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拍品專文
In Le faux miroir, René Magritte confronts us with a vast, staring eye. Subverting traditional portraiture, this eye takes up the entirety of the picture surface, the iris surrounded by the skin of the eyelid, a dark pupil dominating the centre, hanging against a skyscape like a black sun. Executed in 1952, this gouache marks a variation and reprisal of an earlier work of the same title, which had been painted in 1929 and is now in The Museum of Modern Art, New York (Sylvester, no. 319). That version was acquired for MoMA from the Surrealist artist and photographer Man Ray in 1936, making it one of the first paintings by Magritte to enter the museum’s collection, and an early ambassador of the artist’s work in the United States. A number of details differentiate this 1952 gouache from this earlier oil: its clouds are fluffier, and the entire composition is bathed in light, lending it a radiance that is wholly in keeping with the concept both of a mirror—albeit a false one—and the sky.
The notion of this ‘false mirror,’ a title provided to Magritte by his friend Paul Nougé, perfectly encapsulates the visual riddles that make this picture so absorbing (see D. Sylvester, ed., René Magritte: Catalogue Raisonné, London, 1992, vol. I, p. 342). The bold, provocative cropping of the composition ensures that as a portrait, the work is deliberately flawed: the individual depicted in Le faux miroir is intentionally unidentifiable. Instead, the viewer is left to ponder the scudding clouds: are they reflected in the iris, or somehow within it? Certainly, Magritte initially referred to the earliest exploration of this theme as an oeil de ciel, or ‘eye made of sky.’ In a letter to their mutual friend E.L.T. Mesens, Man Ray himself asked his correspondent to inform Magritte that ‘His “eye of sky” is hanging in my apartment, and it sees many things! For once, a picture sees as much as it is seen itself’ (letter to E.L.T. Mesens, 12 July 1933; quoted in ibid., p. 342).
But it is a false mirror, of course—it may view the world beyond it, but that world is not a skyscape. As its viewer stands in front of this mirror, it is not a viewer that is reflected, but instead an image of the sky. And then one wonders why those clouds are not faintly reflected in the white of the eye, or the pupil? Instead, one of them seems to be passing behind the pupil, as though an entire visual universe was contained within the iris. By incorporating a view of the sky into the fabric of the eye, Magritte explored the entire notion of seeing, an area of investigation that is wholly germane to the practice of a painter. Le faux miroir does this in a manner that invokes the sublimity of the heavens, resulting in a picture that is as poetic as it is philosophical. With the pupil itself hovering like a dark star at the centre of the luminous composition, this picture presents the eye as an entire microcosm, emphasising the subjectivity with which we see and experience the world. And in doing so, it conspicuously subverts the entire notion of subjectivity itself.
Le faux miroir is filled with light and lyricism, yet its subject matter links it to the darker realms of the fantastical. The marriage of the sky and the eye may be traced to Odilon Redon’s Eye-Balloon, which he explored in both drawings and print. Similarly, Magritte openly admitted his debt to and reverence for the works of the Surrealist artist, Max Ernst, whose own picture, La roue de la lumière was published in his Histoire naturelle of 1926. That image represented an eye as though isolated within a fragment that dominated the bulk of the space of the composition. One of Ernst’s frottages, it resulted from rubbing paper over objects that were usually natural, such as leaves and wood. Ernst then used these patterns as springboards for his imagination, or subconscious. In this way, he was tapping into a new way of both seeing and representing the world, ironically circumventing the eye that was the subject of his picture. On numerous occasions, Ernst’s early pictures served as springboards for Magritte’s own inventions, suggesting that La roue de la lumière may form part of the distinguished Surreal pedigree of Le faux miroir.
The fact that Man Ray owned the early version of this motif is itself all too appropriate. As a cutting-edge artist and photographer, Man Ray pioneered numerous new ways of representing the world, such as his Rayographs. Even his photographs often explored the quirks and idiosyncrasies of sight. While his celebrated Glass Tears of 1932 post-dated Le faux miroir, he had nonetheless created numerous other works that investigated similar territory. Indeed, in his autobiography, Man Ray suggested that he received Le faux miroir in gratitude for its inspiration, as Magritte had seen and admired a large photographic reproduction of an eye he had made (Man Ray, Self-Portrait, London, 2012, p. 253). This was a long-standing theme for Man Ray. For instance in his 1926 film Emak Bakia, eyes were superimposed upon cameras and lamps – linking sight and light, while his Indestructible Object, called Object to be Destroyed in its original 1923 iteration, was a metronome upon which was the cut-out of an eye that swung backwards and forwards in time; the original eye was replaced by that of the artist’s partner Lee Miller after the end of their relationship in 1932. Man Ray was, therefore, an apt owner for that earlier version of Le faux miroir, similarly transfixed by optics and the powerful visual resonance of the eye.
The importance of the theme of Le faux miroir is reflected in the fact that Magritte returned to the subject several times over the course of his career. The first reiteration was a small 1936 painting which he created for a one-man show at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York (Sylvester, no. 366; Private collection). In that example, it is a right eye that is shown, with eyelashes and clouds that go in front of the black pupil. Another picture, whose whereabouts were unknown at the time of the creation of the formidable catalogue raisonné of Magritte’s works in the mid-1990s, was provisionally ascribed a date similar to the gouache (Sylvester, no. 831).
It is perhaps telling that Magritte executed the present gouache in 1952, engaging in an act of retrospection and revisiting the subject of one of his most-recognised early masterpieces. It was during precisely that year that the artist was given his first proper retrospective since the Second World War, which was held at the Casino Communal in Knokke-Le Zoute, allowing Magritte to look at the arc of his development as an artist and reengage with some of his older themes and subjects. The present work has subsequently featured in a number of exhibitions and publications, including the Exposition Magritte of 1960 in Liège, which at the time was one of the largest showings of the artist’s work. This lifetime exhibition was organised in part by Magritte’s friend André Bosmans, who managed to secure the artist’s own cooperation. Like Le faux miroir, the majority of the featured pictures came from Belgian collections, with the exception of some of his most recent paintings. Magritte himself paid careful attention to the selection of the works and the creation of the catalogue, showing his own endorsement by visiting the show several times.
The notion of this ‘false mirror,’ a title provided to Magritte by his friend Paul Nougé, perfectly encapsulates the visual riddles that make this picture so absorbing (see D. Sylvester, ed., René Magritte: Catalogue Raisonné, London, 1992, vol. I, p. 342). The bold, provocative cropping of the composition ensures that as a portrait, the work is deliberately flawed: the individual depicted in Le faux miroir is intentionally unidentifiable. Instead, the viewer is left to ponder the scudding clouds: are they reflected in the iris, or somehow within it? Certainly, Magritte initially referred to the earliest exploration of this theme as an oeil de ciel, or ‘eye made of sky.’ In a letter to their mutual friend E.L.T. Mesens, Man Ray himself asked his correspondent to inform Magritte that ‘His “eye of sky” is hanging in my apartment, and it sees many things! For once, a picture sees as much as it is seen itself’ (letter to E.L.T. Mesens, 12 July 1933; quoted in ibid., p. 342).
But it is a false mirror, of course—it may view the world beyond it, but that world is not a skyscape. As its viewer stands in front of this mirror, it is not a viewer that is reflected, but instead an image of the sky. And then one wonders why those clouds are not faintly reflected in the white of the eye, or the pupil? Instead, one of them seems to be passing behind the pupil, as though an entire visual universe was contained within the iris. By incorporating a view of the sky into the fabric of the eye, Magritte explored the entire notion of seeing, an area of investigation that is wholly germane to the practice of a painter. Le faux miroir does this in a manner that invokes the sublimity of the heavens, resulting in a picture that is as poetic as it is philosophical. With the pupil itself hovering like a dark star at the centre of the luminous composition, this picture presents the eye as an entire microcosm, emphasising the subjectivity with which we see and experience the world. And in doing so, it conspicuously subverts the entire notion of subjectivity itself.
Le faux miroir is filled with light and lyricism, yet its subject matter links it to the darker realms of the fantastical. The marriage of the sky and the eye may be traced to Odilon Redon’s Eye-Balloon, which he explored in both drawings and print. Similarly, Magritte openly admitted his debt to and reverence for the works of the Surrealist artist, Max Ernst, whose own picture, La roue de la lumière was published in his Histoire naturelle of 1926. That image represented an eye as though isolated within a fragment that dominated the bulk of the space of the composition. One of Ernst’s frottages, it resulted from rubbing paper over objects that were usually natural, such as leaves and wood. Ernst then used these patterns as springboards for his imagination, or subconscious. In this way, he was tapping into a new way of both seeing and representing the world, ironically circumventing the eye that was the subject of his picture. On numerous occasions, Ernst’s early pictures served as springboards for Magritte’s own inventions, suggesting that La roue de la lumière may form part of the distinguished Surreal pedigree of Le faux miroir.
The fact that Man Ray owned the early version of this motif is itself all too appropriate. As a cutting-edge artist and photographer, Man Ray pioneered numerous new ways of representing the world, such as his Rayographs. Even his photographs often explored the quirks and idiosyncrasies of sight. While his celebrated Glass Tears of 1932 post-dated Le faux miroir, he had nonetheless created numerous other works that investigated similar territory. Indeed, in his autobiography, Man Ray suggested that he received Le faux miroir in gratitude for its inspiration, as Magritte had seen and admired a large photographic reproduction of an eye he had made (Man Ray, Self-Portrait, London, 2012, p. 253). This was a long-standing theme for Man Ray. For instance in his 1926 film Emak Bakia, eyes were superimposed upon cameras and lamps – linking sight and light, while his Indestructible Object, called Object to be Destroyed in its original 1923 iteration, was a metronome upon which was the cut-out of an eye that swung backwards and forwards in time; the original eye was replaced by that of the artist’s partner Lee Miller after the end of their relationship in 1932. Man Ray was, therefore, an apt owner for that earlier version of Le faux miroir, similarly transfixed by optics and the powerful visual resonance of the eye.
The importance of the theme of Le faux miroir is reflected in the fact that Magritte returned to the subject several times over the course of his career. The first reiteration was a small 1936 painting which he created for a one-man show at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York (Sylvester, no. 366; Private collection). In that example, it is a right eye that is shown, with eyelashes and clouds that go in front of the black pupil. Another picture, whose whereabouts were unknown at the time of the creation of the formidable catalogue raisonné of Magritte’s works in the mid-1990s, was provisionally ascribed a date similar to the gouache (Sylvester, no. 831).
It is perhaps telling that Magritte executed the present gouache in 1952, engaging in an act of retrospection and revisiting the subject of one of his most-recognised early masterpieces. It was during precisely that year that the artist was given his first proper retrospective since the Second World War, which was held at the Casino Communal in Knokke-Le Zoute, allowing Magritte to look at the arc of his development as an artist and reengage with some of his older themes and subjects. The present work has subsequently featured in a number of exhibitions and publications, including the Exposition Magritte of 1960 in Liège, which at the time was one of the largest showings of the artist’s work. This lifetime exhibition was organised in part by Magritte’s friend André Bosmans, who managed to secure the artist’s own cooperation. Like Le faux miroir, the majority of the featured pictures came from Belgian collections, with the exception of some of his most recent paintings. Magritte himself paid careful attention to the selection of the works and the creation of the catalogue, showing his own endorsement by visiting the show several times.