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Lot Essay
‘With his genius for steering the history of high art into the lowest depth of popular art and then triumphing over the collision, Lichtenstein was destined to take on one of the loftiest motifs of Western painting, the mirror’ (R. Rosenblum, quoted in C. Lanchner, Roy Lichtenstein, New York 2009, p. 23).
‘Mirrors are flat objects that have surfaces you can’t easily see since they’re always reflecting what’s around them. There’s no simple way to draw a mirror, so cartoonists invented dashed or diagonal lines to signify ‘mirror’. Now, you see those lines and you know it means ‘mirror’ even though there are obviously no such lines in reality. If you put horizontal, instead of diagonal lines across the same object, it wouldn’t say ‘mirror’. It’s a convention that we unconsciously accept’ (R. Lichtenstein quoted in M. Kimmelman, ‘Roy Lichtenstein at the Met, Portraits, Talking with Artists at the Met, the Modern, The Louvre and elsewhere’, The New York Times, 31 March 1995, p. C1).
Throughout his Pop art oeuvre, the mirror, both real and metaphorical, can be seen as leitmotif for Roy Lichtenstein. Executed in 1971, in Mirror #8, the artist’s characteristic Ben Day dot system replaces our own refection, suggesting a witty commentary on the role of the artist, while addressing issues of vision and perception. Explicitly depicting a mirror with a curiously blank refection, Lichtenstein graduates his signature dot pattern across the tondo form to echo a wavering refection; the diagonal striations suggest the unmistakable refection of light bouncing off the glasses surface. Giving the appearance of a shattered image, Lichtenstein playfully hints at some unattainable refection, as flashes of colour piece together the composition: the flicker of yellow glints in the corner, the unbroken crescent of blue of the glass’ beveiled edge. Frozen upon its surface, there is a clear disjoint between the way that we see the world and the way in which it is being presented.
In the Mirror Series from 1969-1970 Lichtenstein’s witty application of iconic style coupled with his deep appreciation of art history generates a work that is both visually and intellectually challenging. In these works Lichtenstein has continued his journey which had already taken him through Surrealism and Modernism, to arrive at Op Art. In his playful engagement with the movement, Lichtenstein offers a wry commentary on its dominance the past five years. By alternating the sizes, cutting them in and out, he employs his distinctive Ben Day dots to new effect, ultimately reflecting the way we look at refracted light. In doing so, he subversively echoes and comments upon the rigorous visual investigations of Op Art.
In many ways, Lichtenstein’s paintings perform as mirrors. The self-proclaimed ‘image duplicator’, Lichtenstein often employs mirroring mechanisms, repeating or replicating found imagery from comic books and advertisements, selecting images which summarized the cultural zeitgeist of an era. The mirror performs as an allegory for Lichtenstein, a conduit in which to address the elusive notion of reproducibility. The Mirror Series takes this one step further, narrowing its focus to advertisements of real, physical mirrors, to address the optical qualities of depth and perception, refection and its relationship to reality. In part, it played to the direct connection that Lichtenstein felt between his own ideas and theirs, particularly their shared interest in the use and interpretation of symbols. It also allowed him to set up the visual wit and puns he so enjoyed and allowed him the freedom to make full use of his colorful imagination.
The striking photograph of the artist standing proudly in front of the present work further informs us of the self-referential quality that the Mirror Series holds for Lichtenstein. Just as his artistic universe stylistically owes so much to advertising and publishing, the viewer looks at a reflection of Lichtenstein looking at his Mirror paintings, appearing almost like an advertisement himself. The photograph goes to the heart of these paintings.
Informed by his Pop Art paintings of mass-produced images from advertisements and comic strips, once again Lichtenstein gleans from popular culture imagery. In the Mirror Series, Lichtenstein drew inspiration from brochures placed in storefront windows of glass shops on the Bowery in New York’s Lower Easter Side. Captivated by brochures, ‘with air-brushed mirror symbols, reflecting nothing’, he also photographed real mirrors, tilting them under different sources of light to understand their effects. (R. Lichtenstein, quoted in C. Lanchner, Roy Lichtenstein, New York 2009, p. 23). Stripping down his subject matter into its component parts, Lichtenstein used the series to concentrate on the formal aspects of painting and to study the various magnifications of light and optical distortion of shapes on the mirrors surface: ‘it enable[d] him to unleash a new range of inventive bravura, a heightened exploitation of spatial effects, and a new freedom in suggesting illusion’ (E. Baker, ‘The Glass of Fashion and the Mold of Form’ in J. Coplans, (ed.), Roy Lichtenstein, New York 1972, p. 179). In its graphic intensity and slick, reductive palette, Lichtenstein’s Mirror Series are among the artist’s most abstract works, while maintaining a distinctive link to their pictorial origins. In reducing the object to his own distinctive visual shorthand, the viewer’s completes the image.
For Lichtenstein and Jasper Johns as well, this affinity for stock designs left the structure of their works open to the exploration of visuality and perception on multiple levels. Of this idea Johns noted that for him, ‘it all began with my painting a picture of an American Flag. Using this design took care of a great deal for me because I didn’t have to design it... That gave me room to work on other levels’ (J. Johns, quoted in ‘His Heart Belongs to Dada’, in Time Magazine, no. 73, 4 May 1959, p. 58). Lichtenstein did not make straight copies of commercial sources as a blanket rejection of the more gestured, painterly renderings of the abstract art which had come to dominate art in America. Instead in his abstracted handling of his semi-mechanised single-object images like his mirrors, Lichtenstein challenged the aesthetic orthodoxy of the time that was still permeated by the spiritual and conceptual ambitions of Abstract Expressionism. As Lichtenstein explains the genesis of his oeuvre, ‘I came to Pop by way of Expressionism – by abandoning my own taste in this direction’ (R. Lichtenstein, quoted in D. Waldman, ‘Lichtenstein interviewed by Diane Waldman’, in Roy Lichtenstein, London 1971, p. 26).
In tone and motif, the painting seems a nostalgic refection of the themes found in the earlier period of his career, but it is brought up to date through the addition of the ‘reflection’ device; that is, the fat, diagonal, bands of Ben Day dots that simulate reflected light. Informed by the artist’s earlier monochrome ‘object-paintings’, here he employs black dots across half the composition in a sort of faux trompe l’oeil, which offers no real reflections. In an interview with Michael Kimmelman, Lichtenstein said, ‘Mirrors are fat objects that have surfaces you can’t easily see since they’re always reflecting what’s around them. There’s no simple way to draw a mirror, so cartoonists invented dashed or diagonal lines to signify ‘mirror’. Now, you see those lines and you know it means ‘mirror’ even though there are obviously no such lines in reality. If you put horizontal, instead of diagonal lines across the same object, it wouldn’t say ‘mirror’. It’s a convention that we unconsciously accept’ (R. Lichtenstein quoted in M. Kimmelman, ‘Roy Lichtenstein at the Met, Portraits, Talking with Artists at the Met, the Modern, The Louvre and elsewhere’, The New York Times, 31 March 1995, p. C1).
Continuing one of art history’s more nuanced motifs, Lichtenstein playfully contributes to centuries of dialogues with artists who sought to recreate the painted mirror. Aligning himself with such luminaries as Jan van Eyck, Diego Velázquez, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, Édouard Manet, Pablo Picasso, and Juan Gris, Lichtenstein offers his perspective on the continued relevance of the art object and the limitations of human perception and self-awareness through self reflection. Adding to this legacy in his own unique visual language, Lichtenstein employs his characteristic Ben Day dots to impart a cool, detached quality to what is usually reserved for the personal reflections of self-portraits. A wry addition to this canon, the dots are simultaneously devoid of the artist’s hand yet remain the artist’s signature mark.
Reflective of the artist's lifelong preoccupation with the fiction of representation, Lichtenstein's calculated adaptations of a vacant mirror is a striking reminder that the simple surface of things does not necessarily correspond to or ‹reflect› a complex reality. Just as René Magritte’s The Forbidden Reproduction, 1937, confound traditional representation through painterly metaphors, Lichtenstein’s mirrors offer a painted surface upon which to contemplate. Lichtenstein’s mirror denies the possibility of engaging with the self, our refection barred by the very lines which inform us that what we are looking at is indeed a mirror. Through this simple gesture, Lichtenstein illustrates an exhilarating blend of wit and deep appreciation of art history to generate a work that is both visually and intellectually challenging.
‘Mirrors are flat objects that have surfaces you can’t easily see since they’re always reflecting what’s around them. There’s no simple way to draw a mirror, so cartoonists invented dashed or diagonal lines to signify ‘mirror’. Now, you see those lines and you know it means ‘mirror’ even though there are obviously no such lines in reality. If you put horizontal, instead of diagonal lines across the same object, it wouldn’t say ‘mirror’. It’s a convention that we unconsciously accept’ (R. Lichtenstein quoted in M. Kimmelman, ‘Roy Lichtenstein at the Met, Portraits, Talking with Artists at the Met, the Modern, The Louvre and elsewhere’, The New York Times, 31 March 1995, p. C1).
Throughout his Pop art oeuvre, the mirror, both real and metaphorical, can be seen as leitmotif for Roy Lichtenstein. Executed in 1971, in Mirror #8, the artist’s characteristic Ben Day dot system replaces our own refection, suggesting a witty commentary on the role of the artist, while addressing issues of vision and perception. Explicitly depicting a mirror with a curiously blank refection, Lichtenstein graduates his signature dot pattern across the tondo form to echo a wavering refection; the diagonal striations suggest the unmistakable refection of light bouncing off the glasses surface. Giving the appearance of a shattered image, Lichtenstein playfully hints at some unattainable refection, as flashes of colour piece together the composition: the flicker of yellow glints in the corner, the unbroken crescent of blue of the glass’ beveiled edge. Frozen upon its surface, there is a clear disjoint between the way that we see the world and the way in which it is being presented.
In the Mirror Series from 1969-1970 Lichtenstein’s witty application of iconic style coupled with his deep appreciation of art history generates a work that is both visually and intellectually challenging. In these works Lichtenstein has continued his journey which had already taken him through Surrealism and Modernism, to arrive at Op Art. In his playful engagement with the movement, Lichtenstein offers a wry commentary on its dominance the past five years. By alternating the sizes, cutting them in and out, he employs his distinctive Ben Day dots to new effect, ultimately reflecting the way we look at refracted light. In doing so, he subversively echoes and comments upon the rigorous visual investigations of Op Art.
In many ways, Lichtenstein’s paintings perform as mirrors. The self-proclaimed ‘image duplicator’, Lichtenstein often employs mirroring mechanisms, repeating or replicating found imagery from comic books and advertisements, selecting images which summarized the cultural zeitgeist of an era. The mirror performs as an allegory for Lichtenstein, a conduit in which to address the elusive notion of reproducibility. The Mirror Series takes this one step further, narrowing its focus to advertisements of real, physical mirrors, to address the optical qualities of depth and perception, refection and its relationship to reality. In part, it played to the direct connection that Lichtenstein felt between his own ideas and theirs, particularly their shared interest in the use and interpretation of symbols. It also allowed him to set up the visual wit and puns he so enjoyed and allowed him the freedom to make full use of his colorful imagination.
The striking photograph of the artist standing proudly in front of the present work further informs us of the self-referential quality that the Mirror Series holds for Lichtenstein. Just as his artistic universe stylistically owes so much to advertising and publishing, the viewer looks at a reflection of Lichtenstein looking at his Mirror paintings, appearing almost like an advertisement himself. The photograph goes to the heart of these paintings.
Informed by his Pop Art paintings of mass-produced images from advertisements and comic strips, once again Lichtenstein gleans from popular culture imagery. In the Mirror Series, Lichtenstein drew inspiration from brochures placed in storefront windows of glass shops on the Bowery in New York’s Lower Easter Side. Captivated by brochures, ‘with air-brushed mirror symbols, reflecting nothing’, he also photographed real mirrors, tilting them under different sources of light to understand their effects. (R. Lichtenstein, quoted in C. Lanchner, Roy Lichtenstein, New York 2009, p. 23). Stripping down his subject matter into its component parts, Lichtenstein used the series to concentrate on the formal aspects of painting and to study the various magnifications of light and optical distortion of shapes on the mirrors surface: ‘it enable[d] him to unleash a new range of inventive bravura, a heightened exploitation of spatial effects, and a new freedom in suggesting illusion’ (E. Baker, ‘The Glass of Fashion and the Mold of Form’ in J. Coplans, (ed.), Roy Lichtenstein, New York 1972, p. 179). In its graphic intensity and slick, reductive palette, Lichtenstein’s Mirror Series are among the artist’s most abstract works, while maintaining a distinctive link to their pictorial origins. In reducing the object to his own distinctive visual shorthand, the viewer’s completes the image.
For Lichtenstein and Jasper Johns as well, this affinity for stock designs left the structure of their works open to the exploration of visuality and perception on multiple levels. Of this idea Johns noted that for him, ‘it all began with my painting a picture of an American Flag. Using this design took care of a great deal for me because I didn’t have to design it... That gave me room to work on other levels’ (J. Johns, quoted in ‘His Heart Belongs to Dada’, in Time Magazine, no. 73, 4 May 1959, p. 58). Lichtenstein did not make straight copies of commercial sources as a blanket rejection of the more gestured, painterly renderings of the abstract art which had come to dominate art in America. Instead in his abstracted handling of his semi-mechanised single-object images like his mirrors, Lichtenstein challenged the aesthetic orthodoxy of the time that was still permeated by the spiritual and conceptual ambitions of Abstract Expressionism. As Lichtenstein explains the genesis of his oeuvre, ‘I came to Pop by way of Expressionism – by abandoning my own taste in this direction’ (R. Lichtenstein, quoted in D. Waldman, ‘Lichtenstein interviewed by Diane Waldman’, in Roy Lichtenstein, London 1971, p. 26).
In tone and motif, the painting seems a nostalgic refection of the themes found in the earlier period of his career, but it is brought up to date through the addition of the ‘reflection’ device; that is, the fat, diagonal, bands of Ben Day dots that simulate reflected light. Informed by the artist’s earlier monochrome ‘object-paintings’, here he employs black dots across half the composition in a sort of faux trompe l’oeil, which offers no real reflections. In an interview with Michael Kimmelman, Lichtenstein said, ‘Mirrors are fat objects that have surfaces you can’t easily see since they’re always reflecting what’s around them. There’s no simple way to draw a mirror, so cartoonists invented dashed or diagonal lines to signify ‘mirror’. Now, you see those lines and you know it means ‘mirror’ even though there are obviously no such lines in reality. If you put horizontal, instead of diagonal lines across the same object, it wouldn’t say ‘mirror’. It’s a convention that we unconsciously accept’ (R. Lichtenstein quoted in M. Kimmelman, ‘Roy Lichtenstein at the Met, Portraits, Talking with Artists at the Met, the Modern, The Louvre and elsewhere’, The New York Times, 31 March 1995, p. C1).
Continuing one of art history’s more nuanced motifs, Lichtenstein playfully contributes to centuries of dialogues with artists who sought to recreate the painted mirror. Aligning himself with such luminaries as Jan van Eyck, Diego Velázquez, Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, Édouard Manet, Pablo Picasso, and Juan Gris, Lichtenstein offers his perspective on the continued relevance of the art object and the limitations of human perception and self-awareness through self reflection. Adding to this legacy in his own unique visual language, Lichtenstein employs his characteristic Ben Day dots to impart a cool, detached quality to what is usually reserved for the personal reflections of self-portraits. A wry addition to this canon, the dots are simultaneously devoid of the artist’s hand yet remain the artist’s signature mark.
Reflective of the artist's lifelong preoccupation with the fiction of representation, Lichtenstein's calculated adaptations of a vacant mirror is a striking reminder that the simple surface of things does not necessarily correspond to or ‹reflect› a complex reality. Just as René Magritte’s The Forbidden Reproduction, 1937, confound traditional representation through painterly metaphors, Lichtenstein’s mirrors offer a painted surface upon which to contemplate. Lichtenstein’s mirror denies the possibility of engaging with the self, our refection barred by the very lines which inform us that what we are looking at is indeed a mirror. Through this simple gesture, Lichtenstein illustrates an exhilarating blend of wit and deep appreciation of art history to generate a work that is both visually and intellectually challenging.