As Time Goes By: The Passage from Pendu(lum) to Chronograph
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Figure
20 |
Marcel
Duchamp, Coffee Mill, 1911
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The first and only
other instance in which these chronophotographic cues significantly come
into play is Duchamp's pseudo-plan and -elevation of the Coffee
Mill (1911) (Fig. 20), where, as in the
second Nude, they again plot a specifically "circular"
movement. This is the same (meta)physical trajectory--which, of course,
is not one(33)--that
Duchamp's two versions of the Chocolate Grinder (1913; 1914) (Fig.
21a, b) and, more famously, his Bicycle Wheel (1913) (Fig. 22) also share. In
addition to their common trajectory, however, the Coffee Mill and Chocolate Grinder also share a common morphology:
from the knobbed handle of the Coffee Mill, which traces a circle
about its stationary rod; to the three cylinders of the Chocolate
Grinder, which also rotate about a stationary rod--a rod which is,
itself, capped with a circular head, and not so enigmatically called the
"bayonet" (DDS 96; WMD 68), if we again think
of Marey's fencers' foils; finally, to a bicycle wheel which, in the title
work, is mounted to another stationery rod--this one (like "Le Pendu
Femelle" in the second Nude, Passage and Bride),
by contrast, forked. If we add, as post-scripts, Duchamp's experiments
with the Rotary Glass Plates (1920) (Fig. 23)
and Rotary Demisphere (1925) (Fig. 24),
which figure the same sort of rod-and-demisphere apparatus spinning on
axis, the fact of a common morphology to all these variegated objects
becomes evident, as does its formal prototype in the work which Naumann
suggests might be Duchamp's first Ready-made: Bilboquet (1910)
(Fig. 25), a variation on the traditional
cup and ball game, which if correctly manipulated, exactly consists of
a ball perched upon a rod. Indeed, the vicious circles all these rods
variously describe, or are otherwise inserted into, like the sexual coupling
Bilboquet assumes in particular,(34)
even anticipate Giacometti's own "pendu"(lum) of sexual frustration,
Suspended Ball (1930-31) (Fig. 26).
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Figure
21a
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Figure
21b |
Figure
22
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Marcel
Duchamp, Chocolate Grinder, No. 1, 1913
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Marcel
Duchamp, Chocolate Grinder, No. 2, 1914
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Marcel
Duchamp, Bicycle Wheel, 1913
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Figure
23 |
Figure
24
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Figure
25 |
Figure
26
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Marcel
Duchamp, Rotary Glass Plates, 1920
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Marcel
Duchamp, Rotary
Demisphere,
1925
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Marcel
Duchamp, Bilboquet,
1910
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Alberto
Giacometti, Suspended Ball ,1930-31
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Figure
27 |
Marcel
Duchamp, The Chocolate Grinder's Leg, 1914, from the Green
Box (1934)
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In addition to their
circular trajectory, however, the Coffee Mill and Chocolate
Grinder are also productive of the same scatological-type
comestibles, and in this sense participate in the same bodily metaphor:
"Slow life--Vicious circle--Onanism..." (DDS 82; WMD
56), as Duchamp laments in his Large Glass dirge. Even without
the dirge, however, the embodied onanism of Duchamp's "circular"
imagery is not exactly subtle. "Always there has been a necessity
for circles in my life", he explains, for "rotation. It is a
kind of narcissism, this self-sufficiency, a kind of onanism".(35)
In exactly these terms, indeed, Bruno Bettelheim describes how one of
his similarly circle-obsessed patients, "Joey", "moved
his penis as if it were the handle of a machine and called it 'cranking
up the penis'".(36)
(Like the crankshaft of the Model-T Duchamp could neither drive nor marry
and, faute de mieux, the automobile heiress whom he did marry,(37)
but soon only drove on Sundays?) Yet what the Coffee Mill and
Chocolate Grinder add to the morphological mix is exactly this--an
explicitly phallic "crankshaft": self-evident in the alternately
detumescent, tumescent and outright saluting sweep which the Coffee
Mill's knobbed "handle" traces; no less evident, however,
in the "nickel-plated Louis XV chassis" on which Duchamp "mounts"
his beloved-of-youth (if, perhaps, then G-Rated) Chocolate
Grinder (DDS 97; WMD 68). For "she"--"[La]
Broyeuse de chocolat" [The Chocolate Grinderess], as Duchamp
calls her, already a very strangely marked type of what would simply appear
to be "un broyeur"--ain't no lady. Not only is she "montée"
[mounted] to her chassis, but how she is "montée"
[hung]. Indeed, that Louis XV decor should ever have such Size-Queen-Anne
"legs" (Fig.
27)--formidable! The only difference, then, between the Coffee Mill's knobbed "handle" and the Chocolate Grinder's
cabriole "legs" is whether the body of the mechanomorphic apparatus
prefers to crown itself at top with a time-lapse whirligig of lesser phalli,
or to ride them instead like so many carousel horses: the casters with
which, in a sheerly gratuitous gesture even for Duchamp, he supplies the
second Chocolate Grinder's "legs".
But for all her great good
luck, just like the modus (non) operandi of the Large Glass "Bride", the Chocolate Grinder's
is also the tale of an affection she simply does not requite, as Duchamp
describes:
sur un châssis Louis
XV = sur un[e] chasse: il lui quinze
during the chase: fifteen times [she]
nickelé
= niques, elles, [f]ait
thumbs that nose of hers at hi
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Figure
28 |
Salvador
Dali, Persistence of Memory, 1931
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Yet the perhaps ball-busting
Chocolate Grinder is no lady in this sense as well. For the viciously-circular
bodily metaphor she figures is, in itself, an endlessly-sweeping clockwork
metaphor: a sort of sexual end-game gone terribly wrong and instead become
a waiting-game game--or, more to the point, a kind of Crying Game
(as in "Le Pendu Femelle" after all...). Thus
the "circularity" of the Coffee Mill and Chocolate
Grinder refers not only to the not-so-merry-go-round of onanism--"éternullité",
as Jules Laforgue says in his vein splittingly funny way(38)--but
also to the circular movement of a clock, as does "Le Pendu Femelle"
which is both "femelle" [la "pendu...le" = clock],
yet grammatically masculine ["le pendu...le" = pendulum]. Indeed,
the so-called first "Blossoming" of the "Bride"--which,
in the upper register of the Large Glass, includes "Le Pendu
Femelle"--"should graphically aim", says Duchamp, "at
a clockwork movement (electrical clocks in railway stations)... to develop[:]
how best to express the throbbing jerk of the minute hand" (DDS
64; WMD 43). With its source, then, not only in the type of "rotation
and sexual movement" which Bataille similarly identifies to locomotives,
but also in the sort of clock we specifically find in "railway stations"
-- in other words, in waiting rooms--"Le Pendu Femelle"
indeed inaugurates the same countdown which Dalí's famous paean not just
to time waiting to get hard, Persistence of Memory (1931) (Fig.
28), by contrast, indefinitely suspends.(39)
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Figure
29 |
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It is not only
in relation to a clock, however, but also as another sort of measuring
device, a "barometer", that Duchamp describes "Le Pendu
Femelle". In a note entitled "In 'Le Pendu Femelle' -- and
the Blossoming-Barometer", he explains: "The filament substance
might lengthen or shorten in response to an atmospheric pressure organized
by the wasp. (Filament substance extremely sensitive to differences
of artificial atmospheric pressure controlled by the wasp)" (DDS
69; WMD 48). This "Blossoming", by contrast, is thus
effected by two principal actors. First, there is the "baromètre"
itself (i.e. "une barre à mettre"), of which Man Ray's Catherine
Barometer (1920) (Fig. 29), as well
as his portrait that year of Mina Loy (which prominently features a
thermometer-earing), also create something on the order of phallic mood-rings.(40) Second, there is the
"guêpe" [wasp]. However, the wasp is not only the grammatically
invariable riposte -- "La Guêpe" (femelle) -- to "Le
Pendu Femelle", but also it is the female of the wasp that has
the poisonous stinger ["aiguillon"], which is itself a variant
on the "minute hand" ["aiguille"] of the first "Blossoming",
just as the former's venomous "sting" reiterates the latter's
"throbbing jerk". No matter, then, whether we prefer to speak
of a mercurial "barre" become "longue et rigide",
as Le Robert defines it, or, instead, of a retractable "aiguillon".
At issue, either way, is the same tumescence-inducing operation: whether
of bar or stinger, a process of "lengthening or shortening"
which, in response to "differences of pressure", the barometer
and the wasp can bring to bear more or less at will. Although Duchamp's
"Blossoming" perhaps parallels the undisclosed inner workings
of Woody Allen's famous "Orgasmatron", we can be certain that
it does parallel the tumescence-inducing "mechanical woman whose
vagina, contrived of mesh springs and ball bearings, would be contractile,
[and] possibly self-lubricating", which Duchamp once proposed to
erect.(41)
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Notes
32. Bruno
Bettelheim, The Empty Fortress: Infantile Autism and the Birth of the Self
(N.Y.: Free Press, 1967), p. 304. On the "autism" of Duchamp's works
-- including their conceptual relationship, in this sense, to Bettelheim's
"Joey" -- see Rosalind Krauss, "Notes on the Index: Part
1", in The Originality of the Avant-Garde and Other Modernist Myths
(Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T., 1985), pp. 199-200; Annette Michelson, "'Anemic
Cinema': Reflections on an Emblematic Work", Artforum, vol. 12, no.
2 (Oct. 1973), pp. 64-69. See also Robert Lebel, Marcel Duchamp, trans.
George Hamilton (N.Y.: Grove Press, 1959), p. 30, where he describes Duchamp as
"entrenched in an 'autism' which leaves no possible ambiguity".
33. Cf. my
"Meret Oppenheim -- or, These Boots Ain't Made For Walking", Art
History, vol. 24, no. 3 (June 2001), pp. 358-78.
34. Francis
Naumann, Marcel Duchamp: The Art of Making Art in the Age of Mechanical
Reproduction (Ghent: Ludion Press, 1999), pp. 40-41, 57 (n. 2), where he
suggests that Bilboquet might be a souvenir of a bordello visit, or
perhaps of a circus act in which "La Femme Bilboquet" was no less
suggestively catapulted across the stage onto a projecting spire.
Interestingly, Steven Harris reads Claude Cahun's and Man Ray's similarly
sexualized use of the bilboquet in the 1930s, more generally, as
"[playing] on castration in the detachability of cup and ball".
"Coup d'oeil", Oxford Art Journal vol. 24, no. 1 (2001), p.
103.
35. Roberts,
"Interview with Marcel Duchamp", p. 63
36. Bettelheim, The Empty Fortress, p. 304.
37. On the Large
Glass "Bride" as an automobile, see n. 73, herein.
38. See
Golding, Marcel Duchamp, p. 25.
39. Duchamp's La
Pendule de Profil (1964) [847: 612] is exactly "Le Pendu Femelle"
both become a clock [une "pendu...le"] (cf. DDS 47; WMD
31), yet one which, according to Duchamp, "no longer tells the time"
(Schwarz, The Complete Works of Marcel Duchamp, p. 845).
40. Duchamp's Why
Not Sneeze Rose Sélavy (1921) [690: 391] materializes the same cold, dry
conditions which Man Ray's Catherine Barometer exactly parodies: the
former, created for Dorothea Dreier; the latter, as a joke at the expense of
her sister Katherine. Thus, the cold-as-marble cubes, which Duchamp includes,
are unable to cause the thermometer even to rise, let alone to create the sort
of tickle which only a good sneeze (or another spasm, also of the involuntary
sort) can hope to relieve. To its coldness, the cuttlebone [cuttlefish =
"seiche"], which Duchamp also includes, merely adds a sense of
aridity ["sèche"] and, in this way, doubly describes both the
object's patron [Dreier = drier] and its title subject: "Voici le domaine
de Rrose Sélavy / Comme il est aride -- Comme il est fertile -- Comme il est
joyeux -- Comme il est triste" [Here's where love lives. How dry it is --
and fertile. How joyous it is -- and sad]. Schwarz, The Complete Works of
Marcel Duchamp, p. 900 (no. 23). Cf. Albrecht Dürer's Melencolia I
(1514), where the melancholic elk and its referent in black bile also symbolize
the process of artistic creation as essentially "cold and dry".
41. Calvin
Tomkins, Duchamp: A Biography (N.Y.: Henry Holt, 1996), p. 276, quoting
Julien Levy, Memoir of an Art Gallery (N.Y.: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1977),
p. 20.
Figs. 20-27
©2002 Succession Marcel Duchamp, ARS, N.Y./ADAGP, Paris.
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