Tricking the Eye – Dali’s quest to Systemize Confusion
The surrealist movement called for the liberation of the subconscious, a state of mind between dream and reality, to reveal an “extended psychic reality.”[1] This heightened form of “psychic reality” can be experienced through transcending the confines of everyday life and rules of logic, by probing into the hidden forces of dreams, hypnosis, automatism, random recollections of memory, and unconscious errors in speech. In his first Manifesto of Surrealism, Breton is particularly interested in the psychology of individuals with mental disorder, and the ways in which they exercise the freedom to “imagine” without concerns for rationality: “their profound indifference to the way in which we judge them… allows us to suppose that they derive a great deal of comfort and consolation from their imagination, that they enjoy their madness…”[2] Yet, as much as Surrealists were fascinated by the enabling power of irrationality, they never sought to be actually mad, and instead attempted to understand madness as a way to reveal truths about the subconscious. In Nadja, as Breton contemplates the institutionalization of his muse, he expresses that, “I should have had to become conscious of the danger she ran. I never supposed she could lose… that instinct for self-preservation which permits my friends and myself, for instance to behave ourselves where a flag goes past…”[3] To the Surrealists, there was a limit to madness. The “instinct for self-preservation” required them to distinguish between embracing the concept of madness, and submitting to the manipulation of mental disorder. Motivated by the subtle distinction between embracing and submitting to madness, this section on the eye explores optical illusions in Salvador Dali’s art, with special focus on the ways in which his paranoiac-critical method leads to the use of visual trickery to simulate certain characteristics of paranoia, but simultaneously distinguishes and elevates itself from the actual embodiment of the medical condition.
Paranoia is defined as “a delusional psychosis, in which the delusions develop slowly into complex, intricate and logically elaborated system.”[4] Dali was intrigued by the ability of individuals suffering from paranoia to relate two seemingly unassociated objects or occurrences through an internal process of self-defined logic. For example, a paranoiac patient could relate the water bottle he accidentally lost with a random person drinking water on the street, and believe that it was he who stole his bottle. As a result, Dali developed the paranoiac-critical method in the essay L’Ane Pourri, which he defined as a “spontaneous method of irrational knowledge based on the interpretative-critical association of delirious phenomena.”[5] Dali states that when the eyes view a piece of primary visual art (the immediate painting seen), the imagery filters through the brain, and conjures up a secondary “delirious” phantom image that seems to be “spontaneous” and “irrational,” but makes an association logical to the viewer due to individualized “interpretative-critical” factors such as childhood memories or cultural upbringing.[6] He used this psychological phenomenon to create the technique of double image, defined as “a representation of an object that is also, without the slightest physical or anatomical change, the presentation of another entirely different object, the second representation being equally devoid of any deformation or abnormality-betraying arrangement.”[7] The employment of double image can be seen as a way to practically apply the interpretative nature of the paranoiac-critical method, but the exact understanding of this technique requires the close study of examples. Therefore, this section is going to use Dali’s Archeological Reminiscence of Millet’s “Angelus” (1935), Metamorphosis of Narcissus (1937), and Paranoiac Face (1935) to illustrate ways in which Dali’s paranoiac-critical method leads to the use of optical illusions in the form of double image in his artworks. Most importantly, it uses these paintings to distinguish Dali’s method from the actual embodiment of madness, through exploring his attempts to surpass interpretation and create a system of practical application, and to bring the paranoiac-critical method from a personal sphere to one of relative objectivity and universality. Finally, this section aims to further understand Dali’s treatment of the human psyche by contrasting his works with those of Magritte’s.
Perhaps the most pivotal painting in shaping Dali’s paranoiac-critical method and the practical employment of double image is the conception of Archeological Reminiscence of Millet’s “Angelus” in 1935.
The primary visual imagery shows two architectural structures facing each other on a barren landscape. The primary perception of two ruined towers is almost immediately taken over by the realization that they resemble two humanly figures facing each other, both in a praying posture slightly bent forward – the visually illusive doubling effect sets in. Architectural ruins and two human figures facing each other are two representations evoked from this painting. These two representations illustrate the concept of double image in that they evoke each other, yet neither of the two diminishes the validity of the other – as much as viewers perceive two towers, they perceive two humans. As the eyes transition between towers and humans, the illusive visual experience transforms into an inner debate regarding the relationship between the two. Recalling that Dali’s paranoiac-critical method concerns the association of two seemingly unrelated images, given sense by the internal logic of the viewer’s psyche, it is important to question the process of interpretation Dali went through to arrive at the association between ruins and pious praying figures in his artwork. In his essay, The Tragic Myth of Millet’s L’Angelus, Dali explains that the painting originated from his childhood experience walking along the corridor of his school in Catalan, looking at Millet’s L’Angelus (1858). This original painting of Millet portrays two peasants setting aside their chores to pray in the middle of the fields. Dali finds the painting exceptionally fascinating, and expresses that often as a child, there would be “sudden emergence” of “secondary delirious phenomena generated around the obsessive image.”[8] He recalls being delirious to the extent that the trees he saw outside the school window would resemble the two figures in the painting.[9] In the essay, he reassesses his obsession with the painting, and points out that the secondary deliriums he experiences through the painting are of mating praying mantises.[10] The first delirious phase conjures the image of the female mantis anticipating mating. The second phase concerns the “erotic personality” of the wheelbarrow, resembling the son, resting between the thighs of the mother (in fact, x-rays show that the painting originally consisted of a dead child resting between the two parents, covered up to make the painting more saleable). The third phase evokes the female mantis cruelly devouring the male after mating.[11] Of all these secondary phantom visions sprung from the perception of the primary painting, the inherent motifs of sex and violence emerge. Dali extracted these themes from L’Angelus (1858), and applied them to Archeological Reminiscence of Millet’s “Angelus” (1933). While the basic structure of two praying humans is preserved, he points out in his writing that the vertical towers are intentionally obliterated with holes and rendered into ruins to “challenge the phallic symbol,” and portray the violence of sexual tension as exemplified by mating praying mantises.[12] Art Historian, Haim Finkelstein, also points out that the use of architectural ruins may be conditioned by Dali’s childhood experiences living near historical ruins in Catalan.[13]
At this point, it is important to emphasize that Dali not only used the paranoiac-critical method to interpret paintings by other artists, but he also manifested the delirious secondary visions into new paintings of his own, and double image was his vessel. He was not merely submitting to paranoia, but was consciously taking note of his psychological reactions to create original works. Max Ernst was the first to distinguish between the passive interpretative nature of the paranoiac-critical theory and the active applicational nature of double image that evolved from the theory.[14] While Ernst maintains in his writing that he finds the interpretative process much more “organic,” and that that “the notion of paranoia is employed in a sense which does not correspond to its medical meaning,”[15] I believe that it was precisely through application that Dali transcended actual paranoia, by systematically understanding characteristics of paranoia to interpret his phantom visions, and applying them to new works of art. Finkelstein expresses that “the theory as elaborated by Dali and its result as manifested in his own paintings… does not necessarily have to exhibit direct reciprocal dependency upon each other.”[16] In his essay L’Anne Pourri, Dali says, “the moment is at hand when, by a process of a paranoiac and active character, it is possible to systematize confusion.”[17] The terms “systematize” and “active” should be highlighted, as they foregrounds that Dali’s paranoiac-critical method is not just a passive process of internal paranoiac interpretation, but also an active, reproducible process of creation. In a meeting with Freud, Dali presented to him the essay The Tragic Myth of Millet’s L’Angelus, and Freud concluded that while paranoiac-critical interpretations was guided by unconscious thoughts, Dali’s employment of these interpretations to create new art work was a result of conscious thoughts.[18] Finkelstein regards the transition from interpretation to application as a “slow revelation of a systematization coexisting with the very core of the delirious idea.”[19] In this sense, the invention of the doubling image technique was a decisive factor in shaping the process of systemization.
It has been established through Archeological Reminiscence of Millet’s “Angelus” (1933) that Dali’s paranoiac-critical method is not just a psychological embodiment of actual paranoia. The method strives to transcend the sphere of interpretation by consciously systematizing deliriums to create artwork, characterized by the use of double images. Metamorphosis of Narcissus (1937) and Paranoiac Face (1935) are two Dali paintings that add to the conversation in this section, since they suggest that even interpretation could transcend the personal sphere and arrive at a place of universality.
In Paranoiac Face (1935), double image is employed as the equally striking representations of a tribal settlement and a man’s face evoke and reinforce each other, depending on the orientation with which the painting is viewed. In Metamorphosis of Narcissus (1937), the image of Narcissus fixated upon his own reflection on the left is transformed into a hand holding a daffodil. When viewed at a distance, the two representations are hauntingly similar. As viewers perceive the optical illusions in these two paintings, the human mind simulates the psychological process of paranoia, by associating the seemingly unrelated “face” and “village,” or “Greek God” and “hand holding daffodil” with one another. Finkelstein notes that when viewers perceive Dali’s paintings, there is “very little room” for paranoiac-critical interpretation, because Dali made the secondary phantom images “more than obvious.”[20] Indeed if we consider Millet’s L’Angelus (1858), there is ample space for paranoiac-critical interpretation, as different viewers might experience vastly different deliriums. Yet, with Dali’s paintings here, every viewer is clear about the exact deliriums that they evoke. This is not to say that viewers can’t make highly personalized interpretations about the relationship between the two, but in terms of the paranoiac-critical mode of interpretation, there is very little room to find alternative phantom images. This seems to suggest that while Dali’s theory can be used to perceive other paintings, it is almost a self-fulfilling prophecy when we consider his own artwork. Finkelstein considers this a “continuous movement towards a greater concretization of the visual-mental phenomena… to go beyond symbolism and achieve an objectification of universal emotions and sensations.”[21] While art historian, Dawn Ades, expresses that Dali’s desire “to give substance to phantoms” – to make obvious the deliriums – has been a source of contention, and has even been attacked by his contemporaries, in that it seems antithetical to the anamorphic nature of surrealist art,[22] I believe that it is another way for Dali to systematize the concept of paranoia. His artworks simulate the condition of making sense of two completely unrelated images characteristic of paranoia, but maintain a sober distance from a state of twisted psychological solitude, by highlighting the universality of certain human experiences.
Dali’s optical illusions, with regards to their allusions to subconscious thoughts and visions, suggest a high level of sensitization. Human emotions and visual perception are mutually indispensable in Dali’s artwork. Through tricking the eye, Dali highlights that art is layered with meanings, and that “paintings should be at the service of an exploration of the labyrinths of the mind, unconscious and conscious.”[23] It can be conceptually rewarding to understand further Dali’s way of viewing the human psyche by placing him on a spectrum of sensitization with regards to another surrealist artist, Rene Magritte. Similarly to Dali, Magritte also manipulated optical illusion in his artwork. While both artists employed similar means, their ends were different. Philosopher Michel Foucault contends that “unlike Dali, Magritte sought to evoke not shock, but mystere: the ineffable alienness beneath the surface familiarity of the world.”[24]
If Dali was about sensitization, then Magritte was about desensitization and doubting the familiarity of what is visually represented on the canvass. Magritte’s optical illusions involve “deploying largely familiar images, but images whose recognizability is immediately subverted”[25] in two ways: metamorphosis and dismissing language. In Explanation (1952), a carrot and wine bottle are put side by side. On the right of the painting is a half carrot-half bottle structure that anamorphosized from the juxtaposition of the two familiar objects. This hybrid structure creates a visual confusion that draws one to question the familiarity of mundane everyday objects, and is fundamentally different from Dali’s double image, which stresses the mutual representation of two objects, without alternating any one of the two.
In Magritte’s most famous painting, This is Not a Pipe (1929), he questions the inability of “traditional Western thought… to separate language and objects.”[26] Magritte draws a blatantly obvious pipe, and tells viewers that it is not a pipe. Normally, one is conditioned to “see” something, process the image mentally, connect it with a syntax that represents the image, and finally connect linguistics with visual. However, in this instance, Magritte interrupts this psychological pathway, making what the eyes see seemingly absurd. Foucault points out that through challenging the notion of “this painted image is that thing,”[27] Magritte taunts the eyes by telling them “they are not seeing what they see,” yet the more he tells them so, the more the eyes see a pipe by reverse psychology.[28] The result is that the eyes get increasingly confused, frustrated, and alienated. This is antithetical to Dali’s quest to reveal unconscious phantom images, be they from a personalized or universal perspective, in order to draw emotions and intimacy from the viewers.
This section discusses the ways in which Dali’s paranoiac-critical method evolves from an interpretative theory to a mode of practical application by means of the double image, resulting in optical illusion in his paintings. I further content that Dali seeks to embrace characteristics of paranoia, rather than submit to the actual medical condition, by creating a systemized way of viewing confusion. The clarity of secondary deliriums in many of his paintings breaks through the boundaries of hermitic self-indulgent interpretations, and seeks to find the universality in human experiences. Furthermore, Dali’s quest to sensitize optical illusion is foregrounded through contrast with Magritte’s insistence on desensitization. Ultimately, this discussion on optical illusion adds to the group’s exploration of the eye, as it focuses on the relationship between visual perception and psychology, rather than the body part as a thematic part of an artwork. Surrealism as a genre can seem highly abstract and unfathomable. This section aims to slightly shift the paradigm, by showing that beneath the emotional intensity, Surrealism originates from a careful consideration of science and psychology. After all, Dali regarded himself as “swimming between two kinds of water: the cold water of art and the warm water of science.”[29]
[1] Ades, Dawn. Dali’s Optical Illusions. Hartford, CT: Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, 2000, p.12
[2] Breton, André. Manifestoes of Surrealism. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan, 1969.
[3] Breton, André. Nadja. New York: Grove, 1988.
[4] Finkelstein, Haim. “Dali’s Paranoia-Criticism or The Exercise of Freedom.” Twentieth Century Literature 21.1, Essays on Surrealism (1975). JSTOR, p.60
[5] IBID
[6] Ibid, p. 61
[7] IBID
[8] Dalí, Salvador, and Haim N. Finkelstein. The Collected Writings of Salvador Dalí. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge UP, 1998, p.275.
[9] IBID.
[10] Ibid, p.276
[11] IBID.
[12] Ibid, p.289
[13] Ibid, p.276
[14] Finkelstein, p.62
[15] IBID.
[16] Ibid, p.63
[17] Ibid, p.60
[18] Ades, p.11
[19] Dali and Finkelstein, p.275
[20] Finkelstein, p.64
[21] IBID.
[22] Ades, p.25
[23] Ibid, p.12
[24] Foucault, Michel. This Is Not a Pipe. Berkeley: U of California, 1983, p.9
[25] Ibid, p.11
[26] Ibid, p.15
[27] Ibid, p.35
[28] IBID.
[29] Ades, p.12