Joseph Cornell and Appropriated Images of Astronomy- A Surrealist Gateway for Desire

Wanderlust, an exhibition at the RA dedicated to the works and worlds of Joseph Cornell, explores his fascination with travel. Yet, they also mention that he hardly ever travelled outside of New York State, preferring instead, to imagine the worlds of the Romantic ballet and Renaissance Italy in his home in Manhattan. This exhibition brings together a vast collection of his remarkable boxes, assemblages, collages and films, which ‘transform everyday objects into spellbinding treasures’ and runs from 7^th July- 27^th September 2015.

Figure 1: Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Celestial Fantasy with Tamara Toumanova), c.1941, Collage with sprayed and spattered paint on paperboard, 14.5 x 9.25 in. Smithsonian American Art Museum

Cornell created art during the time of the Surrealists. Though he did not partake in the entirety of the political motivations of André Breton’s (1896-1966) circle, which was often associated with the Communist Party, he is often defined as a Surrealist by academics and critics due to similar practices of production and a shared overarching aesthetic.[1] Indeed, in modern literature he is almost always identified as a Surrealist practitioner and is often spoken of in relation to other pioneers of the movement such as Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) and Max Ernst (1891-1976) due to their influence on his work. An example of these shared processes is that they appropriated and adopted scientific approaches for their work. Cornell’s chief interest was astronomy, a subject that he had been fascinated by throughout his life. He collected over 100 books dedicated to the subject in his library, ranging from 19^th century novels, children’s books and modern literature.[2] He also collected celestial maps, which included constellation charts and atlases from Johann Bayer’s Uranometria of 1603, as well as diagrams made using modern technology.[3] This collection contained numerous copies of the same books so he could appropriate the images directly for his own work.[4] 

Figure 2: Joseph Cornell, Untitled, c.1934, collage,
9 x 7 in., estate of Joseph Cornell

These maps influenced Cornell’s work throughout his career, from an untitled work of 1934 (figure 2) which directly appropriates a celestial map, to his later work, which develops the theme in a much more idiosyncratic way, such as the scenario entitled Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess of 1941. As the art historian, James Elkins, argues in ‘Art History and Images That Are Not Art’, images ignored by Art History can often act as coded symbols.[5] Cornell and many other Surrealists used these coded objects as markers representing themes, such as eggs that were used to represent alchemy and metamorphosis.[6] However, Cornell also used the trope of the astronomical image as a means of symbolising metamorphosis and the infinite.[7] The history of science, particularly astronomy, was important to his artistic process, as he often looked back to the myths behind the constellations, indeed for some artworks this formed the basis of the work. For Untitled, created around 1934 (figure 2), he used an astrological map published in Bayer’s Uranometria, which charts the constellation of Boötes also known as the Ploughman or the Herdsman. In this reworking, the image has extra motifs included within it, such as a loaf of bread in a box and a box in which the character stands. This simple manipulation of the appropriated image brings to the fore the dedication with which he studied the stories of the constellations, for by adding these elements he highlights their history through artistic terms. One interpretation of the constellation’s narrative is that the Ploughman was placed there by Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, for his invention of the plough. Another interpretation places him as the Herdsman who is the guardian of Ursa Major, the Great Bear and Taurus.[8] This artwork by Cornell places Boötes in these roles and emphasises their importance in the image by adding further reference through the bread in the box.[9] The bread is the compound creation of the wheat element and can therefore be read as an unusual symbol of metamorphosis, which is activated only through relation to the narrative. Though he is not using the traditional framework of objects the Surrealists utilised, the artwork still uses the trope of metamorphosis. It is also important to note that the heavens were the setting of this metamorphosis and the myths of the constellations made this trope possible in this work.

This suggests that his early work is the starting point of further development which uses the heavens as a backdrop of romanticised fantasy, for his work is based upon the importance of the narratives displayed in astronomical maps from his collection. This association between fantasy and the heavens could have been his inspiration to create various collages within this setting, which incorporate figures and a narrative of his own making. An example of this is his story of Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess, which is an unrealised sketch for a film that was not possible to make at the time as there was not the technology to create such fantastical settings. His notes on the work consist of three reimaginings of the same scene which feature a ballerina. He describes the scene in his notes as thus:

‘The ballerina is floating like has become
a constellation the stars in her
 dress tutu, one or two in her chevelure
& one in her forehead have transformed
into a constellation. Clouds of fantastic
 shape resembling horses, swans, fish
 ballerinas float by. Meteors flash by.’ [10]

This narrative demonstrates not only that the ballerina is placed in the setting of the heavens but specifically transforms her into a constellation.  By defining this status, Cornell appropriates the history of astronomy, particularly the narratives of the constellations. This acts to simultaneously solidify her importance by placing her amongst the myths of scientific history, as well as draw upon his association of the heavens as a symbol of metamorphosis. As well as this, he mixes transitory beauty with the infinite, as, according to John Bernard Myers in his monograph, Joseph Cornell and the Outside World, Cornell associated physical aspects of nature with different lengths of time. For example, the world of beauty, such as jewels, romantic personalities and ballerinas, were immediate, however, the heavens were infinite. [11] By mixing these together he raises the ballerina’s status as a transitory being into the romantic infinity of the heavens.

Figure 3: Joseph Cornell, Hommage to Tamara Toumanova, 1940, Commercially printed papers and gouache on blue wove paper, 15.4 x 9 in. Lindy and Edwin Bergman Joseph Cornell Collection

Cornell had developed a passion for ballerinas as well as other female icons, at this point it was particularly aimed at the ballet dancer, Tamara Toumanova, whom he had met in November 1940 at the introduction of a mutual friend. By December, Cornell had sent Toumanova a collage, featuring her in an underwater realm dotted with stars (figure 3). He also made a number of other collages that comply with the narrative of Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess, such as Untitled (Celestial Fantasy with Tamara Toumanova) also from 1941 (figure 1). This suggests that she was the character he had in mind when setting out the narrative of the film. Andrew Brink in Desire and Avoidance in Art, uses attachment theory to argue that Cornell created gifts for women he admired as this was the relationship he learnt from his mother who gave him gifts to show affection when he was growing up.[12] It is proposed that this gift giving in his years of development was carried through into his later years, suggesting that to show affection he gave these women gifts; his artwork. His lack of any actual romantic connection with any of the movie stars or ballet dancers he paid homage to in his artworks points towards a removal between the physicality of the person and sexual gratification. Indeed, it could suggest that the object itself and the act of giving the gift was akin to and substituted this gratification. According to Jean Baudrillard (1929-2007) in Le Système Des Objets collecting objects is a way for children to understand and master the world, which can then be carried on in later life when a link is created between collecting and sexuality, leading to satisfaction.[13] As Cornell’s process of art making involved extensive collecting, which was then manifested into an object dedicated to a specific person for whom he was obsessed with at the time, it could be argued that this action constituted passing on that sexualised action to the object of his desires. Therefore, the act of collecting and the act of giving gifts act simultaneously to create this new behaviour in Cornell. This brings a new meaning into the scenes described in Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess, particularly her placement in the infinite of the cosmos, for by placing her within the objects of his collection, she, or her image, becomes a part of his collection, from which he drew pleasure, as well as becoming a part of the infinite.

This means that there was the real woman, in this case Tamara Toumanova, as well as Cornell’s created semblance, which takes the image of the original but acts according to the whim of Cornell in the narrative he creates. This is evidenced in the description of the Princess’s action within the scene:

‘At the end the princess stands
on a balcony like the illust
in Gs. “Les Etoiles” & looking
straight into the camera
blows a kiss at the
solemnly blows a kiss
to the audience & then presses
her hands over her heart.’[14]

This romanticised dramatization of her actions suggests that the affection he felt for the woman could, in his artworks, be requited, though like Cornell, in an indirect manner. The use of the semblance in the setting provided by the astronomical maps that he appropriated from his collection of books and charts, act as a method of distancing between the desired female star and Cornell. The association he made between the heavens, metamorphosis and the infinite makes the semblance even more unreal, and therefore unattainable, as it is raised to a level out of the plane on which we stand.

Cornell used appropriated images of the heavens early on in his career. From simply changing some elements of the depiction of a constellation he moved on to create his own constellations and his own narratives. Though he always refused to explain his artworks, by using biographical information as well as psychoanalysis to explain certain behaviours, the motivations behind his appropriation of the scientific image can be deduced. He may have used the Surrealist associations of the heavens to metamorphosis and the infinite to allow for his appreciation of movie stars and ballet dancers whilst also distancing himself from them. The action of collecting images and making artwork from these, which he then gave to the object of his desires, took the place of actual interaction between himself and the women whom he obsessed over. Therefore, the image of the heavens was not just about scientific interest but became a setting of metamorphosis through which his romantic associations with the objects of his desires could be played out. 

Emma is currently a marketing intern at Culture Syndicates, having graduated with a First Class BA in History of Art from The University of Nottingham, where she will be completing her Master's from September 2015.  

Bibliography

Baudrillard, Jean. Le Systeme Des Objets. London, Verso, 2005

Bate, David. Photography and Surrealism: Sexuality, Colonialism and Social Dissent. London, I.B. Tauris, 2004

Bernard Myers, John. ‘Joseph Cornell and the Outside World’. Art Journal, Vol, 35. No.2. 1975-6. 115-117

Brink, Andrew. Desire and Avoidance in Art: Pablo Picasso, Hans Bellmer, Balthus and Joseph Cornell: Psychobiographical Studies with Attachment Theory. New York, Peter Lang Publishing, 2007

Cornell, Joseph. ‘Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess’. October, vol 15. 1980. 40-48

Heyd, Milly. ‘Dali's "Metamorphosis of Narcissus" Reconsidered’. Arbitus et Historiae. Vol 5, No 10. 1984. 121-131

Hoving, Kirsten. Joseph Cornell and Astronomy: A Case for the Stars. Princeton and Oxford, Princeton University Press, 2009

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[1] David Bate. Photography and Surrealism: Sexuality, Colonialism and Social Dissent. (London, I.B. Tauris, 2004) 230

[2] Kirsten Hoving. Joseph Cornell and Astronomy: A Case for the Stars. (Princeton and Oxford, Princeton University Press, 2009). 2

[3] Hoving. Joseph Cornell and Astronomy. 3

[4] Hoving. Joseph Cornell and Astronomy. 15

[5] James Elkins. 'Art History and Images That Are Not Art', The Art Bulletin, Vol.77, No.4 (1995), 553-571. 553

[6] Milly Heyd. ‘Dali's "Metamorphosis of Narcissus" Reconsidered’. Arbitus et Historiae. Vol 5, No 10. (1984). 121-131, 122

[7] John Bernard Myers. ‘Joseph Cornell and the Outside World’. Art Journal, Vol, 35. No.2. (1975-6). 115-117. 116

[8] Hoving. Joseph Cornell and Astronomy. 12

[9] Hoving. Joseph Cornell and Astronomy. 14

[10] Joseph Cornell. ‘Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess’. October, vol 15. (1980). 40-48. 47

[11] Myers. ‘Joseph Cornell and the Outside World’. 117

[12] Andrew Brink. Desire and Avoidance in Art: Pablo Picasso, Hans Bellmer, Balthus and Joseph Cornell- Psychobiographical Studies with Attachment Theory. (New York, Peter Lang Publishing, 2007) 139-140

[13] Jean Baudrillard. Le Systeme Des Objets. (London, Verso, 2005) 93

[14] Cornell. ‘Nebula, The Powdered Sugar Princess’. 44
G’s “Les Etoiles” refers to J.J. Grandville’s illustration L’Etoile du Soir, published in Joseph Méry’s Les Etoiles in 1849 (figure 4) 

Figure 4: J.J. Grandville, L’Etoile du Soir, in Joseph Méry’s Les Etoiles, 1849, The Metropolitan Museum of Art

Representing World War One: Heroes and Villains

When we consider how World War One is represented we conjure up images of those who fought on the battlefields who either died or survived while fighting for their country. However, we also picture those who remained at home and this is emphasised by The Galleries of Justice recent exhibition that ‘explores the impact that the Great War had on crime, policing, and imprisonment’. This exhibition focuses on the home front bringing the war much closer to home and in doing so it localises Nottingham’s wartime involvement by identifying what crimes were committed from ‘1914-1916’. Some of these crimes include ‘escapee prisoners of war, Anti-German riots and absentees’. The presence of the war at home is explored through ‘the changing role of the police’ as they had to deal with growing public anxieties towards ‘enemy aliens and prisoners of war’. Britain, during the First World War, was suspicious of those who posed a threat to society but how were these people classified as either Heroes or Villains? Enemy aliens were pictured as fulfilling the character of the Villain but how true is this portrayal? The museum reflects upon these issues through its exhibition design because parts of the exhibition are targeted towards the audience’s senses. In some rooms the visitor is made to feel imprisoned but they are left to question whether this is because they are following the path of a Hero or a Villain. Therefore, it is intended here to argue that the Galleries of Justice exhibition is challenging the British narrative of the First World War by focusing on the negative affects of the conflict at home. Although the British narrative remembers the horrors of the trenches the negative coverage of crime is not as widely reflected upon, as the home front is typically characterised by communities coming together to support the war effort.

As the visitor first steps into the exhibition they are presented with a conventional narrative of WWI because the characteristics of the war are all there such as the sand bags, the barbed wire, the medals, the Flanders Fields poem, and the image of the poppy. There are also lists of names of those who perished from the local area. But when one moves closer to the individual sections within the first gallery another narrative comes into the frame that of crime. The background of the exhibition that the individual panels are placed onto reveal a conventional rather national narrative but the panels then describe the lives and deaths of those who were connected to Nottingham’s law society and county police force. We are told that a Lieutenant Williams ‘was killed by a bursting shell’ south of Ypres detailing the horrors of war and how they affected the local community. But this story also offers an indication of where the narration will lead us next as it presents the German as the ‘Other’. 

The second gallery portrays the outbreak of the war at home and again the typical scenes are illustrated through the conscription posters. However, the narrative is soon made complex as the visitor is shown how the affects of war impact upon those who stayed behind. This is first depicted through the panel that shows ‘The Sinking of the Lusitania – The Rise of Anti-German Riots’. Here British identities are contrasted to German identities, which are recurrent tropes within the historiography but this story is then linked to the feelings of hostility at home and those who posed a threat to society. This is emphasised through ‘The Wagner Family’ board, which details the attack on their butcher’s shop ‘due to the anti German feelings of the time’. Although the family had lived in Nottingham since ‘1873’ their German heritage had consequently now classified them as ‘Enemy Aliens’ who were not to be trusted. 

Evidently the impact of war had many consequences at home. This complex narrative invites the visitor to question the British narrative of WWI and in doing so reflect upon how British people reacted to those who prior to the war had just been a fellow neighbour within society but now they were regarded as the enemy. 

The police force prior to the war were used to dealing with theft, missing people, and lost property but as the war progressed their jobs too adapted. They now had to deal with a different kind of ‘villain’ within society – the foreigner – the enemy – the escapee prisoner. This is the most stimulating part of the exhibition because it calls into question who is a villain and who is a hero? However, it also evokes the audience to question whether they would have reacted in the same way and whether they agree with these verdicts. The ‘Friend or Foe?’ section is split into three passages and all of them are sealed at one end so that the visitor enters with one idea and could potentially leave with a different idea about the narration. This is exactly what happened when we visited the exhibition because the first passage about ‘Prisoners of War’ opens with a poster that announces that some inmates had escaped from an internment camp called Sutton Bonnington. We are told that these men are ‘German’ and that should they be found they will be ‘arrested’. Evidently, a picture was created in your minds that these characters were suspicious and suspect. Then we ventured into another passage, which described the accommodation and living conditions that the prisoners experienced such as overcrowding. Here however we started to feel empathy towards those who were imprisoned but soon this is challenged again as we discovered the individual stories of the escapees. The visitor’s view on who is a villain is already clearly mixed but as you double back and enter section two this is made even more complex. Passage two tells you about the story of ‘Conscientious Objectors’ and their names cover the walls as you enter the space. The names in passage one are Muller, Stoffa and Pluschaw but the names in section two are Williams, Smith, Taylor, Goldenberg, Cullen, Watson, Peel and Cook to name but a few. The identities of these individuals are that of local people whereas the identities of the previous group were German. However, both could be classified as ‘Villains’ although typically the German is depicted as the ‘Villain’, the British subject is now also classified as the ‘Villain’ too because some refused to go to war. This is reiterated through the scene of the wooden bed and jail cell bars as you are first led to believe that these people were in fact criminals. Only when you read the individual stories do you question whether they are in fact a ‘friend’ of the nation. For example, Stephen Henry Hobhouse was a Quaker who refused to be sent to war and was therefore imprisoned for objecting to serve his country. During his lifetime he was unmistakably seen as a ‘foe’ but this story questions the British collective memory of the WWI because he can also be seen as a ‘friend’ or rather a ‘hero’ because he fought for what he believed in, he refused to use violence, and he refused to be silent while in prison. This is taken further in the final section as the question ‘Did enemy aliens deserve to be interned during the war?’ is posed. One individual’s story is especially poignant because she blurs the lines between enemy alien and British national. Mrs Schonewald was a widower who was arrested for not registering as an enemy alien but she was born in Britain to a British family. But she had married a German man and had had three children with him and all three of her sons were enlisted and serving in the British army. She was made to register otherwise charges would have been brought against her. Today we picture Mrs. Schonewald as a ‘Friend’, which suggests that this exhibition is challenging our assumptions of wartime roles and whether today we would still classify people into these pigeonholes. 

With the recent centenary of WWI many narratives have been called into question, revitalized, and remembered in a variety of ways. This exhibition is a part of this research and remembrance and has shown how today there are still many questions still to ask about this war. One final concluding remark to make is that the exhibition recently won the Wendy Golland Award for Quality of Research at the East Midlands Heritage Conference and Awards 2015, which highlights that these questions that the exhibition asks are still relevant today and are keeping these memories alive for future generations. Moreover, the fact that The Galleries of Justice have presented an unconventional narrative of WWI also suggests that they are leading the field with regards to museums taking research further than straightforward narrations of history.

This post was written by Amy Williams. Amy is currently undertaking an internship at Culture Syndicates and studying for her MA in Holocaust and Related Studies at Nottingham Trent University. She is blogging about her experiences with Culture Syndicates on their Linked In page: http://linkd.in/1Mqo46v