven-tionalized: the only adequate descriptionof a visual image is another visual

Fig. 5 Pablo Picasso, Still Life withCompote and Violin,December1912-January 1913, pasted papers,gouache and charcoal on cardboard,25-1/2 x 191/2 .PhiladelphiaMuseum ofArt, A. E. Gallatin Collection.linkage of word and image, which isdifferentfrom,but comparableto, tradi-tional iconographic signs. This workmay now also be understoodas the pen-dant to, perhaps even the catalyst for,the cardboard ensemble (see Fig. 3)incorporatingthe Guitar, as well as thestenciled bottle that was on the wall ofthe artist's studio beside Au BonMarche. This ensemble is itself a col-lage, built aroundthe alreadycompletedGuitar, which Picasso had previouslyjuxtaposed with his pictorial papierscolles (Fig. 8). In its final form, how-ever, this ensemble is a doublejuxtaposi-tion. The first, within the work, is acontrast between a Cubist sculpturalconstructionand a Cubist pictorialsign.The second is a deliberate confrontationwith Au Bon Marche, the motif of whichreappears in this ensemble: a bottlestands on a table; beneath the table is athree-dimensional negation of spatialextension;behindthe table sits Picasso'sfavoredmetaphorfor woman, a Guitar,with its sound hole or trou as herconspicuously available genitals. Thiscardboard ensemble transforms theWestern sculptural tradition of mass tothe same degree as the papier colletransformsthe pictorialtraditionof illu-sionism. These two works,which almostcertainly belong together, establish intheir confrontationPicasso's new Cubistparagone, in which painting and sculp-ture remain separate but neverthelessconverge under the aegis of the newCubist representation, ust as Michelan-gelo achieved the same convergence of Fig.

6 Photographof Picasso's studio at 242 boulevardRaspail, Paris,February-March 1913.302Art Journal



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Fig. 7 Pablo Picasso, Au Bon Marche, January-February 1913, oil and pastedpaperson cardboard,93/8x 141/8 . achen, Ludwig Collection.image. Images, types, and conventionsmay refer to their precedents in a longchain of relationships;but to the extentthat this referentialitybecomes autono-mous, the hermeneutic circle of theWestern tradition is broken, and theresult is academicism. The situation iscomplicated by the fact that, in tradi-tional Western art, images carry theiconographic weight of literary textsthat exist independently of, and maypredate, the work of art. Literary textsand artistic styles become interlockedthroughiconography,but they also referseparatelyto the previouslyexisting tra-ditions of their respective mediums. Inthe Cubist situation of the subicono-graphic motif, however, the only lan-guage available for interactionis that ofartistic tradition.Thus the evidence with respect toCubism is ambivalent. To the degreethat, as claimed here, Cubism bears areflexive, critical relationship to theclassical tradition,it is art aboutart;butto the degree that it is also a criticalexamination of the epistemology andhermeneuticsof that tradition, it is alsoart as unwritten philosophy.The situa-tion is further complicated by the factthat collage Cubism, with its play ofsignifiers, does exclude the world evenas it incorporates that world in news-print Readymades, which themselvesare texts. But those texts in turn are notonly absent referents,part of an infiniteregressionto othertexts, but also, for themost part, reportage of contemporarylife of the time, from war and disease inthe Balkans to daily information onFrench crime, scandal, and politics.36There is nevertheless a fine line in

Cubism between a visual intertextualityand an engagement with the real world;which is why Picasso frequentlyescapedinward to his passions and desires as asubject for his Cubist semiotics, orreturnedperiodically to the real visual-experiential world,37 eaving to othersthe drudgery of making Cubism intothat modernacademy which it soon didbecome.The overall historical significance ofCubism is more than a little ironic. If itwas followed by a new orthodoxy ofacademic Cubism, its achievement was

nevertheless the transformation of theacademicizedclassical traditioninto theswan song of a creative dying. But theCubist transformationof the classic alsobecame an inescapable challenge to thenorms of academic representationthroughoutthe Western world. Cubismwas the catalyst for the reflexive trans-formations of indigenous traditionslying just beneath the surface of officialacademic art, thereby serving as themidwife of most subsequent twentieth-century modernisms and changing for-ever the lives of artists as diverse asMalevich, Klee, Mondrian, DavidSmith, or De Kooning. These catalyticchanges operated across the borders ofcultural traditions and therefore wereoften of an inevitably formal nature, forthe formal is what the nonclassicalmindcan see and recognize in Cubism. Butthat is all the more reason to recognizethat modernism is a relative term,definable according to a given culturaltraditionwithin the overallnonrelativistproject of modernity, and to rememberthat at the heart of the first, Cubistinstance of a modernism is a reflexiverelation to the classic.

NotesThis paper was given as a lecture in January 1988at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum on theoccasion of the museum's 50th anniversary; amuch earlier version, with its conclusions signifi-cantly modified here, was presented at the 1981Annual Meeting of the College Art Association.For their assistance I wish to thank Isabelle Mo-nod-Fontaine, Curator, Centre Georges Pompi-

Fig. 8 Photographof Picasso's studio at 242 boulevardRaspail, Paris, aboutDecember 1912.Winter 1988 303



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dou; Dominique Bozo, former Director, CentreGeorges Pompidou and Musee Picasso; PierreGeorgel, Director, and Mme Michele Richet,Curator Emeritus, Mus6e Picasso; Pierre Daix;Yves de Fontbrune,Cahiers d'Art; Michel Leiris;Mme Louise Leiris and M. Maurice Jardot,Gal-erie Louise Leiris;and the late Jean Laude.

1 On the problemsof dualist theories of knowl-edge, see: Richard Rorty, Philosophy and theMirrorof Nature, Princeton, 1979.

2 On the distinction between modernity andmodernism,which is more common in recentphilosophical discussions than in art historyand criticism, see: Michael Phillipson, Paint-ing, Language, and Modernity, London, 1985,pp. 22-47 and passim;see also: Jiirgen Haber-mas, Der philosophische Diskurs der Mod-erne, Frankfurt, 1985 (English translationCambridge, Mass., 1987); see also the exten-sive commentaries surrounding Habermas,especially in: Habermas and Modernity, ed.Richard Bernstein, Cambridge, Mass., 1985;also Edward F. Fry, Eine neue Moderne,Documenta 8, Kassel, 1987; also Lawrence E.Cahoone, The Dilemma of Modernity: Philos-ophy, Culture, and Anti-Culture, Albany,1988, pp 1-13 and passim.

3 For a recent and authoritative treatment ofKant's aesthetics, see: Paul Guyer, Kant andthe Claims of Taste, Cambridge, Mass., 1979.For an important discussion of Kant andCubism, see: Yve-Alain Bois, Kahnweiler'sLesson, Representations, 18 (Spring 1987),pp. 33-68. On a rethinkingof the relationshipbetween Kant and Hegel, see: Richard Rorty,Epistemological Behaviorism and the De-Transcendentalization of Analytic Philoso-phy, in Hermeneuticsand Praxis, ed. RobertHollinger, Notre Dame, Ind., 1985, pp. 89ff,esp. pp. 104-9; see also: idem, Habermas andLyotardon Postmodernity, n Bernstein(citedn. 2), pp. 161-75, esp. pp 167-68; See also:Cahoone (cited n. 2), pp. 57-67, for an exten-sive discussion of Kantian a prioris.

4 The concept of reflexivity has received littlespecific attention in recent critical thought,beyond the general recognition that all criticalphilosophy is ipso facto reflexive; but see:Hilary Lawson, Reflexivity, London, 1985, forthe reflexivity underlying the work ofNietzsche, Heidegger,and Derrida.

5 For the social and political issues surroundingCubism after 1914, see: Kenneth E. Silver,Espritde Corps:The Great War and FrenchArt, 1914-1925 (Ph.D. diss., Yale, 1981);andChristopherGreen, Cubism and Its Enemies,New Haven, 1987.6 William S. Rubin, FromNarrative to 'Iconic'in Picasso: The Buried Allegory in Bread andFruitdish on a Table and the Role of LesDemoiselles d'Avignon, Art Bulletin, 65:4(December 1983), pp. 627-34. See also: LesDemoiselles d'Avignon,exh. cat., Paris, MuseePicasso, 1988.7 See: Alan Solomon, Pablo Picasso: Symbol-ism in the Synthetic Cubist Still Life. A Studyof His Iconography from 1911-1927 (Ph.D.

diss., Harvard, 1961), for an important andoverlooked investigation of this subject; seealso: J. Charlat Murray, Picasso's Use ofNewspaper Clippings in His Early Collages(M.A. thesis, Columbia, 1967); and RobertRosenblum, Picasso and the Typography ofCubism, in Picasso in Retrospect, ed. RolandPenrose,New York,pp. 45-75.

8 See the important study by Patricia Leighten,Picasso's Collages and the Threat of War,1912-13, Art Bulletin, 67:4 (December1985), pp. 653-72. See also Leighten's forth-coming study, Reordering the Universe:Picasso and Anarchism, 1897-1914, Prince-ton, 1989. Cf. Picasso himself, in 1912, at atime when he was using ordinary commercialpaint (Ripolin) in his works: Vous me ditesque Uhde ne aime pas les tableaux derniersdemoi ou il i a du Ripolin et des drapeaux peutetre nous arriveronsa d6gouiterout le mondeetnousn'avonspas tout dit ;Letter to Kahnweil-er, June 17, 1912, Donation Louise et MichelLeiris/Collection Kahnweiler-Leiris, ed. Isa-belle Monod-Fontaine, Paris, Centre GeorgesPompidou, 1984, p. 168.

9 Cf. Picasso's strategy after the 1920s, when heturnedto personal, reflexivetransformationsofclassical iconographyand myth,culminating inthe Minotauromachia and subsequentworksofthe 1930s;note also later, towards the end of hislife, Picasso's even more personal transforma-tions of tradition in such works as Suite 347.

10 On disegno, see: Anthony Blunt, Artistic The-ory in Italy, 1450-1600, London, 1940; Mau-rice G. Poirier, Studies on the Concepts ofDisegno, Invenzione,and Colore in Sixteenth-and Seventeenth-CenturyArt Theory (Ph.D.diss., New York University, 1976). For a morerecent discussion of the semantics of disegnoand its meaning in the High Renaissance, see:David Summers, Michelangelo and the Lan-guage of Art, Princeton, 1981, pp. 251-61.

11 See the belated public announcement of thischange by Andr6 Salmon, Paris-Journal,November21, 1911.

12 For the best pre-1914 analysis of these purelyvisual aspects of Cubism, see: Jacques Rivi6re,Sur les tendances actuelles de la peinture,Revue d'Europe et d'Amerique (March 1,1912), pp. 383-406; excerpts translated intoEnglish in EdwardF. Fry, Cubism, New York,1966, pp. 75-81. For a populist-Marxist criti-cism of Riviere and my discussionof him, see:David Cottington, Cubism, Law, and Order:The Criticism of Jacques Riviere, BurlingtonMagazine 126:981 (December 1984), pp. 744-49.

13 The term fourthdimension appearedas earlyas 1911 in the Cubist circle;see the reportof alecture given by Apollinaire in Gil Blas,November 25, 1911. This lecture was publishedas La peinturenouvelle, Soirees de Paris, 3(April 1912), pp. 89-92, and 4 (May 1912),pp. 113-15. This same text was incorporatedby Apollinaire into his widely read and trans-lated book on Cubism, from whose dissemina-tion the term gained a general reception;see:Guillaume Apollinaire, Les Peintre Cubistes,

Paris, 1913, pp. 15-17. For the most thoroughrecentstudy of the idea of the fourthdimensionin early-twentieth-century art theory, see:Linda Henderson, The Fourth Dimension andNon-Euclidean Geometry in Modern Art,Princeton, 1983.14 This idea emerged in the circle of Gleizes and

Metzinger; see: Jean Metzinger, Cubisme ettradition, Paris-Journal, August 16, 1911(which, despite its title, does not touch on therelation of Cubism to the classical tradition);also, Albert Gleizes, Jean Metzinger, RevueIndependante,4 (September 1911), pp. 161-72; see also the famous remark by Apollinaireon his portrait by Picasso, ill. in Pierre Daixand Joan Rosselet, Picasso: The Cubist Years,Boston, 1979, cat. no. 579 (hereafter cited asD-R), in which he incorrectlydeclares that J'ysuis represent6a la fois de face, de dos et deprofil, Paris-Midi, May 29, 1913.

15 On simultaneity,see: Par Bergmann, Modern-olatria et Simultaneita, Uppsala, 1962, for anindispensable and still unsurpassed study ofthis idea in the art, poetry,and criticism of thepre-1914 era.

16 Forearly references to Bergson and the Cubistmovement, see the interview with Bergson inL'Intransigeant, November 26, 1911; alsoAndre Salmon, Paris-Journal, November 30,1911; also Alexander Mercereau, Expositionde l'Art Contemporain,3. r. Tronchet, VersetProse, 27 (October-November-December1911), p. 139;see another interview with Berg-son, L'Eclair, June 29, 1913. For an earlycitation of the idea of Bergsonian duree in theCubist milieu, see: Gleizes (cited n. 14.),p. 165. See also: PierreFrancastel, BergsonetPicasso, in Melanges 1945 / IV: Etudes Phi-losophiques, Paris, Publications de la facult6des lettres de L'Universit6de Strassbourg,Fas-cicule 107, 1946, pp. 199-213.

17 See, notably:D-R 239, 312, 314, 346, 664.18 On the hermeneutic circle, see: Hans-GeorgGadamer, Truth and Method, New York,1975. For Gombrich'stheory, see: ErnstGom-brich, Art and Illusion, Princeton, 1960, pas-sim and especially chapter IX. For Popper's

agreement with Gombrich, but also a latentdivergence corresponding to his growingawareness of the differences between the natu-ral and human sciences, see: Karl Popper,Unended Quest: An Intellectual Autobiogra-phy, LaSalle, Ill., 1976, pp. 149-50; see also:pp. 180-83 for his concept of World Threeand his exploration of the idea that WorldOne is external reality, World Two ishuman experience of World One, and thatWorld Three is the realm of the human mindat work upon its own constructs. Popperthusmoves away from a dualist, objective/subjec-tive position towards a modified Kantianism,which is no longer in congruence with Gom-brich's representationaltheories and which ifdeveloped would reach convergence with myposition.

19 See the correspondencebetween Picasso andKahnweiler, August 11, 1912: Nous avonsachet6 des negres a Marseille et j'ai achet6 un

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masque tres bien ; see also Braque's letter toKahnweiler,August 16, 1912; both in Monod-Fontaine (cited n. 8), pp. 169 and 26. See alsothe postcardfrom Braque to Kahnweiler,citedby Isabelle Monod-Fontaine, Braque, la len-teur et la peinture, in Georges Braque: Lespapiers colls, ed. Isabelle Monod-Fontaine,exh. cat., Paris, Centre Georges Pompidou,1982, pp. 38-39. On this Marseille trip,see alsothe drawing by Picasso, Z 22:754, inscribedsouvenir de marseille 9 aout 1912. Thisdrawing is a page from a sketchbook Picassomade during the summer of 1912 at Sorgues;for a more complete descriptionof this sketch-book, see Appendix I.

20 This mask and its relation to Picasso's Cubismwere first cited by Daniel Henry (pseud. ofDaniel-Henry Kahnweiler), Der Weg zumKubismus, Munich, 1920, pp. 45-46. See also:Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, Art negre et lecubisme, Presence Africaine, 3 (1948), pp.367-77, ill. with a mask from the Mus6e deL'Homme; idem, Les Sculptures de Picasso,Paris, 1949, introduction; John Golding,Cubism: A History and an Analysis, NewYork, 1959, pp. 123-34, ill. (the mask from theMus6ede L'Homme); Jean Laude, La Peinturefrancaise et 'Tart negre, Paris, 1968, vol. 1, p.377 (ill. on cover of the mask from the Museede L'Homme); William S. Rubin, Picasso inthe Collection of the Museum of Modern Art,New York, 1972, pp. 74, 208; Rubin (cited n.6), Appendix X, p. 647 (where Rubin makesthe important disclosure that it was Picassohimself who originally explainedto Kahnweilerthe role of the Grebo mask); idem, Picasso,in Primitivism in Twentieth-CenturyArt,New York, exh. cat., The Museum of ModernArt, 1984, vol. 1, pp. 18-19, 305-307, ills. pp.20, 305 (the two Grebo masks there identifiedas having belonged to Picasso and identified assuch for the first time). One of these two masksjust cited, ill. by Rubin on p. 20, is now in thecollection of the Mus6e Picasso, Paris, and isreproducedand discussed by Bois (cited n. 3),p. 37 and passim.

21 See: Bois (cited n. 3), for an illuminatingparallel between this mask and Saussure's lin-guistic theories.Although I differ with Bois onmy emphasis on this mask in comparison withthe example of Braque'sfirstpapiers colles aswell as in my conclusions,I am indebted to hisanalysis for my following discussion of visualcontextualism.

22 Sorgues sketchbook;see: Appendix I, 6 rectoand 5 recto.23 D-R 488, 490. The indirect evidence provided

by these paintings,by related drawings (Z 28:195, 200, 201), and above all by the evidenceofthe Sorgues sketchbook in its internalsequence, together provide the strongest avail-able documentation-even if indirect-of aresponse to the external stimulus of a Grebomask at exactly this moment.24 First reproducedas partof a no-longer-existingstill-life ensemble (see Fig. 3) in Soirees deParis, 18 (November 1913), p. 13; also in twophotographsof Picasso's studio, 242 Boulevard

Raspail, Cahiers d'Art, 25 (1950), pp. 281-82(reprintedin D-R p. 358.) To these two photo-graphs should be added a third, unpublishedphotograph (see Fig. 8), collection MuseePicasso, showing a similar view of the Blvd.Raspail studio. As in the othertwo, it showsthecardboard Guitar hanging on a wall and sur-roundedby drawingsand papiers colles; but italso shows two smaller cardboardguitars (D-R555, 556), which I have succeeded in dating toearly December 1912; see: Appendix II. Thesethree photographsare difficult to date precise-ly, but all the papiers colles in them containnewsclippings rom betweenDecember 2 and 9,1912; the one apparent exception, a drawingthat has not yet received its newsclippings tomake it a papier colle (D-R 525), is in fact notidentical to this papier colle but is closelyrelated to it. The cardboard Guitar is hangingin the same spot in all threephotographs,and itwas probablyin place beforethe papiers collesand drawings were tacked up for photography.The subsequent still-life ensemble incorporat-ing Guitar (Fig. 3), misdated by D-R (cat. no.633) as Paris, autumn 1913, was almost cer-tainly assembled in early 1913; see text belowand n. 32. The cardboard Guitar, now collec-tion of The Museum of Modern Art, NewYork, was given by the artist to the Museum in1971, along with a sheet-metal version;afterrestoration it was exhibited and reproduced nPablo Picasso: A Retrospective,ed. William S.Rubin, exh. cat., The Museum of Modern Art,New York, 1980, p. 156. I made a thoroughexamination of the cardboard Guitar at theMuseum in 1986, with the invaluable assis-tance of the sculpture conservator, PatriciaHoulihan; comparative measurements of thetwo works left no doubt that the cardboardversion served as a maquette for the metalGuitar. This second, metal version (D-R 471,there misdated spring 1912) could have beenmade at any subsequent moment, but it wasprobably assembled as late as 1914 in theartist's new studio, r. Schoelcher, at a momentwhen Picasso perhaps wished to preserve hisidea in a material less ephemeral than card-board,and also when he made a second metalGuitar (D-R 835), using a method of loopedwire also seen in this firstmetal Guitar as wellas in the loops of string used on the originalcardboard Guitar. The curious extension belowthis metal version of the Guitar is possiblytheartist's reference to the table top in the still-lifeensemble incorporating the original cardboardversion.

A date for the cardboard Guitar during theautumn of 1912 is suggested not only by apossible terminus ante quem of about Decem-ber 1912 for the three photographs, citedabove, of the Blvd. Raspail studio but also bythe exceptional use of cardboard, very similarto that of Guitar, in a series of sketches andpapiers colles from the autumn of 1912,includingD-R 507, 508, 519, and 520;and D-R519 was, significantly,made from the lid of acardboardbox, which was the probable sourcefor the cardboardGuitar. Additional informa-tion is in a letter from Picasso in Paris toBraque at Sorgues, of October 9, 1912: Jeemploie tes derniers procedes paperistiqueset

pusiereux. Je suis en train de imaginer uneguitare et je emploie un peu de pusierecontrenotre orrible toile ; first cited in Histoire del'art contemporain, ed. Ren6 Huyghe, Paris,1935, p. 535, and rediscoveredand publishedinMonod-Fontaine (cited n. 19), pp. 40-41. It istempting to associate this letter with thecardboardGuitar,but in the absence of furtherevidence one is restricted to its explicit refer-ence to the use of papier colle and to sandtexturing, both of which techniques Braqueemployedat Sorgues in August and early Sep-tember 1912 (see text below and n. 28.) Thepapier colle and sand texturing mentioned byPicasso in this letter are probably D-R 506,which is almost surely his first papier colle,given its literalistic use of wallpaper,and D-R509, respectively; they are somewhat similarcompositions of a guitar on a table. Threedrawings in the Sorgues sketchbook, 33 recto,34 verso, and especially 35 verso (see Fig. 10)which indicates a patterned background,should be considered as studies for this firstpapier colle. Two studies for D-R 509, Picas-so's early experimentwith sand texturing,wereon cardboard:D-R 507 and 508. But D-R 509may well have been completed later in 1912;and the preparatorystudy D-R 508 appears inthe illustrated view of the artist's studio (seeFig. 8) without its pasted-paper complement,which is also of a type not used in any otherworks of this period. It is also tempting toassociate Picasso's crucial letter of October 9,1912, with the papier colle D-R 513 (see Fig.4) and with its closely related analogues D-R514, 515, and 516, all three of which use sandtexturing;but D-R 513 contains a newsclippingof November 18, 1912, and the gap in time ofmore than a month is not easily explainable. Inthe context of these various kinds of evidenceone may therefore establish an approximatedate for the cardboard Guitar of about Octo-ber-November1912, or contemporaneouswiththe first experiment with papier colle andpossibly just before or after a short trip toNormandy in early November (letter fromPicasso to GertrudeStein, postmarkedNovem-ber 4, 1912, Rouen; Stein Collection, YaleUniversity), but also before Braque's returntoParis in approximately mid-November;imme-diately after which appeared Picasso's se-quence of fully realized papiers colles, begin-ning with D-R 513 (Fig. 4), as well as theconfirming experiments in various mediums,D-R 514, 515, and 516. A drawing, plausiblydated by Zervos to winter 1912-13 (Z 6:1154),contains a small sketch of the Guitar. The onlyother contemporary references to the Guitarare an anecdotal citation in Andr6 Salmon, LaJeune Sculpture Francaise, Paris, 1919, pp.103-4, which was written before 1914 butwhose publication was delayed by the war;andalso a visualreference in Juan Gris's Violin andGuitar of 1913 (The Colin Collection, NewYork; ill. Mark Rosenthal, Juan Gris, NewYork, 1983, p. 47.)The issue of precedence between this firstGuitar construction and the invention of col-lage, raised by William Rubin to support anearly 1912 date for the Guitar in Picasso in theCollection of the Museum of Modern Art

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(cited n. 20), p. 207, was based on an interpre-tation of his conversations with the artist andon the misleading announcement of a sculp-tural projectof Picasso in early 1912 by AndreSalmon in Paris-Journal, January 11, 1912;see also: Ronald Johnson, The Early Sculp-ture of Picasso, 1901-1914 (Ph.D. diss.,Berkeley, 1971), pp. 115-16. This argumentwas possibly also encouraged by the notion ofClement Greenberg that Picasso's Cubist con-structions were expanded, literal versions ofpapiers colles and that, by implication, thisfirst Guitar construction needed only to becollapsed back into pictorialflatnessin order toyield the papiers colles; see: Clement Green-berg, Collage, Art and Culture, Boston,1961, pp. 70-83, esp. 71; see also: Bois (cited n.3), pp. 41-44, for a penetrating discussion ofthis issue. But this preservationof Cubism fromthe dangers of literal, sculptural space is itselfunnecessary since, as I show here, works suchas Guitar simultaneously affirm and negatetheir existence in the space displaced by tradi-tional sculptural volume, as part of Picasso'sparallel, reflexivetransformationsof both clas-sical sculptureand classicalpainting, leading toa convergence of the two in a new, Cubistparagone. Underlying that convergence was aset of mental procedures that were inspiredboth by Braque's papiers colles and by theGrebo mask. The importanceof that mask wasemphasizedby the poet, ethnologist,and closefriend of Picasso, Michel Leiris: Picasso m'adit qu'il avait un masque comme celui-la[Wobe/Grebo type].... Il est maintenantperdu [sic.] II m'a dit qu'il n'auraitjamais pufaire sa guitare en t6ole 'il n'avait pas eu cemasque-la (interview with the author, Paris,May 15, 1981).

25 See: Douglas Cooper, Braque et le papiercoll6, in Monod-Fontaine (cited n. 19), pp.9-10, ill. in color 67.26 D-R 513, containing a newsclipping from LeJournal of November 18, 1912.27 D-R 530.28 Braque began experimenting with sand tex-tures at Sorgues in August 1912; see: NicoleWorms de Romilly,Braque:Le cubisme,Paris,1982, cat. nos. 144, 147;cf. D-R, pp. 111-12.29 See, notably:D-R 577, of early 1913.30 The newsclippings in this work date fromDecember2, 6, 9, 1912 of Le Journal; but alsothe newsclippingunder the drawn glass at theright is from Le Matin, January 21, 1913. The

last documented moment for Picasso'spresencein Paris during 1912 is his December 18, 1912,contract with Kahnweiler; first published byMaurice Jardot in Picasso, Paris, Mus6e desArts D6coratifs, 1955, pp. 50-52; reproducedin D-R, p. 359, and also in Rubin, PabloPicasso: A Retrospective Exhibition (cited n.24), p. 152. A letter, postmarkedDecember23,1912, from Eva to Alice B. Toklas, was sentfromC6ret,as was also a postcardfrom Picassoto Gertrude Stein; a postcard from Eva inBarcelona to Toklas is postmarked December26, 1912 (Stein Collection, Yale University).The first documented date of Picasso's return

to Paris is the above-mentionednewsclippingofJanuary21, 1913, in D-R 530.

31 This studio view was first publishedin Cahiersd'Art, 25 (1950), p. 281; see D-R 578. It isextremely difficult to date exactly. The figurecomposition n the backgroundcorresponds ty-listically to the artist'sworks of early 1913; cf.D-R 588, 589, 590. A newsclipping used todepict the arm of a guitar player shows anadvertisement for the store La Samaritainefrom Le Journal of November 30, 1912. Thepapier colle on the wall at left, Au Bon Marche(see Fig. 7), D-R 557, contains newsclippingsfrom Le Journal of January 25 and 26, 1913.The poster on the wall at left is in German,announcing a lecture at a certain Uhr, thelocation of which is given at the bottom as ...Moderne Galerie, thus strongly suggestingthat this was the announcement of a lectureonPicasso given on the occasion of the artist'sFebruary 1913 one-man exhibition at Thann-hauser's Moderne Galerie in Munich. Theviolinconstruction,D-R 629b, partiallyvisibleat the upperright, was modified after Picasso'sspring 1913 stay at C6ret and was reproducedas D-R 629a in Soirees de Paris (November1913), p. 45; this construction s closely relatedto a papier colle containing a newsclippingfrom Le Journal, December 8, 1912, which isvisible in one of the three photographs takenabout December 1912, reproducedin D-R, p.358. This papier colle, unpublished in Zervosor D-R, is reproduced as Composition withViolin, from the collection of the late DouglasCooper,in Douglas Cooperand the Masters ofCubism,exh. cat., London,Tate Gallery, 1988,p. 149. Since Picasso left for Ceret by the firstor second week of March 1913, as indicatedbya letter from the artist to GertrudeStein post-marked C6ret March 12, 1913 (Stein Collec-tion, Yale University), the cumulative evidencepoints to a date of February or early March1913 for this photograph. Concerningthis andrelated photographs, see: Photographs of andby Pablo Picasso, New York, Pace/McGillGallery, May 2-August 1, 1986;cf. New YorkTimes, May 25, 1986. This photograph musthave been made either by Picasso or at hisinstigation;I interpret t here neither as a workof art nor as a photographof a workof art, butas a manifesto/demonstration,as is so often thecase with Picasso'sphotography; ee Edward F.Fry, Picasso,Cubism, and Photography, ArtBulletin, 65:1 (March 1983), pp. 145-46.

32 On this ensemble, see: n. 24. Another photo-graphof the interior of the Blvd.Raspail studio(Fig. 9), showing Picasso seated in front of thehanging composition discussed in the text andin n. 31, reveals a section of the paper groundfor this ensemble attached to the studio wall.The photographwas first published in Cahiersd'Art, 25 (1950), p. 282, but this informativedetail was cropped from the far right. Thusthree of the principalelements of this ensem-ble-Guitar, the stenciled bottle, and the paperground-were on the wall of the Blvd. Raspailstudio at one time or another in the winter of1912-13. It is impossible, however, to deter-minethe precisedate of this last photographonthe basis of internal evidence, apart from the

terminus ante quem of the artist's removalfromthis studio in the autumn of 1913.33 See: Rosenblum (cited n. 7) for a partial expli-cation of the iconography of this work, whichhe illustratesin color, p. 69. Au Bon March6 isthe name of a Parisian department store, alabel from which the artist used in the center of

the work. The newsclipping s an advertisementfor the departmentstore La Samaritaine in LeJournal, January 26, 1913, containing theimage of the woman's head above and, belowannouncinga sale on: Lundi 27 janvierof: BLANC

and: Trousseaux.The clipping at bottom, with ICI, does notappear in the same issue of Le Journal. SincePicasso carefully cut it out so as to change thefinal letter from an E to an I, however,itsprobable source is in one of the manyannouncements at this time in Le Journal andelsewhere of cures for VARICES (varicoseveins, usually of the legs; an affliction thatoccursprimarily n women).

34 On the Renaissance concept of the paragone,see:LeatriceMendelsohn, Paragoni: BenedettoVarchi's Due Lezzioni and Cinquecento ArtTheory, Ann Arbor, 1982. Needless to say,Picasso's creation of a Cubistparagone casts anew light on cubist sculptureof the decadefollowing 1914. To the extent that sculptorsapplied Cubistrepresentations o the carvingormodeling of sculpturalmasses, they were onlyre-academicizingthe Cubist transformation ofclassical sculpture; but if, like Laurens, theyexploredthe mode of planarconstructions,theywere consolidating Picasso's realizations. Theplanarrelief as a mode, however,is no guaran-tee that the Cubist simultaneous affirmationand denial of classical mass, virtual or actual,will be achieved, not to speak of the Cubisttransformation of classical semiotics. See:Rosalind Krauss, Passages in Modern Sculp-ture, Cambridge, Mass., 1981, pp. 56-58 andpassim,for an importantdiscussion of the issueof real and virtual volumes. On the mode ofplanar relief, see the excellent exhibition andcatalogue by Margit Rowell, The PlanarDimension: Europe, 1912-1932, New York,Guggenheim Museum, 1979. Among earlytwentieth-centurysculptors, only Brancusi,andonly in his highly polished, reflecting bronzesculptures, in which reflections destroy themass they envelop and in which the artistarrived at a nonmimeticsystem of representa-tional signs, created a solution for sculpturecomparableto Picasso's reflexiveCubism.

35 See: Rosalind Krauss, Re-Presenting Picas-so, Art in America (December 1980), pp.91-96; and Bois (cited n. 3) for two of thestrongest proponentsof a linguistic turn inCubism. But note also Picasso's own awarenessduringthe summer of 1912 of the distinction heimplies between the pictorial and other lan-guages in his statement in the Sorgues sketch-book:see: Appendix I, 26 verso.

36 See: Leighten (cited n. 8).37 See Picasso's 1914 Artist and Model, D-R 763,as well as the many subsequent classical line

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Fig. 10 Guitar on a Table, September-October 1912, pencil on paper, 33/8 X 51/8 .Paris, Musee Picasso.

Fig. 9 Photographof Picasso's studioat 242 BoulevardRaspail, Paris, 1913.drawings, including numerousportraitsdrawnfrom life, in the period 1914-17, when he wasalso actively paintingCubist works.

EdwardF. Fry was the Co-DirectorofDocumenta 8. He has publishedmonographsand essays on Cubism,Picasso, Braque, Leger, David Smith,Hans Haacke, Robert Morris, andother modern artists.

AppendixSketchbookI: Picasso's Sorgues

This small, cheaply bound sketchbook,in the collection of the Musee Picasso,Paris (M.P. 1864), contains 40 sheets ofquadrillated paper, 13 by 8.5 cm,including the inside front and back cov-ers. The overwhelming majority of thedrawings in 'it are in ink, and conse-quently many of the obverse sides ofthese drawings are blank, undoubtedlybecause otherwise the lines would bevisible throughthe paperand intrudeon

another drawing. As catalogued by theMusee Picasso, following the sequencesuggested by the artist's inscriptioninside the front cover, all the drawingsare inverted,with only three exceptions.These exceptions, however, are signifi-cant, because they probablywere draw-ings made slightly later than the others.This separate group was also drawn inpencil, unlike most of the rest, and alsolengthwise on the sheets.If one realizes that Picasso workedwith this sketchbookinverted and fromback to front in relation to its catalogu-ing, then the sequence at Sorgues leapsto the eye. Sheets 31 to 27 are sketchesof violins, related to paintings of theearly summer;cf. D-R 481-85. Sheet 23is a workingsketch for a somewhat laterpainting of a guitar, D-R 505, done atSorgues.Sheet 14 is a drawingrelatedtothe theme of the Arlesienne, as in D-R496 and 497, mentionedby Picasso in aletter to Kahnweiler of June 29, 1912;see: Monod-Fontaine (cited n. 8), p.169. Sheets 12 and 10 are studies for acafe still life, and sheet 10 shows apigeon, as in D-R 492 and 493. Sheet 11is the souvenir de marseille 9 aout1912, which was drawn first in penciland then carefully retraced in ink, as ifto preserve ts legibility. Sheets 9 to 4, ofwhich two are reproduced here (seeFigs. 1 and 2), are sketches primarilyofheads, showing cylindrical protrusionsfor eyes and mouth comparableto thosein a Grebo mask.On sheet 33 verso is a pencil notationwrittenlengthwiseon the page: trouverle equilibre entre la nature et votreimagination ; its location in the se-

quence indicates early summer, beforethe encounter with the Grebo mask,although one cannot be certain. What itdoes reveal,however,is that Picasso wasaware of the need for a new mediatingprinciple for the representation of theworldduringthe summerthat he discov-eredsuch a new principle.On sheet 26 isanother pencil notation, inverted: maidee de peinture ne sera pure si on peutla exprimerdans un autre langage que lesien la peinture. Here Picasso seems tobe both acknowledginghis friend Apol-linaire's recent championing of pein-ture pure in the essay Du sujet dans lapeinturemoderne, publishedin Soireesde Paris, 1 (February 1912), but alsodistancinghimself as an artist fromsuchliterarydiscussionsby his declarationofthe non-translatabilityof the mediumofvisual representation.Three pencil drawings, sheets 33, 34,and 35 of the sketchbook, are notinverted but drawn laterally. In tech-nique, style, and motif they stand apartfrom the other drawings and may havebeen done at a slightly later date. Allthree, and especially sheet 35 verso (seeFig. 10), are closely related to Guitarand Sheet of Music, D-R 506, whichwas probablyPicasso's first experimentwithpapier colle, done as early as Octo-ber 1912 in Paris. These three drawings,which thus form a link between Sorguesand Paris, are not reproduced n Zervos,nor are Picasso's two penciled notations.It is in fact the scrambledand thereforehidden presence in Zervos of the repro-ductions of the rest of the Sorguessketchbook that has contributed to itsobscurityuntil now.Winter 1988 307



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TheSorgues SketchbookInside front cover: Carnetappartenanta P P1 randv : torn out2r : blank

v : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-1. Z 22:749. CompareZ 28: 236, 2373 randv : torn out4 r : invertedpencil drawing. MP 1864-2. Not in Z. Similar to 2 v.

v : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-3. Z 22:744.5 r : inverted ink drawing. MP 1864-4. Z 22:743. (see Fig. 2).

v : blank.6 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-5. Z 22:742. (see Fig. 1).

v : blank.7 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-6. Z 22:741.

v : blank.8 r invertedink drawing. MP 1864-7. Z 22:739.



v : blank.11 r invertedink drawing,retraced over pencil sketch of souvenirde marseille 9 aout 1912.MP 1864-10. Z 22:754.


v : blank.13 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-12. Z 22:775. Comparewith 15 r.

v : blank.14 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-13. Z 22:735. Identifiedby

Zervos as Arlesienne, and possiblya study for D-R 496.v : blank.15 r invertedink drawing. MP 1864-14. Z 22:746. Comparewithdrawing,Z 28:100, identifiedby Zervos as moissoneur,Sorgues.


v : blank.17 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-16. Z 22:751. Comparewith 2 v, 4 r.


v : blank.19 r : invertedpencil drawing. MP 1864-18. Z 22:778. Comparewith Z 22:781.v : blank.

20 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-19. Z 22:750.v : blank.

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21 r : inverted ink drawing. MP 1864-20. Z 22:746.v blank.

22 r: invertedpencil drawing. MP 1864-21. Z 22:777.v blank.

23 r invertedpencil drawing. MP 1864-22. Not in Zervos. A sketch of a guitar, with notation Ab-strat [sic] en rose avec les rais vert. Comparewith D-R 505, there dated Paris, autumn 1912 but closer tothe early guitars from Sorgues, as in D-R 489.v : blank.

24 r : invertedink drawing. MP 1864-23R. Z 22:762.v : blank, except for a pressedflowerand the notation Sorgues.25 r : inverted ink drawing. MP 1864-24. Z 22:748. ComparewithZ 22:387;Z 28: 87, 228, 230, 232.

v : blank.26 r : inverted ink drawing. MP 1864-25R. Z 22:747.

v : invertedpencil inscription ma idee de peinturene sera pure si on peut la exprimerdans un autre langageque le sien la peinture. MP 1864-25V. Not in Zervos.27 r : invertedpencil drawing. MP 1864-26. Z 22:761. Compare Z 22:392.


v : blank.29 r : inverted ink drawing. MP 1864-28. Z 22:766.




v : blank.33 r : pencil drawing. MP 1864-32. Not in Zervos.

v : pencil notation trouver e equilibreentre la nature et votre imagination.MP 1864-32V. Not in Zervos.34r : blank.

v : pencil drawing. MP 1864-33. Not in Zervos.35 r : blank.

v : pencil drawing. MP 1864-34. Not in Zervos. (Fig. 10).36r : blank.

v : inverted ink drawing. MP 1864-35. Z 22:745.37 r andv : tornout.38 r andv : tornout.39 r : invertedpencil drawing. MP 1864-37. Not in Zervos.

v : blank.

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AppendixII: Dates of Newsclippings Used in Picasso'sPapiers Colles, Autumn 1912-Winter 1913, Paris(Unless noted, all references are to Le Journal)

D-R : 513 November 18, 1912 p. 1517 November 18, 1912 p. 4523 November 18, 1912 pp. 1, 2, 3524 December 3, 1912 pp. 1, 2525 December 9, 1912 p. 6526 December 1, 1912 p. 1527 December 2, 1912 pp. 1, 9528 December 3, 1912 pp. 9, 10530 December 2, 1912 pp. 2, 4December 6, 1912December 9, 1912January21, 1913December 2, 1912December 2, 1912December 3, 1912December 3, 1912December 9, 1912December 9, 1912December 9, 1912December 9, 1912December 3, 1912December 4, 1912December 3, 1912December 3, 1912December 4, 1912December 3, 1912December 3, 1912December 3, 1912December 4, 1912December 3, 1912December 8, 1912December 8, 1912December 3, 1912December 14, 1912

p. 8p. 5p. 2 Le Matinp. 4p. 9pp. 3, 5pp. 1,2pp. 5, 6p. 6p. 6p. 6p. 4p. 1p. 8p. 7p. 1p. 3p. 5p. 2p. 1p. 2p. 7p. 5p. 6p. 1

The two small guitar constructions of late1912 may be dated in relation to the bits ofnewspaper used for papier mache backingand strengthening,as follows:555 December 3, 1912 p. 4556 December 3, 1912 p. 8557 January25, 1913 p. 1January26, 1913 p. 9566 December 8, 1912 p. 3567 December 9, 1912 p. 7568 December 3, 1912 p. 3

A previously unpublished work of this period, Compositionwith Violin, contains a newsclipping from Le Journal,December 8, 1912, p. 4; see n. 31.

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