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UNIVERSITY
OF FLORIDA
LIBRARIES

Architecture and Fine Arts

Library
 Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2011 with funding from
LYRASIS IVIembers and Sloan Foundation

http://www.archive.org/details/riseofcubismOOkahn
 the rise of cubism daniel-henry kahnweller
759.915
UNIVERSITY
OF FLORIDA
LIBRARIES
 Translated by Henry Aronson

The Documents of Modern Art: Director: Robert Motherwell

Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler : The Rise

of Cubism

Wittenborn, Schultz, Inc.,

New York 22, N.Y.

 AKCH&
AUIEDAjjig
Publishers' Note:

The publishers and the director of the series wish to express their
gratitude and indebtedness for aid and advice
to the author, copyright holder of the original edition,

to the individuals and institutions mendoned in the list of illustrations, and

to John Rewald, William S. Lieberman, Curt Valentin, and Bernard Karpel.
This is the first translation into any language of the original German text, written
in 191 5 and published under the title "Der Weg zum Kubismus" by Daniel Henry
(Munich, Delphin-Verlag, 1920).

Copyright, 1949, by Wittenborn, Schultz, Inc.

All rights reserved under international and Pan-American copyright conventions.
Published by Wittenborn, Schultz, Inc., 38 East 57th Street, New York 22, N.Y.
 Contents:

page iv Publisher's Note

vi Preliminary Notice by Robert Motherwell

via List of Illustrations

ix Writings by Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler

I The Rise of Cubism: i. The Essence of the New Painting. Lyricism of Form.
The Conflict between Representation and Structure

3 2. The Forerunners: Cezanne and Derain

5 3. Cubism, the First Stage: The Problem of Form. Picasso

and Braque

9 4. Cubism, the Second Stage: The Piercing of the Closed

Form. The Problem of Color. Categories of Vision.
Picasso and Braque Working Together

17 5. The Picture as a Productive End in Itself. Leger

21 6. New Possibilities: Representation of Movement

" if-
 :

Preliminary Notice

Cubism began as an analysis, of the nature oj the aesthetic. The present little boo\ is an
account of the cubists' experiments by a man who was their friend and advocate, as well as
a dealer in their wor\s, a man who has reflected on their achievement all his life. Kahn-
weiler formulates their problem in the beginning of this boo\ in the sentence that reads,
'representation and structure conflict.' Written as early as 1915, this boot{ is the story of the
solution that they worked toward; tvhen it came to be seen, it broke the bacl{, if only tem-
porarily, of centuries of naturalistic representation. Since then the struggle to be free from
nature has passed into other hands, and will pass in turn to still others as long as modern
society remains what it is, and man's insight into it and himself increases, the distance be-
tween the objects in the tvorld and an enlightened mind will lengthen. In accord with its

analytical intent, cubism started inamood of objectivity. From this derives its famous 'purity,'

from its indifference to the demands of the T before an objective problem. This morality
has been inherited by many abstract artists and architects; it is indirect opposition to ex-
pressionism, which asserts the dominance of the T
above everything. Part of the beauty in-
herent in the cubist enterprise lies in that for a time their minds were questioning and open
about the forms of painting, though they scarcely transformed at all its subject-matter.
Doubtless they seized upon Cezanne too quickly, but they were eager to act, and he pro-
vided one of the few precedents for a reconsideration of modern painting. They also listened
to poets tvho had been injluenced by Mallarme and the syMlbol^U, notably Guillaume Apol-

linaire; they tal\ed, probably in a purely intuitive tvay, of modern science; and all the time

vi
 .

in their studios they were struggling with the absolutes of painting. But from their free
bohemian life they had already rid their minds of history, middle-class society, religion. Es-
sential steps. Nevertheless the cubists' painting world was filled with objects nudes, trees,

houses, still life. Sometime in igog or igio Picass o toot{ 't he great ttep ,' as Kahnweiler puts
it, and pierced the 'sl{in' of oibjects reducing
. them and the world in which they exist ed to

what we tvould notv call subjective process. With this step cubism snapped traditional
naturalism. Wording tuith great intelligence, stubbornness and objectivity , they stumbled
over the leading insight of the 20th century,^ all thought and feeling is relative to man, he
does not reflect the tvorld but invents it, Man is his own invention; every artist's problem is

to invent himself. How

stupid from this point of view to pass one's time copying nature or
history. And tvhat an invention is Mozart! T't^tgf' nn^lyrlc ^t.// invl^ nf gr^nt nhj^rtitiity
Bra^ue_and Picasso ivere led directly to the subjective / am speakjng of the brief period
when their insight did not waver to the problem of inventing themselves. It is in a much
deeper sense than Manolo guessed luhen he made his crude jo\e that Picasso's family would
not have recognized him at the Barcelona station if he had descended as a cubist portrait.
Cubism invented Picasso as much as he invented cubism fit r. evealed himself to himself, as
painting does to every true painter, of course it made him unintelligible to others\ln loo\ing

bac\ now, one is not certain how completely the cubists possessed their insight. It is shoc\-
ing to read in this boo\ of their fears of being unintelligible, of their confusing the sudden ap-
pearance of their subjectivity with the appearances of the external world, as though one
would lool{ like the other; it is shocking too that they were afraid that the tvork^ might be
merely decorative a mistaken image Kahnweiler still has of Mondrian and other non-
figurative painters. But we must remember in tvhat a sea of confusions everyone begins,
even genius, and for that matter often ends; everyone's life has to be spent in transcending
his initial inheritances. In the sense that he has been chosen in modern times by the artist as

his special enemy, a middle-class person is one ivho is what he has learned from conventions. >*'

Around igio-12, in cubism's highest flights, tvhat is stri/^mg is not the material structure
that Kahniveiler and most abstract artists like to speak "/ ^"' a sen sitwe c'aUigraphy that/
s weeps up internal an d extern alworlds into a oneness in which reality consists not oj_of-

posing_ejsiices_ojjnafter_ and spirit, representation and ^tructttrcr but- tyf relation f, jprocess.

During these years cubism approached ecstasy. Presently it lost its intuition of the mysterious,

and they returned to Western construction like carpenters or masons. Corot, Courbet and the
,

impressionists made the subject-matter of modern art secular. The cubists accepted from
them landscape and still life, and from the academic tradition the nude. These subjects the

cubists mildly transformed into their oivn intimate objects, bare rooms in place of the out-

doors, glasses, playing cards, labels, newspapers, musical instruments in place of fruit, and,
one supposes, their own girls in place of the model in a public studio. But the intrinsi c con-_

flict betiveen subjettivity andthe objectjjolthe tiiprld, bettveen structure and representation,
as Kahnweiler puts it, led them slowly to abandon natural appearances as much as they
could in the interes^ts~-&f axt; this process constituted their dramatic conflict, which they
resolved long enough to liberate everyone after them, and then abandoned for they ,
re-

fttsed to give up their studio subjects. Tender an d lyricaL perhaps for the
. moment unable
to stand expressionist distortion, the cubists came to invent a new. sign language with which
to refer to their familiar objects in the studio, signs tvhose meaning was arbitrary, invented

vii
 :

and by definition, lil{e other symbolic structures: words or relational logic or the language

of deaf-mutes. Cubism was filled u'ith the optimistic desire to be modern that Apollinaire

expressed; but when cubism returned later to its pleasure-giving objects, it became filled with
nostalgia, with a sense of their certain decay. When the cubists painted still life they may
have intended, as one says in French, nature morte. . . . / say these things as all of us artists

lit^e to speal(^, not as history, but as evocative of what I have seen and guessed; nothing of
interest can be spol^en of save by indirection. This was just cubism's insight. For several
years the cubists painted as if no truth is true that is not subtle.

Robert Motherwell, New Yor\, February 22, ig^g

List of Illustrations
(Dimensions given in inches, height precedes width)

Frontispiece Picasso, Portrait of Kahnweiler. 1910, oil, 39'/4 by 28%, collection Mrs.
Charles B. Goodspeed, Chicago.
Pagejri Picasso, Etching. 1914.

2 Picasso, Nude. 1910, pen and ink drawing, coll. unknown.

20 Picasso, Two Nudes. 1906, oil, 59% by 36%, private collection, London.
23 Picasso, Les Demoiselles d' Avignon. 1907, oil, 96 by 92, Museum of Modern
Art, New York, acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss Bequest.

24 Braque, Nude. 1908, oil, 55% by 40, coUectien Mme Marie Cuttoli, Paris.

24 Picasso, Two Nudes {Friendship). 1908, oil, 60 by 40, Museum of Modern

Western Art, Moscow.
25 Picasso, Oil-Mill, Horta. 1909, oil, 15 by 18, private collection, Paris.

25 Braque, Road near Estaque. 1908, oil, 23% by 19%, Museum of Modern Art,
New York.
26 Picasso, Woman with Mandolin. 1909, oil, 25 by 21, Museum of Modern
Western Art, Moscow.
26 Picasso, Woman with Mandolin (Fanny Tellier). 1910, oil, 39'/2 by 29, col-
lection Roland Penrose, London.
27 Braque, Woman tvith Mandolin. 1910-11, oil, 36 by 28'/2, collection Walter
P. Chrysler, Jr., Warrentown, Virginia.
28 Braque, The Portuguese Guitar Player. 1911, oil, 46V4 by 28%, private col-
lection, Paris.

29 Picasso, Guitar. 1912, construction in colored papers, 9'/2 inches high, owned
by the artist.

30 Braque, The Clarinet. 1913, pasted paper, facsimile wood grain and crayon
Amedee Ozenfant, New York.
drawing, 37 by 47, collection
30 Picasso, Man tvith a Violin. 1913, pasted paper and charcoal drawing, 48%
by i8'/8, collection Roland Penrose, London.

vtii
 .

30 Braque, The Concert. 1913, pasted paper, facsimile wood grain and charcoal
drawing, 36 by 46 '/2, collection Pablo Picasso, Paris.

31 Picasso, Glass, Pipe, Playing Card. 1914, painted construction in wood, I'iVi
inches diameter, owned by the artist.

32 and pasted paper on canvas,

Picasso, Still Life. 1912-13, oil 36'/4 by 25V2) col-

lection Walter C. Arensberg, Hollywood.

32 Braque, Oval Still Life. 1914, oil, 36% by 25%, Museum of Modern Art, New
York, gift of the Advisory Committee.

33 Leger, Two Pipe Smokers. 191 1, oil, 51 by 38, former collection Georges
Bernheim, Paris.

33 Leger, Nudes in the Forest. 1909-10, oil, 96 by 132, collection KroUer-Miiller

Foundation, Otterloo, Holland.

34 Leger, Smoke over Roofs. 1913, gouache, 25'/4 by igVi, Buchholz Gallery,
New York.

35 Leger, The Card Party. 1916-17, oil, private collection.

Writings by Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler

Compiled by Bernard Karpet, Librarian, Museum of Modern Art, New Yor\

1. Der Kubismus. Die Weissen Blatter (Zurich-Leipzig) v.3, no.9, p.209-222 Sept. 1916.

2. Die Schweizer Volksmalerei im XIX. Jahrhundert. Das Kunstblatt {Berlin) v. 2, no.7,

p.223-225 July 1918.

3. Vom Sehen und vom Bilden. Die Weissen Blatter (Zurich-Leipzig) v.6, no.7,
P-3^5~322
July 1919.

4. Andre Derain. Das Kunstblatt (Berlin) v.3, no.io, p.289-304 Oct. 1919.

5. Expressionismus. Das Kunstblatt (Berlin) v.3, no.ii, p.351 Nov. 1919.

6. Merzmalerei. Das Kunstblatt (Berlin) v.3, no. 11, p.351 Nov. 1919.

7. Das Wesen der Bildhauerei. Feuer (Weimar) v.i, no.2-3, p. 145-156 Nov .-Dec. 1919.
8. Der Weg zum Kubismus. 55p. plus 36 plates Miinchen, Delphin-Verlag, 1920.
Issued in translation as: The rise of cubism, Neu> Yorl{, i()4g.

9. Maurice de Vlaminck. i6p. plus 32 plates Leipzig, Klinkhardt & Biermann, 1920.
( Junge Kunst. Bd. 1 1 )
10. Andre Derain. i6p. plus 32 plates Leipzig, Klinkhardt & Biermann, 1920. (Junge Kunst.
Bd.15).
Also published in Dutch translation by Collection N.K., .imsterdam, 1924. Originally
issued in Das Kun'stblatt v.^, igig, and in Jahrbuch der Jungen Kunst v.i, P.9S-95
jg20.
11. \\fcT\isiaXX.en. Die Freude (Oberfran^en) v.i, p.153-154 1920.
12. Absichten des Kubismus. Das Kunstblatt (Berlin) v.4, no.2, p.6i Feb. 1920.
13. Die Grenzen der Kunstgeschichte. Monatshefte fiir Kunstwissenschaft (Leipzig) v. 13,

part I, p.91-97 Apr. 1920.

14. Andre Derain. Der Cicerone (Leipzig) v.12, no. 8, p-3i5-3i7 Apr. 1920.

ix
15. Der Purismus. Der Cicerone {Leipzig) v. 12, no.p, p.364 May 1920.
Also published in Jahrbuch der Jungen Kunst, v.i, p.i^<) 1^20.

16. Fernand Leger. Der Cicerone (Leipzig) v. 12, no.19, p.699-702 Oct. 1920.
Also published in Jahrbuch der Jungen Kunst, p.^oi^o^ 1^20.
i6a. Ingres: Ideen und Maximen. Das Kunstblatt v.9, no.i, p.18-24 Jan. 1925.

"Zusammengestellt von Daniel Henry."

1 6b. Maurice de Vlaminck. In Flechtheim, Alfred, Gallery. Maurice de Vlaminck, mit Bei-
tragen von Daniel Henry, E. Teriade, und Gedichten des Malers, p.5-6 Berlin, Werk-
kunst Verlag, 1926 (Veroffendichungen des Kunstarchivs. Nr.20.)
Text dated igig, exhibition held Nov. 1^26.
17. Der Tod des Juan Oris. Der Ouerschnitt {Berlin) v.7, no.7, p. 558 July 1927.
17a. Das abenteuerliche Leben des Manuel Martinez Hugue, genannt Manolo. In Flechtheim,
Alfred, Gallery. Manolo. p.3-8 Berlin, 1929.
Also published in Der Ouer'schnitt v.g, no.8, p.590-^gi ic)2g.

18. Juan Gris. i6p. plus 32 plates Leipzig, Klinkhardt & Biermann, 1929. (Junge Kunst
Bd.55). '

. . . ,

Extracts also published in Cahiers d'Art, v.8, /pjj.

iSa.Elie Lascaux. In Flechtheim, Alfred, Gallery. Elie Lascaux [exhibition catalog] p.8 Ber-
lin, Diisseldorf, 1930.

19. Juan Gris. In Ziirich. Kunsthaus. Juan Gris-Fernand Leger. p.24-27 Paris, Cahiers
d'Art, 1933.
Special edition issued for exhibitions of April and May.
20. Introduction. In Buchholz Gallery, New York. Andre Masson [exhibition catalog] 1942.
Translated by Maria Jolas. Also published in Volontes {Paris) Nov. j, 79^5.
21. La naissance du cubisme. Les Temps Modernes {Paris) v.i, no.4, p.625-639, Jan. 1946.
22. The state of painting in Paris, 1945 assessment. Horizon {London) v. 12, no.71, p.333-
341, Nov. 1945.
23. Elie Lascaux. Centres {Limoges) no.3 Feb. 1946.
24. Faut-il ecrire une histoire du gout? Critique {Paris) no.5, p.423-429, Oct. 1946.
25. Eugene de Kermadec. La Revue Internationale {Paris) v.2, no. 11, p.397-403, Dec. 1946.
26. Juan Gris: sa vie, son oeuvre, ses ecrits. 344p. plus 51 plates Paris, Gallimard, 1946.

hsued in revised edition, English text. New Yor\ 1947.

27. Juan Gris, his lifeand work. i77p. plus 113 plates New York, Curt Valentin, 1947.
A translation and revision, by Douglas Cooper, of French edition {1946).
28. A propos d'une conference de Paul Klee. Les Temps Modernes (Paris) v.2, no.i6, p.758-
764, Jan. 1947.
29. La place de Georges Seurat. Critique (Paris) v.2, no. 8-9, p. 54-59, Jan.-Feb. 1947.
30. Andre Masson illustrateur. In Skira, Albert (Publisher). Vingt ans d'activite. p.20
[Geneve, 1948].
31. L'Art negre
et le cubisme. Presence Africaine (Paris-Da\ar) no.3
^9A'^-
Also published in Horizon (London), 1948.
32. Negro art and cubism. Horizon (London) v. 18, no. 108, p.412-420, Dec. 1948.

33. Juan Gris In San Francisco. Museum of Art. Picasso, Gris, Miro: the Spanish masters of
twentieth century painting, p.67-73 San Francisco, The Museum, 1948.
34. Mallarme et la peinture. Les Lettres v.3, part 3, special number, 1948.
35- Le veritable Bearnais. Artes (Antwerp) no. r 1948.
'36. Ursprung und Entwicklung des Kubismus. In Jardot, Maurice & Martin, Kurt. Die Mei-
ster franzosischer Malerei der Gegenwart. Baden-Baden, Woldemar Klein, 1948.

37. Preface. In Brussels. Palais des Beaux-Arts. Henri Laurens [exhibition catalog] Mar.
1949.
38. Preface. In Malraux, Andre. Les Conquerants, illustre par Andre Masson. Geneve, Al-
bert Skira, 1949.

39. Les Sculptures de Picasso. 216 photographies de Brassai. Paris, Editions du Chene, 1949.
40. The Rise of Cubism. New York, Wittenborn, Schultz, Inc., 1949. (Documentsof modern
art, edited by Robert Motherwell.)
Translation by Henry Aronson of: Der Weg zum Kubismus (1920).

XI
To my friend Hermann Rupf
Chapter : i

Impressionism rejuvenated painting ; it brightened the palette and broke with

old superfluous laws. Its goal, however, was too limited to suffice for more than
one generation. With it, illusionism appeared as one last burst of color pyro-
technics, sputtered and extinguished itself.

The period following Impressionism must be described as lyric, not lyric in

the literary sense of mood, but lyric in the painterly sense of form. The purpose
of recording history, which painting had fulfilled before Masaccio in a narrative
fashion and after him in a dramatic fashion, had vanished.
And for that reason painting in our time has become lyric, its stimulus the
pure intense delight in the beauty of things. Lyric painting celebrates this beauty
without epic or dramatic overtones. It strives to capture this beauty in the unity
of the work of art. The nature of the new painting is clearly characterized as
representational as well as structural: representational in that it tries to repro-
duce the formal beauty of things structural; in its attempt to grasp the meaning
of this formal beauty in the painting.
Representation and structure conflict. Their reconciliation by the new paint-

ing, and the stages along the road to this goal, are the subject of this work.
Chapter : 2

At the beginning of the road two attempts may be distinguished. The first

collapsed with the death of its originator, the highly gifted Georges Seurat. It
was destined to collapse. Seurat's solution was not new; it resembled Egyptian
painting in its effort to translate depth into plane relations. Lyricism of form
could never have been realized in this way, and so the expression of the artistic

intention of the time was not achieved.

The second attempt was that of Paul Cezanne, the point of departure for all
painting of today. His art was lyric. In it there was no longer any motivation
other than delight in form. He struggled with the object, trying to capture it in

all its beauty and carry it into his painting. Where his friends the Impressionists

saw only light, he used light to shape the three dimensional object.

To understand Cezanne's limitations one must remember the time in which

he lived. His friends were the plein air painters, worshippers of light. To be sure,
he regarded the object, not light, as the essential, but he was too much of
his time to have been able to renounce the concept of light falling from a single
source. On the other hand, he disregarded the color of the object and concen-
trated on its form.
Therefore, his renunciation of illusionism was only partial. Cezanne's tech-
 .

nique is as follows: perspective is mostly conceived as if the spectator stands

higher than the objects in the painting. This allows a more penetrating delinea-
tion of their forms without, however, destroying their fidelity to nature. As we
have already seen, light is used as a means of representing objects, but without
falling from several sides. The color is objectivated light on the object. It clings,

here too in the spirit of the time, to harmonies a yellow gray tone in his maturity,
:

a red brown tone in his later years. The artist's constant preoccupation is with
the structure of the work; in the structure he distorts the object, just as in the

color harmony he discolors it.

Cezanne seems to have felt discoloration to be the lesser evil; distorting the

form made him suffer more. That is evident from all his conversations. Oppo-
nents of his art, failing to understand the conflict in the soul of this artist who
was so in advance of his time, tried often enough to turn these utterances against

him, but closer observation will reveal that distortion of form had to occur in his

work. Art since Masaccio had no such distortion to fear since it had thrown
structure entirely overboard. It accepted transformation of color through color
harmonies calmly, as Cezanne also did. However, as soon as a lyric art sought to
extoU the form of objects and, simultaneously, to comprehend them within the
unity of the work of art, distortion of the object became necessary, although
unpleasant, since it was a betrayal of just that beauty which was to be extolled.

Cezanne's great contribution which has made him the father of the entire
liew art lies precisely in his return to structure. Here Cezanne took that great step

beyond the painter who must be regarded as his predecessor Corot. : Not Cprot,
the virtuoso of sunsets, but the master of the Pont de Mantes and figure paint-
ings. Corot had already made persistent attempts to grasp the three dimensional
object, but had not sought structure. Therefore, one finds no distortion in his
work.
In what respect Cezanne's great follower Andre Derain goes beyond him is

easy to see ; Derain also felt transformation of color to be an evil. He strives to

organize his structure in such a way that the painting, though strongly unified,
nevertheless shows the greatest possible fidelity to nature, with every object be-
ing givenits "true" form and its "true" color. Light becomes for him a pure

means he guides it as it best supports the creation of form, and subordinates it,
;

whenever possible, to the local color. There is no question here of the aesthetic
worth of his austere and mighty art ; he is one of the greatest of French painters.
Cezanne and Derain will stand in art history, like the masters of the Trecento,
as painters of transition, but in a reverse sense. Their solution of the conflict be-
tween representation and structure in painting will never result in complete suc-
cess. Encouraged by their great example Cubism seeks new paths to the solution
of this conflict.

4
Chapter :
3

At the outset, a few prefatory words concerning the name of this school are

necessary to avoid considering it as a program, and thus arrive at false conclu-

sions. As the name "Impressionism" had been before, "Cubism" was a deroga-

tory term applied by its enemies. Its inventor was Louis Vauxcelles, at that time
art critic of the Gil Bias; sometime before, in the years 1904-05, he had coined an-
other meaningless name
for the avant garde of the Independants of that time
"Les Fauves," the wild beasts a term which has since fortunately disappeared.*
In September 1908 he met Matisse who was a member of the Salon d'Autorrme
jury for that year, and who told him that Braque had sent to the Fall Salon
paintings "avec des petits cubes." To them he drew on a piece
describe of paper

two ascending lines meeting in a peak, and between them some cubes.
He was referring to Braque's landscapes of I'Estaque painted that spring. With
the sensitivity characteristic of such bodies, the jury rejected two of the six paint-
ings submitted. One was "fished out again," as someone put it, by Marquet, and
another by Guerin, both of whom were members of the jury, but Braque never-
theless withdrew all six.

* This book was written in 1915 [translator's note].

 From Matisse's word "cube" Vauxcelles then invented the meaningless "Cub-
ism" which he used for the first on the 1909 Salon des Inde-
time in an article

pendants, in connection with two other paintings by Braque, a still life and a
landscape. Strangely enough he later added to this term the adjective "peruvien"
and spoke of "Peruvian Cubism" and "Peruvian Cubists" which made the desig-

nation evenmore meaningless. This adjective soon disappeared, but the name
"Cubism" endured and entered colloquial language, since Braque and Picasso,
the painters originally so designated, cared very little whether they were called
that or something else.

These two artists are the great founders of Cubism. In the evolution of the
new art, the contributions of both are intimately related, often hardly distin-
guishable. Friendly conversations between the two afforded the new method of
painting many advances which one or the other first put into practice. Both de-
serve credit; both are great and admirable artists, each in his own way. Braque's
art is quieter, Picasso's is nervous and turbulent. The lucid Frenchman Braque
and the fanatically searching Spaniard Picasso stand together.

In the year 1906, Braque, Derain, Matisse and many others were still striving
for expression through color, using only pleasant arabesques, and completely
dissolving the form of the object! Cezanne's great example was still not under-
stood. Painting threatened to debase itself to the level of ornamentation ; it sought
to be "decorative," to "adorn" the wall.
Picasso had remained indifferent to the temptation of color. He had pursued
another path, never abandoning his concern for the object. The literary "expres-

sion" which had existed in his earlier work now vanished. A lyricism of form re-
taining fidelity to nature began to take shape. He created large nudes roundly
modeled in chiaroscuro. They appeared "classic" and his friends referred to a

"Pompeiian Period." But Picasso's intention remained unfulfilled.

Here it should be made clear that I do not mean an established program when
I speak of Picasso's or Braque's intentions, endeavors and thoughts. I am attempt-
ing to describe in words the inner urge of these artists, the ideas no doubt clearly
in their minds, yet rarely mentioned in their conversations, and then only casu-
ally.
''

Toward the end of 1906, then, the soft round contours in Picasso's paintings
gave way to hard angular forms; instead of delicate rose, pale yellow and light
green, the massive forms were weighted with leaden white, gray and black.
Early in 1907 Picasso began a strange large painting* depicting women, fruit
and drapery, which he left unfinished. It cannot be called other than unfinished,
even though it represents a long period of work. Begun in the spirit of the works
* Les Demoiselles d' Avignon. Reproduced on p. 23.

6
 of 1906, it contains in one section the endeavors of 1907 and thus never consti-

tutes a unified whole.

The nudes, with large, quiet eyes, stand rigid, like mannequins. Their stiff,

round bodies are flesh-colored, black and white. That is the style of 1906.
In the foreground, however, alien to the style of the rest of the painting, ap-
pear a crouching figure and a bowl of fruit. These forms are drawn angularly,
not roundly modeled in chiaroscuro. The colors are luscious blue, strident yel-
low, next to pure black and white. This is the beginning of Cubism, the first

upsurge, a desperate titanic clash with all of the problems at once. ,

Chese problem^were the basic tasks of pain ting: to represent three dimensions /

elor on a flat surface, and to comprehend them m the unity of that surfaced
"Representation," however, and "comprehension" in the strictest and highest
sense. Not the simulation of form by chiaroscuro, but the depiction of the three
dimensional through drawing on a flat surface. No pleasant "composition" but
uncompromising, organically articulated structure. In addition, there was the
problem of color, and finally, the most difficult of all, that of the amalgamation,
the reconciliation of the whole.
Rashly, Picasso attacked all the problems at once. He placed sharp-edged im-
ages on the canvas, heads and nudes mostly, in the brightest colors yellow, red, :

blue and black. He applied the colors in thread-like fashion to serve as lines of
direction, and to build up, in conjunction with the drawing, the plastic effect.

But, after months of the most laborious searching, Picasso realized that com-
plete solution of the problem did not lie in this direction.

At this point I must make it clear that these paintings are no less "beautiful"
for not having attained their goal. An artist who is possessed of the divine gift,
genius, always produces aesthetic creations, whatever their aspect, whatever
their "appearance" may be. His innermost being creates the beauty the external
;

appearance of the work of art, however, is the product of the time in which it is

created.

A short period of exhaustion followed; the artist's battered spirit turned to

problems of pure structure. A series of pictures appeared in which he seems to
have been occupied only with the articulation of the color planes. This with-
drawal from the diversity of the physical world to the undisturbed peace of the
work of art was of short duration. Soon Picasso perceived the danger of lowering
his art to the level of ornament.
In the spring of 1908 he resumed his quest, this time solving one by one the
problems that arose. He had to begin with the most important thing, and that
seemed to be the explanation of form, the representation of the three-dimen- /

sional and its position in space on a two dimensional surface. As Picasso himself
 once said, "In a Raphael painting it is not possible to establish the distance from
the tip of the nose to the mouth. I should like to paint pictures in which that
would be possible." At the same time of course, the problem of comprehension
of structure was always in the foreground. The question of color, on the
other hand, was completely by-passed.
Thus Picasso painted figures resembling Congo sculptures, and still lifes of

the simplest form. His perspective in these works is similar to that of Cezanne.

Light is never more than a means to create form through chiaroscuro, since
he did not at this time repeat the unsuccessful attempt of 1907 to create form
through drawing. Of these paintings one can no longer say, "The light comes
from become completely a means. The pic-
this or that side," because light has

tures are almost monochromatic brick red and red brown, often with a gray or
;

gray green ground, since the color is meant only to be chiaroscuro.

While Picasso was painting in Paris, and in the summer, at La Rue-des-Bois
(near Creil, Oise), Braque, at the other end of France, in I'Estaque (near Mar-
seilles) was painting the series of landscapes we have already mentioned. No
connection existed between the two artists. This venture was a completely new
one, totally different from Picasso's work of 1907; by an entirely different route

Braque arrived at the same point as Picasso. If, in the whole history of art, there
were not already sufficient proof that the appearance of the aesthetic product is

conditioned in its particularity by the spirit of the time, that even the most power-

ful artists unconsciously execute its will, then this would be proof. Separated by
distance, and working independently, the two artists devoted their most intense

effort to paintings which share an extraordinary resemblance. This relationship

between their paintings continued but ceased to be astonishing because the
friendship between the two artists, begun in the winter of that year, brought
about a constant exchange of ideas.

, Picasso and Braque had to begin with objects of the simplest sort: in land-

scape, with cylindrical tree trunks and rectangular houses; in still life, with
plates, symmetrical vessels, round fruits and one or two nude figures. They
sought to make these objects as plastic as possible, and to define their position in
space. Here we touch upon the indirect advantage of lyric painting. It has made
us aware of the beauty of form in the simplest objects, where we had carelessly
overlooked it before. These objects have now become eternally vivid in the re-
flected splendor of the beauty which the artist has abstracted from them.
Derain, too, had abandoned decorative light painting in 1907, preceding
Braque by a few months. But from the outset, their roads were diverse. Derain's
endeavor to retain fidelity to nature in his painting separates him forever from
Cubism, no matter how closely his ideas may otherwise parallel those of Braque.

8
Chapter :
4

In the winter of 1908, the two friends began towork along common and par-
allel paths. The subjects of their still life painting became more complex, the

representation of nudes more detailed. The relation of objects to one another

underwent further differentiation, and structure, heretofore relatively uncom-
plicated as, for example, in a still life of the spring of 1907 whose struc-

ture forms a simple spiral took on more intricacy and variety. Color, as the
expression of light, or chiaroscuro, continued to be used as a means of shaping
form. Distortion of form, the usual consequence of the conflict between repre-
sentation and structure, was strongly evident.

Among the new subjects introduced at this time were musical instruments,
which Braque was the first to paint, and which continued to play such an im-
portant role in cubist still life painting. Other new motifs were fruit bowls, bottles
and glasses.

During the summer of 1909 which Picasso spent at Horta (near Tolosa, Spain)
and Braque at La Roche Guyon (on the Seine, near Mantes) the new language
of form was further augmented and enriched, but left essentially unchanged.
 Several times during the spring of 1910 Picasso attempted to endow the forms
of his pictures with color. That is, he tried to use color not only as an expression
of light, or chiaroscuro,' for the creation of form, but rather as an equally im-
portant end in Each time he was obliged to paint over the color he had
itself.

thus introduced; the single exception is a small nude of the period (about 18 x 23
centimeters in size) in which a piece of fabric is colored in brilliant red.
At the same time Braque made an important discovery. In one of his pictures
he painted a completely naturalistic nail casting its shadow on a wall. The use-
fulness of this innovation will be discussed later. The difficulty lay in the in-

corporation of this "real" object into the unity of the painting. From then on,
both artists consistently limited the space in the background of the picture. In a
/ landscape, for instance, instead of painting an illusionistic distant horizon in
which the eye lost itself, the artists closed the three dimensional space with a
mountain. In still life or nude painting, the wall of a room served the same pur-
pose. This method of limiting space had already been used frequently by Ce-
zanne.
During the summer, again spent in I'Estaque, Braque took a further step in

the introduction of "real objects," that is, of realistically painted things intro-
duced, undistorted in form and color, into the picture. We find lettering for the
I first time in a Guitar Player of the period. Here again, lyrical painting un-
covered a new world of beauty this time in posters, display windows and
commercial signs which play so important a role in our visual impressions.
Much more important, however, was the decisive advance which set Cubism
free from the language previously used by painting. This occurred in Cadaques
(in Spain, on the Mediterranean near the French border) where Picasso spent
his summer. Little satisfied, even after weeks of arduous labor, he returned to
Paris in the fall with his unfinished works. But he had taken the great step he ;

had pierced the closed form. A new tool had been forged for the achievement of
the new purpose.
Years of research had proved that closed form did not permit an expression
sufficient for the two artists' aims. Closed form accepts objects as contained by
their own surfaces, viz., the skin; it then endeavors to represent this closed
body, and, since no object is visible without light, to paint this "skin" as the con-
tact point between the body and light where both merge into color. This chia-
roscuro can provide only an illusion of the form of objects. In the actual three
dimensional world the object is there to be touched even after light is eliminated.
Memory images of tactile perceptions can also be verified on visible bodies. The
different accommodations of the retina of the eye enable us, as it were, to "touch"
three dimensional objects from a distance. Two dimensional painting is not con-
10
 cerned with all this. Thus the painters of the Renaissance, using the closed form ^

method, endeavored to give the illusion of form by painting light as color on the
' surface of objects. It was never more than "illusion."

Since it was the mission of color to create the form as chiaroscuro, or light that

had become perceivable, there was no possibility of rendering local color or color ^

itself. It could only be painted as objectivated light.

^n addition, Braque and Picasso were disturbed by the unavoidable distortion

of form which worried many spectators initiallvNpicasso himself often repeated
the ludicrous remark made by his friend, the sculptor Manolo, before one of his
figure paintings : "What would you say if your parents were to call for you at the

Barcelona station with such faces.''" This is a drastic example of the relation be-
tween memory images and the figures represented in the painting. Comparison
between the real object as articulated by the rhythm of forms in the painting and
the same object as it exists in the spectator's memory inevitably results in "distor-

tions" as long as even the slightest verisimilitude in the work of art creates this
conflict in the spectator. Through the combined discoveries of Braque and Pi-

casso during the summer of 1910 it became possible to avoid these difficulties by a
new way of painting.
/"
Dn the one hand, Picasso's new method made it possible to "represent" the
form of objects and their position in space instead of attempting to imitate them
through illusionistic means. With the representation of solid objects this could
be effected by a process of representation that has a certain resemblance to geo-
metrical drawing. This is a matter of course since the aim of both is to render

the three dimensional object on a two dimensional plane. In addition, the painter
no longer has to limit himself to depicting the object as it would appear from
one given viewpoint, but wherever necessary for fuller comprehension, can show
it from several sides, and from above and below.
Representation of the position of objects in space is done as follows : instead of
beginning from a supposed foreground and going on from there to give an il-

lusion of depth by means of perspective, the painter begins from a definite and j

clearly defined background. Starting from this background the painter now
works toward the front by a sort of scheme of forms in which each object's po-

sition is clearly indicated, both in relation to the definite background and to

other objects. Such an arrangement thus gives a clear and plastic view. But, if

only this scheme of forms were to exist it would be impossible to see in the paint-
ing the "representation" of things from the outer world. One would only see an
arrangement of planes, cylinders, quadrangles, etc.

At this point Braque's introduction of undistorted real objects into the paint-

ing takes on its full significance. When "real details" are thus introduced the
 ^

result is a stimulus which carries with it memory images. Combining the "real"

stimulus and the scheme of forms, these images construct the finished object in
the mind. Thus the desired physical representation comes into being in the spec-
tator's mind.
Now the rhythmisation necessary for the coordination of the individual parts
into the unity of the work of art can take place without producing disturbing
distortions, since the object in effect is no longer "present" in the painting, that

is, since it does not yet have the least resemblance to actuality. Therefore, the
stimulus cannot come into conflict with the product of the assimilation. In other

words, there exist in the painting the scheme of forms and small real details as
stimuli integrated into the unity of the work of art; there exists, as well, but
only in the mind of the spectator, the finished product of the assimilation, the
human head, for instance. There is no possibihty of a conflict here, and yet the

object once "recognized" in the painting is now "seen" with a perspicacity of

which no illusionistic art is capable.

As to color, its utilization as chiaroscuro had been abolished. Thus, it could be

freely employed, as color, within the unity of the work of art. For the representa-
tion of local color, its application on a small scale is sufficient to effect its incor-

poration into the finished representation in the mind of the spectator.

In the words of Locke, these painters distinguish between primary and
see-

ondary qualities. They endeavor to represent the primary, or most important

qualitiesy-as exactly as possible^In- painting thesear e: the object 's form, and its

position in space. They merely suggest the secondary characteristics such"aS"

color and tactile quality, leaving their incorporation into the object to the mind
of the spectator. ^^^^""^

This new language has given painting an unprecedented freedom. It is no

longer bound to the more or less verisimilar optic image which describes the ob-
ject from a single viewpoint. It can, in order to give a thorough representation
of the object's primary characteristics, depict them as stereometric drawing on
the plane, or, through several representations of the same object, can provide an
analytical study of that object which the spectator then fuses into one again
in his mind. The representation does not necessarily have to be in the closed man-
ner of the stereometric drawing colored planes, through their direction and
; rel-

ative position, can bring together the formal scheme without uniting in closed
fornis.'This was the great advance made at Cadaques. Instead of an analytical
description, the painter can, if he prefers, also create in this way a synthesis of
the object, or in the words of Kant, "put together the various conceptions and
comprehend their variety in one perception."
Naturally, with this, as with any new mode of expression in painting, the as-

II
similation which leads to seeing the represented things objectively does not im-
mediately take place when the spectator is unfamiliar with the new language.
But for lyric painting to fulfill its purpose completely, it must be more than just

a pleasure to the eye of the spectator. To be sure, assimilation always takes place
finally, but in order to facilitate it, and impress its urgency upon the spectator,
cubist pictures should always be provided with descriptive titles, such as Bottle
and Glass, Playing Cards and Dice and so on. In this way, the condition will
arise which H. G. Lewes referred to as "preperception" and memory images
connected with the title will then focus much more easily on the stimuli in the
painting.
Titling will also prevent sensory illusions of the kind which gave Cubism its

name, and brought about its designation, so popular, particularly in France, as a

geometric style. Here we must make a sharp distinction between the impression
made upon the spectator and the lines of the painting itself. The name "Cubism"
and the designation "Geometric Art" grew out of the impression of early spec-
tators who "saw" geometric forms in the paintings.'^his impression is unjusti-
fied, since the visual conception desired by the painter by no means resides in
the geometric forms, but rather in the representation of the reproduced objects^
How does such a sensory illusion come about .''
It occurs only with observers
whom lack of habit has prevented from making the associations which lead to
objective perception. Man is possessed by an urge to objectivate; he wants to
"see something" in the work of art which should and he is sure of this rep-
resent something. His imagination forcefully calls up memory images, but the
only ones which present themselves, the only ones which seem to fit the straight
lines and uniform curves are geometric images. Experience has shown that this

"geometric impression" disappears completely as soon as the spectator familiar-

izes himself with the new method of expression and gains in perception.

If we disregard representation, however, and limit ourselves to the "actual" in-

dividual lines in the painting, there is no disputing the fact that they are very

often straight lines and uniform curves. Furthermore, the forms which they
serve to delineate are often similar to the circle and rectangle, or even to stereo-
metric representations of cubes, spheres and cylinders. But, such straight lines
and uniform curves are present in all styles of the plastic arts which do not have
as their goal the illusionistic imitation of nature! Architecture, which is a plastic
art, but at the same time non-representational, uses these lines extensively. The
same is true of applied art. Man creates no building, no product which does not
have regular lines. In architecture and applied art, cubes, spheres and cylinders
are the permanent basic forms. They do not exist in the natural world, nor do
straight lines. But they are deeply rooted in man ; they are the necessary condi-

13
tion for all objective perception.
Our remarks until now about visual perception have concerned its content
alone, the two dimensional "seen" and the three dimensional "known" visual
images. Now we are concerned with the form of these images, the form of our
perception of the physical world. The geometric forms we have just mentioned
provide us with the solid structure; on this structure we build the products of
our imagination which are composed of stimuli on the retina and memory im-
ages. They are our categories of vision. When we direct our view on the outer
world, we always demand those forms but they are never given to us in all

their purity. The flat picture which we "see" bases itself mainly on the straight

horizontal and vertical, and secondly on the circle. We test the "seen" lines of the
physical world for their greater or lesser relationship to these basic lines. Where
no actual line exists, we supply the "basic" line ourselves. For example, a water
horizon which is limited on both sides appears horizontal to us; one which is

unlimited on both sides appears curved. Furthermore, only our knowledge of

simple stereometric forms enables us to add the third dimension to the flat pic-

ture which our eye perceives. Without the cube, we would have no feeling of
the three dimensionality of objects, and without the sphere and cylinder, no
feeling of the varieties of this three dimensionality. Our a priori knowledge of
these forms is the necessary condition, without which there would be no seeing,

no world of objects. Architecture and applied art realize in space these basic

forms which we always demand in vain of the natural world the sculpture of
;

periods which have turned away from nature approaches these forms insofar as
its representational goal permits, and the two-dimensional painting of such pe-
riods gives expression to the same longing in its use of "basic lines." Humanity
is possessed not only by the longing for these lines and forms, but also by the
ability to create them. This ability shows itself clearly in those civilizations in
which no "representational" plastic art has produced other lines and forms.
In its works Cubism, in accordance with its role as both constructive and rep-
resentational art, brings the forms of the physical world as close as possible to
their underlying basic forms. Through connection with these basic forms, upon
which all visual and tactile perception is based, Cubism provides the clearest elu-
cidation and foundation of all forms. The unconscious effort which we have to
make with each object of the physical world before we can perceive its form is
lessened by cubist painting through its demonstration of the relation between
these objects and basic forms. Like a skeletal frame these basic forms underUe
the impression of the represented object in the final visual result of the painting;
they are no longer "seen" but are the basis of the "seen" form.
It is not our intention to outline a complete history of Cubism here. We would
14
exceed the limits of this work if we were to follow the development of the two
artists any further, now that the definitive language of the new art has been
created. Our mission was to fix the position of Cubism in the history of paint-
ing, and to demonstrate the motives which guided its founders.
This new style has taken ever greater possession of the appearance of paint-
ing; an ever growing number of painters has begun to paint "cubistically." This
lyric painting is the expression of the intellectual spirit of our time. The neces-
sary result of this will be that all true artists of the coming generation will es-
pouse Cubism in the wider sense.
Those who have already adopted Cubism include talented as well as untal-

ented artists; in Cubism, too, they remain what they were. Those with talent cre-

ate aesthetic products ; those without it do not. For Cubism is only an "appear-
ance," only the result of the purpose which the intellectual spirit of the time has
imposed upon painting. Whether the picture with the cubist appearance will be
an aesthetic achievement, whether the aesthetically inclined spectator will be
compelled to designate it as beautiful depends, as always, only on the painter's

genius. Yet every talented young artist will have to come to an understanding
with Cubism. He will have little chance of getting along without it, just as a

contemporary of Titian in Italy could never have reverted to the style of Giotto.
The artist, as the executor of the unconscious plastic will of mankind, identifies

himself with the style of the period, which is the expression of this will.
Just as the illusionistic art of the Renaissance created a tool for itself in oil
painting, which alone could satisfy its striving for verisimilar representation of

the smallest details, so Cubism had to invent new means for an entirely opposite

purpose. For the planes of cubist painting oil color is often unsuitable, ugly, and
sometimes sticky. Cubism created for itself new media in the most varied mate-
rials: colored strips of paper, lacquer, newspaper, and in addition, for the real
details, oilcloth, glass, sawdust, et(C)
In the years 1913 and 1914 Braque and Picasso attempted to eliminate the use of
color as chiaroscuro, which had still persisted to some extent in their painting, by
amalgamating painting and sculpture. Instead of having to demonstrate through
shadows how one plane stands above, or in front of a second plane, they could
now superimpose the planes one on the other and illustrate the relationship di-

rectly. The first attempts to do this go far back. Picasso had already begun such
an enterprise in 1909, but since he did it within the limits of closed form, it was
destined to fail. It resulted in a kind of colored bas-relief. Only in open planal
form could this union of painting and sculpture be realized. Despite current
prejudice, this endeavor to increase plastic expression through the collaboration
of the two arts must be warmly approved; an enrichment of the plastic arts is
certain to result from it. A number of sculptors like Lipchitz, Laurens and Ar-
chipenko has since taken up and developed this sculpto-painting.

Nor is this form entirely new in the history of the plastic arts. The negroes of
the Ivory Coast have made use of a very similar method of expression in their
dance masks. These are constructed as follows: a completely flat plane forms the
lower part of the face; to this is joined the high forehead, which is sometimes
equally flat, sometimes bent slightly backward. While the nose is added as a sim-

ple strip of wood, two cylinders protrude about eight centimeters to form the
eyes, and one slightly shorter hexahedron forms the mouth. The frontal surfaces
of the cylinder and hexahedron are painted, and the hair is represented by raffia.

It is true that the form is still closed here; however, it is not the "real" form, but
rather a tight formal scheme of plastic primeval force. Here, too, we find a
scheme of forms and "real details" (the painted eyes, mouth and hair) as stim-
uli. The result in the mind of the spectator, the desired effect, is a human face.

i6
Chapter :
5

Our subject is the rise of Cubism. Therefore, we cannot discuss here the
numerous artists who later joined the movement, but only those who created it.

One of these is Fernand Leger. It would be unjust and false not to name him
among the pathfinders of Cubism, along with Braque and Picasso. He does not
stand contemporaneously with them at the beginning of the road, but, following
their stimulus, he developed in his own way, and arrived at different results.
Leger had been a painter of light. Then one day he exhibited a large painting
which was completely different from his previous work. It appeared in the Salon
des Independants of the year 1910. It depicted men between trees.* Everything
was reduced to the simplest forms the; trees were like stove pipes, the men com-
posed of cylinders and spheres. The color was delicate and harmonized. This
was not Cubism, somebody said, but "Tubism."
The years following brought only one change in Leger's art: in the color. In

1910 and 191 1 it was still harmoniously tuned, pale and delicately applied, as if

the forms were created out of mist. Slowly it increased in intensity until the pic-

* Nudes in the Forest, 1909-10. Reproduced on p. 33.

17
tures burst into an exultation of radiant blue, red and white in the purest tones.

As can be seen, Leger did not begin modestly, with uncomplicated subjects.

He has seldom painted still lifes, and has never engaged in desperate struggle

with the object because his treatment of the object is much more arbitrary than
Picasso's and Braque's. However, he does not succumb to the delusion of "ab-

stract art" which is only ornamental. There is in his work always a point of de-
parture grounded in visual experience. Sometimes he strays far from this

point, treating the experience variously in different pictures, indulging, I might

say, in variations on the theme. The result is an architecture of form which no
longer conveys to the spectator the original visual experience. Leger's goal is the
painting itself, and he subordinates everything else to it. For him, the subject
is often a pretext rather than a theme.
One may well ask whether this is still Cubism. Certainly it is, even if Leger at-

taches too exclusive a significance to the unity of the painting at the expense of
diversity of the visual experience. But, adherence to the visual experience is still

and nevertheless the basis of Leger's work, and it is still adherence in the cubist
sense. We have recognized Cubism as the endeavor to capture the three dimen-
sional diversity of the outer world within the unity of the painting. Cubism
seeks to reproduce that three dimensional diversity the dimension of depth
in contrast to the "playing cards" of Manet, Gauguin and Matisse, and the
plane projections of Seurat. As the silly name "Cubism" put it, with accidental
correctness : Braque and Picasso emphasize the cubic.
Leger does the same: he is a cubist. But he emphasizes it with other means
than those of Braque and Picasso. Because of that he is entitled to a place in this
work.
Leger simplifies and coarsens his forms. He returns them to shapes most
closely resembling the basic forms of cube, sphere and cylinder, while showing
a special preference for the cylinder. In doing this he is always careful to pre-
serve the closed form, never reaching the point of rupturing it. A figure painted
by Leger appears like a powerful Golem, a clumsy puppet. The forms are
molded and arched through chiaroscuro in the simplest, most significant way.
Light serves only to depict the form. This is done with the greatest possible em-
phasis by lighting one side and shading the other. Little attention is given to the
space; the relative position of the objects in the painting is made clear through
overlapping, and sometimes through ordinary linear perspective. The eye is

led, as in pre-cubist painting, deep into the "background."

Leger is not shy about distorting the object. A powerfully undulating rhythm
of forms organizes the planes of his paintings. In the wake of this rhythm, the
objects which make up the picture are ruthlessly distorted.

i8
 In the above description we see again to some extent the tendencies we recog-
nized as significant for the years 1908 and 1909 in the work of Picasso and
Braque. But Leger departs entirely from these tendencies in his treatment of
color. That is easy to understand. Leger is, as I have much more arbitrary
said,

in his attitude toward the object than the other two painters. What to them was
only a necessary passing concession the suppression or the coarsening of de-
tails is Leger's final goal. He oflfers the spectator big lumpish syntheses im-
prisoned in a cyclopian, piled-up structure. An artist who treats the forms of the
object so outrageously certainly cannot regard its color as inviolable; that is un-
derstandable. He colors the forms in his paintings arbitrarily, in accordance with
their function in the work. He is hardly concerned with the actual color of the
represented object. In this respect also he is basically different from Braque and
; Picasso who devoted so much effort in the years from 1910 to 1914 to the repro-

I
duction of this "local color." The endeavor of those two artists, devoted to the

most penetrating expression of the object, is completely foreign to Leger.

And now, what does Leger really want ? He wants to produce an effect. He
strives for the weightiest three dimensionality of form and for stridency of color.
He is animated by a desire to endow his painting with power, to make it domi-
nate and sweep everything before it. Leger's work shows a wealth of unspent,

boundlessly seething strength.

^9
 Picasso, Two Xiides

20
Chapter : 6

Many artists who use the cubist language of forms have tried to use it for aims
other than those we have outHned. Only two of these attempts deserve mention
here, for only these two have a palpable significance.
I am referring in the first place to that movement called Futurism, which in-

cludes the Italian school of that name as well as several isolated artists, like Mar-
cel Duchamp, who have pursued similar aims. Even before the Futurists went
over to Cubism, while they were still using Divisionist techniques, the subject
of all their manifestoes was dynamism, the endeavor to represent movement in

painting and sculpture. This idea has not been abandoned since that time, for a
book by Boccioni, one of the school, which was published in 1913 contrasted
"static"Cubism with "dynamic" Futurism.
The Futurists tried to represent movement by depicting the moved part of the
body several times in various positions, by reproducing two or more phases of
movement of the entire figure, or by lengthening or widening the represented
object in the direction of the movement. Can the impression of a moving form
be awakened in the spectator in this way .''

It cannot. All of these solutions suffer from the same mistake which renders

that impression impossible. In order to produce "movement," at least two vis-

2/
ual images must exist as succeeding points in time. In Futurism, however, the
various phases exist simultaneously in the painting. They will always be felt as
diflferent, static, single figures, but never as a moving image. This is borne out
by fact, as observation of paintings by Carra, Severini or Boccioni will show.
In this way, therefore, the representation of movement in the plastic arts is

impossible. But, if it were possible, such representation would be a tremendous

source of enrichment. Instead of acting through one single impression, the plas-
tic arts would also call into participation those emotions heretofore aroused in
us only by music, which extends in time. These emotions are associated with
tension and release, sensations possible only in a succession of time. Is there such
a possibility ?

There exist, in fact, two possibilities, both of which Picasso has indicated in
conversations, without even suspecting their scientific basis; nor has he as yet
applied them in practice.

The first corresponds to the actual movement of the body. This would involve
imparting movement to the work of art by means of a clock mechanism, and
could be accompUshed with statues as well as paintings in paintings as with
targets in shooting booths which are set into motion by the marksmen's direct

hits.

There is still another way of bringing about the impression of movement in

the mind of the spectator the stroboscopic method, upon which the cinemato-
graph is based. If images differing to a small enough extent in their spatial defi-

nitions are shown in rapid enough succession, an illusion of one object in move-
ment The first visual image establishes the object, and the succeeding im-
results.

ages establish the object in movement. This method has already been employed
for humorous drawings. By painting the various pictures on a transparent ma-
terial and showing them through a cinematograph projector, a new field with

immeasurable possibilities would open for painting.

In addition to Futurism, there is another tendency, which, designating its aim
as non-objective painting, harmoniously composes colored forms on canvas with-
out any relation to natural objects.
We can have no doubts about this tendency. It can certainly create pleasant
works, but it is not painting. It does not know the basic problem of painting: the
comprehension of the diversity of the physical world in the unity of the work of
art. It by-passes all of the problems which have occupied lyric painting for years.
Its works seek only to be decorative. This tendency was not called forth by the
artistic, but by the decorative urge. What the followers of this movement are cre-

ating is simply ornament.

But as ornament, it does not make use of the proper means when it uses the

22
paper strips and other media of Cubism, instead of the rich world of ceramics,
textiles and glass. When this tendency, finally cognizant of its true nature, de-
cides to give up all claim to being painting, and when it makes use of all of the
possibilities of ornament, it will bring new blood to handicrafts, and will create
the style of our time.
For a style grows organically out of the aesthetic creation of its time, and
Cubism has pointed the way Cubism, which Picasso and Braque created
through their intense labors.

Picasso, Les Demoiselles d' Avignon

23
 Braque, Nude

Picasso, Two Nudes

24
 Braque, Road near Estaque

25
Picasso, Woman with Mandolin Picasso, Woman with Mandoliii {Fanny Tellier)

26
Braque, Woman with Mandolin

27
Braque, The Portuguese Guitar Player

28
^.
 't4!'' "'dS -fe^

30
Picasso, Glass, Pipe, Playing Card

31
 Picasso, 5/;// Life

Braque, Oial Still Life

32
 Leger, Two Pipe Smo/^ers

33
Leger, Smo^e over Roofs

34
Leger, The Card Party

35
 Date Due

Due Returned Due Returned

This is the ninth volume in the series

"The Documents of Modern Art."

The book is set in i2-on-i4 point

Linotype Granjon with Granjon display and

printed on North Star Dull paper. The engravings
vi^ere made by the Carlton Engraving Company of

Worcester, Mass. The composition, printing

and binding have been done by E. L. Hildreth

& Company, Brattleboro, Vt.

Cover and typography by Paul Rand.

Inside cover design composed by Paul Rand using
drawings and prints by Braque, Leger and Picasso
taken from the original German edition.

Drawing on cover by Georges Braque.

B-5-1 10.0.0.
75^. f /

c.z
AKCH &
AUIEOARTS
ii.ft.
DocwmsmfS of Modern Art (Oirecror: Rubrf MofherwU)

d.nvo I. The Cubisi Paintars (Aesthetic Meciitationsl, '<

'Ueunte Apoirmair*.
T-.d'ited by RobeK Mothrwell. TranslOfed from the French !.. i^-Tsi Absl, 2nd rv!(Ki

', I
th addirional material. 36 pp., 12 ill., 19?. $1.75.

'I.OrjtlC Art end Pure Plastic Art, by fief Mon .-.a by Robert Mothervr
Iniroductibn by Harry Holtiman. i3 pp., 2 color plalci, 7* ill . Vtid prinfing, 1947. $3.'J5.

'Ka Mew Vision, -by i^'i-' ;'>^i"-.^.v-rj^,.,. hr,;i;-,v;..,j kv i.,-< n,,)i>;,-,:-H.n^--,v ofB, Abii'O'-*

of on Artist, Ertilcii ,.' Wohet C;

piu.i, Tronilotion compiuieiy i~.vr,.vo with Mohoiy-N.-igyj lipprovc-l IrsJ"-. :"?! arigrnol tron-.

I. an trom ihe Geimon by Dophna Hoffman. 92 pp.,, 84 ill., 4th revijerf edition, 1947. $3.

d.m.a. 4. Kindergarten Chats, by Loui H. Sulliyan, with Other Wrilingi. Edited t)y tjobello Athe.

251 pp., 18 ;n., 1947. $4.30.

d m c^. i. Concerning the Spiritual in Art and Painting In Porticular, by Woi>ity Kon
dinjky. With Kandinsky'i Proje Poems. Edited by Robert Mthr*elL Pr*fo<] h:

Mme. Kondiliiicy, iulia end lycnel Feininger, ond o contribution by S. W. Hoyter. Troratoted
from the Germon by Sir Michael Sodleir, with rowisions by I'. Golffng, M, Horfison. ond F.

Ojtertqg: prose poems Ironslated by Rolph Monheim. Editioi" by Mme. Kar

dinslcy, with nfw footnotes and additions by Kondinsky, ?3pp., i
I2.2S.

d.m.i'. ft On My Way, by .icon (Mons) Arp. Esjoys ond Poems, 1912-1947 in fnock. jornion. Eng!
Edited by Robert Motherwell. Tronslofed from the French end Gefmc-
with 2 woodcuts especially done by the artist for this pvblicotior* ond
Iribution fay Carolo Giediori-Welckei. Bibliography by B. Korpef, 148 pp., % crigmoi
woodcuts, 48 ill., 1948. $4.50.
ci of three originol woodcuts signed by the artist. $12,00,

iJ.ii Beyond Painting, with other *e/ts by A, Breton, NC<i

D^5;'i,iie5, T i fbon. Edited bv Robert Moihefwsll
40 ill., 1948. $.0O.

'.lades: Am Aiuiiology, -..

Breton, O. But"'

G. Hugnet, . ' ,
-Dessoignes, H, Ri,.

others. Edited by Robert (s^dtherwelL Tranjioted frow the Ere

Md^l^eim ond others. (First publ. in English of most of the matfi

The Rfse of Cubisrn, by Dotiiel-Henry l^ah^.v.;!c' "ri-nml^or-

.( from the German by Henry ^

inort'vr ;v,-p;;r(;;i;on ri->e .Modern Arts in Review. A '

i>> Biirnord Karpol, l.tbrifnr,ri Thf; Museum of M, -

FtlUVism by Georu i=ir$t tronslalion into E7'

From Baudelaire to Surrealism by Marce'

'''roblems of Contemporary An
T, bemg a coreh-oll for texji relating to the immedloi

pen.
--
:

(.
?orm

(he
anfl sense, by Wolfgong Poolen.

the Gross Roots of

Way Beyond
Possibirtfiei?; 1.

,.....,,.. I i
Art, by Herbert Read.

'Art*; The Work of Herbert

An occosionol Review, edited by
vobcrt Motherwell
by Abel, Arp, Boilotos,
(ort), and
.

Colli,
1945.

Hoi'oi<;
92 pp
Out-of-p

Colv...
,

''>t>^

,
19

>.
m,

Bciyer, bv

C^iio
".;,.

|ii^
;:,,;

^ r- T
'horeau (orchi-
!947-48.

./fer,
(lon-

Hulbeck,
Miro, Motherwell, Niemeyer, Poe, .1. Pollock, H, S '
Smith, Virgil
Thomson, Voresff, Ban Web|r. l!2 pp., 49 lllus., $2.'.r> (lypojftjpt:/ by r^ie editois;

>'ainHngs, Sculptures, l^eflntions, by t;,.ro--. vr.,v,.^,%n..f;-,,^ y>,,(^r^ Kv Mnv

pp., 50 ill., 2 color plates, 1948. $3.00,

iiiacfiveprc r.sibiiities: 2., (See No, 4 obo*e.!

Covets Odd typo5<8phy (unless otherwise rioed)^ Paul Sortd

Wifteiibenit, 5.
 Date Due

Due Returned Due Returned

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ECi & Inov2S
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MAR ^ 6 1985
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fj^Y 3 ia.

ft 9 1985 DEC 8 .S^

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1 1986

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 Der Weg zum Kubismus. afa
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ARCH &
Pine arts
LIBRARY

V,W.,omUF.Sa,ve,edoWe.Artive

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