Los bienes externos necesarios para la vida buena

Optometrists - British Optical Association Museum. | Yáng Xióng (China, 53BC-18CE). Tài Xuán Jīng: Divination Chart, 2BC/1463. Washington, DC: Library of Congress.

Duchamp actually used a sheet of carbon paper to transfer his design to a silvered section of the glass surface. He then laboriously scraped away the excess silvering around the outlines to form their final perspectival design. Being based on optical charts, the Oculist Witnesses allude to detection and policing over falsity or duplicity. In naming the three charts “Oculist Witnesses,” Duchamp intended to evoke the ritual climax of the kind of traditional wedding ceremony, at which the bride was formally disrobed and put to bed with her new husband in the presence of witnesses. These charts also associate with the eyewitnesses of religious and juridical traditions. In this instance, the beholder is eyewitness to the clinical process of the desire’s passage towards its aim. Once having gone straight through the centre of the three charts, the desire heads for the magnifying lens. This latter element makes the desire scatter in nine separate directions upwards to their target; the Bride’s dream.

Unlike the rest of the Glass these elements – Occulist Witnesses and Mandala – have a mirroring effect, which stems from the idea that the Bachelors reflect back on themselves onanistically. The aluminium’s reflective capacity also returns the gaze of the viewers, thus incorporating them in the composition. Golding underlined that “Alfred Jarry, in his experiments with the theatre, had toyed with the idea of a mirror backdrop which would reflect the audience behind player’s backs, thus forcing it to confront itself as part of the reality of the drama it was witnessing” (Golding 1973:69). It is probably this confrontational quality that Duchamp sought to evoke by using mirror-silvering in this section of the Glass. The viewers receive their own reflection as fragmented by the three variant patterns of the charts.

More importantly, however, the composition is dominated by an absolute vertical axis, springing from the centre of the three Occulist Witnesses, culminating on its top at the Mandala, the circle emblematic of a lens. Such a perfect alignment of similar elements closely recalls the Odyssey’s Trial of the Bow that Homer recounts in Book 21. To put an end to the lording of the suitors, goddess Athena inspired Penelope to propose the legendary Trial

of the Bow that would make her marry the person who shall first meet the challenge. Here is how Penelope

introduced the game, “the one who takes the bow in his hands, strings it with the greatest / ease, and sends an arrow clean through all the twelve axes, / shall be the one I go away with” (Lattimore 1965:21.75-78). Homer chose Telemachus to hype the prize, “a woman; there is none like her in all the Achaean country, / neither in sacred Pylos nor Argos nor Mycenae, / nor here in Ithaca itself, nor on the dark mainland.” (ib. 1965:21.107-109). He made it sound as if it concerns a slave market, but knows he is staging a play whose outcome is prescribed. So, Telemachus took it upon himself, “He began by setting up the axes, digging / one long trench for them all, and drawing it true to a chalkline, / and stamped down the earth around them” (ib. 1965:21.120-122). Though the logic shared amongst all suitors was that each must try to win Penelope, showering her with gifts, significantly, it is she, Penelope, who sets the rules of the game. Rather than marrying him who could make most offers, she proposes to marry the one who would win this game of Athena’s devising and on her own terms. This Trial of the Bow differs from other trials in that it is a challenge as much for the body as for the mind. The conceptual aspect of the game is attested by the suitor Antinous, in his reproach to Odysseus for asking to try performing the task – “Ah, wretched stranger, you have no sense, not even a little” (ib. 1965:21.288). All suitors, of course, though younger and perhaps mightier men than Odysseus, fail at the first stage of bending the bow, doubtless owing to their drunken state. They fall short of Odysseus’ sobriety, strength and skill the bow requires. However, it is Odysseus, ironically in disguise as an old beggar in his own home, who is to be restored as the rightful King of Ithaca. Though refused with indignation by the suitors, Penelope and Telemachus arrange for the weaponry to be delivered to his hands. Therefore, Odysseus comes forth to try his strength and skills at the game. With virtuoso ease he fastens the string to the mighty bow, effortlessly draws the winged arrow aiming straight and true, and lets fly never missing a ring from first through to last. The woodcut in Simon Schaidenreißer’s Odÿßea (Odyssey) of 1538 illustrates the whole of Book 21 in the form of synchronic narrative.

Simon Schaidenreißer (Bavarian Germany, 1497-1592). Odÿßea: Argumentum des

Hypothetical Recostruction of the Axe Trial - Lorenzo Valla (a-c); and Page (d). Peter Jones, Homer’s Odyssey, 1998:185.

Here is how Homer described the crucial scene – “Odysseus […] was handling the bow, turning it / all up and down, and testing it from one side and another / to see if worms had eaten the horn in the master’s absence. / And thus would one of them say as he looked across at the next man: / ‘This man is an admirer of bows, or one who steals them. / Now either he has such things lying back away in his own house, / or else he is studying to make on, the way he turns it / this way and that, our vagabond who is versed in villainies.’ / And thus would speak another one of these arrogant young men: / ‘How I wish his share of good fortune were of the same measure / as is the degree of his power ever to get this bow strung.’ / So the suitors talked, but now resourceful Odysseus, / once he had take up the great bow and looked it all over, / as when a man, who well understands the lyre and singing, / easily, holding it on either side, pulls the strongly twisted / cord of sheep’s gut, so as to slip it over a new peg, / so, without any strain, Odysseus strung the great bow. / Then plucking it in his right hand he tested the bowstring, / and it gave him back an excellent sound like the voice of a swallow. / A great sorrow fell now upon the suitors, and all their colour / was changed, and Zeus showing forth his portents thundered mightily. / Hearing this, long-suffering great Odysseus was happy / that the son of devious devising Cronus had sent him a portent. / He chose out a swift arrow that lay beside him uncovered / on the table, but the other were still stored up inside the hollow / quiver, and presently the Achaeans must learn their nature. / Taking the string and the head grooves he drew the middle grip, and from the very chair where he sat, bending the bow / before him, let the arrow fly, nor missed any axes / from the first handle on, but the bronze-weighted arrow passed through / all, and out the other end.” (ib. 1965:21.393-423). Francesco Primaticcio captured this moment of perfect order in a fresco of Château de Fontainebleau’s Galerie d’Ulysse, whose destroyed original survives through

a copy. At the same instant Zeus thundered from heaven. Odysseus accepted the omen and gave sign to Telemachus to begin the mnesterophonia (slaughter of the suitors). Odysseus then loaded his bow again turning it, this time, on the suitors, and killing them one by one without pity. This scene of great violence was best captured in Moreau’s monumental painting (see I.5).

The issue of how the axes were set up, and where the arrow had to go through, is of considerable value to appreciate how the Trial of the Bow was represented in art. In their attempt to represent the scene faithfully with all twelve axes in a line, scholars have basically proposed two solutions; Lorenzo Valla suggested that the metal blades were on their own, rid of the handle, and offered three possible ways by which they were planted into the ground so that the arrow would pass through their handles’ hole (Valla 1981-1986); Denys L. Page suggested that the axes were complete with handle and planted upturned so that the arrow would pass through the rings on their handles’ end (Page 1973). Another issue emerges with their material. Obviously, translators of the past sought to bring their version close to the presumed literary tastes of contemporary readers. This explains

Francesco Primaticcio (Italy, 1504-1570). Odysseus at Ithaca: The Trial of the Bow, c. 1550. Oil on canvas (148x205). Fontainebleau, FR: Château de Fontainebleau.

why brass and silver were preferred over bronze and iron in modern times. Nevertheless, in Mycenaean times iron particularly was more highly prized a metal than silver. After having been introduced around 1900 BC, at the height of the Bronze Age, it was around 1200 BC – the alleged period of the Trojan War – that ironworkers succeeded in making wrought iron with properties similar to those of modern steel. In its early stages, iron was used as an element to denote social differences, solely as a status symbol and only available as such to the upper classes. However, once the secret of hardening it, by cooling after subjecting it to extreme temperatures, was known, iron became a material of great strategic importance, ideally suited for military purposes. Though offering a much broader range of practical and creative possibilities, this metal was particularly difficult to smelt. With their skill in metallurgical procedures, the Greeks were soon to make masterpieces of iron, which explains Homer’s emphasis on this metal. These axes were valued as a treasure in themselves, so that Antinous said, “but we shall leave all the axes standing / where they are. I do not believe anyone will come in / and steal them away from the halls of Odysseus” (Lattimore 1965:21.260-262).

The accurate verticality of the Oculist Witnesses brings to mind Duchamp’s later note concerning the particular lighting of Étant donnés, “spotlight 150 w. G.E. (which) must fall vertically, exactly, on the cunt” (Duchamp 1987:20). There, lighting is treated as a phallic arrow aiming at a vaginal target. The relation of the Glass to the bow-and-arrow was revealed in the 6th number of the Surrealist magazine Minotaure, in 1934. This issue featured the first major article on the Glass, written by André Breton. Actually not having seen the Glass itself, Breton concluded that it is “among the most significant works of the 20th century” (Lebel 1959:94). On the cover, Duchamp reproduced his fresh Rotorelief Corolles over Man Ray’s photograph Dust Breeding of 1920. This particular rotorelief represents in two dimensions three pristine concentric spheres, with black skin and red interior, straightly pierced through their centre, and viewed at an angle against dust. Aside of that, a photomontage after Breton’s 1934 poem L’air de l’eau (The Air of Water) presented a modern Amazon seductively posing with her long bow by the target. 5 arrows already shot have missed the target’s centre. A collage of phrases originating in the poem, crosses strategic positions of her body – “Yeux zinzolins” (zinzolin eyes) in the place of her head; “J’eus le temps de poser mes lèvres [Sur tes cuisses de verre]” (I had time to place my lips [On your thighs of glass]) springing from her waste, and “Toi” (Thee) at her feet. Significantly, zinzolin is a trisyllable word meaning a reddish-violet colour of chromatic volatility that creates emerald hues. Hence, this exotic term was used to describe the fickle nature of woman that evades being pinned down. The longest of collaged phrases serves as an arrow showing the way to hit bullseye, past the grip of the bow before the woman’s pubic area. This Amazon, then, seems to be the Glass’ Bride as Breton described her, “the trophy of a fabulous hunt through virgin territory, at the frontiers of eroticism, of philosophical speculation, of the spirit of the sporting competition, of the

Marcel Duchamp (France, 1887-1968). Cover of Minotaure, 12.1934, Paris. Antwerp, BE: Ronny van de Velde. | Anonymous (France, c. 20th). Yeux Zinzolins c. 1934. Photomontage after André Breton’s poem L’air de l’eau (1934).

most recent data of science, of lyricism, and of humour.” (Lebel 1959:90). This description recalls Telemachus’ own advertisement of his mother as prize of the Trial of the Bow, cited above.

The appeal of archery continued after Duchamp’s passing by peers in his tread. Jean Tinguely and Bernhard Luginbühl created the

Tellflipper in 1973, which featured

in the Crocrodrome group exhibition at the Georges Pompidou Centre between 1 June 1977 and 2 January 1978

(following the posthumous

Duchamp retrospective exhibition

there), and subsequently was placed in an aviary on the rear of

The Cyclops’ first level mezzanine.

The Tellflipper refers to William Tell, but in this thesis’ context may well be seen as a descendant of the classic bow. It is a giant pinball machine that has the form of a crossbow with such powerful springs that it takes two strong grown-ups to operate its pistons. During the game, a central clock chimes when the steel balls hit it, while a light is activated rewardingly if the score is any good.

The orderly challenge of precisely shooting the arrow of desire through the Oculist Witnesses, suitably complements Duchamp’s subsequent chaotic task to employ chance by using a toy cannon to launch painted matches on the nebulous target in the Bride’s Domain. This toy canon is certainly a device of imprecision, just like the aim of the ejaculating phallus. The artist used it as a device by which to trigger chance and arrive at an unexpected result. Duchamp’s idea is echoed on S. Teddy D.’s Phallus Tank series of 2011. Each tank is dated from 1917 to 2011, with reference to the great wars of the 20th century, where the tanks featured. Their monochromatic palette in red hue varies successively from dark to light depending on the supposed length of time it took the blood to dry from the moment the colour was freshly poured. The relation of the ejaculation to shooting is also evidenced in Joyce’s Ulysses. In his waking dream scene, Bloom fantasizes about Boylan having sex with his wife in Bella Cohen’s brothel, and him peeping through the keyhole while he masturbates to their lovemaking. As he watches, he even cheers them on, “(His eyes wildly dilated, clasps himself) Show! Hide! Show! Plough her! More! Shoot!” (Joyce 1934:15.553). If the parallelism of Bride to Penelope and Bachelors to suitors seems merely coincidental – which, was it on its own, one would be prone to reject – the relevance of the Oculist Witnesses to the rings used in the Trial of the

Bow, makes the reference convincing, if not unmistakable. Duchamp has once again used three as his favourite

number. The shared numeric relation to number 3 of the twelve axes and the design of the three Oculist

Witnesses is evident. The correspondence of metal is also evocative of their relation. The gleaming texture of the Jean Tinguely (Switzerland, 1925-1991) and Bernhard Luginbühl (Switzerland, b.

1929). The Cyclops: Tellflipper, 1973. Steel (132x480x200). Courtesy of Association Le Cyclop, Milly-la-Forêt, FR.

S. Teddy D. (Indonesia, b. 1970). Phallus Tank – 1917-2011, 2011. Painted resin (each: 105×72×140). Paris, FR: Galerie Wallworks.

hard-wrought iron of the axes is interpreted by Duchamp in silver for its highly reflective quality. The three oculist charts, placed with geometrical precision one right under the other at equal mathematical intervals, are evocative of the twelve axe rings trued at regular distance to a perfect line. The nature of the Oculist Witnesses, originating from ophthalmological manuals, and linking to the physical activity of ‘witnessing,’ suggests the express priority of sight at its finest for the purposes of this physico-intellectual challenge. Finally, the agenda of the Oculist

Witnesses, meant for the desire to pass straight through the very centre of each chart, is evocative of the course

the arrow should take in order to achieve the desired result. At the same time, transformed into ammunition that cause bullet holes, Duchampian desires are likened to the Odyssean deadly arrows that aimed to kill enemies. The parallelism between Duchamp’s Oculist Witnesses and Homer’s Trial of the Bow is in every respect successful. Knowledge of classical tradition is as comparable a solution to the enigma of the Glass as demotic Greek was useful in solving the riddle of the hieroglyphs in the Rosetta Stone.

The fascination of the avant-garde with romantic pastimes, such as archery, may be explained as appropriation (see I.6). In 1942-1943, a number of Surrealist artists arrived in New York to take refuge from the Second World War, and David Hare, editor of the Surrealist magazine VVV, called upon a group of them to contribute to a special issue of almanac for 1943. In Successive Drawing, the six participants – Max Ernst, André Breton, Kurt Selgimann, Matta, Marcel Duchamp, and Sonia Sekula – were successively given a five-second glimpse of his or her predecessor’s drawing and then told to reproduce it. Duchamp, being the fifth of the six, developed the idea of

Marcel Duchamp (France, 1887-1968). Successive Drawing, 1943, New York. Drawing. Original lost, dimensions not recorded. Reproduced in VVV: Almanac for 1943 (1943:68). Jerusalem, IL: The Israel Museum - Arturo Schwarz Dada and Surrealist Library. | The bird-headed man with a wounded bison in the cave of Lascaux, France, c. 13,500 BC.

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (France, 1780-1867). Odysseus, 1827. Oil on canvas, mounted on wood (25×19). Washington, DC: National Gallery of Art. | Nancy Etheredge (USA). Profile of Odysseus for Lattimore’s The Odyssey of Homer (1965). Courtesy of Harper & Row, New York, NY. | Unknown (Attica). Detail of Athena Parthenos, c. 340 BC. Bronze (H:235). Piraeus, GR: National Archaeological Museum.

a bird headed hunter holding bow and arrow, with a greater emphasis than all the others on the target-like eye in the centre of the head, evocative of the mind. Executed with prehistoric feel, this sketch resembles the enigmatic bird headed man of around 13,500 BC in the pit of the Lascaux cave in the Dordogne, France. After the cave paintings’ chance discovery on 12 September 1940, news spread throughout France, Europe and the world, making Lascaux known as ‘The Sistine Chapel of Prehistory.’ It is reported that after visiting these finds at Lascaux, Picasso exclaimed, “We have invented nothing new” (Bahn 2005:217). Duchamp’s Successive Drawing certainly reveals it is affected by it in a sophisticated manner.

At the same time, however, Duchamp’s bird headed man is probably his most evocative representation of Odysseus as a protégé of goddess Athena. The head’s long beak resembles the rim the classical helmet forms on the head when tilted back, as neoclassical artists, like Ingres, represented Odysseus. Its beaklike feature underlines the accurate horizontality of the hero’s unerring aim. Nonetheless, Odysseus’ earliest known headgear was the pileus (see II.8). The classical helmet is typical of Athena’s attire, and the version on the Piraeus Statue of

Athena Parthenos is decorated with an owl on either cheek piece. As such, Athena’s helmet endows Odysseus

with her unique combination of qualities – wisdom, militariness and crafty intelligence. Therefore, the birdlike