As proposed by James Harkness in his introduction to Michel Foucault’s This Is Not a Pipe (1983), if you asked me to identify the object in René Magritte’s painting of the same name (1928/29), I would reply that it is a pipe. (Harkness in Foucault, 1983: 5) Such a response is automatic, but is not done in ignorance – I am fully aware that what I see before me is a painting of a pipe rather than a pipe itself. Hence I would not as Harkness suggests choke on my words as I try to light up. When I automatically identify the object in Magritte’s painting as a pipe I do not mean that it is a pipe, but a painting of one. There is a contradiction here inherent in linguistic convention, as Foucault himself establishes in regard to the statement underneath the painted object: ‘The statement is perfectly true, since it is quite apparent that the drawing representing the pipe is not the pipe itself. And yet there is a convention of language: What is this drawing? Why, it is a calf, a square, a flower.’ (Foucault, 1983: 19) And it is this convention that would have us swear blind that the object in Magritte’s painting is a pipe, and caused the artist much reproach. I feel that there is also an element here of the human penchant for laziness. It is far easier to say ‘it is a pipe’ than ‘it is a painted representation of the two-dimensional appearance of a pipe’.
Harkness also states in his introduction that Magritte ‘disliked being called an artist, preferring to be considered a thinker who communicated by means of paint.’ (Harkness in Foucault, 1983: 2) What thought could Magritte be communicating in this particular painting? Perhaps it can be argued that what Magritte is trying to communicate in This Is Not a Pipe (also called The Treachery of Images) is the contradiction inherent in this linguistic convention, or indeed our laziness in refusing to say what we mean, as detailed above. It is also justifiable that there is some intent for commentary of mimesis in Magritte’s painting, indeed at the time of the paintings conception Magritte was, according to Michel Draguet, interested in ‘the meaning of mimetic representation.’ (Draguet, 2006: 34) There seems to be a disassociation of the painted pipe from the actual pipe, separating sign and referent, yet the tie cannot be wholly severed despite the fact that Magritte’s pipe cannot be lit; the resemblance is more than enough for identification. Perhaps this is the key – that we cannot fully deny representation/mimesis in art, as the human eye is trained to make order out of chaos, and will instinctively find a resemblance in art to the corporeal world.
The focus of Foucault’s assessment of Magritte’s notorious paining is on the combination of the painted and linguistic elements – in particular what the statement refers to. He makes three propositions, that ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’ refers to a) the fact that the drawing above the text is not a pipe, b) the text itself is not a pipe, or c) the combination of text and drawing is not a pipe. (Foucault, 1983: 26-27) The parallel drawn here between words and pictures (in asserting that the ‘ceci’ of the phrase could refer to either, and that neither is a pipe) is indicative of the proposition made by David Blinder in his article ‘In Defense of Pictorial Mimesis’, that for art theorists: ‘Pictures stand for things in much the way that words do: they are signs that denote.’ (Blinder, 1986: 19) Blinder also asserts that: ‘Words are paradigmatic graphic signs. They stand for (refer to) things in the world without imitating or simulating them at all.’ (Blinder, 1986: 22) Surely, if pictures stand for things in much the same way as words do, they also are not imitative. Blinder challenges this proposition of art theorists by claiming that although pictures cannot replicate reality, it is not subsequently entailed that pictures refer to the world like words do, as this denies pictorial dependence on and resemblance to a ‘real’ object (only onomatopoeic words do this). (Blinder, 1986: 19) We must conclude that reference to external reality is inevitable. Yet Magritte’s statement can tell us one thing for sure – that the mimetic image and the real object are not, and are not perceived as (despite linguistic convention), the same thing.
Harkness also states in his introduction that Magritte ‘disliked being called an artist, preferring to be considered a thinker who communicated by means of paint.’ (Harkness in Foucault, 1983: 2) What thought could Magritte be communicating in this particular painting? Perhaps it can be argued that what Magritte is trying to communicate in This Is Not a Pipe (also called The Treachery of Images) is the contradiction inherent in this linguistic convention, or indeed our laziness in refusing to say what we mean, as detailed above. It is also justifiable that there is some intent for commentary of mimesis in Magritte’s painting, indeed at the time of the paintings conception Magritte was, according to Michel Draguet, interested in ‘the meaning of mimetic representation.’ (Draguet, 2006: 34) There seems to be a disassociation of the painted pipe from the actual pipe, separating sign and referent, yet the tie cannot be wholly severed despite the fact that Magritte’s pipe cannot be lit; the resemblance is more than enough for identification. Perhaps this is the key – that we cannot fully deny representation/mimesis in art, as the human eye is trained to make order out of chaos, and will instinctively find a resemblance in art to the corporeal world.
The focus of Foucault’s assessment of Magritte’s notorious paining is on the combination of the painted and linguistic elements – in particular what the statement refers to. He makes three propositions, that ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’ refers to a) the fact that the drawing above the text is not a pipe, b) the text itself is not a pipe, or c) the combination of text and drawing is not a pipe. (Foucault, 1983: 26-27) The parallel drawn here between words and pictures (in asserting that the ‘ceci’ of the phrase could refer to either, and that neither is a pipe) is indicative of the proposition made by David Blinder in his article ‘In Defense of Pictorial Mimesis’, that for art theorists: ‘Pictures stand for things in much the way that words do: they are signs that denote.’ (Blinder, 1986: 19) Blinder also asserts that: ‘Words are paradigmatic graphic signs. They stand for (refer to) things in the world without imitating or simulating them at all.’ (Blinder, 1986: 22) Surely, if pictures stand for things in much the same way as words do, they also are not imitative. Blinder challenges this proposition of art theorists by claiming that although pictures cannot replicate reality, it is not subsequently entailed that pictures refer to the world like words do, as this denies pictorial dependence on and resemblance to a ‘real’ object (only onomatopoeic words do this). (Blinder, 1986: 19) We must conclude that reference to external reality is inevitable. Yet Magritte’s statement can tell us one thing for sure – that the mimetic image and the real object are not, and are not perceived as (despite linguistic convention), the same thing.
