Among the 1987 Centennial and Happy Birthday Marcel events in Philadelphia was a display of Duchamp’s works at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, many of which were ready-mades.

They were in the long gallery leading toward the Arensberg Collection. There were many interesting labels and citations to read. Near the 1916 Comb inscribed with the wonderfully cryptic message: “3 or 4 drops of height have nothing to do with savagery” was Duchamp’s proud comment about its durability: “During 48 years it has kept the characteristics of a true ready made; no beauty,
no ugliness, nothing particularly esthetic about it….”

click to enlarge

Figure 1
Label explaining
lost ready-made

As I continued my slow and thoughtful walk, reading as I went, I saw a little etching done in 1959 entitled Tire a quatre epingles [Pulled at 4 Corners] or “Dressed to the Nines.” The museum’s label mentioned that it was the title he’d given a chimney ventilator, a 1915 ready-made that was lost! (Fig. 1)

“Lost?” I said to myself; “I wonder if anyone is looking for it and if it can be found.” Upon arriving home, I decided to keep an eye open for it. I discussed it with a friend who thought he’d seen it in the corner of the restaurant kitchen where he was working as a pastry chef. I fumbled around in my attic and basement, thinking it just might turn up.

After checking the Yellow Pages under R, M, .D, and V, I decided that this was a long-term project and let it slip out of mind for a while, thinking that one day it would emerge on its own accord.

Several years later I stopped into Niece’s Lumberyard in Lambertville, NJ to buy some art supplies. In an almost Proustian moment of ecstatic memory, I realized that I had found the lost ready made! There it was . . . a wall ventilator, a perfect analog of a formal dress shirt, its pleats pressed and shiny white, ready to wear to a special event–pulled at four corners, dressed to the nines. (Figs. 2,
3) It even had a little lever allowing it to shift quietly like a kinetic sculpture.

click images to enlarge

• Figure 2
• Figure 3

• Wall ventilator
• Wall ventilator

If I were to install it on my bedroom wall, it might qualify as a “disguised ready made.” If it were to be exhibited at a museum, perhaps it would be considered the first “forged ready made.”

Realizing that documentation is important, I enclose the receipt of its purchase as provenance– $5.44, 07/14/90. (Fig. 4)

Later I discovered that more than ten of the original ready mades had been lost, some of which were re-made in small editions by Arturo Schwarz and Ulf Linde.

However, there are some that remain a puzzle and an ongoing project for me. For example, when asked to design the installation of “First Papers of Surrealism” in 1942, (Fig. 5) Duchamp purchased 16 miles of string. He used only 1 mile of string for the show. What happened to the other 15 miles?

• Figure 4
• Figure 5

• Receipt of the purchase
• Marcel Duchamp, Installation
  for the exhibition of First Papers of Surrealism, 1942

Stretched out from mid-town Manhattan, it could measure a radius that would reach Paterson, NJ, Newark Airport, Coney Island, Kennedy Airport, and some point in Long Island Sound south of Norwalk, CT. If rolled into a ball, what would 15 miles of string look like?

What would its measurements be?

click to enlarge

Figure 6
Nura Petrov with
the strings

Some of the string can be found in my work. (Fig. 6) Skeins of it occur in Kyria Anthusa’s tangled loom, a construction of wooden branches that I made in 1995. Several yards of it, which I came upon in a ditch beside Bursonville Rd. c.1997, are hiding in a photo-copy collage from the same year. If you have any thoughts on this or other lost ready mades, drop me a line (or a standard stoppage) at my e-mail address: nurapetrov@conceptualist.com

(EDITOR’S NOTE: In regard to Duchamp’s “Pulled at Four Pins,” it is surprising that almost 50 years after the now lost original Readymade of 1915, Duchamp would have memorized its appearance as vividly as he did for the etching. For the catalogue of the1973/1974 exhibition “Marcel Duchamp: A Retrospective” (Philadelphia Museum of Art / Museum of Modern Art, NY) the American photographer Peter Hujar was assigned to take pictures of buildings in New York in which Duchamp had lived. While on Fire Island he also took several photographs of a chimney cowl similar to the one depicted in Duchamp’s etching. Such a chimney cowl was discovered and legally dismantled by ASRL intern Adam Kleinman in the summer of 2000 on a midtown-Manhattan rooftop. Together with an exhaustive collection of literature on both the variety and history of chimney cowls, the object is now part of the permanent collection at ASRL, NY. – Thomas Girst) (Figs. 7, 8)

• Figure 7
• Figure 8

• Marcel Duchamp,Pulled at Four Pins, 1964
• Chimney Cowl,ASRL/NY, ca. 1910’s

Fig(s). 5, 7©2005 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris. All rights reserved.

Valores semánticos del vidrio.

1.1 Sobre Duchamp: La circularidad de la mirada.
1.2 El rden de la materia: A propósito de Robert Smithson.
1.3 La rtrofia del límite en Dan Graham.

Valores semánticos del vidrio

La aparición del vidrio en el panorama de la producción arquitectónica se sumó a la introducción en los procesos constructivos de una serie de materiales cuya característica fundamental fue su carácter artificial: junto al hormigón armado y al acero, se inauguró una nueva tradición constructiva.

click to enlarge

Figure 1
The projection of
a painting on the glass window

Inicialmente vinculado a las estructuras de acero en construcciones destinadas a terminales de ferrocarril, a invernaderos, como los de Paxton y Burton, o a exposiciones temporales para los pabellones de las Exposiciones Universales⁽¹⁾, como el Palacio de Cristal londinense de Joseph Paxton, las deslumbrantes posibilidades del vidrio se extendieron más allá de sus implicaciones técnicas. (Fig. 1)

La especificidad del vidrio como materia que afecta la habitación del espacio, supuso la alteración de algunos conceptos tradicionales para la arquitectura. Quizá el más significativo fuese la alteración de la idea de levedad en cuanto trasgresión de lo sólido: mientras los planteamientos arquitectónicos estuvieron asociados al muro pétreo, la ausencia de materia incitó a convocar la gravedad. Eran criterios de sustracción en el muro: horadar, abrir. Bien hacia la luz, bien hacia la visión: El óculo del Panteon, o el salón de Comares en la Alhambra.

El vidrio incorpora como actuación la de acotar, limitar. En este caso, la levedad se presenta como cualidad intrínseca de la materia, sin que en ella actúe la presencia de elementos anteriores. De algún modo se produce una densificación cualitativa del espacio.

El vidrio simbolizó de este modo una expectación antropológica⁽²⁾, que los arquitectos tomaron como estigma de la incipiente modernidad⁽³⁾. Produjo una serie de reflexiones sobre su capacidad de limitar y expandir el espacio interior. En la proyección espacial, el vidrio sólo es límite bajo ciertas circunstancias, porque puede significar al tiempo confín y umbral. Supone la materialización de la línea en tránsito hacia lo otro, y a la vez la disolución del borde.

La pérdida del marco de la ventana y por tanto del carácter objetual de la perforación destinada a relacionar el edificio con su entorno, significó en primera instancia una ampliación del límite arquitectónico, incorporando, en segunda instancia, una nueva noción de materia: La superficie vitrificada habla de continuidad visual, pero también de una contradicción interna entre el orden de la malla cristalina y la planeidad de la membrana, lo que provoca una intensa densidad conceptual. El aparente orden externo o final que expresa la delgadez transparente del vidrio no es tal, sino una expresión ideal de su capacidad entrópica ⁽⁴⁾.

Sea como fuere, la fascinación que este material ejerce sobre el hombre afecta a una cuestión de base: la naturaleza misma de la visión. La arquitectura que nos envuelve, desde el Quatroccento, ha sido una arquitectura vinculada por completo a la visión; al proceso de visualización que parte del hombre hacia el entorno. El desarrollo de planos de vidrio verticales entre los planos horizontales de la base y la cubierta, y la consiguiente reducción de la opacidad de estos paramentos a casi cero, fueron intentos de llegar a la absoluta transparencia del muro, superponiendo a la práctica constructiva una cierta voluntad ontológica⁽⁵⁾. Este proceso de asociación repercute directamente en el hecho constructivo y, lo que es más, en la definición de un modo de conocimiento específico: Ver es conocer⁽⁶⁾.

La sincronía de la percepción que permitió desarrollar el vidrio implicó la modificación de la visualización del entorno, por cuanto se amplía la multiplicación de puntos de vista o, incluso, se propicia la ausencia de objeto perspectivo. La imagen más simple es ya una estructura que se incorpora al entendimiento personal del entorno, transformada sucesivamente tras un horizonte que es el límite de nuestra capacidad personal de percepción⁽⁷⁾.. El límite de vidrio significa para el espacio arquitectónico un lugar geométrico que engloba en su unidad una multiplicidad perceptible. El lugar, de este modo, deviene una creación de la propia producción espacial.

La reversibilidad del vidrio en procesos de transparencia y reflexión apoya estos aspectos, favoreciendo el desarrollo de una verdad plural, de la que se desprende una superposición de estratos convergentes: una constante desintegración del límite y una permanente activación del concepto de lugar. Realidad y verdad dejan de ser idénticas, anunciando una totalidad potencial, múltiple. La mirada se involucra en la transformación de la consciencia del individuo.

Esta mirada detenida en el vidrio, cuando se abre a lo visible, propicia el instante. Fugitivamente, concibe lo uno inasible y lo duradero: La superposición de tiempo, el detenimiento y avance de la mirada, termina por convocar una dimensión casi ascética del vidrio. Entre las resonancias de la arquitectura, queda una cierta identificación entre la materia y la mente⁽⁸⁾.

El espacio de este modo imaginado es un espacio viviente, es el lugar de un continuo nacer, de todas las posibilidades y diferencias, matriz fecunda de signos, ritmos y formas. No es casualidad, pues, que el vidrio haya planteado diferentes cuestiones en torno a su capacidad expresiva y a su resonancia en el hombre.

1.1 Sobre Duchamp: La circularidad de la mirada.

click to enlarge

Figure 2
Marcel Duchamp, Nude
Descending a Staircase,
no. 2, 1912

El esfuerzo por reflejar el espacio como superposición de estratos independientes queactúan entre sí converge en la necesidad de registrar la huella transparente de todos los estratos: Cuando Marcel Duchamp comienza pintando su Hombre descendiendo por una escalera⁽⁹⁾, (Fig. 2) indica claramente que el concepto de este hombre descendiendo no es sino una frágil sumatoria de instantes ficticios. Una seriación de ritmos que finalmente constituyen un obstáculo al entendimiento de esta situación como continuidad espacial, ya que esta multiplicación estática de ritmos lo que hace es disolver las expectativas de la idea central de movimiento efímero. Se trataba de captar, no un precipitado de tiempo puro, sino el tiempo mismo.

Esta pintura, en su desarrollo espacial, incorpora el tiempo (y por tanto el movimiento) como elemento definitivo de entendimiento del objeto. Aún no es un planteamiento técnico, despojado de atributos expresivos, como ocurrirá con Broyeuse de chocolat N°2, de 1914, (Fig. 3) en donde se observa un desmedido interés por la precisión, por la exactitud. Una exactitud manipulada, en donde el objeto es una caja de resonancias enfrentado al observador. El salto entre una y otra obra resulta fundamental para comprender el origen conceptual de la obra duchampiana por excelencia: el Gran Vidrio⁽¹⁰⁾, (Fig. 4) ya que implica el paso de una visión retiniana, destinada a la expresión, a una visión intelectual destinada al entendimiento. Ya no se pretende representar la realidad, sino dotar a la realidad de presencia a través de la obra. Esta voluntad de evitar una contemplación estética delGran Vidrio impulsó a Duchamp a presentar la Boîte Verte⁽¹¹⁾ (Fig. 5) en 1934, un conjunto de escritos, cálculos y reflexiones que debían ser consultados al tiempo que se observaba elGrand Verre, de modo que cualquier tipo de asociación con la pintura tradicional quedara descartado.

La necesidad de un nuevo soporte plástico que permitiera estas lecturas, implicó al vidrio como posible soporte alternativo al lienzo, carente de posibilidades de relación más allá de las puramente visuales. Además, el vidrio como materia significa, hablando en términos pictóricos, ausencia. De esta manera, las cualidades expresivas del vidrio, fundamentalmente su transparencia⁽¹²⁾, repercuten en la instalación, tanto por sus abiertas posibilidades de significación como por su capacidad de relación con el entorno. En el desarrollo de la obra se produce una vinculación del entorno al objeto y viceversa: una superposición de elementos significantes al espacio que las sostiene. Abandonado el proceso de desarrollo espacial cubista, en que la fragmentación y desplazamiento del objeto produce un espacio que genera la obra plástica, Duchamp extrae ese espacio del lienzo y genera un objeto capaz de activar el espacio que sustenta. Se establece de este modo un diálogo entre las ideas suspendidas en esta nueva tela vitrificada y las del observador que se acerca, gira, encontrando su posición en un espacio compartido por primera vez con la obra, alimento del proceso de reconocimiento en el lugar.

En los primeros estudios para el Gran Vidrio, como Neuf Moules Mâlic (Fig.6) y Glissiére contenant un moulin á eau en métaux voisins⁽¹³⁾(Fig. 7), Duchamp descubre estas posibilidades de ambigua significación del vidrio, fotografiando en diferentes ocasiones estos pequeños esbozos sobre vidrio en distintos espacios, colocándose delante o detrás de ellos. De este modo la obra no es ese objeto de museo, sino el objeto-con-él-en el espacio. Una propuesta que desplaza todo el interés del objeto representado hasta la superficie que funda el objeto. Ya no se trata de ver sin más, sino de ver a través-de, o, en el caso de la encriptación del Gran Vidrio, no ver a través-de lo transparente. Fundamentalmente, la idea de concentrar toda la capacidad de relación al límite, a la superficie de relación entre dos caras, actualiza los intereses espaciales que paralelamente se desarrollan en el espacio arquitectónico propuesto por el Movimiento Moderno. Confirmar mediante una delgada frontera la posibilidad dual del espacio. Si bien la posición de Duchamp se antoja aún más conflictiva, por cuanto se instala en el lugar, negándolo por el carácter positivo de su presencia, mientras que, por sus cualidades de relación, lo afirma, potenciando las capacidades de un espacio al que activa después de haberse impuesto sobre él.

• Figure 3
  Marcel Duchamp, Chocolate
  Grinder number 2, 1914
• Figure 4
  MarcelDuchamp, The
  Large Glass, 1915-23
• Figure 5
  Marcel Duchamp, The
  Bride Stripped Bare by Her
  Bachelors Eeven [a.k.a.
  The Green Box], 1934

• Figure 6
  Marcel Duchamp, Nine
  Malic Moulds, 1914-15
• Figure 7
  Marcel Duchamp, Glider
  Containing a Water Mill made
  of Neighboring Metals,
  1913-15

Se produce, por tanto, una superposición de posibilidades sobre la superficie, una suerte de espacio acumulado, proyectado sobre una mínima transparencia: la máxima capacidad de significación se confía al mismo límite que apetece disolver. En este punto resulta altamente significativo el concepto de inframince⁽¹⁴⁾ con el que Duchamp califica la máxima capacidad de emoción. Lo “infradelgado” supone de este modo el foco de atención, el punto de mira de las disposiciones espaciales. Un nexo definitivo con las posteriores concepciones de la arquitectura, que desplaza las bondades del espacio hasta su máxima envolvente: una piel cristalizada que resuelve al mismo tiempo el carácter del espacio interior y las maclas exteriores del edificio.

click to enlarge

Figure 8
16^th century
perspectives by Durer

La proyección de diferentes estratos significativos en un mismo nivel, implica al Gran Vidrio en la suspensión crítica de la perspectiva. Los trabajos de Duchamp en la biblioteca de Sainte Geneviéve en París le permitieron estudiar distintos tratados perspectivos, de los que extraería buen número de notas. Surgen aquí relaciones explícitas del vidrio con los sistemas perspectivos del siglo XVI, como las demostraciones de Durero (Fig. 8), que abrieron a Duchamp nuevos caminos para el desarrollo espacial del conjunto⁽¹⁵⁾. La posibilidad de alterar el concepto tradicional de representación espacial le llevó a concebir el Gran Vidrio como una proyección espacial dentro del mismo espacio, es decir, no indiferente a él como un cuadro, sino dependiente de él. Al hacer desaparecer el soporte, los objetos quedan involucrados en una suerte de idealización espacial, no obstante el marco, y su señalada línea de división, que actúan con la indescriptible fuerza del marco de una ventana extraída del muro, descontextualizado su papel de articulación, y sin embargo con la capacidad de enfatizar la idea de tránsito, de límite, de espacio significante.

click to enlarge

Figure 9
Photo of the Large Glass
taken in Katherine Dreier’s
home at West Redding,
Connecticut, summer 1936

Un espacio que ofrece al vidrio como vuelta hacia el observador: al suspender los valores retinianos y por tanto el placer estético de la contemplación, señala un doble camino de extrañamiento del objeto y afirmación del espacio, con lo que finalmente se vuelve al hombre cuestionando el acto de mirar⁽¹⁶⁾. La multiplicidad de lecturas acumuladas, así como la proyección sobre la obra de diferentes visiones del entorno, variaciones de luz, reflejos fragmentados, suponen una ampliación del proceso de conocimiento. (Fig. 9) Una activación por tanto de la mirada que ha traspasado su nacimiento como visión para alcanzar su madurez como reconocimiento. El hombre se ve mirar, y de este modo, el encuentro con el vidrio deviene consigo mismo, con su espacio y su voluntad de conocer, provocando la circularidad de la mirada.

Notes

1. Las posibilidades de ampliar el uso del vidrio a otros tipos edificatorios fueron muy escasas, al menos en sus inicios en Inglaterra, hasta que se suprimió el impuesto sobre el consumo de este material en 1845. La Palm House de R.Turner y D.Burton (1845-1848), fue uno de los primeros edificios en beneficiarse de la disponibilidad de vidrios laminados.

Italo Calvino habla en su libro Seis Propuestas para el Próximo Milenio, del nexo entre levitación deseada y privación padecida como una constante antropológica en la que, la búsqueda constante de la levedad y sus expresiones significaron una reacción al peso de vivir. ( Italo Calvino: Seis Propuestas para el Próximo Milenio. Libros del Tiempo. Madrid: Editorial Siruela, 1989. p 39).

3. El vidrio lo hizo. El vidrio solo, sin ayuda alguna nuestra, habría destrozado la arquitectura clásica. El cristal tiene ahora una visibilidad perfecta, delgadas láminas de aire cristalizado para mantener el aire entre el interior y el exterior…El vidrio es incuestionablemente moderno.” Frank Lloyd Wright.1940. ( Frank Lloyd Wright: Modern Architecture, being the Kahn lectures. Collected writings, vol 2. New York: Rizzoli Publications, 1992. pp 38-39).

4. “…dentro de el cristal existen combinaciones constantes donde la materia vítrea es manipulada para formar nuevas estructuras. La energía que el cristal utiliza para producir delgadas láminas implica que las estructuras preexistentes se han abolido…en las disciplinas científicas, a este proceso se le llama entropía. A pesar de sus movimientos internos, el vidrio mantiene un sistema al que se encuentra subordinado..”Robert Smithson.1968 ( Robert Smithson: A sedimentation of the mind:Earth Projects. Retrospective works 1955-1973. Oslo: The National Museum Of Contemporary Art, 1999. p 85).

5. “…el vidrio consagra la visibilidad, invitando a la experiencia de una verdad objetiva.”
Dan Graham. 1976. ( Dan Graham: My Position. Villeurbanne: Nouveau Musée/Presses du Réel, 1992. p 15).

6. “El ojo como órgano de la vista es parte de la actividad total del alma; mira, pero su intención profunda, su finalidad, es “ver” lo que no se puede ver con la mirada. Mirar debe convertirse en contemplar para poder llegar a “la visión” que es conocimiento..La visión es un estado de la conciencia, un estado extremo de la atención, la cual –como en una atenta escucha- ve lo que ya sabía el cuerpo profundo.”
Pablo Palazuelo.1995.
( Pablo Palazuelo: La Visión y el Tiempo. Museo Nacional Reina Sofía. Madrid, 1995. pp 17-19).

7. “Dichosamente porque es ya una casa, imagen del firmamento y del hueco que le separa de la tierra. En ella, en la tienda o choza, primera morada fabricada por el hombre, el horizonte es confín, círculo que limita y abriga, es como un horizonte propio de su habitante…”
María Zambrano. 1977.(María Zambrano: Claros del bosque. Ed Seix Barral. Barcelona, 1993. pp 63-64).

8. “La energía inteligente se compenetra con la energía material. La capa más profunda de nuestra mente “es naturaleza”, la naturaleza que contiene la materia y lo desconocido.” Pablo Palazuelo. 1985 ( Geometría y Visión: Una conversación con Kevin Power. Diputación Provincial de Granada. Granada, 1995. p 35).

9. Nu descendant un escalier.N°2. Enero 1912 (Neully).
“Mi objetivo apuntaba a la representación estática del movimiento –una composición estática de indicaciones estáticas de las diversas posiciones adoptadas por una forma en movimiento- prescindiendodel intento de crear efectos cinemáticos mediante la pintura.”
Marcel Duchamp. 1945. ( J.Johnson Sweeney: Interview. The Museum of Modern Art Bulletin, vol. 13. New York, 1945. pp 4-5).

10. La marie mise á nu par ses célibataires, même (LE GRAND VERRE). 1915-1923 (New York). “ Óleo, barniz, hoja de plomo, hilo de plomo y polvo sobre dos placas de vidrio (quebradas), cada una montada entre dos paneles de vidrio, con cinco hilillos de vidrio, hoja de aluminio; marco de madera y acero. Especie de subtítulo: Retraso en vidrio.
Emplear retraso en lugar de cuadro o pintura; cuadro sobre vidrio se convierte en retraso en vidrio -pero retraso en vidrio no quiere decir cuadro sobre vidrio. Es simplemente una manera de llegar a dejar de considerar que la cosa en cuestión es un cuadro- hacer un retraso en todo lo general posible y no tanto en los distintos sentidos en que puede tomarse retraso, sino más bien en su reunión indecisa. Retraso –un retraso en vidrio- como diría un poema en prosa o una escupidera de plata.”
Marcel Duchamp. 1923. ( Duchamp du Signe. Ed. Flammarion. París, 1978. p.37).Al margen de las profundas explicaciones que merece la imaginería del Gran Vidrio, el tema fundamental de la obra resulta de la relación entre la pieza superior, “la novia” (símbolo de la fecundidad y la creación) y la pieza inferior, “los solteros” (símbolo de la esterilidad y el vacío), formando la dualidad de la génesis del mundo abstracto.

11. La marie mise á nu par ses célibataires, même (BOÎTE VERTE). 1934 (París). “ …Quería que este álbum acompañase al Verre, y que pudiese ser consultado para ver el Verre, porque, en mi opinión, el Verre no tenía que mirarse en el sentido estético de la palabra. Había que consultar el libro y verlo conjuntamente. La conjunción de ambas cosas le quitaba todo aquel aspecto retiniano que no me gusta nada. Era muy lógico.”
Marcel Duchamp. 1934.
( Marcel Duchamp y Pierre Cabanne: Ingénieur du temps perdu: entretiens avec Pierre Cabanne. Pierre Belfond. París,1977. p.7 ).

12. son cosas técnicas. El vidrio me interesaba mucho como soporte, a causa de su transparencia. Eso ya era una gran cosa. Por otra parte, el color, que puesto sobre el vidrio es visible desde el otro lado y si se encierra pierde toda posibilidad de oxidarse…”
Marcel Duchamp. 1934.( Marcel Duchamp y Pierre Cabanne: Ingénieur du temps perdu: entretiens avec Pierre Cabanne. Pierre Belfond. París,1977. p.64).

13. Neuf Moules Mâlic. 1914-15 (París).Oleo, hilo de plomo, hoja de plomo sobre vidrio (quebrado en 1916), montado entre dos placas de vidrio, 66 x 101,2 cm.Glissiére contenant un moulin á eau en métaux voisins. 1913-15 (París).Óleo y vidrio semicircular, plomo, hilo de plomo, 147 x 79 cm.

14. En la revisión de la obra de Duchamp para la exposición de Tokio de 1980, aparecieron nuevos manuscritos y notas inéditas, entre las que fue frecuente encontrar la palabra inframince, (Fig. 10) palabra inexistente en francés, compuesta en uno de los muchos juegos verbales del arte conceptual por Infra- (bajo) y –mince (delgado). La absoluta conexión entre lenguaje y expresión plástica arroja luz sobre este punto, encontrando, entre otras citas: “…la pintura sobre vidrio, vista desde el lado sin pintar, da un infradelgado. El intercambio entre lo que uno pone a la vista y la mirada glacial del público (que ve y se olvida inmediatamente). A menudo este intercambio tiene el valor de una separación infradelgada…”. Yoshiaki Tono, responsable de la organización de esta exposición, ilustró este término con diferentes fotografías de la superficie del agua, continua, dual, sin grosor alguno. (Fig. 11)

click to enlarge

Figure 10
Marcel Duchamp, Note
on the inframince

Figure 11
Photograph of the
surface of water

15. Las referencias a los tratados perspectivos de esta biblioteca son importantes, especialmente al Manual del pintor de Durero, de 1538, y a La Perspectiva Práctica de Du Breuil, de 1642, existiendo, además, una similitud significativa entre los dibujos con dos planos superpuestos de este último tratado y la disposición final del Gran Vidrio. Entre las notas omitidas en La Caja Verde, destacan la publicada en A l’Infinitif, en 1964: “use transparent glass and mirror for perspective…[…] paint the definitive picture “sur glace sans tain”(two-way mirror thick)…” Marcel Duchamp.1913. (Dawn Ades, Neil Cox, David Hopkins: Marcel Duchamp. Ed Thames and Hudson. Londres, 1999. pp 111-112).

16. “se olvida ante todo que el hombre, sin más, es contemplativo aunque sólo sea en la modesta medida en que mira y recibe algo de esa incompleta, más cierta, visión que su breve mirada le procura. Contemplativo en sentido preciso es solamente el dado a prolongar esa mirada…” María Zambrano. 1984. (Zambrano: De la Aurora. Ed Turner. Madrid, 1986. pp 39-40).

Fig. 2-7, 10
©2003 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris. All rights reserved.

Two years ago I went to a garden design festival on the river Loire, in France.40 or so gardens had been built, all selected for innovation of ideas, material or execution. The festival is held in the grounds of a castle overlooking the river Loire. The theme of the show that year was “Erotomania”.

click images to enlarge

Figure 2
Céline Orsingher et Laurent Bailly, Erotomania-Erotomachia, 2002

Nestling amongst the fibreglass breasts, suspended underwear and other (small) feats of the designers’ imagination was a garden enclosed by a corrugated iron wall. The only view of the garden was afforded by the occasional peep hole. Within the walls was a scene of urban decay : weeds grew high, plastic mannequins in various states of undress lay, erotically I suppose, in the overgrown vegetation. Experiencing the garden via the peephole made the experience short, private and intense. The title of the garden was Erotomanie Erotomachie. (Fig.
1) Had the idea been Given by Duchamp? (Fig.
2) I asked its architects but received no reply.

click images to enlarge

• Figure 2
• Figure 3

Marcel Duchamp, Given: 1.
The Waterfall; 2. The Illuminating Gas, 1946-66

There are other links to be made between Duchamp and gardening…and Duchamp and landscape, I’m here today to argue the case for Duchamp the gardener and would love to hear the counter argument. I’ll make them none the less.

click to enlarge

Marcel Duchamp, The Bride
Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors,
Even, 1915-23

Let us take a famous work: Fountain. I won’t labour this point but the simple fact is this man’s fame rests on a water feature. Duchamps horticultural aspirations can hardly be made more obvious…and the Large Glass…glass and horticulture go hand in hand, in fact the Palm House at Kew gardens is discussed by one contributor to Tout fait. Glass is a complicated, conceptual, challenging material that both allows us grow tropical plants in boreal places, as well as transmit cryptic artistic messages. Duchamp chose the latter way of using it…but could have fairly chosen the former.

What stronger argument than these? If I must go on I will. Duchamp’s liberation of Washington Square (attempted) was not, I would argue, the drunken detail in Duchamp’s life has (regrettably) been bypassed by Duchampians. It shows a clear commitment to the municipal landscape…possibly with aspirations to community gardening. Duchamp was a great fan of New York City and was it would not surprise me at all if he had been planning a post secession community (organic) wildflower meadow for the children of New York. Serious.

Not convinced? I’ll continue. Rrose Sélavy? Quoi plus dire? Duchamp was of the field in name…of the flower in pseudonym. He didn’t only think about flowers but also about watering them, and selected this as a identifying himself. A practical man as well as an aesthete…a landscaper. What better qualification for my thesis?

Duchamp was once described as being in an anti-nature phase, and defiantly turning his back on a Forsythia bush (who wouldn’t). He doesn’t fool me. The line between love and hate is a thin one.

I could go on, there is a gardener in all of us. Duchamp was no exception. The big question is why did he hide it from the world? It was nothing to be ashamed of. Answers please.

Recent Investigations on the relative permanence of chromatic memory retention by Prof. Karl Gegenfurtner of Giessen University in Germany may throw light on Duchamp’s very conservative use of color in his mature work.

In summary account, The visual memory better and longer stores images in ‘natural color’ than either in black & white or bright, primary tints. The work in Germany was placed in an evolutionary context:“If stimuli are too strange, the system simply doesn’t engage as well, or deems them unimportant” (see: Franz, V.H., Fahle, M., Bülthoff, H.H. & Gegenfurtner, K.R. “The effect of visual illusions on grasping.” Journal of Experimental Psychology: Human Perception & Performance, vol. 27, nr. 5 (October 2001), pp. 1124-1144).

Primary in Duchamp’s concern must have been a realization that his complex and inference rich constructions might not linger long enough in memory to permit recall at prolonged leisure and reflection. Anticipating much later research, he deliberately avoided the use of any means which could possibly hinder the visual memory’s work. Thus a characteristic natural effect was sought in his color schemes.

click to enlarge

Figure 1
Marcel Duchamp,Given:1
The Waterfall / 2. The
Illuminating Gas, 1946-1966

In the final work, Given: The Water Fall, 2. The illuminating Gas, (Fig. 1) Duchamp went out of his way to obtain colorations of light, landscape and flesh, that caused some critics to questions such an apparent reversion of a revolutionary artist to mere ‘naturalism’ as practiced by the 19^th century realists. The explanation may lie in another direction entirely. The writer believes Duchamp intuitively was aware of the phenomenon described by the German researcher and employed it cunningly in a major and little understood work.

(Timothy Phillips)

Fig. 1
©2003 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris. All rights reserved.

Marcel Duchamp, beholding the flowering of the New York art scene, once said that “the great artist of tomorrow will go underground.” In at least one case, that prediction has proved truer than even the grand old trickster may have imagined.

click images to enlarge

• Figure 1
• Figure 2

• Salon de Fleurus
• Salon de Fleurus

• Figure 3
• Figure 4

• Painting at Salon
  de Fleurus
• Painting at Salon
  de Fleurus

click to enlarge

Figure 5
Mike Bidlo, The
Fountain Drawings, 1998

The immediate effect is clear enough. Typically, the process of integrating art into the world begins with an advance broadcast of the artist’s personality, often a single memorable word (“insane,” “British,” “doctor,” etc.), which serves as a seed for all that follows. At the salon, this strategy of reductionism has reached its apogee: the viewer no longer knows whom to turn to for the expected explanation. Like the spherical caves in E.M. Forster’s A Passage To India, the Salon de Fleurus is perfectly self-contained, canceling out every echo with an opposing one, until one is essentially left with one’s own thoughts.

But why, and to what end? Ten years after the day I first sat in the salon and breathed the pungent scent of mothballs, I am in no better position than the average observer to answer this question. I still bring my own ideas to the space, pitting my forensic powers against hints and clues, with no hope of confirmation or denial. What follows are some of the thoughts I’ve accrued in the presence of this artistic sphinx.

First and foremost, it is not really correct to speak of the Salon de Fleurus as an art space. This may explain why so few have tried. It has been described as a curiosity, a recreation of Gertrude Stein’s storied salon, a sardonic comment on Modernism, a masterful reflection of the same, and more.

But whatever the analysis, it has mobilized no great hope for the rebirth of Cubism–and understandably so. The salon may be about art spaces, but that is not the same thing as being one.

In the strictest sense, we cannot even call the individual paintings art, just as we cannot know if prehistoric cave painters would have consented to today’s definition of the term. Indeed, the only time any objects from the salon have only been classified as such is when they have appeared outside their original context, as in their recent inclusion in the Whitney Biennial.

An Australian aborigine, seeing his dreamings in a plush uptown gallery, would certainly appreciate the paradox.

We have entered the realm of archeology, then, but of archeology of what? Having opened a fault line between image and word, the salon seems to demand a re-examination of art criticism, which has become increasingly reliant on personality to find its way. Perhaps, in referring to the most iconic of Modernist painters, it seeks more specifically to disassemble the story of Modernism, which has been selling so many T-shirts of late.

Of course, Picasso, Matisse, and Cezanne have been interpreted in such widely varying ways by now that the spectrum would seem to include all possible responses to anything. In this sense, the salon has benefited from its longevity. The varied attempts to explain its contents–as a hoax, as an experiment, as a subversive act–mirror the whole range of interpretations of 20th-century art. With each unconfirmed reading, the next prospect is trotted out, until the final exhaustion of Modernism is replayed.

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Figure 6
Painting at Salon
de Fleurus

That, perhaps, is a conclusion worth living with: where Duchamp introduced familiar objects as works of art (albeit in a magisterial act of misdirection), the Salon de Fleurus manages to cast familiar art works back to the unknown (Fig. 6). The structure of what we see is, if not shattered or exploded, at least rendered expertly tenuous, like a house with all of its nails removed.

At this stage in the game, it is worth asking whether such an intriguing project can ever bear offspring. Or rather, if it has, how would anyone know? With no one on hand to confirm or deny, anyone can lay claim to the salon as an influence–provided, among the infinite interpretations, he can discover what constitutes lineage. A space is open, waiting to be recognized and claimed, Should that come to pass, we can look forward to a growing body of work that is not only brilliant in its implications, but expansive as well.

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Figure 1
The projection of
a painting on the
glass window

The use of glass in architecture was associated with the use of other artificial materials, such as steel and reinforced concrete. These materials heralded new trends in architecture. Glass was initially incorporated into steel structures destined for railway 0terminals and glasshouses; Paxton and Burton come to mind. Pavilions for national exhibitions⁽¹⁾ like Paxton’s Crystal Palace were also beneficiaries of this new architectural technology. Possibilities for the use of glass were dazzling and transcended the mere technical. (Fig. 1)

Use of glass and the subsequent effect on the space that it enclosed challenged traditional architectural concepts. The most significant change was brought about by the introduction of levity–or the transgression of solidity. Traditionally the stone wall had dictated how architecture was approached and, curiously perhaps, an absence of material introduced the idea of gravity into architecture. A wall brings with it the concept of subtraction for it must be pierced or opened up in some way to allow the entry of light. The oculus of the Pantheon or Salon de Comares in the Alhambra palace are here brought to mind. Glass, for its part, demarcates and encloses. Levity is an intrinsic and unencumbered quality of this material and for whatever reason glass qualitatively increases the density of a space.

Glass came to symbolize anthropological expectations⁽²⁾ which architects interpreted as a way of stigmatizing incipient modernity⁽³⁾ . This material triggered a series of reflections regarding its capacity to limit and expand interior space. As far as spatial projection is concerned, use of glass alone is limited as it, in time come to present boundaries and thresholds. It supposes both lines moving towards others, and the disappearance of edges.

The departure of the window as marker, and loss of the objectifying effect of the perforation which can serve to locate a building in its surroundings broadened architectural horizons and brought about new notions of material: not only can visual continuity can be obtained via the glass surface, but also an infernal conflict between the order of the crystal mesh and the flatness of the membrane. This conflict engenders intense conceptual density. The apparent external order or finality implicit in transparent thinness is not so. What we are experiencing here is, in fact, the ideal expression of entropy.⁽⁴⁾

This being so the fascination exerted on man by this material poses a fundamental question: The very natural nature of the architecture that we have been loyal to since the 400s has been architecture linked to seeing, and to the process by which we see. The development of vertical panes of glass between horizontal ones from floor to ceiling meant an opacity of almost zero. The resulting virtually complete transparency of the wall introduced a kind of ontologous motive to the process of construction⁽⁵⁾ . This process of association had a direct effect on the construction process and, more importantly it defined a specific way of knowing: Knowing through seeing⁽⁶⁾.

This tuning ofperception that enabled glass to be exploited brought about a changein the way one perceived ones surroundings from within buildings as there was now a multiplication of viewing points. The objective perspective was removed. The simplest way of seeing glass incorporated architecture was as a structure that incorporates a personal understanding of the space that can be successively transformed across a horizon defined by a person’s ability to see things⁽⁷⁾ . Glass edges, in spatial architectural terms, signify a geometrical space that encloses perpetual multiplicity. The glass space becomes a spatial interpretation of one’s own.

This idea is backed up by the idea of the reversibility of glass through transparency and reflection. A plural reality or truth evolves, which implies the superposition of converging layers; a constant disintegration of the limits and a permanent propulsion of space. Reality and truth stop being the same implying that some kind of totality might be attained. Sight becomes linked to the transformation of consciousness. When one’s view is sequestered by glass, a glass that reveals the visible surroundings moment the moment is expanded. A lasting but fugitive unassailability is conceived: the superposition of time, the detainment and advance of sight ends up becoming an almost aesthetic dimension of the glass itself. Amongst the architectural resonances there is a kind of identification between mind and material⁽⁸⁾.

Space, when imagined in this way, is something that is alive. It is a place of continualbirth, of endless possibilities and differences, a fertile generator of signs, rhythms and forms. It is not by mere chance that glass has come to provoke so many questions, it is due to its expressive nature and ability to resonate for man.

Duchamp and the circularity of vision

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Figure 2
Marcel Duchamp,
Nude Descending a Staircase,
no. 2, 1912

The effort required to envisage space as the superposition of independent layers, each one interacting with one another lies in the identification of the invisiblemarker that runs through all the layers. When Marcel Duchamp painted Nude Descending a Staircase ⁽⁹⁾ (Fig. 2), of fictitious moments; a series of rhythms that will constitute a defiance of understanding of this situation as any kind of spatial continuity, since what this static collection of captured movements does is dissolve a central idea of an ephemeral moment. It does not capture a precipitation of pure time, but time itself.

This painting, in its spatial development, incorporates time and movement as a definitive element for understanding the object. Its approach is not at all technical; it is dispossessed of expressive techniques like those of Chocolate Grinder number 2 (1914) (Fig. 3) in which disproportionate attention is given to precision and exactitude. Jumping from one work to another is fundamental when trying to understand Duchampian conceptual origins: The Large Glass⁽¹⁰⁾ (Fig. 4) implied a movement from expressive retinal vision to intellectual vision, aimed at understanding. In this work Duchamp made no attempt to represent reality. He was trying to give some kind of presence to reality. This desire to stop the Large Glass being subjected to any kind of aesthetic provoked the appearance of the Green Box (11) in 1934 ⁽¹¹⁾ in 1934 (Fig. 5),, a series of writings, calculations and reflections to be consulted while observing the Large Glass. It would prevent the chance of any kind of association between traditional painting and this work. The need for plastic support to facilitate these readings implicated glass as being a replacement for the traditional canvas, lacking any interpretative possibilities–visual ones aside. In pictorial terms glass signified absence. The transparency of glass makes it a means of a certain type of expression related to its surroundings⁽¹²⁾. As the work develops the relationship between the work and the object is established, and vice versa. These links are sustained by the superposition of the significant elements. Having abandoned the spatial development of cubism, whereby fragmentation and development of the object make it plastic, Duchamp extracts that space from the canvas and generates an object capable of holding that space. In this way he establishes a dialogue between ideas suspended in his new glass membrane and those of the observer who approaches, goes round and situates himself in a space shared with the work. The work is nourished by this process of spatial recognition. In preliminary studies for the Large Glass, 9 Malic Moulds (Fig. 6),and the Glider containing a Water Mill made of Neighbouring metals⁽¹³⁾(Fig.7) and Duchamp discovered the possibilities of glass by photographing little sketches drawn on the glass in different spaces and positioning himself for these photographs either in front of or behind the glass. Now it was not a question of seeing less, rather seeing through or, in the case of the encrypted Large Glass, not seeing through the transparency. This fundamental idea of concentrating on the threshold, on the surface of the relation between two faces was concurrent with propositions by the so-called Modern Movement in architecture. Using a thin threshold the dual possibilities of space are suggested. Duchamp is even more challenging as he places the individual inside the space and somehow negates its existence through the affirmative presence the observer, as well as giving the space a relational potency that is activated one the individual is installed.

click images to enlarge

• Figure 3
• Figure 4
• Figure 5

• 
  Marcel Duchamp, Chocolate Grinder
  number 2, 1914
• Marcel Duchamp, The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even [The Large Glass], 1915-23
• Marcel Duchamp, The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors Eeven [a.k.a. The Green Box], 1934

click images to enlarge

• Figure 6
• Figure 7

• Marcel Duchamp, Nine Malic
  Moulds, 1914-15
• Marcel Duchamp, Glider Containing
  a Water Mill made of Neighboring
  Metals, 1913-15

click to enlarge

Figure 8
16^the
century perspectives by Durer

Thus one possibilityis superposed upon another, a mass of accumulated space projected onto a minimum transparency: A huge amount of meaning is thus conferred upon an evanescent threshold. Here the idea of the infrathin ⁽¹⁴⁾ is highly significant, which Duchamp accorded the highest emotional significance. The notion of infrathin is one of focus, focus viewing spatial positions, a definitive nexus with later architectural concepts the qualities of the space to maximum involvement: a crystallized skin that simultaneously resolves the interior space and the exterior symmetries of the building. The projection of different, meaningful layers on one level means that the Large Glass presents a critically suspended perspective. Duchamp’s work as a librarian in St. Genevieve in Paris would allow him to study different treatments of perspective, about which he would make copious notes. Explicit links between the Large Glass and 16^th century perspectives would be established at this time, like those of Durer (Fig. 8) who would expose Duchamp to new pathways in the spatial development of the collection as a whole⁽¹⁵⁾. The possibility of changing the traditional concept of spatial representation lead him to conceive of the space as a spatial projection within the space itself, that is to say, not indifferent to it as in a painting, but dependant on it. Having been divested of any kind of gravitational support, objects become linked to a kind of idealized space. The marker nevertheless, and its clearly demarcated lines of division functions with the indescribable power of a decontextualized window (ie estranged from its wall). This marker, however, has the ability to emphasize the idea of transit, of thresholds and of significant space.

click to enlarge

Figure 9
Photo of the Large Glass
taken in Katherine Dreier’s
home at West Redding, Connecticut, summer 1936

Glass turns space towards the observer by suspending retinal values and the subsequent aesthetic enjoyment brought about by contemplating them, it distances the object and affirms the space, which results in the individual questioning the very act of seeing⁽¹⁶⁾. Multiple readings, as well as the projection onto the work of different visions of the surroundings, variations in light, fragmented reflections ultimately expand the process of cognition. (Fig.9) The development of the viewpoint passes from birth asa vision to maturity as knowledge. The individual sees himself looking.In this way, the encounter with the glass leads the observer back to his starting point, in which finally the work confronts the observer with himself, with his space and with his desire to know it. The circularity of the process is ensured.

1. The possibilities of expanding the use of glass to other types of buildings were very small, at least in the beginning in the UK. This was before the tax on the consumption of the material was stopped in 1845. The Palm House, by Richard Turner and Decimus Birton (1845 – 1848) was one of the first buildings to benefit from the availability of laminated window panes.

2. In his novel “Six Memos for the Next Millenium”, Italo Calvino speaks of the Nexus between desired levitation and deprivation suffered as an anthropological constant in which the constant search for levity and expressions of levity were a reaction against the weight of living. (Italo Calvino, Seis Propuestas para el Proximo Milenio. Libros del Tiempo (Madrid: Editorial Siruela, 1989) 39).

3. I used glass. Glass alone, without our help, might have destroyed classical architecture. Nowadays glass panes hold perfect visibility,thin sheets of air crystallized to hold air inside and outside Glass is unquestionably modern.
( Frank Lloyd Wright, Modern Architecture, being the Kahn lectures. Collected writings, vol 2 (New York: Rizzoli Publications, 1992) 38-39).

4. “…within the crystal there are constant combinations where the mass of the crystal is shifted to form new structures. The energy that the crystal uses to produce new structures implies that its old structures are broken down… in the natural sciences, this process is called entropy. In other words, the crystal is constantly moving because of breakdowns and structural developments, but outwardly it is maintained by a superordinate system.”
( Robert Smithson, A sedimentation of the mind: Earth Projects. Retrospective works 1955-1973 (Oslo: The National Museum Of Contemporary Art, 1999) 85).

5.”Invisible but blocking all sound, glass consecrates visibility, thus inviting an experience of objective truth.”
( Dan Graham, My Position (Villeurbanne: Nouveau Musée/Presses du Réel, 1992) 15).

6. “The eye as an organ for seeing things is part of the whole soul’s activity; an organ for looking yes, but the underlying purpose, the ultimate objective, is to see whet cannot be looked at. Looking must become contemplation which must become vision which is knowledge. Vision is a state of consciousness, an extreme atate of attentiveness, like listening, seeing what one knows deep down. Pablo Palazuelo. 1995.
(Translated from Spanish. Pablo Palazuelo, La Vision y el tiemo (Madrid: Museo Nacional Reina Sofia, 1995) 17 – 19)34

7. …Happily because it is already a house, image of firmness and hollowness that separates it from the earth. In it, in the hut or the shop, first dwelling built by man, the boundary forms the horizon that encircles, demarcates and shelters, it is the personal horizon of its inhabitant…1977
(María Zambrano, Claros del bosque (Barcelona: Ed Seix Barral, 1993) 63-64).

8.“Intelligent energy with material energy. The deepest srtratum of the mind is “nature”, nature which contains material and the unknown.
(Geometry and Vision: a conversation with Kevin Power (Canada: Diputacion Provincial de Granada, 1995) p 35).

9. Nude Descending a Staircase. No. 2, January 1912.

10. The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even [The Large Glass], 1915-23, New York.
“Employer “retard” au lieu de tableau ou peinture; tableau sur berre devient retard en verre–mais retard en verre ne veut pas dire tableau sur verre.–
C’est simplement un moyen d’arriver à ne plus considérer que la chose en question est un tableau–en faire un reatrd dans tout le général possible, pas tant dans les différents sens dans lesquels retard peut être pris, mais plutôt dans leur réunion indécise. “Retard”–un retard en verre, comme on dirait un poème en prose ou eun crachoir en argent.” [Use “delay” instead of “picture” or/”painting”; “picture on glass” becomes “delay in glass”–but “delay in glass” does not mean “picture on glass”–
It’s merely a way of succeeding in no longer thinking that the thing in question is a picture–to make a “delay” of it in the most general way possible, not so much in the different meanings in which “delay” can be taken, but rather in their indecisive reunion. “Dealy”–a “delay in glass” as you would say a “poem in prose” or a spittoon in silver.”
( Duchamp du Signe (Paris: Ed. Flammarion, 1975/1994) 41).

11.The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachlors, Even [The Green Box], 1934, Paris.
“I wanted that album to go with the “Glass,” and to be consulted when seeing the “Glass” because, as I see it, it must not be “looked at” in the aesthetic sense of the word. One must consult the book, and see the two together. The conjunction of the two things entirely removes the retinal aspect that I don’t like. It was very logical.”
(Pierre Cabanne, Dialogus with Marcel Duchamp, Ron Padgett, trans. (London: A Da Capo, 1979) 42.)

12. “I don’t know. These things are often technical. As a ground, the glass interested me a lot, because of its transparency. That was already a lot. Then, color, which, when put on glass, is visible from the other side, and loses its chance to oxidize if you enclose it…”
(Pierre Cabanne, Dialogus with Marcel Duchamp, Ron Padgett, trans. (London: A Da Capo, 1979) 38.)

13. Nine Malic moulds. 1914 – 1915 (Paris)

click to enlarge

Figure 10
Marcel Duchamp, Note
on the inframince

Figure 11
Photograph of the
surface of water

14.In Duchamp’s revisions for the Tokyo exhibition of 1980 new unedited notes and manuscripts appeared, in which the word inframince appeared, (Fig. 10) a word that doesn’t exist in French making one of the many plays on words in conceptual art. It is composed of the word infra (low) and mince (thin). The absolute connection between language and plastic expression throws light on this point, finding, amongst other quotes “…painting on glass, seen from this side without painting, creates the infrathin. The Interchange between what is put in view and the glacial observation of the public (that sees and immediately forgets). At least this exchange holds the value of an infrathin separation.”

Yoshiaki Tono, responsible for organizing this exhibition, illustrates this term with different photographs of the surface of water, continual, dual and with no thickness (Fig. 11)

15. References to the different approaches to perspective from this library are important, especially in Durero’s Painting Manual, 1538 and Du Breuil’spractical painting perspective, 1642. Furthermore there existed a significant similarity between sketches that show two superimposed planes of the latter approach and the final perspectival disposition of the Large Glass. Amongst the omotted notes from the Green Box the following stands out (published in A L’infinitif, 1964 “Use transparent glass and mirror for perspective [….] paint the definitive picture “sur glace sans tain (two way mirror thick)…Marcel Duchamp.1913.
(Dawn Ades, Neil Cox, David Hopkins, eds., Marcel Duchamp (London: Thames and Hudson, 1999) 111 – 112).

16. “….ng of that most certainly incomplete vision that his brief look will procure. Contemplative in the stricter sense of leeting himself prolong his regard”
(Zambrano, De la Aurora (Madrid: Ed Turner, 1986) 39-40).

Fig. 2-7, 10
©2003 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris. All rights reserved.

click images to enlarge

• Figure 1
• Figure 2
• Figure 3

Frederick J. Kiesler and Marcel Duchamp,center fold-out tryptich for View (ed. Charles Henri Ford),vol. 5, no. 1 (March 1945), various details

Sometimes we tell each other Duchamp stories, which might surprise you since, you would reasonably point out, there is practically nothing about old Marcel that hasn’t been told, already, to death. Yet if God is in the details, the endlessly ironic touches in Duchamp´s narrative are also, even in their apparent irrelevance, the source of a strong exhilaration and brilliance.⁽¹⁾~Rosalind Krauss

Frederick Kiesler and Marcel Duchamp met in the mid-1920s in Paris and stayed in contact until the early 1950s when, for reasons still unknown, their friendship suddenly seems to have fallen apart. During those 25 years, Kiesler and Duchamp worked within the same vein, both occupied with predominant themes like perception and mechanisms of visions. They shared the same friends in Paris and frequented the same intellectual circle in New York. In 1937 Kiesler published his first article on Duchamp´s Large Glass⁽²⁾ based on the extensive use of photomontage and on a free association of images. Five years later, Duchamp rented a room in Kiesler´s apartment for twelve months. Also in 1942, Kiesler designed the gallery Art of This Century for Peggy Guggenheim in which he installed a Vision Machine⁽³⁾ to look at a series of reproductions from Duchamp´s Bôite en Valise.⁽⁴⁾ During the 1940s Kiesler and Duchamp collaborated on several projects such as the cover of the 1943 VVV Almanac and the exhibition Imagery of Chess at the Julien Levy Gallery in New York. In 1947 they worked together again in Paris at the Exposition Internationale du Surréalisme for which Kiesler designed the Salle des Superstitions. A few months later, Kiesler executed a portrait in eight parts of Marcel Duchamp which can probably be considered the last collaboration between the two artists.⁽⁵⁾ The Archive of the Frederick Kiesler Center in Vienna preserves a photocopy of some handwritten notes⁽⁶⁾ by

click to enlarge

Figure 4
Frederick J. Kiesler,
picture of Marcel Duchamp
used for View-tryptich,
1945 (Archive of the Kiesler
Center, Vienna, Austria)

Frederick Kiesler recording various events of Marcel Duchamp´s life. This copy came to our attention half a year ago. As far as we know, an excerpt from this manuscript has been quoted only by Jacques Caumont and Jennifer Gough-Cooper in their remarkable text on Marcel Duchamp and Frederick Kiesler⁽⁷⁾ , in which they have reported a passage regarding Raymond Roussel and chess. In their text they did not specify the provenance of the source⁽⁸⁾ but they date it to 1945, when Kiesler provided a triptych-photomontage published in View.(Figs. 1-3, 5, 6) The issue included several other texts on Marcel Duchamp, while Kiesler’s photomontage combine photos of Duchamp´s studio at 210 West 14^thStreet with reproductions of his works⁽⁹⁾ . Furthermore, the Archive of the Kiesler Center preserves some of the pictures which used to compose the triptych. (Fig. 4) Those images – in combination with the manuscript – help to complete the puzzle of the complex relationship between the two artists and they reflect Kiesler´s ability in transforming real images in surreal visions where the borderline between reality and fiction fades.

Three books inspired the decision of presenting this text in a typographical version: the Green Box by George Heard Hamilton and Richard Hamilton;Á l´Infinitif by Ecke Bonk, and last but not least Affectionately, Marcel by Francis M. Naumann and Hector Obalk. We have tried to follow this tradition in a sort of divertissement which helped us to approach the world of the »Emeritus for Chronic Diseases of the Arts«, as Kiesler once described Marcel Duchamp⁽¹⁰⁾.

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• 
• 
• Click to see video animation (455KB)
  download QuickTime Player
  

• Figure 5
• Figure 6
• Animation

• Marcel
  Duchamp, front cover for
  View, vol. 5,
  no. 1 (March 1945)
• Marcel Duchamp, back
  cover for View,
  vol. 5, no. 1 (March 1945)
• Frederick J. Kiesler and
  Marcel Duchamp, center fold-out
  tryptich for View
  (ed. Charles Henri Ford),
  vol. 5, no. 1 (March
  1945), animated detail

Anyone who has information on the original manuscript, please contact the Kiesler Center at: research@kiesler.org

[The typeface used for Kiesler´s handwriting is Baskerville Old Face; for Lillian Kiesler´s it is Zapf Calligraphic and for the footnotes it is Times New Roman.]

Click to browse through

Notes

1. R. Krauss, The Optical Unconscious, London/Cambridge 1996, p.95.

2. F. Kiesler, Design Correlation in: »Architectural Record« May 1937, pp.53-60.

3. For more information about Vision Machines see Y. Safran, »L´angle de l´œil« in: Frederick Kiesler. Artiste Architecte, Paris 1996 and D. Bogner »Frederick Kiesler et la Vision Machine« in: Vision Machines, Nantes 2000.

4. For more information on the gallery Art of This Century see E. Kraus; V. Sonzogni a.o., Friedrich Kiesler: Art of This Century, Ostfildern 2002.

5. In the 1950s no more trace of communication between them can be followed, not even through Kiesler´s wife Steffi, also a good friend of Duchamp. A reason for the end of their friendship could have been the so-called »Affaire Matta« which involved several surrealist artists following Gorky´s death in 1948.

6. The manuscript is composed of five pages numbered later by Lillian Kiesler. Lillian gave it a title pertaining to the possibility that those papers could contain some notes written by Kiesler during an interview with Duchamp.

7. J. Gough-Cooper and J. Caumont, »Kiesler und Die Braut von ihren Junggesellen nackt entlößt, sogar« in: D. Bogner a.o., Friedrich Kiesler 1890-1965, Wien 1988, pp.287-296.

8. »Kiesler schrieb mehrere undatierte Seiten über das Große Glass, auf die er auch einige interessante biographische Notizen kritzelte, Informationen über Duchamp, die er zweifellos schon in der Zeit vor der Veröffentlichung inView gesammelt hatte.« (»Kiesler wrote several undated pages on the subject of the Large Glass onto which he also scribbled some interesting biographical information on Duchamp, no doubt collected prior to the publication in View«) J .Gough-Cooper and J. Caumont, ibid. p.293.

9. Kiesler used a photomontage technique in combination with double exposure of the film in order to achieve, in a sort of ghostly effect, a vision of the Large Glass superimposed to a wall of Duchamp´s studio.

10. See the notes to the triptych in View (ed. Charles Henri Ford), vol. 5, no. 1, March 1945 (Marcel Duchamp number).

Figs. 1, 3, 5-6
©2003 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris. All rights reserved.

Über die Marcel Duchamp-Rezeption in Mittel- und Osteuropa ist bisher wenig bekannt. Die sich seit Glasnost grundlegend veränderten gesellschaftlichen Verhältnisse ermöglichen es nun, sich diesem Thema unkomplizierter zuzuwenden. Die 1996 im Staatlichen Museum Schwerin gezeigte Ausstellung Mail Art–Osteuropa im internationalen Netzwerk ließ auf Projekte und Künstler aufmerksam werden, die sich nachweislich mit Duchamp auseinander setzten. Darüber hinaus wurde das Netzwerk der Mail Art auch für Diskussionen und Auseinandersetzungen mit der von Duchamp vertretenen künstlerischen Position genutzt. Für Künstler aus Mittel- und Osteuropa wurde dieses Netzwerk zum wichtigen Kommunikationsmedium, da es trotz der Systemgrenzen die Möglichkeit bot, am internationalen Kunstgeschehen zu partizipieren und in einen weltweiten künstlerischen Austausch zu treten. Mit der Gründung eines Schweriner Mail Art-Archivs setzte eine Forschungsarbeit ein, die sich auch speziell mit der Marcel Duchamp-Rezeption im Netzwerk der Mail Art und darüber hinaus in Mittel- und Osteuropa beschäftigt. Zumal Marcel Duchamp als geistiger Anreger für die Mail Art gilt. Das Interview mit dem russischen Künstler Serge Segay versteht sich als ein erster Schritt, den durch die Ausstellung vermittelten Hinweisen nachzugehen. Die Forschungsarbeit zu diesem Thema steht noch am Anfang, so dass weiterführende Informationen dankend entgegengenommen werden. Bei Rea Nikonova und Sege Segay handelt es sich um zwei Künstler, die einen wichtigen Teil ihrer Arbeit darin sahen, Publikationen zur klassischen russischen Avantgarde in hand- und maschinenschriftlichen Texten, mit Fotografien, Collagen und Zeichnungen herauszugeben. Rea Nikonova, die 1942 in Eysk geboren wurde und Regie studierte, arbeitet im Bereich von Performance, Sound Poetry und Mail Art. Sie gründete 1965 die Zeitschrift Nomer, die sie ab 1968 gemeinsam mit ihrem Mann Serge Segay veröffentlichte. Serge Segay, 1947 in Murmansk geboren, beschäftigt sich als Kunsthistoriker und Künstler mit lettristischer und akustischer Poesie, Performance und Mail Art. Von 1979 bis 1986 gaben er und Rea Nikonova die Zeitschrift Transponans heraus. Neben den eigenen Werken publizierten sie darin regelmäßig Arbeiten von Neo-Futuristen und von Vertretern der Moskauer und Leningrader Postavantgarde. Diese Zeitschrift fungierte als Kommunikationsplattform, die auf eine Vernetzung der in diesem Bereich tätigen Künstler zielte. Im Jahr 1983 gründeten Rea Nikonova und Serge Segay gemeinsam mit Boris Konstriktor und anderen die Gruppe der Transfuturisten. In Eysk organisierten sie zahlreiche Ausstellungen vor allem im Bereich der Mail Art und der visuellen Poesie. Das Archiv des Staatlichen Museums Schwerin verfügt sowohl über Arbeiten der Künstler als auch über Plakate von den in ihrem Heimatort gezeigten Ausstellungen. Heute leben und arbeiten beide in Kiel (Deutschland). Ihr Archiv befindet sich in der Forschungsstelle Osteuropa an der Universität Bremen. Werke von ihnen lassen sich auch im Ruth & Marvin Sackner Archive of Concrete and Visual Poetry in Miami Beach, Florida finden. Beide Künstler beteiligten sich 1996 an der Ausstellung Mail Art–Osteuropa im internationalen Netzwerk in Schwerin, 1998 an Präprintium. Moskauer Bücher aus dem Samizdat im Neuen Museum Weserburg Bremen und im Jahr 2000 an Samizdat. Alternative Kultur in Zentral- und Osteuropa: Die 60er bis 80er Jahre in der Akademie der Künste in Berlin.

Interview mit Serge Segay (S. S.), geführt von Kornelia Röder (K. R.), Dezember 2002:

K. R.: Welche Rolle spielte Marcel Duchamp in Ihrer künstlerischen Arbeit?

click to enlarge


Abb. 1

Abb. 2
Marcel Duchamp,
L.H.O.O.Q., 1919

S. S.: Marcel Duchamp hatte eine große Bedeutung für mich, als ich ganz jung war und wie alle frühzeitig erwachsen gewordenen Kinder die Welt der Avantgarde für mich entdeckte. Es waren die sechziger Jahre, ich war 14-15 Jahre und versuchte, nachdem ich mir Informationen beschafft hatte, im gleichen Maße die malerische Plastik von Cézanne, die Deformationen von Picasso, den französischen Tachismus und … Giocondas Schnurrbart von Duchamp in eigenen Werken umzusetzenumzusetzen (Abb. 1 und 2).Diese merkwürdige Einflussmischung entwöhnte mich des „richtigen“ Malens–die allgemein anerkannten Fähigkeiten hierzu besaß ich von klein auf –und zwang mich, über einen eigenen Beitrag zur existierenden Kunst nachzudenken. Wenn es möglich ist, der Gioconda einen Schnurrbart anzumalen, dann müsste man auch jede Form zu jedem fremden Kunstwerk hinzufügen können. Erstmals ahmte ich den Schnurrbart von Duchamp 1962 nach und später, Anfang der siebziger Jahre, schuf ich eine Reihe von „abgeküssten“ Reproduktionen nach Cranach und Dürer. „Die Küsse“ waren zwar nicht echt (ich begriff zu diesem Zeitpunkt noch nicht, dass man einen richtigen Lippenstift und eigene Lippen statt traditioneller Farben und das Zubehör eines Kunstmalers verwenden kann), nur künstlerische Imitationen, angeblich die Lippenspuren. Im Weiteren wiederholte ich den Schnurrbart 1972, 1983 und sogar 2000.1983 entstand mein Bild Hommage à Duchamp, in dem ich ein reales Rad benutzte, aber von einem Kinderfahrrad(Abb. 3 und 4).Wahrscheinlich war es eine Art Antwort auf Duchamp. Das Kindesalter der Frühavantgarde fand für mich in diesem Jahr sein Ende. Ich müsste lügen, wenn ich sagen würde, dass ich mich nur auf diese Memoiren beschränkt hätte. Wesentlich öfter, als in meiner Malerei, verwendete ich „das Prinzip des Schnurrbarts“ in meinen dichterischen Werken. Seit 1962 fügte ich klassischen Gedichten anderer Dichter eigene abstrakte Refrains hinzu. Diesem, von meiner Hand ausgeführten Los entgingen weder die altgriechische Sappho noch der Franzose Jean Cocteau und auch nicht der durchschnittliche Puschkin, der allgemein in Russland beliebt ist. Ich übersetzte sogar einige Wortspiele von Duchamp aus dem Französischen ins Russische (Abb. 5)weswegen er sich wahrscheinlich mehrmals im Grabe umgedreht hätte. Bei diesen Experimenten half mir das Wissen über John Cage, der das Klavier „präparierte“ (ein fremdes Werk), die Wiener Gruppe und die Fluxus-Künstler , die es zersägten. Nicht wenig Denkanstöße zur Enträtselung der Buchstaben L.H.O.O.Q. gab mir Sigmund Freuds Buch Eine Kindheitserinnerung des Leonardo da Vinci, herausgegeben 1912 in russischer Sprache in Moskau.

click images to enlarge

• 
• ‘
• 

• Abb. 3
  Marcel Duchamp, Bicycle Wheel, 1913
• Abb. 4
  Serge Segay: Hommage à Duchamp, 1982 Holz, Karton, Rad, Öl
• Abb. 5
  Segay Segay: Poem Textpassage aus Written rotten/Morceaux moisis von Marcel Duchamp ins Russische übersetzt

K. R.: Wann haben Sie das Werk des Künstlers für sich entdeckt?
S. S.: Tatsächlich wusste ich bereits 1962 von Marcel Duchamp, von seiner Teilnahme am Dadaismus und von seiner Lieblingsbeschäftigung, dem Schachspielen! Während mir der Film von Man Ray nur aus Beschreibungen der dicken Kinematographiegeschichte bekannt war, führte die Interpretation des Schachspiels im Gedicht Das große Lalula von Christian Morgenstern zur Annahme, dass etwas mehr dahinter steckt. Aus diesem Grund entstand in einigen meiner Bilder ein „Schachhintergrund“.

K. R.: Was interessierte Sie an Duchamp?
S. S.: Ich war immer von der Fähigkeit westlicher Künstler und Dichter angetan, reiche Frauen zu heiraten, um unverschämt eigenen künstlerischen Vergnügungen und Vorlieben nachgehen zu können. Eine dieser Vorlieben von Duchamp bestand in der Auswahl von reproduzierten Bildern von David Burliuk für ein Buch, das Katherine Dreier über ihn schrieb. Einen erstaunlichen Wendepunkt sah ich darin, dass Duchamp die ihm im wesentlichen (angeblich!) recht fremde primitivistische Art von Burliuk akzeptierte, indem er wirklich die besten Arbeiten auswählte.

K. R.: Gab es Möglichkeiten, sich in der ehemaligen Sowjetunion über Duchamp zu informieren?
S. S.: In der Sowjetunion war Duchamp kein unbekanntes Terrain. In meiner Jugend verweilte ich oft in den riesengroßen Bibliotheken in Wologda, Rostow am Don und Leningrad. Dort war es leicht, jede Ausgabe der 10er und 20er Jahre zu bekommen; schon 1923 wurde im Magazin Moderner Westen alles über den Dadaismus veröffentlicht–diese Ausgabe des Magazins kannte ich 1963 fast auswendig (die Gedichte von Picabia, Tzara und Manifeste in russischer Übersetzung). 1968 habe ich das Buch von Hans Richter Dada – Art und Anti-Art gelesen, das zu der Zeit gerade in London erschienen war. Auch dort wurde über Duchamp ausreichend berichtet. In der UdSSR konnte man auch die französische Zeitschrift Moderne Architektur in russischer Übersetzung abonnieren. Dort wurde ein vorzügliches Manifest von Friedrich Hundertwasser veröffentlicht. Damals war dieser Künstler noch nicht so kommerziell. Er rief alle Künstler auf, die Umwelt zu verändern, indem man seine Handflächenspuren auf allen Gebäuden, Autos und schließlich auch auf Denkmälern hinterlässt. Mir wurde klar, dass das „Prinzip des Schnurrbartes“ nicht nur mich beschäftigte. Auch heute existiert diese Idee (z.B. in den neuesten Ausstellungen zu Iconoclast), obwohl sie nicht mehr neu ist.

K.R.: Gab es Diskussionen in der ehemaligen Sowjetunion über die von Duchamp vertretene
künstlerische Position sowohl unter Künstlern als auch offiziell?

S. S.: Ich gehörte in der Sowjetunion nie zu den offiziellen Künstlern und habe mich nicht sonderlich für deren Diskussionen interessiert. Aber Duchamps Position war mehrmals ein Diskussionsthema in zwei Samizdat Zeitschriften, an denen auch ich beteiligt war. Die erste Ausgabe von Nomer enthielt die Theorie „Addition der Form“. Rea Nikonova, Valerij Dijatschenko und ich haben eine Menge graphischer Arbeiten, Collagen und theoretischer Artikel dem „Transponierungsprinzips“–unserer Hauptidee, basierend auf der Hinzufügung des Schnurrbarts durch Duchamp–gewidmet. In einer anderen Zeitschrift mit dem Titel Transponance ⁽¹⁾ wurden unter anderem spezielle Materialien über das „Konzeptuelle Ready-made“ veröffentlichet ⁽²⁾

K.R.: Sind Ihnen Ausstellungen seiner Werke in der ehemaligen Sowjetunion bekannt?

S.S.: Ausstellungen mit Werken von Marcel Duchamp gab es in der Sowjetunion nicht, aber Kataloge und Bücher über ihn waren im Antiquariatsbuchhandel in Moskau erhältlich. Es brachte immer jemand etwas für den Verkauf aus dem Ausland mit.

K.R.: Spielte das Netzwerk der Mail Art in dieser Beziehung eine Rolle?

click images to enlarge

• Abb. 6
  Marcel Duchamp, Fountain, 1917
• Abb.7
  Serge Segay: one R. Mutt equates one 1917,getöntes Papier, Poem aus der Serie Name poems, 1989

S. S.: Mit Mail Art begannen Rea Nikonova und ich Ende 1985 oder Anfang 1986. Zu dieser Zeit wussten wir alles, was für uns wichtig war. Aber dank einiger Mail Art-Projekte erfuhren wir, dass es auch in der westlichen Welt viele Künstler gibt, für die Duchamps Gedanken genauso wichtig sind wie für uns. 1988 habe ich damit angefangen, eine graphische Darstellung zu verschicken, die aus der Signatur R. Mutt, 1917 bestand, mit der Duchamp sein Pissoir bezeichnet hatte (Abb. 6 und 7). Diese kleine Aktion führte zu einem überraschenden Ergebnis: An meine Adresse wurden Briefe und Päckchen geschickt, die an diesen R. Mutt adressiert waren. In meinem Archiv befinden sich noch einige davon.

K.R.: Beteiligten Sie sich 1987 an dem Projekt In the Spirit of Marcel Duchamp
von György Galántai (Artpool, Budapest)?

S.S.:Es gab einige Projekte zu Ehren von Duchamp. Eins der interessantesten für uns beide war das Projekt Mona Lisa (Gioconda) des polnischen Mailartisten Thomas Schulz, denn gerade Duchamp aktualisierte im 20. Jahrhundert dieses Werk von Leonardo. Für dieses Projekt gestaltete Rea Nikonova mehr als 50 Blätter. Einige Werke von ihr und von mir wurden später veröffentlicht. Ein anderes interessantes Projekt war der von Pascal Lenoir periodisch herausgegebene Katalog The secret life of M. Duchamp⁽³⁾. Das Projekt von Artpool fand viel später statt und erweckte nicht mehr unser Interesse.

K. R.: Worin liegt Ihrer Meinung nach die Aktualität Duchamps?

S.S.: In der Kunst existierten immer unterschiedliche Tendenzen, aber selbst gegenseitig ausschließende künstlerische Ideen können nicht ohne einander existieren. Die Sterilität und die Frakturlosigkeit von Duchamps Hauptwerken stehen in vollem Widerspruch zur Hauptidee der Kunst z. B. von Kasimir Malewitsch. Aber sowohl heute als auch in Zukunft kann man weder auf Malewitschs noch auf Duchamps Kunstvorstellungen verzichten. Es geht nicht darum, sich für den einen oder den andern zu entscheiden. Es ist aus meiner Sicht notwendiger, den allgemein anerkannten Werten und Normen der Gesellschaft zu widersprechen und die Vorgänger zu leugnen mit einer größeren Intensität, als es diesen gelang, Neuerungen in ihrer Zeit zu etablieren. Eine einfache Nachahmung oder das Im-Fahrwasser-segeln dient nicht der Kunst von morgen. Duchamp gelang es mit seinem „Schnurrbartprinzip“ das zu zeigen, was sich zur Zeit offenbart: Jeder neue Künstler „fügt“ bloß etwas zu dem bereits Geschaffenen „hinzu“.

click images to enlarge

• Abb. 8
  Serge Segay, Poem
  aus der Serie Monamanie
  , 1987 Chinatusche,
  Frottage
• Abb. 9
  Serge Segay, Poem
  aus der Serie Monamania
  , 1987 Seite aus:
  Theaftertomorrow:
  International Container
  of Art Interventions
  Manta Edizioni Colombo,
  1991
• Abb. 10
  Serge Segay:
  Quotations,
  1996 Collage
  and Frottage

Literaturhinweise:

Chuck Welch, Eternal Network. A Mail Art Anthology, Calgary 1995, pp. 95ff.
Welch, Eternal Network. A Mail Art Anthology, Calgary 1995, pp. 95ff.

Mail Art–Osteuropa im internationalen Netzwerk, Ausstellungskatalog, Kornelia von Berswordt-Wallrabe (hrsg.), bearbeitet von Kornelia Röder, Guy Schraenen, Staatliches Museum Schwerin 1996, S. 69-75, 256ff.

Präprintium. Moskauer Bücher aus dem Samizdat, Günter Hirt, Sascha Wonders (Hrsg.), Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin–Preußischer Kulturbesitz, Ausstellungskataloge, Neue Folge 28, Dokumentationen zur Kultur und Gesellschaft im östlichen Europa, Forschungsstelle Osteuropa an der Universität Bremen, Band 5, Edition Temmen, Bremen 1998, S. 125-131

Samizdat. Alternative Kultur in Zentral- und Osteuropa: Die 60er bis 80er Jahre, Wolfgang Eichwede (Hrsg.), Dokumentationen zur Kultur und Gesellschaft im östlichen Europa, Band 8, Forschungsstelle Osteuropa an der Universität Bremen, S. 315ff.

Inna Tigountsova, Handmade books and visual Poems of Serge Segay. A Russian „Transfuturist“, Canadian-American Slavic Studies 36, No. 4, Winter 2002, Offprint

(Zu einer der bedeutendsten Sammlungen konkreter und visueller Poseie in den USA, siehe das Sackner Archiv unterwww.rediscov.com/sackner.htm)

Notes

1. Anm. Einige Ausgaben sind in der HA Osteuropa Bremen; im Archiv von N. Hardschijew im Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam und 20 Ausgaben im Archiv von Marvin Sackner in Miami Florida, USA, vorhanden.

2.Verw. R. Kostelanetz, A Dictionary of the Avant-Gardes, New York, Schrimer Books, 2000, p.p. 618-619

3. Einige Ausgaben erhielt das Mail Art-Archiv Schwerin in diesem Jahr als Schenkung von Pascal Lenoir.

Figs. 1,3,6
©2003 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris. All
rights reserved.