Letter to the editor

Author(s): Phitippe-Berdes-Fames-Henry_ Rubin,Peter-Waleh,—Linda-R-Hddy, Gordon W. Sutherland, Robest-Hanser and Sonn Ly Wart TT Source: The Art Bulletin, Vol. 59, No. 3 (Sep., 1977), pp. 461-465 Published by: College Art Association Stable URL: hup://www jstor.org/stable/3049698 Accessed: 30/05/2013 06:53 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at http://wwwjstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms. jsp JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, rescarchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support @ jstor.org. College Art Association is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Art Bulletin. http://www jstor.org

Author(s): Philippe Bordes, James Henry Rubin, Peter Walch, Linda R. Eddy, Gordon W. Sutherland, Robert Hansen and John L. Ward Source: The Art Bulletin, Vol. 59, No. 3 (Sep., 1977), pp. 461-465 Published by: College Art Association Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3049698 . Accessed: 30/05/2013 06:53 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. . College Art Association is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Art Bulletin. http://www.jstor.org

JamesH. Rubin'sarticle on Topino-Lebrunin the December, 1976 issue of The Art Bulletin, 547-568, heralds modern researchon this forgotten painter from Marseille, born in 1764 not 1769, who never fails to be cited as David'smost radicalpupil;and in passingthe reader has the pleasureof discoveringa magnificentunpublisheddrawingby Drouais. But confrontedwith the documents broughtforth by Rubin and with a certain numberof others, newly discovered,I have come to a quite different interpretationof Topino'sDeathof Caius Gracchus (Salon of 1798). The argument proposed by Rubin is that the painting was executed from 1795 to 1797, "that as well as a personal manifesto it was a piece of political propagandameant to serve the cause of the Conspiracy," and that Topino expresseda willingness to play an active part in furtheringthe goals of Babouvism.Whereas I contend that Topino, a Jacobin but not a Babouvist, executed his painting only after Babeuf's death as an homage to the martyred democrat;it is not my intention to repeat the lengthy details of my argument,which is the subjectof an article, "Topino-Lebrun,Babeuf et la peinturesous le Directoire,"to be published in La Revuede l'art (late 1977). But I do wish to examine the piece of evidence that permitsRubin to assert that Topino was painting in 1795. This is the date he ascribes to the visit Delecluze pays to the painter who is at workin the Churchof the Feuillants.Delecluze addsthat on the same day AlexandreCasanovaled him to a Jacobinreunion in a club of the Rue du Bac, which Rubin identifies as the Soci&t6 du Pantheon (meetings authorizedfromNovember, 1795 to February,1796). There are two reasonsfor rejectingthis identification:the club that met in a former convent near the Pantheon is about a mile from the Rue du Bac; that Del6cluze is accompanied by Alexandre, a fellow pupil of David, suggeststhat the visit to Topino took place after the winter of 1796-97 when Delkcluze was first admitted to the studio of David. Rubin states that there is no Jacobinclub activity between the period of the Pantheon reunions and the meetings in the Salle du Manege (summer, 1799), when in fact the longest section of Isser Woloch's outstanding study, The Jacobin Legacy (Princeton, 1970), which Rubin cites, is a discussion of the numerousJacobinConstitutional Circles formed after Fructidor (September, 1797). The most important of the Paris clubs is precisely the Circle of the Tenth Arrondissementin the Rue du Bac (open in January,1798). I would argue that the visit to Topino took place after the death of Babeuf (May, 1797) between Januaryand March, 1798, when the clubs are once again closed down. I agree with Rubin that Topino may have considered painting a subject from Plutarch'slife of Caius Gracchus prior to the death of Babeuf,perhapsas early as 1792 in Rome. Drouais'sunfinishedproject was a powerfulincentive; the possible role of Ch~nier'splay at a later date is more problematic. But it seems to me unlikely that he obtained the commission of the Church of the Feuillants and seriously began work during the agitation of Vend~miaire,followed closely by his departurefor Switzerlandwith Bassal. In his published Letter to the Jury,dated 2 Pluvi6se an IX, Topino states that at the time of the Grenelle affair (September, 1796), he had been in Switzerlandfor almost a year. In my opinion, this departuresignifiesa refusalto participateactively in the insurrectionaryprojectof Babeuf, an attitude very common among the Jacobins.During October, 1795 Topino helps both Babeufand Jullienpublish their prison writingson Vend~maire,and that is the extent of the painter's"active part." It should be added that Jullien and Babeuf are in open political disagreementwithin two weeks after being set free, that Jullienis not in the least a Babouvist. Although his discussion rests in part on the regrettableconfusion betwen Pyrrhusand Xerxes, the contrast that Mr. Rubin establishes between David'sLIonidasand Topino'sSiegeof Lacedaemonis of great interest. I preferthe other title that Topino adopted for his project, the Spartan's Repulse Pyrrhus, which indicates more clearly the intention to represent no individual hero. Plutarch describes this moment of exceptional danger when all of the inhabitants of Sparta-including the aged, the women, and the children-are called to defend their city until military reinforcementsarrive. This extraordinaryprojectwas conceived by Topinoin the wake of the war crisis of 1799-assassination of the French plenipotentiaries at Rastadt, militarydefeats on all fronts-and Topino adopts a political line that echoes the speeches heard at the Manege reunions during the summer. Finally,the publication of a small-scalecopy of the Deathof Caius Gracchus, executed in the 1860'sby the mediocre painter Glize, as Topino'soriginal is a confusion that Rubin can only regret.There is in fact no photograph available of the painting, and very few persons have even seen it. It was unrolled on the floor of the Marseille museum during a weekend in 1973 and appearedto be in need of considerable restoration. The painting will soon be relined and superficiallycleaned, thanks to the admirablepersistence of the art critic Alain Jouffroy,and a photographwill become available. Rubin states that "the picture has for rather obvious aesthetic reasonssunk into obscurity";the Caius Gracchusis no masterpiece of execution, but an important element of the painting'shistory is here ignored. Documents publishedby E. Parrocel(Annalesde la peinture.discourset fragments,Marseille, 1867, 175-78) relate that within ten yearsafter being sent to Marseille the exhibited canvas was damaged by the public for politicalreasons, to such a degree that it was rolled up and auctioned off as rubbish. Fortunately the picture survived this execution and in the 1860'sParrocelrediscoveredit in the possession of Glize, who restoredit heavily. In the 1880'sthe Marseillemuseum acquired it for the second time. Submitted to such a long series of aggressions, both intentional and unwitting, far from having sunk into obscurity, Topino's picture seems to possess an extraordinary capacity for survival. PHILIPPEBORDES UniversitW Paul-Valtry,Montpellier Reply Sir: Between the two of us, PhilippeBordesand I may well constitute a " so naturallyan exchange of majorityof the world'sliving "Topinistes, our viewpoints can only benefit the general public. I am very glad that Bordescaught the two errorsin my article that I do indeedregret and that I wouldhave had to set straightmyselfin writinghad he not done so for me. First, the confusion between Pyrrhusand Xerxes made it seem as if I conflated Topino'sand David'sscenes more than they weremeant to be or than was necessaryfor my argument,which was clearlybased on their generic association. I had just been talking about Pyrrhus,and I inadvertentlycontinued to use the same name. Second, I and others should thank Mr. Bordes for his illuminating history of Topino'spainting and its copy by Glize. I had long been awaiting a photographof the original, but when I was led to believe that its restoration was indefinitely postponed, along with the possibilityof obtaining a photograph,I at the last minute decided-I think rightly on these grounds-to substitute the photographof the copy. The photographitself was properlylabelled, but I neglected to change the figurecaption when it came to me in proof. I very much regret the unfair damage that may have been done to the esthetic

BULLETIN aspect of Topino'sreputation-though as Bordes himself intimates, even restoration of his painting will show him a lesser light. I am happy to hear now that restorationis being undertakenafter all. Bordes and I shall have to remain in disagreement on the more fundamentalissueof interpretation,however;that is, on the matterof where the "content"of a picturestops and where its "context"begins, assuming the two to be radically different. In Bordes'sview, the significance of the Caius Gracchusis limited as "an homage to the martyreddemocrat."In mine it expandsas "a personalmanifesto"for Topino that was "meant to serve the cause of the Conspiracy." Whereasmy argumentdepends indeed on the propositionthat in this case the line between content and context is virtually indistinguishable, Bordes, appearingto believe the opposite, wishes to prove his point incontrovertablyby removingTopino'sconception of the Caius Gracchusto the period following Babeuf'sdeath. Whether he is right about this date or not-a matter I shall take up in a moment-it still seems to me that given the precedentof Chenier'sCaiusGracchusand the presence of Babouvism in the French consciousness, it is inconceivable that Topinowould have chosen his subject if he had in fact wished to maintain his distance from Babouvismor, regardlessof his relationswith Babeuf-to which documents in fact suggestonly a positive side-from the general set of ideals Babouvismrepresented. As Bordesquite fairlyadmits, the interpretationof Topino'svoyageto Switzerland, as well as its exact dates, is a matter of conjecture. I believe one cannot escape Topino'sactive part in helping Babeufand Jullien publish their prison writings, or that, as I also pointed out, Topino allowed his name to be used as part of a "Babouvized" National Convention. In the absence of better evidence than this, I can only arguefor a basic pattern in Topino'sactivity, and I see one without majorcontradictions. Thus, it might even be said that the date of inception of Topino's painting is in itself unimportant. Still, in addressingthe issue once again, I hope to resolve this small problem both for myself and for Bordes. Forone thing, Bordes'sletter failed to cite a significant piece of evidence that clearly supportsmy hypothesis, even though his own article, "Documentsinedits surTopino-LeBrun,"in the forthcoming Bulletinde la Socite- d'Histoirede l'Art Frangaiswill show him to be thoroughly familiar with it. This is the remarkmade in the D&cade philosophiqueof 30 Brumaire, YearVII [November, 1798] that the painting of Caius Gracchushad cost its author severalyearsof work. Such a statement unequivocablyplaces the picture'sinception well before Babeuf'sdeath and most likely aroundthe period I indicated. Furthermore,Delkcluze'srecollection was by no means as confusedas Bordes would have it, being on the contrary quite detailed in its description of historical context and in its referencesto dates. The visit to Topino'sstudio did not in fact coincide with the undertaking of the Caius Gracchus;rather, its importance is that it providesus with a terminusante quem for it, since, according to the account, Topino had alreadybeen workingfor a while, presumablyfor several weeks or a few months. Since Del~cluzecommented that the picture was not exhibited until two yearsafterhis visit (at the Salon of 1798), a visit in 1796-I would say early in that year because of Topino's departure for Switzerland-would again locate the painting's beginning in late 1795. This date corresponded to Topino'sactive relationshipwith the Babouvists,thus makingall the evidence totally consistent. This restatement of my argument represents a very slight clarificationof the claim in the text of my article that Delkcluze'svisit occurred in winter, 1795-96. The date "end 1795" used in my Appendix was intended as a terminuspost quem for the visit, but for those who did not read the text carefully it was obviously a bit misleading. Another important point in support of my hypothesis, however, is that Delkcluze'sremarksthemselves specifically located the Babeuf condemnation-the date of which he perfectly recalled-as sometime afterthe visit to Topino. Thus, even if his visit was afterTopino'sreturnfromSwitzerland,the point is that the artist was without a doubt working on his painting before Babeuf's condemnation and death. This makes Bordes'sargumentscompletely untenable, for to locate Delkcluze's visit as late as he wishes, Delkcluze'smemory would have to be mistaken twice and the D&ade more than a little wrong. philosophique Bordes'sother points, some of which seem appealing, can be easily disposed of. First, although Delecluze could perhaps have been a student of David already,depending on the exact date of the visit, this is in no way a precondition for his encounter with Topino. Cassanove, who was older than Delkcluze, knew the latter'sfamily well, dined with them frequently,and thus could easily have taken the aspiring youngster to Topino's at almost any time. Second, although the addressesof various Jacobin clubs do suggest that the visit to a radicalgathering the same day as the visit to Topino'sstudio could have taken place later than I indicated-and I never denied this in principle-they hardlyprove,particularlysince other evidence is involved, that the visit could not have taken place earlier,even well before Babeuf's death. Thus, mentioning the revival of Jacobin activity of 1797 in my text (I did mention it in my Appendix) was irrelevantto my argumentand still is, although I do stand corrected for having called the Rue du Bac groupby the wrong name. Finally, although when exhibited in 1798, Topino'spainting inevitablyinvited the reference to Babeuf'sdeath, and by this time Topino may even have thought of it principally in such terms, it should not need pointing out that the use of a death scene to glorify a hero and his ideals had been the most common of all topoiin historypainting well before Babeuf's death. Moreover, well aware of the fate of the Gracchi, Babeufhimself had a morbidand willful anticipation of his own destiny that may help explain Topino'sprophetic accuracy. Although Bordescertainlydeservescreditfor forcingme to clarifya few matters of detail, I wonder if there is not another level to our disagreement. Might not his contention that Topino's picture completely postdates Babeuf's death-and his rather arbitrary relocation of the date of Delecluze'svisit to help him do so-reflect a kind of vested interest, though by no means necessarilydeliberate, in reducingTopino'spainting to no more than an homage to a martyred democrat? Bordes seems unwilling to accept the possibility of a greater dimension to this picture or to Topino'sintentions, that is, that Topino could have invested it with the powerof ideas conjured up by Babeuf'smere name. This dimension would of course have to exist as the very motivation for Topino'spictureif indeed, as I think I have demonstrated,he began it beforeBabeuf'sdeath. Surelythe long passages of my article explaining the signifying power of Babeuf's names and "emblems"and his self-consciousness about them show this to be the case. Thus, the difference of opinion that our discussion of the date of Delkcluze'svisit may mask could well boil down to that of our very different postures as narrowversus broad constructionists. It seems to me that here we have a rare case in which the broaderview is the more informative, and also in which overcautiousnessis less totally consistent with evidence and, far from being safer,actually ends up being misleading. JAMES HENRY RUBIN PrincetonUniversity Sir: May I comment upon several omissions and errors in Linda R. Eddy'sarticle, "An Antique Model for Kauffmann'sVenusPersuading Helen to Love Paris"(The Art Bulletin,LVIII, 1976, 569-573). First, with regardto her claim that "writershave not yet considered the antique prototypesfor this painting," may I call to her attention the analysis of this picture and its antique sources in my Ph.D. dissertation, "Angelica Kauffman," Princeton University, 1968, 347-51, in which I discussand illustratemost of the probablesources she puts forward in her article (including the Farnese relief, the Jenkins Vase, the Aldobrandini Wedding, and the-apparently unknown to Ms. Eddy-drawing in the British Museum after yet another VenusPersuadingHelen to Love Paris relief which was, as of 1788, in the collection of Colin Morrison in Rome). By the way, I remainconvinced that the JenkinsVase (despite its having left Rome in 1776) might easily have been in Kauffmann's mind when she painted this picture. Thomas Jenkins, the one-time owner of the vase, was Kauffmann'sclose friend;he acted as her financialagent in Helen to Love Paristo Prince Nicolai the sale of the VenusPersuading Youssoupoff;eighteenth-century engravingsof the vase are known to exist (one, undated, is in the British MuseumDepartmentof Greek

LETTERS and Roman Antiquities). All in all, a convincing case can be made for the JenkinsVase as Kauffmann'schief prototype. Had she troubled to read my dissertation or any other reliable modern source of information on Kauffmann, Eddy might have avoided some of the numerous errors that plague her article. Kauffmann'sZeuxisChoosingModelsfor His Paintingof Helen really should not be used as evidence that she visited the FarneseCollection in 1763-65, as this painting dates fromca. 1790, well after the artist's return to Italy. This second extended residence in Rome did not, as Eddy has it, begin in 1786, but rather in 1782. Kauffmanndid not make frequenttrips to Naples after 1787to paint the Neapolitan royal family; she delivered the finished portrait of FerdinandIV and His Familyin 1784, and never returned(thus she could not have seen the Farnese relief after it was moved to Naples in 1787). Kauffmann cannot be said to have "restoredthe Venus PersuadingHelen theme to art." There is a Benjamin West Helen Broughtto Paris of 1776 (ex-Graham Gallery, New York), and Gavin Hamilton's Meeting BetweenHelenand Parisof 1782-84, painted for the Stanza d'Elenain the Villa Borghese, may today be seen in the Museo di Roma. PETER WALCH The Universityof New Mexico Reply Sir: I regret that I was not aware of Peter Walch's unpublished dissertation on Angelica Kauffmann. Clearly it would have been of interest to me, although, as I will point out below, it would not have altered the conclusions of my article. Walch'smain disagreementseems to be my dismissalof the Jenkins Vase as Kauffmann'smodel for her painting of 1790. As my article shows, I considered the Jenkins Vase in this role, but rejected it in favorof the Farneserelief and, to a lesser degree, the Vaticanrelief. I did so for the following reasons. The JenkinsVase, even as Walch admits, seems never to have been concretely accessible to Kauffmann. It is all very well to point out that Thomas Jenkinswas Kauffmann'sfinancial agent in Rome at the time that she painted her VenusPersuadingHelen-as he was for at least a decade. But the fact is that in 1790 the vase had not been in Jenkins'spossessionfor fourteen years. During that time it had been owned by the Smith family in Cheshire, and, as I said in my article, I know of no evidence that links Angelica in any way with these English owners. Of course a drawingor engravingof the JenkinsVase could have made up for Kauffmann's inability to see the vase in person. But as I stated, the Jenkins Vase was unpublished when Kauffmannpainted her scene of Venus PersuadingHelen; evidently it did not appearin publishedform until it was included in Tischbein's Homernach Antiken, 1801-04. Walch mentions eighteenth-century engravings "known to exist," but is specific about only one of these, an undated and unsigned engraving in the British Museum. I was aware of this engraving, but rejected it as a possible influence on Kauffmannfor two reasons. First, assuming that the engraving was available in 1790, only weak arguments could ever be made for Kauffmann happening to have access to it. Second, and more damagingto the case, is informationin the photographicfiles of the CourtauldInstitute that indicates that the engravingis most likely an early nineteenth-century work, probablypost-dating the Tischbein publication. Thus my research gave me no reason to believe that the Jenkins Vase was either concretely or visually accessible to Kauffmann. On the other hand, for the reasonslaid out in my article, there was good evidence that she knew and had actually seen the Farnese and Vatican reliefs. My conclusion was that these two antique works, modified somewhat by a knowledge of an antique Bacchus and putto group,were Kauffmann'sinspiration. I still feel comfortablewith that conclusion. Now I want to comment briefly on the "numerous errors"that Walch feels plague my paper. I yield to him on one of these and apologizefor my mistake:indeed, Kauffmanndid not returnto Naples after 1787. I should point out, however, that Walch, too, seems to be in errorhere, for Kauffmann'slast trip to Naples was not in 1784;she TO THE EDITOR 463 was there for the last of her long visits with the royalfamily in the summer and fall of 1785. I also understand the point he has made about my footnote reference to Farnese connections with Kauffmann'sZeuxisChoosingModels.The brevity of my footnote may have left the impressionthat this painting was the immediateresultof her early visits to the FarneseCollection. I did not mean for it to be interpretedin that way. I must take issue, though, with Walch'sother two complaints. First, I think that I am right in saying that Kauffmann'ssecond extendedresidence in Rome began in 1786. My aim was to use the word"extended"to distinguishthis period of permanentresidence in Rome from the transient period from mid-1782 through 1785 when she lived for blocks of time in both Rome and Naples. By my calculations, she was in Naples duringthose yearsfor more than forty percent of her time. By contrast, from 1786 until her death in 1807 she was away from Rome for no more than a few months. My second refutation is far more important. It concerns Walch's last point. I am of course awareof West'sHelenBroughtto Paris(1776) and Hamilton'sMeetingBetweenHelenand Paris(1782-84). But these paintingsdo not negate my contention that Kauffmann"restoredthe Venus PersuadingHelen theme to art," for they are not of the Venus PersuadingHelen theme. One should immediately notice that the arrangementof the charactersin West's and Hamilton's works, and even the figuresincluded in Hamilton's painting, are quite different from the antique prototypes with which my article dealt. But of greater significance is the fact that the narrative implied is a very differentone. The paintings by West and Hamilton are presentation scenes, not persuasion scenes; that is, West and Hamilton show us Venus presenting a modest Helen to Paris as a prize, not Venus persuadingHelen to accept Paris. But there is more to counter Walch'sidea that West and Hamilton modelled their paintings on antique examples of VenusPersuading Helen: their paintings seem to reflect quite another source. The "girl presented as a prize to boy" kind of composition that West and Hamilton used has its own Classical prototype, and both artistswere surelyawareof it. In fact, Kauffmannherself seems to have borrowed fromthis model beforeHamilton and possiblybefore Westfor her own version of the theme, VenusPresentingHelen to Paris (this English workwas engravedfor Kauffmannby Ryland;thereforea terminusante quem of 1777 can be established). Moreover,this same Presentation motif sometimes served eighteenth-century artists as a convenient model for yet another Venus, Helen, and Paris scene-that from the Iliad 3. 424ff. A case could be made that this is the moment representedin West'spainting, rather than the firstmeeting between the two lovers. Thus I think it is clear that the worksby West and Hamilton cited by Walch are not based on the antique Venus PersuadingHelen or Venus Persuading a Bride models with which my study was concerned. I thereforesaw no reason to mention them-or, indeed, any numberof other eighteenth-century paintingsof Parisand Helen at variousstages in their history. Again I say that I regretnot having known of Walch'sdissertation. I should mention, though, that in readingthe pertinent section now, I see that except for his noting possible antique sources for Kauffmann'spainting of 1790, it has no parallelsto the theme of my paper. LINDA R. EDDY StanfordUniversity Sir: Bruce Chambers's article, "The Pythagorean Puzzle of Patrick Lyon," The Art Bulletin, LVIII,1976, is very interesting from an iconographic viewpoint; may I comment on one or two important aspects that he might like to reconsider in his analysis?They could add significantlyto his interpretation. Perhapsthe most importantis the place of Tubal-Cain,not Vulcan, in Masonic tradition. Tubal-Cain was the traditional worker in metals. Talmudic legend records an interesting story about him, which we could imagine epitomizes the steadfastness, dignity, and pride that Neagle portraysin Pat Lyonat the Forge.King Solomon is

BULLETIN said to have gatheredtogether in his throne-roomthe craftsmenwho had assistedin the buildingof the Temple. Here he was to choose the one among them who had contributed most, so that he could be honored by sitting on the throne as King of Israelfor one whole day. He had not invited the blacksmith, however, and when the curtains around the throne were drawn back, there stood Tubal-Cain before the chair. The King'sbodyguardimmediatelymovedto seize him, but Solomon stayed them until they heard what he had to say. The blacksmith claimed exclusive right to the honor of occupying the throne because without him and the metal tools that he made, no other artisan could have done any work at all. Solomon agreedand Tubal-Cainoccupied the throne for the day. In the painting, Patrick Lyon does not have the fieriness of a Vulcan. He is more of a reincarnateTubal-Cainstanding before the throne, assertinghis rights with dignity, proudof his pivotal position as an artisan without whom all the gentlemanly "great"on earth would be as nothing, and garbed with the clean shirt of the speculativecraftsman. There may be no authoritative document to support this interpretation, just as there is none to support Chambers's or Dunlap'sVulcan. But perhapsLyon had read the Talmudiclegend in some form similar to Dr. A. Posman'sFreemasonryfromthe Talmud, which was publishedmuch later, in 1905, and in which the Solomon story is recorded. If the iconography is to be put in a Masonic framework,then the logic of Tubal-Cainsource, ratherthan a Vulcan one, is much sounder. At the same time, the whole tradition of the apron in Masonic symbolismis reflectedin the "freshlylaunderedand unstainedshirt," the shoes and polished buckles, surmountedby the heavy apron. For it is symbolic of the change from the operative to the speculative craftsman, perhaps from the uncommitted Patrick Lyon to the socially awarePatrickLyon, fromthe "mechanic"to the philosopher, for by now he had undergonehis trial by social fire and had written The Narrativeof PatrickLyon (1799). The pose should not be looked on as a "masquerade" but morecorrectlyas an ingenioussynthesis in a kind of Hegelian dialectic. There is no lambskinapron evident. It is the usual heavy leather blacksmith'sone that Lyon asked for and is wearing. Indeed, had he worn a lambskin, the effect would certainly have been a "masquerade"and even a monstrous and incongruous charade. There is therefore no really valid reason for Chambers to mention the lambskin here at all. It would tend to emphasize a very superficial, dictionary understandingof Masonic symbolismrather than a sound awareness of its deeper esoteric meaning. In fact, if there is any statement of innocence at all in the iconography,it is not to be found in the apronbut in the detachment of the Tubal-Cainsetting. Finally, the whole conception seems to show that Lyon was not only a freemasonbut that he was skilled and knowledgeable in the Craft. In Philadelphia,a greatcity of greatAmerican freemasons,it is more than probable that John Neagle would also have been a freemason.Could he otherwise have executed the work? GORDON W. SUTHERLAND B.C. Vancouver, Sir: May an artist contributeto the discussion? In "A Reexamination of Van Gogh's Pictorial Space" in the December 1976 Art Bulletin, John L. Wardproposes to account for curves in the Bedroomat Arlesby positing ratherunlikelybehavioron the part of an artist, and I believe that he incorrectly faults Van Gogh's sense of linear perspective. Ward appears to agree with Ernst Gombrich (Art and Illusion, Princeton, N.J., rev. ed., 1961, 256) that an artist "sitting in front of a long-stretchedfacade . .. would thereforescan the view by moving 1 D. Noton, and L. Stark, "Eye Movements and Visual Perception," Perception:Mechanismsand Models (Readingsfrom ScientificAmerican), San Francisco, 1972, 219: "During normal viewing of stationary objects the eyes alternate between fixations, when they are aimed at a fixed point in the his head . . . as he turnsright the facadewill appearto converge one way, and as he turns left in another; but if he wanted to paint these aspects, he would quite instinctively shift his easel so as to stand obliquely to the facade . . . While he turns . . . he is aware of a succession of aspects which swing around with him. What we call 'appearance'is always composed of such a succession of aspects, a melody, as it were, which allows us to estimate distance and size;it is obviousthat this melodycan be imitatedby the movie camerabut not by the painter with his easel." With Gombrich, Ward seems to go to inordinatelengths to avoid the simplerconclusion that the separatesaccades'of the eye might be experiencedeasilyby a painteras a glissade, a melismaof a melody, a single continuum of vision like our elision of separate frames that permitsus to perceive continuousmotion in a film. While Van Gogh certainly experienced the separate views (in the drawing, the "collisions"are unmistakable), I submit that later, as he painted, he quite possibly kept his attention on the lower edge of the bed as he scanned fromside to side. The curve as "a compromisethat does not represent one aspect but many" is of course a possible explanation. More plausible to me, however, is the gradualtransformationfrom separatestaccato glances to a single scanning glissando, depictedwith direct curving brushstrokes.Whether or not the painting is smaller than the visual angle of the scene (and who knows?Perhapsthe artist sat or stood much closer to Ward'spoint B') I believe that spatial curvaturemight "automaticallyresult." As an artist, it seems to me unrealisticto assume that the canvas must be moved whenever the artist'sglance moves. Indeed, because the artist customarily"puts the canvas where the scene isn't," it is nearly a rule that the canvas, paper, etc., is placed at an oblique and often perpendicularangle to the subject'spicture plane. Even if the easel is moved now and then, it is difficult to imagine any artist moving it often, and certainlynot nearlyas often as the eye is moved. I doubt very much that it was "normal procedure"for artists at any period to block the view of half the subject with the canvas while painting the other half. Subjectssuch as the Bedroomand NightCaf6 are easily drawnand painted on a surfaceperpendicularto the entire scene. The numberof times that any painter must compareopposite ends of a composition for a variety of purposesvirtuallyrequireshim to learn very early to bring to his easel, wherever it is located, the visualdata froma wide-rangingscanningof the scene beforehim, and prevents him from acquiringthe easel-shiftinghabit that Gombrich and Ward describe. The importance placed on this shifting of the canvas will not convince many artists, I dare say, that Van Gogh's curves were derived from an attempt to joint separated and conflicting perspectiveviews. I find it difficult to understandhow Ward can conclude that Van Gogh had a "strongsense of shape constancy"that "madeit difficult for him to see in perspective." Granted: Van Gogh's paint is "painterly"and "impastoed," and his line, color, and texture are essentially flat; he seldom uses chiaroscuro in painting to model volume. In other words,he probablydid not see in aerialperspective. It is true that his convergingdiagonalsdo not systematicallymeet at a plotted point; and his small formsand short lines are often casualand imprecise. Nevertheless, his shapes are characteristically foreshortened, bounded by emphatically converging diagonals, as in a wide-angle view. He shares this combination of dramatically foreshortenedperspectiveshapesand relativelytwo-dimensionalcolor and pattern with Degas and Toulouse-Lautrec, and to some extent with Renoir, Manet, and Monet. I urge the skeptic to scan any extensive catalogueof Van Gogh's images in search of indications of shape constancy: the preservationof rectangle, circle, or any other true proportions in oblique views. Exceptions do occur in certain repetitiouspatterns:in The Zouaveand The YellowChairthe floortiles are indeed conspicuouslyrectangular,in conflict with the perspective space. And in drawingsthat accompany his letters (CompleteLetters visual field, and rapid movements called saccades. Each saccade leads to a new fixation on a different point in the visual field. Typically there are two or three saccades per second. The movements are so fast that they occupy only about 10 percent of the viewing time."

LETTERS of Vincent Van Gogh, New York Graphic Society, undated), cobblestones on p. 178 and garden rows on p. 242 of Volume I maintain shape constancy, but right angles and parallellines are rare exceptions. Even youthful paintings and early drawings exhibit academic ease and skillful foreshortening, especially where rectangularstreets and garden plots are exploited to depict rapidly receding planes. Is it not fair to conclude that Van Gogh saw iii linear perspective as well as any of his contemporaries, and that he rarely demonstratedshape constancy? As for Ward'snote 24, suffice it to say that my statement ("This Curving World: HyperbolicLinear Perspective,"Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism, xxxii, 1973, 151) is intended to pertain to all viewers, artistas well as spectator.The Art Bulletinis probablynot the place to respond adequately to numerous other points raised in Ward's interesting article, concerning "veridical" photographs, "proper" viewing distance, "proof" of what an artist saw, the foreshortening of the picture itself, and the conventional nature of "correct"perspective. The debate simmersin current and past issues of Leonardo,stirredby contributionsfrom Ward, Gibson, Arnheim, Pickford, Ronchi, Reggini, Maurin, James, and Turner, among others. ROBERT HANSEN OccidentalCollege Reply Sir: Robert Hansen (to whom I wish to apologize for misspelling his name in referencesin my article) believes that Van Gogh may have kept his easel in one position while painting the Bedroomat Arles; I had hypothesized, on the basis of my own proceduresas a painter, that, given the wide angle of view, the canvas wouldblock partof the room unless placed perpendicular to the back wall and that this position would have requiredVan Gogh to turn his head every time he looked from the motif to the painting, an inconvenient procedure. I felt that it would be easier to place the canvas beside the partof the room to be painted and move it when it blocked the view. In attempting to explain how the curvaturecould have occurred as an artifactof Vincent's procedures,I describeda hypothetical situation in which the canvas was graduallymoved from one side of the room to the other-although certainlynot "as often as the eye is moved." Even two changes of the picture's position could create perspective shifts that curvaturemay have been introducedto reconcile. It is certainly possible, however, that the painting was done with the canvas in one fixed position, far to the side and perpendicularto the back wall. Even then, I believe that the curvatureis more likely to have been used to smooth over perspectiveshifts that occurredin making the painting than to have been perceived as such. When a canvas is positioned away from the motif, so that the slant of lines cannot directly be matched with the edges of forms, the question to be determined is, what informationdoes the painter extract from the motif? If Van Gogh had viewed the room through his perspective frame, he might have noted that the near side of the foregroundchair and of the bed slanted away from the plane of the frame in the same direction, as they do in Figure5 of my article. Without this reference plane he was more likely to have noticed that the bed end slanted away from his stationpoint in one direction and the chair side in the opposite direction. To put the matter another way, he was more likely to have noted the angles that receding edges of the motif made when projected on an imaginaryplane that turned so as to remain perpendicularto his line of sight than to have attempted the much more difficult task of relating the whole scene to a single, imaginary plane that kept a fixed relationship to the scene instead of to the artist'sline of sight. The point I wish to defend is that the curvaturein the painting was not merely the record of Vincent's perception of the world, but was introducedbecauseof his painting procedures,whether they involved the physical repositioning of the canvas or only the shifting of an imaginaryprojectionplane so as to remainperpendicularto his line of sight. I do not believe that Van Gogh thought that the room really looked curved;he certainly never says so. Nor is curvaturepresent in TO THE EDITOR 465 either drawing that Vincent did to show his brother and Gauguin what the picture looked like (one done with the painting in progress-not before it was begun, as I apparently have misled Hansen to believe by my incorrect reference to the drawing as a "study"-and one when it was completed). Hansen takes me to task for assertingthat Van Gogh had a strong sense of shape constancy. A thorough considerationof the question would consume more space than I think appropriateto this rejoinder. The issue is complicated by the fact that Van Gogh had actively, even ardently, studied perspective, to the extent of using a perspective frame at least occasionally through most of his artistic career, and therefore could deliberately anticipate and compensate for any tendency toward shape constancy by the systematic application of perspective rules or by empirical methods such as measuringthe size of visual angles with one eye closed in comparison with an extended thumb or brushhandle. On the other hand, certain apparentlynaive qualities in his work appear,from his own remarks, to have been deliberatelyemployed to increase his works'vividness. Hence, a perspectivallycorrectworkdoes not necessarilyprove a low degree of shape constancy nor a work with perspective deviations prove a high one. A remarkof Vincent's, written a few months before the Bedroomwas painted, offers a reason why shape constancy might appearmore frequentlyin worksdone after this time: "Even without the perspectiveframe, I do it now without measuring[i.e., draw],just by letting my pen go" (Letters,No. 500, II,590). It seems to me that certain relationships in the painting and drawing of the Bedroom reproducedin my article, such as the nearly parallelreceding lines of the floor(at the right in the painting and ubiquitouslyin the drawing) may reflect a tendency toward shape constancy that emerges here because it is no longer resisted by painstakingly checking the perspectiveat every point. In a parentheticalaside Hansen suggeststhat Van Gogh may have sat or stood closer to point B' in my Figure3. If I have reconstructed the ground plan of the bedroom correctly, this is not possible. As Gombrich has observed, whether perspective is accuratelyprojected or curved, elongated, or otherwise deformed, the projection point can still be determined because the alignments and overlappingsof foregroundand backgroundobjects will stay the same. Conversely, from my point B' the leg farthest from the viewer of the chair at the left would be visible to the right of the nearest leg and the farthest corner of the bed would appearfar to the left of the nearest corner instead of in their present positions. This content downloaded from 192.87.31.20 on Thu, 30 May 2013 06:53:28 AM JOHN L. WARD Universityof Florida