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Defense d'afficher : the wartime art of Jean Lurç̧at and Jean Dubuffet Cowan, Mary Jane 1993

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DEFENSE D'AFFICHER: THE WARTIME ART OF JEAN LURCATAND JEAN DUBUFFETbyMARY JANE COWANB.A., The University of British Columbia, 1986A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OFTHE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OFMASTER OF ARTSinTHE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES(Department of Fine Arts)We accept this thesis as conformingto the required standardTHE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIAApril, 1993(c) Mary Jane Cowan, 1993In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanceddegree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make itfreely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensivecopying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of mydepartment or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying orpublication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my writtenpermission.(Signature) Department ofThe University of British ColumbiaVancouver, CanadaDateDE-6 (2/88)AbstractGiven the emphatic rupture with the past resulting from the invasion andoccupation of France by Germany in 1940, the consequent censorship of any oppositionalart or writing, the usurpation of the walls by Vichy and Nazi propaganda, and thedefamiliarization of the social environment caused by dislocation and occupation, how andwhat could an artist -- one who wished to avoid cultural collaboration -- produce?This thesis examines the works of two artists who, however secretly, executed workswhich took up concerns of a public nature during the Occupation. These gestures towardthe growing resistance in France between retreat and liberation participated in aconspiracy of culture that arose in the period. Without public exhibition, and including acoded means of communication, these works nevertheless embodied a concern fortestimony, and an opposition to propaganda -- a refusal to submit to words and acts oforder.What this thesis explores is the way in which Jean Lurcat, in the rural south (a 'free'zone until the end of 1942), and Jean Dubuffet, in occupied Paris, shared an obsession withthe 'wall' as a public forum, thereby reclaiming that space that had been seized by theGerman and Vichy authorities. They also shared a preoccupation with language as amanifestation of la vie inferieure, the preservation of the realm of individual and socialliberty. Yet Lurcat and Dubuffet differed, in part the result of their respective positions visa vis Vichy or occupied Paris, in their artistic means, in their constructions of the'primitive', and in the types of written language included in their works.Lurcat, who had participated in the 1930's in the debates surrounding the issue ofpublic art -- mural art, or art with a more public face than easel painting -- had begun arevival of France's ancient art of tapestry. During the war, Lurcat continued to practise thisart for the wall, despite the seizure of the spaces which would receive it. Moreover, withhis giant mural tapestries of the wartime period (Le Poête of 1939, L'Hallali of 1940,L'Apollinaire, Es la verdad and Liberte of 1942, Le Ciel et la Terre from 1944), Lurcatdiscovered a means with which to confront both Nazi and Vichy ideology. His endeavouriiparalleled, in themes and imagery, the efforts of French contraband and militant poetry,and he included many of these poems in his tapestries.Dubuffet, in the 1940's, took up the 'wall' and public spaces as the subjects of hisseries: Vues de Paris, Un Voyage en metro -- les dessous de la capitale, Messages and LesMurs, executed between 1943 and 1945. These works flowed from a subterranean, resistantcurrent alive in the public arena and on the walls of Paris -- the underside of the worldupside-down which formed the Parisian daily experience.In both cases, these artists working during the Occupation cast in their lot with the'outlaw': for Lurcat, the rural Maquisard; for Dubuffet, the urban guerrilla. As a resultthese images stood as the bearers of the spirit of opposition to the Vichy and Occupationregimes governing France, and combatted the Nazi 'barbarian'. Each artist reached out toa wider public in this period, one grown sensitive to coded forms of resistance. After all, atthis time even the simple act of listening to the BBC was an act of defiance, and ordinarycitizens were deemed outcasts from the pays reel.In sum, the thesis examines both Dubuffet's and Lurcat's attempts to stake anobstinate claim for the wall as a space for artistic production, and traces their pursuit of theright to use their own means of expression, to speak that which was forbidden. In doing soboth articulated, in the years 1940-1945, the concerns of a more general culture ofresistance, one which included not only their own milieus of intellectuals, but a morewidespread underground movement. This network constituted, in fact, a society within asociety, a power within established powers, struggling to aright the topsy-turvy situation ofthe Occupation.iiiTABLE OF CONTENTSABSTRACT^ iiLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS^ vINTRODUCTION^ 1CHAPTER ONE: PERSPECTIVES ON THE CULTUREAND IDEOLOGY OF THE FRENCH RESISTANCE^ 8CHAPTER TWO: JEAN LURCAT AND THE DEFENCEOF FRENCH CULTURE^ 35CHAPTER THREE: JEAN DUBUFFET AND THE STRUGGLE FOR PARIS^ 64CONCLUSION^ 84ILLUSTRATIONS 87APPENDICES^ 115SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY^ 119ivLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONSFIGURE1. Poster of Marechal Petain^ 872. Photograph of baker with Petain' cake, 1943^ 873. Jean Lurcat, Combat de cogs, 1939^ 884. The Unicorn in Captivity, c. 1515 895. Jean Lurcat, Le Poete, 1939 906. Jean Lurcat, detail from Le Poete, 1939^ 907. Arno Breker, Partei, 1938^ 918. Arno Breker, Wehrmacht, 1938 919. Arno Breker, unnamed statue, 1942 exhibit^ 9110. The Wild Condition looseleaf, illumination, 1457-1521^ 9211. Wild Folk Working the Land, detail of tapestry, c.1480 9212. Bal des Ardents, illumination, end 15th century 9313. Jean Lurcat, L'Hallali, 1940-41^ 9414. Jean Lurcat, Liberte, 1942 9515. Jean Lurcat, L'Apollinaire, 1942 9616. Jean Lurcat, Es la verdad, 1942^ 9617. Jean Lurcat, La Terre, detail, 1944 9718. Jean Lurcat, LeCiel et la terre, 1944 9719. German road signs in front of Place de l'Opera, Paris^ 9820. Hitler in front of the Eiffel Tower, 1940^ 9821. 1940 German poster in France^ 9922. Jockey wearing Gaullist Croix de Lorraine 9923. German V-sign on Chambre des deputes^ 10024. World War II German poster in France, "La Puissance de l'Allemagne"^ 10025. Photograph of graffiti artist in Paris, World War II^ 10126. Jean Dubuffet, Metro, 10 March 1943^ 10227. Jean Dubuffet, Metro, 11 March 1943 10228. Jean Dubuffet, Metro, March, 1943 10229. Jean Dubuffet, Metro, 14 March 1943^ 10230. Jean Dubuffet, Vue de Paris, 1943 10331. Jean Dubuffet, Vue de Paris avec quatre arbres et trois personnages, 1943 ^ 10332. Jean Dubuffet, Message (. . . ma sante toujours excellente .), 1944^ 10433. Jean Dubuffet, Message (Dubuffet est un sale con .), 1944^ 10434. Jean Dubuffet, Message (Ledru-Rollin sortie en metro), 1944 10535. Jean Dubuffet, Message (Toujours bien devoues a vos ordres^.), 1944^ 10636. Poster by André Derain, denouncing BBC, World War II France 10737. Jean Dubuffet, Mur et gisant from Les Murs, 1945^ 10838. Jean Dubuffet, Pisseurs au mur from Les Murs, 1945 10939. Jean Dubuffet, Mur et avis from Les Murs, 1945 11040. Jean Dubuffet, Homme coince dans les murs from Les Murs, 1945^ 11041. Jean Dubuffet, Mur et homme, frontispiece Les Murs, 1945^ 11142. Jean Fautrier, Tete d'Otage, No. 3, 1943^ 11143. Jean Dubuffet, Mouleuse de café from Matiere et memoire, 1944^ 11244. Jean Dubuffet, Le Supplice du telephone from Matiere et memoire, 1944 ^ 11345. Jean Dubuffet, Dactylographe from Matiere et memoire, 1944^ 11346. Photograph of Resistants dismantling German signs, 1944 114IntroductionIn 1932, Paul Schultze-Naumberg, National Socialist ideologist and director of theUnited Institutes of Art Instruction (the former Bauhaus) declared:A life-and-death struggle is taking place in art, just as it is in the realm ofpolitics. And the battle for art has to be fought with the same seriousnessand determination as the battle for political power.1The importance of art to the National Socialist programme cannot be overstated. Not onlywere attacks on art and literature precipitous following Hitler's succession as Chancellor ofthe Third Reich in 1933, but confiscation and destruction of works of art were accompaniedby a ban on art criticism and discussion. Simultaneously, aesthetic concerns were placed inthe hands of technocrats and an official art of the Third Reich began to be developed. Thisart was to be free of any trace of the 'modern', especially the twin anathemic modes --abstraction and primitivism.2 Instead, the new art was to be clear, simple, readable,unproblematic, and finished. There was to be no inclusion of aspects likely to causecontroversy or provoke debate.3Throughout the 1930's, many French intellectuals heeded the challenge of Hitler's'new order' in art and politics, forming organizations whose purpose it was to defendculture. Especially during the years of the Popular Front government, from 1936-1938,aesthetic issues were the subject of many debates. The overriding concern of these washow best to create links with a larger public, to attempt to counteract the fascist threat. Thedefeat and subsequent occupation of France by Germany in 1940 brought the battle directlyonto French soil. Artists were cut loose from their communities: some left Francealtogether, and many took refuge in the south, the so-called 'free' zone. The barrier of theDemarcation Line, erected in 1940, cut off normal communications between north andsouth, fracturing France's unity and, in practical terms, marking the boundary of theauthority of the newly-formed Vichy regime with Marechal Petain, the former 'victor ofVerdun', at its head.During the Occupation, the usual forms of exhibitions of art were curtailed. If onewished to exhibit, one needed to practise a safe art, or encode any oppositional content.1Two forms of art were specifically encouraged: Vichyist art in the south promoted varietiesof folkish, popular representation, since Vichy as much as Germany wanted an art whichwas emphatically un-modern, clear, readable and -- especially -- untroubled. Bucoliclandscapes which extolled the virtues of the countryside were part of the genre, as was aplethora of images of Marechal Petain himself. In the north, monumental statuary on theGerman model marked the Occupation.4 Despite limitations, however, many artistscontinued to practise their art as before. However, for those who did not wish to be seen tocollaborate with the authorities, such production needed to be executed in secret.What constituted resistance in art, and how would it have been construed? Thisthesis will explore that question through an examination of the works of two artists whoseart did not fulfil official proscriptions, yet whose works were very different -- so different, infact, that they are today seldom held up to the same light, despite the coincidence of theirproduction. It will be the contention of this thesis that these artists participated, in veryspecific ways, in a virtual conspiracy of culture arising in France during the Second WorldWar.On first appraisal, the wartime arts of Jean Lurcat and Jean Dubuffet could notseem more unalike. Lurcat, in the rural south of France produced mural tapestries, whileDubuffet, in occupied Paris, created series of small works, primarily gouaches. However,while acknowledging their disparate means, these works can be seen to share someimportant aspects, elements common to a more general culture of resistance, born duringFrance's occupation. This underground culture involved not only a large part of France'sintellectual community (some regrouped in the South by 1942) but included as well a muchlarger public. For, as historian H.R. Kedward has observed, the Resistance offered ". . . analternative way of life within occupied France, a society within a society, a power withinand against the established powers of Vichy and German authorities."5When Dubuffet's gouache works of 1942 to 1944 were exhibited immediately afterthe war, there was no question of their subversive import.° Yet today, art history seldomlooks at these as circumstantially produced. However, as I will argue in this thesis, during2the crisis of war and occupation when art and politics were so inextricably bound, the useof simple sign -- a word in literature, or a colour in painting -- was enough to trigger a chainof associations which might run awry, 'out of control'. Thus, in Dubuffet's gouaches, forexample, sly, painterly manoeuvres present Parisians under a facade of order in both the1943 album Un Voyage en metro. les dessous de la capitale (la connaissance de Paris parson sous-sol and Vues de Paris, 1943. The series Messages, 1944 and Les Murs, 1945, treadthe borderline between the articulate and the inarticulate, and what could and could not besaid in the Occupation years.In contrast to Dubuffet's production, Lurcat's tapestries (along with selected aspectsof French writing) have come to be viewed as paradigmatic of French Resistance art.Indeed, these works were taken to signify opposition at the time of their production, and ifone accepts the deadly seriousness of contravening aesthetic dicta, it is not surprising thatthe Germans set fire to Lurcat's atelier in 1944.7 Yet as I will demonstrate, these works areconsidered more transparent today than is warranted, for they are interpreted only in termsof Lurcat's use of patriotic symbols -- the suns, the French roosters -- and the inclusion ofResistance poetry. When such poetry had often the appearance of ambiguity, when Vichytoo encouraged patriotism and unity, and since tapestry could hardly be considered a'modern' art, one might wonder why these works presented a threat to the regimes.Chapter One of this thesis will address the network of relations which draw thesetwo artists together: the general culture of resistance which embraced a unity of diversearts. Within this context, a set of resistance themes emerge: freedom of individualexpression, concern with self-esteem and social solidarity, the upholding of a kind ofuniversal humanism, the importance of testimony, and republican patriotism. These idealsare intertwined and involve other features, subthemes such as language strategies asweaponry, an emphasis on the 'outlaw' and the contraband, and the concept of the 'wall',which was peculiar chiefly to the visual art of the period. With the exception of the wall,these themes have been discussed in recent research into the period, especially in the fieldsof literature and poetry. This scholarship will be examined in some detail in the first3chapter, both as it provides analogies -- in my view -- to what was happening in the visualarts, and also because this recent body of work retrieves some of the complexities of thelived experience of and attitudes toward that oppressive period. In particular, this researchis a response to a recent current in scholarship that has emerged to challenge the old,heroic version of French resistance. La mode retro, as this challenge has been called, seeksto redress an imbalance its adherents feel is remiss in historical analysis, by contending thatmost of France opted for collaboration rather than resistance during the Occupation years.Unfortunately, this view (which will be discussed in the first chapter) would seem to be assimplistic and totalizing as the old. Others have commented critically on this trend. Aswriter Alan Morris explains, whereas Resistance accounts may seem to have presented ablack-and-white version of history, la mode retro has resulted in a counter-mythology nomore historically accurate, an orthodoxy encouraging ". . . the belief that there were noheroic resistants and no totally despicable collaborators".8 Margaret Atack, who along withMorris has contributed to a new and more balanced account of the period, writes that thistendency substitutes "a handful of Resisters for a handful of traitors."9 This view, of whichAtack and Morris are but two representatives, neither subscribes to the more cynical moderetro, nor does it accept Resistance legends as uninvestigated lacts'.10Chapter Two will focus specifically on Lurcat's tapestries, and the ideology of Vichywith which Lurcat contended in his effort to reclaim French culture for the Resistance.Lurcat represents a side of the artistic spectrum, one which upheld a continuity of practicefrom the previous decade when Lurcat was an active participant in the struggle to create a'public' art. During the 1920's and 1930's, walls became an open forum for artisticendeavours. These public spaces were used not only for accessible decoration, butexperimented upon to make grandiose public statements. There was a collective aspect tosuch enterprises that opposed the isolation, or what has been called the 'ivory tower'situation of easel painting. The mural tapestries made by Jean Lurcat and others duringthe 1930's were team-based efforts of designer and weaver, artist and architect thatattempted to achieve an art 'for all and by all', while avoiding transparent propaganda or4blatant social realism. Throughout the war, Lurcat continued to produce mural tapestries,works such as L'Hallali (1940), Liberte, Es la verdad, and L'Apollinaire (all from 1942) andLe Ciel et la Terre (1944) despite the lack of destination for them at the timeChapter Three will discuss the somewhat different situation of occupied Paris andJean Dubuffet's art as it is circumscribed within that context. That chapter will also exploreDubuffet's view of culture, different from that held by Lurcat, although Dubuffet remainedno less opposed to an imposed regime of 'order'. Dubuffet began art production anewduring the war, after a decade hiatus, and his output of several series of small pieces, from1942 to 1945, was prodigious. Dubuffet sought to reclaim contested public spaces such asthe metro, in Un Voyage en metro -- les dessous de la capitale, 1943, the neighbourhoodsof Paris pictured in Vues de Paris, 1943 and the walls of the streets in Messages, 1944 andLes Murs, 1945 (illustrations for the wartime poems by Resistance writer EugeneGuillevic).Although their artistic language differed, both Lurcat and Dubuffet responded topropaganda and censorship by making use of unofficial language, coded words and imageryto represent expression forced underground. This use of codes was shared by all working inopposition: poets, spies, graffiti artists, and also citizens who -- to cite one example --frequently displayed contraband insignia to register resistance to the occupying forces.In solidarity with the 'outlaw', whose image formed an important component ofresistance culture, Lurcat and Dubuffet, in differing ways, posited an image of a primitiveoutcast, one who confronted both the Nazi 'barbarian' and the French collaborator. It isthrough the lens of these kinds of shared themes, that Lurcat and Dubuffet (and otherdisparate artists and writers) can be seen to form an alternative to the official structure ofculture. Thus, after some discussion of the differences between these two artists(differences which would, after the war, obscure their connections), I will conclude bybringing these works together under that umbrella of resistance whose unity, and indeed,eventual victory in overthrowing the 'new order' depended on precisely such alliances.My approach to this material may be clarified by the following note on the origins of5this study. Despite the location of the discussion of a general culture of resistance at thehead of this thesis, the framework for my analysis evolved from the discovery of theelements of that culture within the arts of Lurcat and Dubuffet. These aspects emergedfrom a series of specific questions stimulated by Lurcat's and Dubuffet's works themselves:what did it mean for Lurcat to repeatedly weave an image of a kind of 'generic' man? Whydid he use poetic references, and why did the tapestries seem to demand an iconographicunravelling? And with regard to images like Dubuffet's Messages, what kind of wall isdepicted? And what could this signify in occupied France? There were other questionsthat informed this topic, of course, but what I mean to convey here is that it was fromrelatively simple questions such as these that a large and complex web of connotations andconclusions soon enveloped the study.A remark about terminology needs also to be made. Throughout this thesis, I willuse 'Resistance' wherever that describes either the movement or organization itself, or todescribe whatever subject has been defined elsewhere as denoting the Resistance (e.g.Resistance poetry). When I refer to a more general opposition, be it within French societyitself or encoded within an art not so clearly historically aligned with the Resistance, I willuse the (small-case) term 'resistance'.Because too, I subscribe to a current critique of the concept of universal humanism,primarily for its historical exclusion of women, I will capitalize the word Man. It must benoted that those who embraced the philosophy then, did so in good faith, in response to animmense threat to all who did not conform to the narrow definitions of humanity posed byfascist doctrines.6ENDNOTES1 The quote is from Schultze-Naumberg's book, Kampf um die Kunst (The Battle for Art);cited by Berthold Hinz, Art in the Third Reich (New York: Pantheon Books, 1979), P. 45.2 These aspects formed two of the nine categories of artistic transgressions which dividedthe Degenerate Art Exhibition of July 18, 1937. Barbarism was the first category, abstractpainting or 'sheer madness' number 9. The equating of modern art with madness isimportant, and will be discussed in Chapter One. These forms of 'degenerate art' wereformulated from a speech Hitler gave just prior to the opening of the exhibit. See WernerHaftmann, Banned and Persecuted: Dictatorship of Art under Hitler (Cologne: DumontBuchverlag, 1986), p. 23.3 The programme for a Third Reich art form was framed by Hitler when, in selecting artfor the first exhibition of German art at the House of German Art in Munich in 1937, hestated, "I won't tolerate unfinished paintings!" And Minister Wagner, state commissionerfor the House of German Art, declared at the opening of that show: "Problematic andunfinished work is not and will never be acceptable in the House of German Art." Bothcited by Berthold Hinz, Art in the Third Reich, p. 9.4 See Laurence Bertrand Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944, (Paris: Publicationsde la Sorbonne, 1986), Chapter Three, "Occupation et modele allemand," pp. 83-99.5 H.R. Kedward, Occupied France: Collaboration and Resistance 1940-1944 (Oxford: BasilBlackwell Ltd., 1988), p. 55.6 Dubuffet's works of the period, exhibited at the Galórie Drouin in Paris, wereaccompanied by a text by Louis Parrot and were subsequently that same year reviewed byPierre Seghers in his L'Homme du commun ou Jean Dubuffet (Paris: Editions Poesie,1944). Seghers was himself a Resistance poet and spoke of Dubuffet's art as existing in astate of "permanent insurrection" (page 13). This passage is included in this thesis, p. 71 ofChapter Three. Parrot's description is on p. 70 and other reviewers' comments, in similarvein, are on p. 65, Chapter Three.7 See Claude Roy, Jean Lurcat (Geneve: Editions Pierre Cailler, 1956), p. 105.8 Alan Morris, "Attacks on the Gaullist 'Myth' in French Literature since 1969", TheSecond World War in Literature, Ian Higgins, ed. (Edinburgh and London: ScottishAcademic Press, 1986), p. 80.9 Margaret Atack, Literature and the French Resistance (Manchester and New York:Manchester University Press, 1989), p. 167.10 For a survey of such studies, see Chapter One, note 2.7Chapter 1Perspectives on the Culture andIdeology of the French ResistanceBoth popular and academic interest in the phenomenon of French resistance hasbeen sustained since the liberation of the country in 1944. These range from the initialoutpourings of recollections, encyclopedic histories, and anthologies attesting to andemphasizing the existence of a great depth of oppositional activity -- both military andcultural -- to a more recent body of research, known as la mode retro .1 This latter approachseeks to counter a certain perceived one-sidedness in the former traditional accounts, bybalancing these Resistance 'legends' with evidence of deep divisions existing in Franceduring the Occupation years, both within society and within the Resistance itself.Recent studies, however, in the fields of history, poetry, and fiction take an alternatedirection. Acknowledging that while indeed such divisions existed, these analyses arguethat from 1940 to 1944 a very complex ideology of resistance was constructed -- one whichin turn involved a relatively large portion of French society. Research by Margaret Atack,J.H. King, John Flower and Ray Davison on the fiction of the period; Ian Higgins' study ofResistance poetry; H.R. Kedward's analysis of the history and ideology of the Resistance,and the investigations concerning ideology and culture of Vichy and the Resistanceprovide, in my view, the most profitable sources for an understanding of the phenomenonof French resistance and its culture during this period?As this research has shown, several themes constituted an ideology of Resistance.These included the defence of (French) culture and a universal humanism, issues of unity,testimony, republican patriotism, and the preservation of individual freedom. Theseconcepts and their significance to the art of Lurcat and Dubuffet will be discussed ingreater depth later in this study. However, it is important to stress that these and otherrelated concerns need to be seen in direct relation to other ideologies with which they dobattle -- those of Vichy and Nazism -- and the cultural products of these dominant or, atleast, legally-constituted forces. Any discussion of the ideology and culture of French8resistance needs, and emphatically so, to be based on the understanding that the culturalforms did not 'reflect' or accompany events, but were catalysts -- indeed weapons -- in a warwhich, for the most part, was not fought militarily on a physical battlefield, with a clear-cutenemy behind a "wall of fire" (as Jean-Paul Sartre put it).3 This battle, necessarily chieflyunderground, was fought with words, emblems, and images through which a figure of theenemy needed to be continually defined, reconstructed with each volley.The visual art of the period has been rather less well-reviewed than other forms ofculture, until the publication in 1986 of Laurence Bertrand Dorleac's Histoire de l'art: Paris: 1940-1944. While Dorleac provides a comprehensive study of all the art production ofthe era, official and otherwise, the author concentrates in large part on the oppositionalside of the ledger, on the group of painters called the Jeunes peintres de traditionfrancaise, or Jeunes peintres sous le signe de l'esprit.  Dorleac discusses how the painting ofthis group was able to construe 'resistance' when, in many ways, its basis was similar to theaesthetic philosophy that Vichy promoted. Both art forms had a spiritual or religious slant,both aimed to integrate artist and community, and both upheld French tradition. Therevival of past art forms and an interest in murality and monumentality served these ends.However, many of these concerns exhibited in the work of the Jeunes peintres predated thewar, and were in fact associated with the government which was the political enemy ofVichy: the Popular Front, in power from 1936-1938. The Jeunes peintres, however muchseeming to fulfil some of Vichy's mandates, used forms such as abstraction (disfavoured byboth German and Vichy doctrines), and deliberately departed from verisimilitude. AsDorleac puts it, they used a "cocktail of genres of modernity", arguing that they were:. . . participating less in modernism. . . than in modernity taking place inchaos and rupture, its actors could only appear as those who preferred theunknown of the fields of liberty to the more sinister 'state of things'. And iftheir weapons were incomparable, unequally efficient, they each affirmed intheir style the beau refus to submit to established order.4Dorleac does much to redress the imbalance between the study of visual art and that ofother arts produced during the war. She also makes the important contribution ofinvestigating areas of ambiguity and resistance , toward an understanding of the way that9aesthetic language addresses concerns and issues outside the realm of the 'merely' cultural.However, this study, and the other new writing I have mentioned, makes little or noattempt to link the arts of poetry, fiction, and painting and sculpture together with a profileof the publics for them. So, despite nearly fifty years of unflagging interest in the subject,an overall analysis of the culture of French resistance has yet to be written.The reason for this lack, or so it seems to me, is manifold. On the one hand, for theoriginal participants in the Resistance any discussion of the period remains a loaded topic,one that remains personal, painful, and politically-charged even today. As poet PierreSeghers wrote in his introduction to an anthology of Resistance poetry in 1978:For me and for plenty of others the ashes are still -- and will always remain --hot, whether they are those of my family, or of murdered friends. . . thishistory is still very much alive, red with blood that spurts out at your face.5On the other hand, while the rewriting of history should not involve a betrayal of its actors,the tendency to mythologize Resistance exploits and some of its culture (especially thepoetry), is an important issue to address. In the period under study, there actually existed avariety of expressions of 'resistance', and within these are many complexities, evenambiguities, which belie the notion that there was one single language of resistance -- oneeasily recognizable, readable code or form. For example, writers, artists, and other citizensopposed to the Vichy government and the Occupation regime looked to a disparate rangeof histories and traditions to authenticize their position. These could be political orreligious, could be earlier rebellions, local traditions, past cultural forms associated withperiods of 'just' uprisings. Periods, such as the medieval or Roman, could provide sourcesof moral values, and were recalled and quoted in juxtaposition to the current oppression.The ruling regimes were engaged in similar practice. Hitler attempted to bypass thetwentieth century altogether, by 'purifying' art, reverting to representation which upheldideal forms. Marechal Petain and Vichy's aesthetic arbiters similarly eschewed modern artpractice and called for an art which would serve the 'new' nation. This was not to be a newart, but a nostalgic return to the past wherein the making of images was thought to havebeen practised with care and respect. Petain thus declared in 1940:1 0The France of tomorrow will restore traditions which in the past made itsfortune and glory. A country of quality classicism, it would know how to giveall its production this finish, this delicacy, this elegance, of which it has norival.°While it can be argued that the official art of the war years was by no means simple -as it operated in its own persuasive fashion -- it can be said that its aim, or philosophy wasto achieve a kind of uniformity. The 'masses' or the nation were to view the world in thesame way, and their vision was to be healthy and wholesome as a result. It was this fixity ofviewpoint which the modern in art challenged, since so much of the art of the late 19th and20th century implied multiple or unusual points of view. So it may not seem surprising thatoppositional art of the period took up variety and difference, distortion, complexity, orambiguity in its practice.7 The tendency to view cultural production as an undistortingmirror to history, or a simple, straightforward transcription of events is an obstacle toinvestigation of visual representation in the period. Today, for example, interpretation ofLurcat's tapestries as self-evident compilations of symbols minimizes their complexities.To simply locate his use of the French roosters or other loaded imagery as marks ofpatriotic resistance begs the question of how the sum of such disparate elements interact.Indeed, as will emerge in the following chapter, the symbols were part of the language ofresistance, but when the whole array of imagery is examined, the interpreting process relieson choices and associations. This aesthetic language, and the emphasis on it as a language,insists on viewing art not as simply picturing events, but as experiencing them. In contrast,Dubuffet's wartime art is seldom taken as emblematic of resistance, for it lacks thoseobvious elements shared with other paradigms of French Resistance. But as has beenalready noted, at the time this art was considered to be as audaciously resistant as Lurcat's,and was extolled by such notorious Resisters as Pierre Seghers.8Margaret Atack has discussed a similar issue in relation to the study of the literatureof the French Resistance, which has been generally bracketed as 'war literature'. As shenotes:What would bear further analysis. . . is the assumption, frequently found inliterary criticism of the period, of the transparent nature of the relationsbetween literature and the event. . . this presents the language of fiction as ascreen through which we can interrogate the world which is radically outside11it. . . What needs to be examined is the unspoken presupposition of theidentity between the literary and the historical events.9In arguing that art and its historical circumstances are involved in a complex, interactiverelationship, Atack states that the novel is "a purposeful, active, transformative reading ofsociety. There can have been few periods of history when this vision of narrative as adynamic reading of the social can have been more apt than during and immediately afterthe Occupation."10 In approaching the field in this way, Atack's study widens the scope ofthe body of literature produced in France during the war, an effort which had not beforebeen attempted. "Poetry", she explains, "has been studied much more than the fiction,perhaps because at first, together with Vercors' Silence de la mer, it functioned as aparadigm of the French (national) Resistance so enthusiastically espoused after theLiberation".11 I cite Atack here because I would contend that her analysis pertains equallyto visual art: that is, all cultural material produced during the Occupation years needs to beinvestigated with the same attention to its role, both active and reactive, in historicalevents. The visual arts of the period were no less diverse than the varieties of writingswhich Atack has analyzed, and such diversity has to be considered a value in the face of theimposition of a single, narrow and uniform viewpoint. Indeed, this variety of expressionhad a social parallel, in the varied composition of the Resistance.The heterogeneity of the Resistance itself -- both of the network of activists andintellectual community -- could perhaps present some difficulty in ascribing to themovement an all-embracing, seemingly overdetermining ideology. However, this variety,this unity-in-diversity, can also provide an extended, complex field for study and can lead,in my opinion, to a greater understanding of the promulgation, dispersion, and acceptanceof Resistance principles. As well, this understanding can explain more accurately thereasons for the ultimate victory for the Resistance.12 Populist roots of resistance, accordingto historian H.R. Kedward, lay in individual and emotional responses to daily occurrences.Through these, he argues ". . . [people] both discovered and expressed the values of justice,patriotism, individual freedom, human dignity, democracy, and equality that eventuallyformed the composite ideology of the Resistance. . . discovered and experienced as if for12the first time. . ."13 Furthermore, Resistance movements could perpetuate this basis intheir organizations, evolving a network which excluded no one of 'good conscience'. AsKedward notes:No movement was politically exclusive, and the other side of collectivemotivation is the political heterogeneity of the Resistance. . . the argumentof this study [of resistance in Vichy France] is that the Resistance could neverhave been a homogeneous, tightly-knit group, since the very phenomenonknown as the Resistance was developed between 1940 and 1942, by a pluralityof groups in a plurality of ways.14Diversity, toward unity, was encouraged in some of the writings of the Resistance.For example, even the group most strongly identified with the Communist Party, the FrontNational, in its organization of a literary wing, wrote in its manifesto, published in LesLettres francaises, September 1, 1942:Representatives of all political tendencies and all faiths: Gaullists,communists, democrats, Catholics, Protestants, we have all come together toform the FRONT NATIONAL DES ECRIVAINS.15This embracing of all divisions is important, both for an understanding of the pervasiveaction of resistance themes within the public sphere, and also because the concepts of unityand of commonality are represented within the cultural production of the period. Atack,for example, succinctly describes the ideological circumstances which are crucial elementsof an analysis of cultural forms in those years:The Occupation is. . . a period traversed by conflicting political discourses,and the ideological battle is inescapable, for it permeates all aspects of life --the home, the schools, the streets. It is in this context that the Resistancewritings should be read. . . it is difficult to see how, without publicexpression, there could have been a Resistance.16The combative nature of the situation made acute the necessity of establishing acommon basis for participation. The unity which gathered together groups and individualsappears as the structure or theme of a common humanity against alien inhumanity inresistant literature, and this common 'humanity' served to paper over differences in anoverriding concern to confront a common enemy. A shared understanding between artistand public is implicit in the construction of this element. In analyzing the opposition fictionof this period, Atack has claimed:Resistance fiction depends on a structure of unity. . . the positive resolution13of the narrative conflict depends on a well-defined and homogeneous groupdistinct from the enemy. . . the theme of unity returns time and again inResistance writings, not only to spread the Resistance message, but also as anexpression of tl-K movement toward unity which characterized the history ofthe Resistance.1'It was precisely because of the many political and other divisions within resistance that suchunity was not only a real, strategic expedient, but became a positive value and a truethematic principle, articulated within the writings and -- I contend -- within the visual art aswell. Unity, community, basic humanity are notions which will be seen to be central toimages like Lurcat's generic Man in Le Poete and Le Ciel et la Terre, and also Dubuffet'sParisian community evoked in his images of Le Metro and Vues de Paris. The theme isalso evident in Lurcat's alliances of poet/intellectual/peasant/artist and also in Dubuffet's'common man'.18One way of expressing this solidarity, which is common to these cultural forms ingeneral, is the construction of an 'other', against which all resistance values are opposed.This enemy figure was set up as the spectre of inhumanity, bent on the destruction of allthe basic human values which the Resistance sought to embody. In a chapter, "The Figureof the Enemy", Atack states that during the Occupation years, this construction was not somuch present as a subject, but served as a "function" -- that is, as the "negative otheropposed to the Resistance."19 Thus it is, when considering Resistant images of humanity,or Man, one must consider definitions of these provided by the dominating regimes.Configurations of resistance values were at first, at least, complicated by certainambiguities arising from the ideological battle with Vichy. Then, some of the themes ofresistance culture traversed and overlapped Vichy ideology. For example, the call forunity, the evocation of tradition, and the emphasis on the values of the countryside werethemes stressed by Vichy and Resistance adherents alike. Vichy ideology (and its culturalmanifestations) was itself the product of an amalgam of sources. The doctrines of CharlesMaurras formed one important part, emphasizing the rural unity of the country, andreinvoking the traditional Republican values of Travail, Famille, Patrie.20 Paradoxically,the glorification of the countryside, the interest in folklore, a disdain for individualism andindustrialized modernity were aspects of the ideology of Vichy's predecessor and political14enemy, the Popular Front. The dislike of modernity was illustrated in Vichy's disapprovalof modern art practice. Vichy despised apparent individualism, laxity, and decadence in artas much as had the left-leaning artists of the 1930's, upholding art forms which the PopularFront period had previously espoused -- mural art, for example, or any art which wouldostensibly be available to a large public.21Both the Resistance and Vichy battled over certain heroic emblems and symbols.Kedward gives some examples:The cult of Joan of Arc, the respect for Charles Peguy, a sense of Frenchtradition, the call to patriotism were. . . common to the cuisine of the Hoteldu Parc at Vichy, to the furtive Resistance meals in the cellars of the Croix-Rousse in Lyon and to the long evenings round the smokeless fires of theMaquis.22To interpret these shared symbols in a pejorative sense, as confusion, lack of clear focus --or worse yet, as a 'buying into' Vichy mythology on the part of the Resistance, is not tounderstand the battlefield over which such ideals were waged. Brought to the fore in theOccupation years was the question of whose right it was to speak for France's culturalvalues. Who were the rightful heirs to that culture? This is not to say that the Resistanceuse of Joan of Arc stood for the same values as the Joan of Arc of Vichy, but that thenational heroine or the writings of Peguy could both be subject to a redemptive process inResistance culture. Also, the means, the language used to invoke the ideals was seen todifferentiate between a Vichyist version of a theme or a resistant one. For example, thereis a great deal of difference between an image used in a public speech and onemanipulated in a literary form, such as a poem.The first premise that can be stated about the culture of French Resistance is thatFrench culture was itself considered to be under siege. The threat to culture was perceivedlong before France's defeat, in the 1930's, when European fascism was seen to have placedall culture in peril. French intellectuals, in the 1930's, had begun to organize themselves inalliances with writers and artists of other nationalities to fight fascism. For example, oneassociation, the International Writers' Congress for the Defence of Culture in 1935 broughttogether writers of differing political views to discuss the impact of fascism upon culture.2315Previously, the French organization, L'Association des Ecrivains et Artistes revolutionnaires (AEAR), in 1934 boasted a membership of 550 from all the arts, and amagazine, Commune. The Maisons de la culture (cultural activities and debates organizedby the AEAR) had some 96,000 members in 1936.24 The fascist riots in Paris in February1934 brought the conflict home and, for some artists, changed the way they thought aboutthe practice of art. Edouard Georg and André Lhote are said to have expressed theimpossibility of their painting in the same way after February 4, 1934.25 The victory of thePopular Front in 1936 provided a brief optimistic moment, but generally speaking, thisalliance was beleagured, set within a situation of crisis in Europe. Its adherents were notcomplacent, but wary. Serge Fauchereau, in his introduction to the collected papers of the'Querelle du realisme', one of the important artistic debates in 1936, stated that the"worried isolated artist was the reflection of the period", and that "inquietude is a leitmotivof the epoch".26 During the Popular Front period, cultural activity increased as money andenergy was put toward cinema, theatre, and other 'popular' arts. This was motivated by adesire to reach out to the public, and also to demonstrate that French culture was, ifembattled, still thriving. The insistence on a public face for art would culminate in theprogramme for the 1937 World Exposition -- the last stand for the Popular Front, whichwould soon meet with electoral defeat in 1938.27The concern for the protection of French cultural traditions persevered after theeruption of the war and France's defeat. French intellectuals in opposition to the situationeven in the early years of the Occupation saw, as J.H. King has noted, "their role to be thatof guardians, curators of the national heritage." However, to say that the safeguarding ofFrench culture was an act of simple patriotism is to miss a larger point. French culture wasseen by many as universal, its defence the rescue of Western civilization itself.29 In someaspects, this effort of preservation was directed toward a continuity of culture yet, inAtack's reading of the literature of the period, it goes deeper. In that literature, Francewas articulated as a value, ". . . the tangible embodiment in the present of the universal andeternal ideals of humanism."30 Culture, she argues, served on its own as a means to oppose16Nazism:There are many instances whereby national oppositions as such are notprimarily and necessarily at play, given the definition of Nazism as beinganti-humanist, monstrous and barbarous, as committed to the destruction ofGerman culture as it is to that of the French. That is to say that the defenceof culture, and specifically French culture, is de facto ideological oppositionto Nazism. . . .31Ian Higgins, who explores the concept of 'France' as it arises in Resistance poetry,concurs with this view:French territorial integrity, for the majority of the Resistance poets, is not anend in itself, but a mediation for l'homme -- humanity, not as an essence tobe preserved, but as an ideal fraternite requiring ever-renewing realization.32This understanding, this meaning of patrie, explains for Higgins, how it was that manyFrench poets turned to traditional forms in their works, and wove these with popularelements in order to, as he says, ". . . affirm the vitality and flexibility of the Frenchtradition."33The concern for continuity of culture was shared by painters as well. In a specialissue of the journal Confluences, entitled Les Problemes de la peinture  (published in 1945,but intended for publication in June 1944), some fifty contributors, as diverse as Matisse,Lurcat, Cocteau, and Rouault presented papers on some seemingly innocuous topics.These appeared under such headings as "Painting and Public Language", "Abstraction andits Limits", "Painting and Reality". Such issues were reminiscent of prewar aestheticdiscourse, but the impetus for the collection was expressed in the foreword by GastonDiehl:To be concerned with artistic questions, to dream of the future, of theproblems of painting . . . [This is] testimony in support of this affirmation:without these reasons to live, France was in danger of dying. And what werethese reasons? Liberty, independence, put toward the service of a culture inwhich Art constituted the highest expression.34Diehl's statement evinces the understanding that the border between the aestheticand the political was illusory, that 'resistance' was not only to be found in engaged art, butwhen modern art was under attack, aesthetic questions were presented as acts of radicalengagement and defiance. Artists were not empowered to deal with aesthetic issues; thesewere to be left to government. In 1936, Hitler had ostensibly brought a formal end to17discussions of art within Nazi-dominated terrain. Not only was art to be free of elementswhich might provoke debate, but aesthetic concerns themselves were to be handled bytechnocrats, whose prime qualification was allegiance to Nazi beliefs. The "DecreeConcerning Art Criticism" by the Minister of Propaganda, November 11, 1936 contained thefollowing statement:From today on, the art report will replace art criticism . . . The art critic willbe replaced by the art editor. . . In the future, only those art editors will beallowed to report on art, who approach the task with an undefiled heart andNational Socialist convictions.33In this context too, just to paint, or write, in the face of censorship, became a kind oftestimony -- as long as the product could not be seen to fulfil official requirements. As the1942 manifesto for the clandestine publishing house, the Editions de Minuit, stated: "Ourbusiness is to show that French thought continues to live."36It was, in part, the actual means used which signified opposition and the refusal tosubmit to the dictates of the censors. Whether in 'open' writing, or in visual art, thelanguage used by resistance artists involved the employment of codes and allusions.Indeed, the assumption of a heightened sensitivity on the part of the public for the arts iskey to understanding how, when Lurcat (and others) produced tapestries which wovethemes used by both Vichy and the Resistance, there was no confusion regarding theirimport, or their political stance. Vichy tapestries (and Vichy art in general), as well as theidealizing art preferred by the Nazis, used transparent, easily readable means. Whetherthis representation was the antique or traditional sculpture such as that by Arno Breker,which Dorleac presents as "the readable and narcissistic images . . . reflecting the grandNazi ideological themes"37 or the decorative, figurative, hagiographic Petainist imagery,such art was considered to be analogous to propaganda, communicating as directly as theposters prevalent on French walls. Lurcat, however, involved the viewer in a game ofdeciphering a welter of images, and the style of weaving, the colours, the material were notthose favoured by Vichy.38While the official art of the period was to be unproblematic and uplifting, other artwas produced which contravened such dogma. Dorleac notes that while "the expression of18the artistic life of this epoch seemed to deny the existence of an interior combat, to appearas in a state of "calme et volupte", works such as those by Dubuffet, Fautrier, Gruber,Fougeron and Kandinsky "reveal thematic and formal diversity, permanence or conflict andopposed to reason."39 In Dubuffet's Parisian views or landscapes of 1943 (to be discussedin Chapter 3), it was not the subject matter that was problematic, but rather his style ofpainting (his extreme primitivism and strident colour) which flew in the face of officialproscriptions. Such an offence was warned against by Hitler in a speech in the Reichstag in1933, wherein he stated: "That which poses as a revelation of the 'cult of the Primitive' isnot the expression of a naive, unspoiled soul but of a degeneracy which is utterly corruptand diseased."4° And at the opening of the House of German Art in July 1937, Hitleradded:The new age of today is at work on a new human type, the proud bodilyvigour of youth. This, my good prehistoric art-stutterers, is the type of thenew age: and what do you manufacture? Misformed cripples and cretins,women who inspire only disgust, men who are more like wild beasts.Within this context, it is obvious that Dubuffet's wartime stick-people and Lurgat's imagesof 'wild men' pointedly defied the idealized types which Nazi art insisted upon. Oppositionwas considered insane, aberrant, and modern art itself was frequently described in Germanand Vichy pronouncements as a form of mental illness. Such equations had been part ofsome conservative discourse in France prior to 1939. But during the war, the painterVlaminck again took up the cudgel, associating Surrealism with insanity in an article inComoedia.42 As a result the modern artist, as Dorleac has observed, saw herself or himselfas "condemned to having too often submitted to the influence of primitive art, negro art,that of children and of the insane."43When it was not possible to practise art with the same freedom as before the war, topersevere in art production was itself a decision fraught with difficulty. While notproducing art could be seen as a protest, eventually many artists and writers werecompelled to add their 'voice' to a growing opposition. At first, for writers to publish at allmeant to be compromised: "Legal literature is the literature of betrayal", wrote theclandestine La Pensee libre in 1941.44 While the situation of enforced silence did not last19long, the theme of language and silence was subsequently taken up in resistant writings,and became part of the vocabulary of resistance. In discussing the wartime poetry of PierreEmmanuel, Loys Masson, Jean Tardieu, and Seghers, Ian Higgins has observed that intheir work, ". . . the voice of destruction is an attack on God and humanity" with thestruggle between good and evil presented as a "battle for voice."45 "The numerousreferences to enforced silence and clenched teeth in Resistance poetry", he argues, "are notsimply evocations of censorship, they are images of human beings as essentially linguisticcreatures. Not to speak is a nightmarish inhuman paralysis."46 Literary historian MargaretAtack, assessing the phenomenon of testimony, has made a related point noting ".. . thatwhich cannot be said officially must be said unofficially", and adding ". . . no literature ofthe period can avoid being placed upon the great public/clandestine divide."47 In otherwords, as these passages suggest, the need to speak out, to align oneself on the side of the'righteous' cause became acute for writers and artists -- and this was the case whether onehad the support of a group or was isolated, exiled or imprisoned. Even the study, or the'ivory tower' of the writer or artist, came to be seen as a cell, with expression, in turn,functioning as a release. J.H. King has remarked on the perception during these years that". . . Occupied France was a prison. . . its writers. . . for the most part, in solitaryconfinement", and he quotes poet Jean Guehenno, who saw literary expression as". . . concerned with painting the walls of [the writer's] prison."48 Such testimony toopposition, if it was to be published openly, or, in the case of art, exhibited, needednecessarily to be coded. The use of allusion required sophistication, and it needed as wellas to be posited in such a way as to be understood.There was another operative factor in this creative use of language: it had to be seenas standing apart from the kind of discourse employed officially, in propaganda. AgainHiggins, in discussing the poetry of resistance, argues that ". . . linguistic acts, characterizedby a manifest and conscious mastery of language. . . contrast greatly with the submission tolanguage normal in a state founded on propaganda and terror."49 In France, certain formsof the French language, came to be seen as standing for the preservation of culture itself,20and as J.H. King describes it, served as ". . the emblem of passive and active resistance . . .it cannot be destroyed and remains a guarantee of national identity."5° The language then,of both literature and painting needs to be placed in relation to the language of the officialregime, whether the terms of written and visual propaganda or the vocabulary ofcollaboration. However, J.H. King has provided a cautionary note regarding cultural idealsupheld in resistant writing:For what happened in France between 1940 and 1944 was not only theoccasion for numerous writers to close ranks in defence of certain culturaland literary values, it also constituted a crisis of those values. Surely, ifEuropean civilization had culminated in the death-camps, it is perverse torespect the traditional values of this civilization, and more so, to perpetuatethem. Of this problem, the resistance writers were, of course, aware.51Central to Resistance culture was a notion of a universalist liberal humanism, akinto that which was believed to have sparked the French Revolution52, and which wasreinvoked in response to both Vichy's eschewal of republican values, and the Nazi attackon human equality. This crisis of humanism, and the problem of perpetuating the values ofa civilization seen by some as bankrupt was to become a major issue by the end of the war.However, the full spectrum of this crisis can be seen in the duality of viewpoints surfacingin the wartime art of Lurcat and Dubuffet. While Lurcat's art -- the later works particularly-- can be seen to present an optimism, Dubuffet reveals, especially in his later pieces suchas Les Murs and Messages, if not a pessimism, at least conflicting aspects of this crisis.What Dubuffet was keeping alive was not the same cultural continuum which Lurcat andothers were trying to preserve, but another tradition: that of avant-garde art practice,replete with its combative tactics and strategies. Dubuffet sought to rupture a 'high'culture, and to recoup some of the individualistic modernism despised by both German andVichy aesthetic arbiters. No less interested in achieving an art for the 'ordinary' person, noless humanist, nor even universal, Dubuffet, however, looked to a precultured Man.Rejecting any connotation of the narrowly national, he used sources such as expressionistcolour, and he emphatically rejected the beau metier of the painter by performing an artsuch as that of the untrained, of children, of the mentally ill.Both Lurcat's and Dubuffet's arts were 'illegal', outside the bounds of the21conventions of the period. While Dubuffet exploited the vocabulary of the 'primitive' andthe insane, Lurcat made his alignment with other elements of resistance culture all themore flagrant through the inclusion of resistance writings on his tapestries.53 Indeed, inremaining outside accepted norms, rejecting the authoritative 'new order' or 'nationalrenovation', such art subscribed to an important element in resistance culture, that whichH.R. Kedward terms "the culture of the outlaw".54Any unity provided by the Resistance was predicated upon the understanding thatthe movement was composed of a community of lawbreakers, even exiles, but serving ahigher justice than that which rested in the legally-constituted regime. Keward argues thatthis culture was not just the expression of those who had technically broken the law, butformed a structural alternative to legal society among a much wider population.55 "Such aculture", he writes, "wherever it has positively existed in history, embodies the convictionthat the established law has exceeded its rights, and has itself become illegal, so that realauthority, real justice, now lie with those who have technically become outlaws."56 This'outlaw' topos was manifested in the calling up of a number of precedents. "Myth, folklore,regional traditions" writes Kedward, "were marshalled to sanctify acts of rebellion."57Vichy's promotion of the doctrines of Charles Maurras (Travail, famille, patrie)sought to provide unity for the divided country. However, by 1942, the constructions ofMaurras' True France/Anti-France (pays reel/pays legal) had backfired. The pays reel (realcountry) excluded so many that the framework seemed to include only a handful. And by1942, 'patriotism' came to be viewed as the possession of the Resistance -- those whomMaurras and Vichy supporters would have initially deemed traitors.58Poet Jean Cassou, named as director of the Musee d'Art Moderne in 1942, only tohave his directorship immediately revoked by Vichy, was described in a radio report at thattime as embodying nearly all the alien tendencies so despised by the authorities:The communist Jew Red Spaniard Popular Front Freemason anarchist JeanCassou member of the cabinet of Jewish minister of the ministry of the JewBlum, the Jew Jean Zay, cause of the war. . ."59These were the same accusations that were concurrently hurled at modern art. 6° Cassou,22who had been imprisoned in 1942, would later articulate his experience of confinement interms of the artist-outsider, disenfranchised and marginalized:I myself had always been someone without possessions, without inheritanceor title, with no fixed home, no social status, no real profession. . . Finally Ifound myself in a situation where. . . it was the norm not to give your ownname, it was the rule not to have social position and no longer to look forone.61To assume the clandestine use of the contraband in art was to align oneself with theforces of rebellion, employing forbidden themes, forbidden means. This image of the'outlaw' (as a presence, or subject) was posited as a positive value, in the arts of Lurcat andDubuffet, for that construction functioned as something that the 'enemy' could not be.Both artists made use of written languages of rebellion, and included human figures whoseconstruction depended on connotations of disenfranchisement/empowerment.By placing both these artists within a general culture of resistance, their strategiesare more fully understood, and the following chapters will analyze their works through anexploration of resistance themes. But there is one other important factor, more peculiar tovisual art than to poetry or fiction and which affects the production of Lurcat and Dubuffet.While the metaphor of the 'wall' arises in some of the poetry of the period (Les Murs byEugene Guillevic is an obvious example, and Paul Eluard had for some time dwelled, to anextent, on walls as barriers62), it is within visual art that this concept was appropriated, asthe staking out of a space for art. Painting, unlike written forms -- which can be spoken ormemorized -- depends on the visual and on display. The latter was, of course, particularlydifficult during the war, when to exhibit, or to encode the domain of the 'public' in art,meant 'speaking out', and attempting to reach out to a receiving public.The 1920's and 1930's in France had already seen an emphasis placed on the wall asa public space to be reserved for art, with artists such as Amedee Ozenfant, Le Corbusier,and Fernand Leger, and groups such as the Comite d'Art Mural (1934) advocating muralart as a form of public expression. Leger, from the 1920's, had proposed a greatercollaboration between architect and painter. The modern architect, he said ". . . cleansesthrough emptiness"63, "the wall is a waiting room"64, pitiless, "a large dead surface"65,23incapable of touching the average person. Easel art, in particular, had been the subject ofharsh criticism already for a decade in 1940, when as Dorleac explains, it was viewed byboth Vichy and the community of painters opposed to that regime as ". . . impotent,agonized, reserved for a minority of the privileged, an object of speculation for dealers andintellectuals."66The idea, then, that art should serve a community was not new, and was taken up byVichy in its artistic 'renovation', including in that project the advocation of both mural andmonumental art. But for the artists who had held out for the potential for public art in the1930's, such a route was not, generally speaking, open to them.° Still, the notions of publicexpression and often collectivity involved in the concept of the wall, were not abandoned.Permutations of the wall formed part of the art production in France, but as a kind ofunderground, forbidden zone, with such works often produced in isolation or with limitedmeans Brassai continued to photograph Parisian graffiti but now bullet holes formed aframework for design; Boris Taslitsky, arrested and sent to Ste. Sulpice la Pointe did aseries of murals there; Atlan, evading arrest by pretending insanity, spent the Occupationyears in Ste Anne, where he and his fellow inmates decorated the walls of the institution;Hans Bellmer, hiding in a brickworks near Aix, produced a series of drawings of humanfigures composed of bricks.68These are widely disparate art forms, yet they provide variations on the theme of thewall, at the root of which are connotations of communication and expression, release andescape (for the wall had become a kind of metaphor for prison). Also involved was adesire to take art, if not 'to the streets' -- at least, to make visible the private world of theimagination. Claude Roy, in a book on Lurcat, discusses the phenomenon:Nothing is more necessary, but nothing is more sad than a wall. . . Every wallis the beginning of kprison . . . the wall is the cold frontier of the imaginationand of the eyes. . ."6'It was not, then, just a gallery space or interior architectural walls which the painters soughtto seize, but the public spaces, the walls of the streets, so heavily censored during theOccupation. Raymond Gid describes the use put to these walls, in an article in the24catalogue, Paris-Paris: 1937-1957:The walls were hopelessly censored. Only reduced formats could be printedin secret, here a clandestine journal, there some graffiti If one wish to detailthe description of the walls during the intermediate period between retreatand Liberation, one would consider the typical poster of this epoch: the greatpaternal image of the Marechal, underlined by the slogan, Travail, Famille,Patrie. One saw, otherwise, the insidious propaganda of the Occupantimposed on the walls (Travail en Allemagne or Anti-Bolschavisme)punctuated by notices enframed for mourning: execution of hostages.70It is in the context of the 'war of emblems'71 a guerre des affichesn, as well as anattack on culture per se, that the painting of the period needs to be considered. And it isoften through the reference to, and the difference between visual propaganda and art, thatan enemy figure is declared, and the righteousness of Art illuminated. Dubuffet took thewalls of Paris (Les Murs and Messages) as his subject, and out of the hands of theauthorities, and, in his earlier works (Le Metro and Vues de Paris), imposed his own'order' on other Parisian public spaces. Lurcat continued to practise a mural art, indefiance of censorship, inspired by the conviction that not only would there be -- one day --a destined space for them, but that already at the time of their production, there was acommunity to whom, and for whom, they spoke.25ENDNOTES1 La mode retro is discussed by Margaret Atack. Literature and the French Resistance(Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 1989), pp. 2-3. Alan Morrisdevotes an article to the phenomenon in "Attacks on the Gaullist 'Myth' in FrenchLiterature since 1969", The Second World War in Literature (Edinburgh and London:Scottish Academic Press, 1986), Ian Higgins, ed., pp. 71-83. According to Morris, theResistance became equated with Gaullism, and any criticism of Resistance mythology,when deGaulle was reelected in 1959, could be considered unpatriotic, even punishable(p.74). In 1969, however, after de Gaulle's death demythification became fashionable for anew generation which sought a newly-written heritage. Morris (p. 78) contends that thisgeneration may have been the offspring of collaborators. I would think that this situationmay have involved, given the historical events of 1968, a critique of the claim by theCommunist Party to a central role in the Resistance. The trend is considered to havearrived with Marcel Ophuls' film, La Chagrin et la pitie (1970), which exposed anembarrassing extent of, and lack of remorse for, collaboration among the citizenry ofFrance.2 The works referred to are: Margaret Atack, Literature and the French Resistance.,J.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and the French Resistance"European Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 1972, pp. 227-238; John Flower and Ray Davison,"France", The Second World War in Fiction, Holger Klein, ed. (London and Basingstoke:The MacMillan Press Ltd., 1984), pp. 47-87; Ian Higgins, Anthology of Second World WarFrench Poetry (London: Methuen Educational Ltd., 1982), Ian Higgins, "France, Soil, andLanguage: Some Resistance Poems by Luc Berimont and Jean Marcenac"; in Vichy Franceand the Resistance: Culture and Ideology,  H.R. Kedward and Roger Austin, eds. (Totawa,New Jersey: Barnes and Noble Books, 1985), pp. 206-221; Ian Higgins, "Tradition and Mythin French Resistance Poetry: Reaction or Subversion?", The Second World War inLiterature, Higgins, ed. (Edinburgh and London: Scottish Academic Press, 1986), pp. 45-58.There are several books and articles by H.R. Kedward which I found valuable: OccupiedFrance: 1940-1944, (Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd., 1988); "Behind the Polemics: FrenchCommunists and the Resistance", Resistance in Europe: 1939-1945, S. Hawes and R. White,eds. (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1975), pp. 92-116; Resistance in Vichy France (Oxford:Oxford University Press, 1978); "Patriots and Patriotism in Vichy France", in Transactionsof the Royal Historical Society, 12 September, 1981, pp. 175-192; "Charles Maurras and theTrue France", in Ideas into Politics: Aspects of European History 1880-1950, R.J. Bullen, H.Pogge Von Strandmann, A.B. Polonsky, eds. (Totawa, New Jersey: Barnes and NobleBooks, 1984); "The Maquis and the Culture of the Outlaw (With Particular Reference tothe Cevennes)", in Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology, pp. 232-251.Kedward also provides a most informative introduction to this latter book, which compilespapers from a conference held in Sussex in 1984 on the subject.It is interesting, although perhaps not surprising, to note that this third approach, whichinvestigates the culture and ideology of the Resistance, (providing, in a sense, a middleground between the traditional myths of the Resistance and those of la mode retro), comesnot from France but from English and Scottish scholars. Disinterested in the sense ofhaving no personal stake in French national history, these writers reconstruct the criticalityof the culture of the period. There is, however, a political basis to these works. An26example of the differences between la mode retro and this mode of analysis can be seen inthe interpretations of 'ambiguities'. La mode retro, according to Morris, in "Attacks on theGaullist 'Myth' in French Literature since 1969" (pp.78-79), emphasizes chance over choice.That is, French citizens ending up on one side might just as easily have taken the otherposition. Louis Malle's 1974 film, Lacombe Lucien, is taken, by those who subscribe to lamode retro, to provide an example of the passivity of the individual -- only an accident offate causes Lucien to become a gestapiste. Kedward, however, in his introduction to VichyFrance and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology, p. 9, maintains that ". . no one shouldconfuse the study of ambiguity with the study of chance", arguing that reviewers of Malle'sfilm failed to recognize the decision-making process into which, he contends, theprotaganist Lucien entered.3 Jean-Paul Sartre, What is Literature? (New York: Philosophical Library, 1949), trans.Bernard Frechtman, p. 72. Atack, in Literature and the French Resistance, (p.5), notesthat the writers claim to having been combattants in the war is supported by the Royal AirForce's having dropped over France leaflets of such literature as Paul Eluard's poem,"Liberte".4 Dorleac, Histoire de l'art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 200.5 Flower and Davison, "France", p. 50, quote Pierre Seghers from La Resistance et sespoetes. 1 France 1940-1944 (Nerviers, 1978), p. 295. Seghers edited a poetry journal, Poesiecasque, in 1939. A friend of Dubuffet and poet Louis Aragon, he moved to Villeneuve-sur-Avignon during the war, where he continued to publish the journal annually, in secrecy.Such commentary is included here because I believe that it bears repeating that while fewwere exempt from possible persecution during the war, France's intellectuals wereespecially targeted, resulting in many famous 'martyrs', some of them close to the actorsfeatured in this thesis. Also, since dealing with artistic representations of events involvespoints of view rather than historical 'fact', the kind of emotion expressed in such statementsas Seghers' have direct bearing upon the cultural products of the period, both in theirproduction and their reception.6 Dorleac, Histoire de l'art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 7.7 Many aesthetic viewpoints had been expressed in the 'Querelle du realisme' debates.See Serge Fauchereau, La Querelle du realisme (Paris: Editions Cercle d'Art, 1987).8 See, for example, Pierre Seghers, L'Homme du commun ou Jean Dubuffet (Paris:Editions Poesie, 1944), and also Louis Parrot, Jean Dubuffet (Galórie Drouin, PierreSeghers Editeur, Paris: 1944).9 Atack, Literature and the French Resistance, pp. 5-6.10 Ibid., p. 7.11 Ibid., p. 3. It is somewhat paradoxical, even ironic, that studying ambiguities increasesthe breadth of 'resistant' works, thereby attesting to a greater amount of resistant culturalactivity than had previously been given in either Gaullist or Communist accounts.2712 La mode retro, as is exemplified in Pierre Daninos', La Composition d'histoire (Julliard,1979), contends that it was the Allies that won liberation for France, and that theResistance was a small group. (See Morris, "Attacks on the Gaullist Myth in FrenchLiterature since 1969," pp. 77-78.) Given the more balanced view of the sources I havepreviously cited, the pendulum (it seems to me) can be seen to have swung back to theextent of giving some credit to the activities of the internal Resistance.13 Kedward, Resistance in Vichy France, p. 186.14 Ibid., p. 247.15 Cited by Atack, Literature and the French Resistance, p. 139. She notes that thismanifesto was written in 1930's vocabulary, recalling the Communist Party's main tenduepolicy (to embrace all classes, all parties), as the manifesto also included the following: "Wehold out the hand of friendship to all French people of good will." (p. 37).16 Ibid., p. 4.17 Ibid., p. 137.18 The phrase, 'common man', was attributed by Pierre Seghers in 1944 in L'Homme ducommun ou Jean Dubuffet, to Dubuffet himself and to his subjects.19 Atack, Literature and the French Resistance, p. 57. Even when present in thenarrative, the German soldier, for example, is not always caricatured as evil incarnate but,as in Vercors' La Silence de la mer (1942) or Edith Thomas' Le Tilleul (1943), is presentedas an 'ordinary' human being. The reader then, is cautioned to look beyond surfaces,beyond individual characters, to apprehend the insidiousness of fascist 'inhumanity'.20 Charles Maurras, the anti-Dreyfusard writer of the late 19th century, had finally foundhis niche in Vichy France, as philosopher-advisor to Petain. His impact is best discussed byKedward, "Charles Maurras and the True France".21 The encompassing by Vichy of aspects of Popular Front ideology is discussed byKedward and DorlOac, and also by Julian Jackson, The Popular Front in France, defendingdemocracy, 1934-38 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Jackson provides athorough account of the cultural activities of the Popular Front period, and states onpage 137 that ". . . some of the themes of the Popular Front were to recur hauntingly in theFrance of Vichy: the obsession with the young . . ., the celebration of the countryside and offolklore, and, indeed, the search for moral unity."Gaston Bergery, Radical minister in the Popular Front, came to Vichy as an advisor to thegovernment, perhaps contributing in some part to such similar tendencies.22 Kedward, introduction to Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology, p. 6.Dorleac discusses such 'returns', so prevalent in the art of the period; "Retour au BeauMétier", "Retour a l'humain -- retour au reel", "L'Eternel retour a la Tradition", are somesection titles, in Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944.23 See Herbert R. Lottman, The Left Bank: Writers, Artists and Politics from the Popular28Front to the Cold War (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin Co., 1982), P. 59. The Congress, nowfamous for its exclusion of André Breton, and the subsequent suicide of Surrealist RenéCrevel on the night of the first meeting, was Communist Party-organized, and includedsuch German emigres as Anna Seghers and Bertolt Brecht, as well as E.M. Forster, Huxley,and Strachey from Britain; Gorki and Tolstoy; and also involved non-Communists such asJean Guehenno (editor of the periodical Europe) and Jean Paulhan (editor of Nouvellerevue francaise). Poets Louis Aragon and Tristan Tzara attended, as did André Malrauxand André Gide. Lottman discusses the Congress and its participants, pp. 83-98.24 Ibid, p. 60.25 The dating of the beginning of this perceived threat to culture is not precise, and thereare early examples of efforts to retain some potential for the 'modern' in art. For example,a group of painters, under the name Abstraction-creation was formed in 1931, and upheldthe banner of non-figuration against a generalized 'call to order' in the art world.Certainly, the battle was on with Hitler's assumption of Chancellor of the Reich in 1933,and the consequent banning of certain artworks; and in France, the fascist riots ofFebruary 4, 1934 brought the conflict home. According to Jackson, The Popular Front inFrance, defending democracy, p. 128, "for painters [André] Lhote and [Edouard] Goergreturn to social realism was not only desirable but inevitable: it was impossible to paint inthe same way before 6 February and after." The confusion around art of this period, thedesire to be 'revolutionary', and yet make some sense of the chaos facing art in the 1930's, isevidenced in the occasion of many debates, the most famous of which was the debate of1936 now known as the 'Querelle du realisme' (The Problem of Realism), sponsored by theMaisons de la culture and which drew such participants as Leger, Lurcat, Aragon,Ozenfant, and Max Ernst.26 Fauchereau, La Querelle du realisme (Paris: Editions Cercle d'Art, 1987), pp. 21-22.The struggle with the anxiety of the period provided the impetus for the organization of thedebates, which were concerned with such issues as a definition of 'realism', murality andmonumentality, abstraction, and the limits and possibilities of Cubism and Surrealism. Nosingle means nor subject was successfully promoted (nor one 'realism' satisfactorilydefined), but the overall concerns of the painters were the same: how to maintain theliberty to paint as one wished, yet still preserve a link with as large a public as possible.And in doing so, each would share in the larger struggle against fascism.27 Jackson, The Popular Front in France, defending democracy 1934-38, pp. 130-131,discusses the programme of the Exposition, as a 'breaking down of the barriers', anddescribes the aim of Popular Front art as seeking ". . . to break down the barriers betweenpeople and culture, between different forms of cultural expression between audience andperformer, between creator and cultural consumer, between past and present, betweenscience and art. This aspiration could lead in contradictory directions -- embracing theavant-garde or reaffirming cultural values. But these were not perceived as contradictionsprecisely because the Popular Front's cultural eclecticism, its defence of the widest possiblecultural front, allowed cultural diversity. . .".28 J.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and French Resistance",p. 232.2929 Atack, "Literature and the French Resistance", pp. 85-87. Atack claims that the termsEsprit and esprit frangais, were used interchangeably, "in the same way that Germany orNazism [in persuasive writings] are synonymous with barbarism." (p. 86) To defendWestern civilization was to attack German claims to do the same, as invoked especially inthe Nazi crusade against Bolschevism (p. 87). Moreover, the attack on the resistance grouparound the Musee de l'homme (whose magazine Resistance included writings by JeanPaulhan and Jean Cassou, and which resulted in the arrest and execution of JacquesDecour, writer and teacher of German literature) was taken to be an assault on humanityand culture. As Roland Penrose wrote in In the Service of the People (London: 1945), ". . .this museum at once became a centre of resistance; a symbol of something that theGermans could not conquer because it was something that they could never understand."(Quoted by Atack, p. 86)30 Atack, Literature and the French Resistance, p. 88.31 Ibid., p. 35.32 Ian Higgins, "Tradition and Myth in French Resistance Poetry: Reaction orSubversion?", p. 51. This article's subject is the investigation of some of Surrealist poetBenjamin Peret's criticism of the engaged poetry of the period. Higgins analyzes suchconcepts ofpatrie and nation within Resistance poetry. In another article, "France, Soil,and Language: Some Resistance Poems by Luc Berimont and Jean Marcenac" (pp. 218-219), Higgins develops the notion of 'France' as it arises in some of the poetry, contendingthat, in the poems, "Humanity is not a total of people, nor France a total of land", it israther a 'nest of relations', and that the poems "manifestly embody an ideal, 'mythical'France which is not that of Vichy. In this each is fundamentally a negation of the given . . .with the country never more divided, these poems are themselves the domaine frangaisewhich the Maquis protect with guns."33 Higgins, "Tradition and Myth in French Resistance Poetry: Reaction or Subversion?",p. 55. Higgins finds this use of tradition in the poems of Aragon, Seghers, PierreEmmanuel, and Robert Desnos, poets whose work was quite different, and who made useof traditions (such as the alexandrine) in differing ways.34 Les Problêmes de la peinture (Editions Confluences, 1945), n.p. It is worth noting someof the rest of the foreword: "Some comrades recounted that Jean Prevost, in the last days ofhis life, leading his men into the battle of Vercors, recited some verse. 0 poets of France,so often associated with its martyrdom! Yes, Art, by its existence alone, was moreover achallenge to the new 'Civilization' that they intended to impose on us." Concepts such asL'Homme, tradition, France, unity, inner freedom, the defence of culture, form a thematicthread throughout the collection. "Humanite de la peinture" and "L'Art de la collectivite"(Diehl); "Pour une peinture independante" (Hippolyte Tavernier); "De l'universalite de lapeinture francaise" (Charles Fegdal). It should be noted that the 'tradition' which isdiscussed includes such forms as Impressionism, Fauvism, Cubism, and Surrealism, andothers which were excluded from the Nazi 'new order'.The journal, Confluences, began publication openly in Lyon in 1941, under the direction ofRene Tavernier. Vichy suspended its publication in July 1942 for two months for itsinclusion of "Nymphee", a poem by Aragon. In the same issue appeared the writings of twoJews, Gertrude Stein and Max Jacob. In a later issue, a satirical review of the poetry of30fascist writer Robert Brasillach caused Vichy to put the magazine under 'reinforcedcontrol'. A Parisian paper wrote that, ". . the literary magazines of the southern zone havealways manifested, more or less slyly, the greatest tenderness for the defunct ThirdRepublic, its Jews, pederasts, and Freemasons. Among these magazines, Confluences . . .has always distinguished itself by its zeal in opposing new ideas . . . A writer is interned? Atonce his name appears in the table of contents of the next issue of Confluences." (QuotedLottman, The Left Bank, p. 209)Les Problêmes de la peinture was intended for publication in June 1944; the submissionswere written during the Occupation.35 Cited by Berthold Hinz, Art in the Third Reich, p. 37.36 J.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and French Resistance",p. 233. King contends that while writing may have been a luxury, because of lack of paperand other shortages it also became a necessity.37 Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art. Paris 1940-1944, p. 97. This distinction between the 'easilyread' and the more 'coded' is an important one, as the former was seen to have a parallel inpropaganda.38 Ibid., p. 38.39 Ibid., p. 113. The works she refers to here, produced during the war, are Kandinsky'sTensions, Fautrier's Otages, Gruber's Hommage a, Jacques Callot, Fougeron's Rue de Paris1943, and Dubuffet's Le Metro.40 The Speeches of Adolf Hitler (London: Oxford University Press, 1942), vol.1, pp. 577-578.41 Ibid., p. 590.42 In "Portraits avant decês", Comoedia, 5 September, 1942, Vlaminck wrote of Surrealism:"Sexual visions plunge him into a morbid state wherein the intellectual onanism andpederasty in the making of these monsters collect the specialists of mental illness andinverted amateurs." (Cited by Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 146.)43 Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 145.44 This appeared in the February 1941 issue, cited by Atack, Literature and the FrenchResistance, p. 21.45 Higgins, "Tradition and Myth in French Resistance Poetry", p. 49. He uses the phrase"voice of destruction" as it appears in Emmanuel's Combat avec tes defenseurs (Paris:Editions Seghers, 1969). Already a cliché then, it was the title of a 1940 book on Germanpropaganda by Hermann Rauschning, The Voice of Destruction (New York: G.P. Putnam'sSons, 1940). Higgins here is obviously taking up the voice of the poet.46 Higgins, "Tradition and Myth in French Resistance Poetry," p. 49.3147 Atack, Literature and the French Resistance,  p. 21.48 J.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and French Resistance",p. 236. Guehenno, who was imprisoned during the war, later wrote "Dans la prison", in Lapatrie se fait tous les jours. 1 France 1939-1945,  Jean Paulhan and Dominique Audry, eds.(Paris: Editions de Minuit, 1947). This quote is from p. 236.49 Higgins, "Tradition and Myth in French Resistance Poetry", p. 56.50 J.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and French Resistance",p. 237, p. 227.51 Ibid., p. 238.52 Higgins, "Tradition and Myth in French Resistance Poetry", p. 56. Republicanpatriotism was equated with universal humanism throughout resistant writings.53 Lurcat included poetry by such writers as Jean Marcenac, Tristan Tzara, Paul Eluard,Louis Aragon, and Pierre Seghers. See Claude Roy, Jean Lurcat (Geneve: Editions PierreCailler, 1956), p. 116.54 See Kedward, "The Maquis and the Culture of the Outlaw", pp. 232-251.55 Ibid., p. 248. Kedward's concern here is for the Maquis, but he contends that thisculture was extended to a larger population by November 1942, when the mood of Vichyswitched from optimism to the pessimism of the 'shield' philosophy, and there were notenough Jews and foreigners to use as barter, hence the pool of potential hostages neededto be increased. Similarly, there were not enough young men willing to go to Germany towork, and criteria for this forced labour programme was extended to include married men,students, and agricultural workers. This incursion into the general population forced muchresistance (p. 240). Meanwhile, the refractaires (those who refused to go to Germany) werecaricatured as bandits, and many formed the Maquis, the armed resistance which had notexisted before the labour programme. These young men, their families, local cures,pasteurs, and teachers supported the Maquis position, thus evolving a greater tolerance, inmany regions, for those people and acts which stood outside the law.56 Ibid., p. 244.57 Ibid.58 At first Petain was seen as the 'first patriot'. However, as Kedward notes, in theintroduction to Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology,  p. 3, after thecollapse of the shield policy in 1942 and with the invasion of the southern zone, patriotismcame to be seen as the sole possession of the Resistance. For Maurras' construction of the'real country', which excluded Jews, Freemasons, Protestants, revolutionaries, socialists,anarchist, and laissez-faire liberals, see Kedward,"Charles Maurras and the True France",p. 121. Kedward explains that Maurras' concept of 'True France' was a nation "composed ofclassical elements: absolute monarchy, a permanent hierarchy, ancient provincial liberties32and rural values, classical culture and the humanism of the Renaissance" (p. 121).59 This radio report is cited in part by Herbert Lottman, The Left Bank, p. 204, and byDorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 105. Cassou is a pivotal figure in theResistance, both for his writing and his activism. He was arrested and imprisoned inDecember 1941, for his association with the Musee de l'homme group. While in prison, hewrote 33 sonnets composes en secret under the pseudonym Jean Noir. Upon his release,he moved to Toulouse where he organized the Resistance group Liberer and fearer, andsoon became de Gaulle's Commissioner of the Republic for the region. Wounded inToulouse during the liberation of that town, he was rewarded for his contributions with thedirectorship of the Musee d'Art Moderne.60 Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 105, gives some examples of officialdiscourse: "art judeo-maconnique', 'art bolschevique', sustained by a ludeo-americaine'clientele, accused simultaneously of being foreign, Jewish, Freemason or communist"61 Cassou, from La memoire courte (Editions de Minuit, 1953), pp. 53-55, cited byKedward, Resistance in Vichy France, p. 76.62 See Mary Ann Caws, The Poetry of Dada and Surrealism: Aragon. Breton. Tzara,Eluard, and Desnos (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970), for a discussion ofEluard's 'wall' imagery. Caws notes, p. 161, "Eluard's most despairing poems are hauntedby the spectacles of walls closing in to shut off liberty and light; and with them the sense ofman's individual significance." She quotes from a wartime poem, "Mourir": "Walls exist forme alone. . . Between the walls the shadow is complete/And I go down into mymirror/Like a dead man into his open tomb." While, she says, during the war "thesensation of darkness and separation are to be expected, . . . walls and shadows haunt allhis poetry. . ." (p. 162)63 Leger, "The Wall, the Architect, the Painter", Functions of Painting (New York: theViking Press, 1965. First published in 1933.) p. 94.64 Leger, "Mural Painting and Easel Painting", Functions of Painting, p. 161.65 Uger, "The Wall, the Architect, the Painter", p. 95.66 Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944, p. 31.67 That is, of course, unless one wished to collaborate in the Vichy regime's glorificationproject. I do not, however, wish to overgeneralize here, for as Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944 makes clear, exhibitions were held during the war, in small locations, or insuch small galleries as those of Jeanne Bucher or Louis Carre. However, such exhibitionswere few and small, and always suffered the risk of censure, or worse -- having the piecesdestroyed. Some artists involved in the public art discussions of the 1930's were Georg,Lhote, Gromaire, Humblot, Taslitsky, Bissiere and Gischia, as well as Lurcat and Leger.68 These examples are all taken from the catalogue Aftermath: France 1945-54 (Paris:L'Association francaise d'action artistique, Barbican Centre for Arts and Conferences,March 3 - June 13,1982). For Brassai, see pp. 87-88, Boris Taslitsky, pp. 70-71, Jean-Michel33Atlan, pp. 83-84, and Hans Bellmer, pp. 125-126.69 Claude Roy, Jean Lurcat, p. 18. This concern for reconciliation of the exterior andinterior worlds, a kind of cathartic reassertion of the hegemony of the interior world (or abalance, at least, between the two) as it occurs in the poetry of Eluard, is discussed byCaws, The Poetry of Dada and Surrealism, p. 141. She notes that in a 1934 essay on MaxErnst (reprinted in Beyond Painting, New York: Wittenborn, 1948), "Eluard describes theinseparable nature of the exterior and interior, of 'matter, movement, need, desire'. Thereis no distance between man and the objects of his vision, and ideally none between thingsactual and imagined, the concrete and the abstract: they are in fact identified with eachother." This will become apparent in the ensuing discussion in Chapter 2 of Eluard's poem"Liberte", and it is also part of the meaning of the chosiste poetry of Francis Ponge. Ponge'sversion of the relationship between this world and one more abstract is seen in his poetryboth before and after the war. However during the war, when some abstract concepts werehighly-charged and encoded within material images, the phenomenon obviously becamemore 'political'. For example, Ian Higgins, in discussing Ponge's poetry (Anthology ofSecond World War Poetry, London: Methuen Educational Ltd., 1982, p. 221), asserts thatthe image of a plane tree stands for Provence and the Mediterranean (a race which theNazis found inferior) and the plane tree becomes a symbol of the pride and permanence ofthe south of France. ("Le platane" is subtitled "ou la permanence"). Ponge, despite hisleftist politics, is not generally considered a 'resistance' poet, and it is through analyses suchas Higgins' that one can understand the significance of such works at the time of theirproduction. Ponge's `matterism' is paralleled in Dubuffet's 1945 works, Les Murs, and theillustrations Dubuffet did for Ponge's Matiere et memoire.70 Raymond Gid, "Vingt ans d'affiches et de livres", Paris-Paris 1937-1957 (Centre GeorgesPompidou, 1981, pp. 454-467), p. 454.71 This is Dorleac's term, in Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944,  p. 87, so-called after thefirst V's appeared in the city of Paris.72 Henri Michel, Paris Resistant (Paris: Editions Albin Michel, 1982), p. 42. This 'war', hesuggests, began in July 1940 with the first arrest of youths vandalizing posters.34Chapter 2Jean Lurgat and the Defence of French CultureProgrammatic reclamation of French history and tradition began in the mid-1930'sand henceforward, throughout the Popular Front's governing years, would dominate itscultural politics. Rather than encourage new forms of art, Popular Front support wasdirected toward dispersing traditional culture. The programme had an eclectic base, andembraced a range of heritages, from Christian cathedrals to Dordogne cave paintings toprovincial folklore. This concern with tradition was part of an overweening effort to 'breakdown the barriers' between art and the masses, and was tied to an effort to educate thepublic about art.1 This relationship between culture and politics, as Julian Jackson hasnoted in The Popular Front in France. defending democracy, was one largely forged by theCommunist Party.2 The Popular Front's cultural eclecticism was embraced by most leftistartists. Seemingly, only the October Group and the Surrealists could not accommodatethemselves to the programme, differing over such issues as the burgeoning nationalism incultural policy. For example, Jacques Prevert, member of the October Group whichdissolved in 1936, expressed his dissatisfaction with the nascent nationalism which focusedon traditional heritage: "I gave up. . . when in working-class circles it became good form toreplace the Internationale with the Marseillaise."3The interest in French culture found an apogee in the 1937 World Exposition, in theretrospective of the history of French art. This exhibition coincided in 1937 with the Nazi'degenerate art' exhibits in Germany, and underscored the significance of art to politicalstruggle. Moreover, that year Hitler had intended to erect a display in Munich entitled AThousand Years of German Art. He chose instead to concentrate on contemporary art, tobetter affect current art practice.4 That display of contemporary art opened the new Houseof German Art in Munich, near the gallery in the Hofgarten arcades which displayed the'degenerates'. Hitler had placed the artistic realm at the forefront of his battle for politicalpower, seeking to eradicate modern art altogether, and hence to link official German art ofthe 1930's directly to academic art of the 19th century. A desire to wipe out troublesome35periods of history and their problematic cultural products was indicated by this move; thus,it is no accident that it was in those gaps of history that the French left found its ownmoments of glory. This attack on art is perhaps best remembered for the actual enactmentof the policy -- the confiscations of artworks from German galleries by the Reich Chamberof Culture, from 1936-37.5In France, in November 1938, the Popular Front was defeated. As Jackson hasnoted in his study of the period, this political change made the use of the past, of traditionand of culture even more important. He states that:. . . the Communists' obsession with history became increasingly frenetic,culminating in the campaign for the celebration of the revolution, whichdominated the party's activity in 1938 and 1939.  . . By 1939, these were thetactics of desperation -- an attempt to retrieve through history the consensusthat had been lost in politics.6The new Radical government, however anti-Communist, did not abandon the promotion ofFrench culture, buoyed no doubt by a certain patriotism in the face of mounting tensions inEurope. Hence the Ministry of Education continued to fund some of the projects begun bythe former administration. State support of the reanimation of the weaving workshopssuch as Aubusson under the supervision of Jean Lurcat and Marcel Gromaire, initiated inthe mid-30's, was one of these. In 1939, these artists were asked to study thereestablishment of that tapestry industry?These tapestry looms of Aubusson, Beauvais, Tabard, and Gobelins had been idlesince the 19th century. However, now that unemployment plagued France, reactivation ofthe tapestry industry simultaneously offered a way of providing jobs for unemployedweavers, and through state commissions a means of dispersing art 'to the people'.Thereafter throughout the war, a revival of this oldest, quintessentially French artflourished, and it was from tapestry's earliest form, the medieval works, that Lurcat andGromaire took their direction.Adopted as part of an oppositional vocabulary, a new medievalism developed duringthe war -- and was by no means restricted to the tapestry endeavour. For example, areference to the medieval was developed by the group, Jeunes peintres,  whose paintings36took, among other medieval aspects, the blocks of colour of stained glass windows.8Resistance poets, too, assumed a medievalist reference in their work; Louis Aragon isperhaps the best known of this group. Specific aspects of medievalism, in particular, theCatholic and monarchical associations of the period were ignored as there were otheraspects of medieval life that could stand in opposition to present realities. To revive themedieval was not only a way to recall a period of French glory. To be sure, this was aneffective part of such a revival, but it also served another function. This construction of themedieval operated as a counterfoil to the Nazi resurrection of the classical/ Renaissance/neo-classical periods, with their supposed monopoly on reason as a period trait. Thismedievalism was also set up against the promotion, through fascism, of the racialsuperiority of the Aryan race. Surrealist poet Louis Aragon, for example, in pursuing hisinterest in the theme of nationhood during the war, found a viable source in the latemedieval era of Provencal France. In the twelfth century, not only did the south of Francehave a written culture which flourished in Provence, and served to set it apart from thatwhich was constructed as the 'savage' but, according to M. Adereth, in Aragon: The Resistance Poems, the idea of nation was rising in the peasantry, not the feudal lords.9Thus for the French left, the Middle Ages could represent a past free of fascistappropriation. Precapitalistic, preindividualistic, the Middle Ages could be poetic ratherthan rational, tolerant instead of ordered, communal rather than hierarchical. Its'character' was viewed as imaginative, not literal, spiritual and fanciful rather than physical,and as subtle and persuasive rather than overwhelming. These associations had acompelling currency in the 1930's. After all, 'progress' and 'reason' seemed to have ledwestern civilization to the brink of war, leading the world into regression, andirrationality.10The tapestry revival, then, during the last years of the 1930's and into the war,offered a means of uniting radical opposition to fascism with a French tradition, one thatcould be appropriated for leftist ends. Oppositional art during the war took a stand notonly against Nazi imagery, but the art promoted by Vichy as well. In the southern,37unoccupied zone, there existed a veritable cult of Petain, who was seen as a saviour orfather figure. This sentiment was accompanied by a nostalgic attachment to thecountryside, which was represented as a timeless, untroubled landscape. The result was aplethora of posters and glorifying portraits of Petain [Figure 1]. These presented theMaróchal as a military hero, or a kindly grandfather, or standing rooted in a rurallandscape, sometimes in the tradition of the 19th century print, the image d'Epinal. Suchimagery was used for crafts as well, and tapestries were woven to honour Petain.11 AsDorleac has noted of the Occupation period, "Effigies of Petain appeared everywhere andbore such slogans as: France is a Great Lady; All the Nation Wants Peace."12 [SeeFigure 2] Jean Texcier, a resistance writer, on a visit to Vichy noted the ubiquitousimagery of Pótain and compared the southern capital to Paris:This comic opera capital is also the Holy City, with its Marechal in flesh andblood, its Maróchal on prints, posters, postcards, calendars, pipes,paperweights and before long, no doubt, on cough lozenges. In Paris, onecan never get away from the vision of our wounded and insulted country,every moment on the streets you can hear its tormentor's voice -- but Vichy isdifferent. By listening hard, by watching closely, one can see that a subtlepolitical game is going on.1-5The style of this official Vichy art was untouched by the 'modern', and it did notsubscribe to any period of splendour. Instead it was, and was intended to be, a timeless artof great simplicity and landscapes and portraits frequently resembled either folk art,academic work, or 'Sunday painting'. Vichy attempted above all, to revive the vocation ofthe artisan, to evoke a nostalgic return to a past when art was carefully, earnestly crafted.Marechal Petain made the programme clear in 1940, when he declared that "The France oftomorrow will restore the traditions which, in earlier times, made its fortune and glory. Asa country of quality classicism, it would know how to give all its production this finish, thisdelicacy, this elegance -- of which it has no rival."14 In its pursuit of timelessness, eleganceand simplicity, Vichy emphatically rejected other art forms. Like Germany, Vichyabhorred aspects of 'modern' art, which it viewed as overly complex, indulgent, or chaotic.The abstraction of a group such as the Jeunes peintres was anathemic to the Vichy regime.problematic, pretentious, decadent, self-indulgent. While the Jeunes peintres de tradition38francaise were also preoccupied with the relationship between the artist and nation, aconcern dating from before the war until some years after its end, their art exhibited notserenity and elegance but what Dorleac terms an inquietante etrangete. Dorleac explainsthat instead of adopting the rational organization of the universe implied in classicism, theJeunes peintres refused such order, preferring disequilibrium and arbitrary arrangements.15In aiming to gain or keep the support of the citizens of the south, and believing intheir own version of rural values, members of Vichy's government sought to appeal, in art,to a rural sensibility. Feeling a camaraderie with their hosts (the people of the south) andobserving the rise of resistance among the peasantry, Lurcat and his fellow tapissiers alsosought to convey rural associations in their tapestries. But they rejected Vichy's pastoralimagery and aimed at a greater level of intellectual engagement with the viewer. As thischapter will assert, Lurcat's works in particular integrated allegory, myth, legend, andancient history with current events, social concerns, and values shared by both resistantintellectuals and other southern citizens, including peasants. This is an important aspect ofLurcat's art. Vichy's appeal to the peasantry had subsided; indeed, it may never have takena firm hold to begin with. By 1942, as Alexander Werth, who spent the war years in Francerecalled, the cult and myth of Petain had faded out, "with its tearful French glorification.and the rolling together of cows, pigs, trees, Joan of Arc, God, le Marechal, and anexpurgated Charles Peguy."16 In fact, oppositional strategy appealed to other historicalprecedents and deliberately reshaped traditional legends as part of its programme PoetLouis Aragon wrote in 1942 of such tactics:Puisque les peseurs d'or ont ferme leurs comptoirsEt que toute grandeur a passé son cheminJe te reprends Ugende et j'en feraiL'Histoire17Within this context, the defiant appropriation of resistance poetry on Lurcat's tapestriesserved to affirm what was already considered to be resistant in the realm of the visual arts.So as well as the poetic analogy, the very means of production stood for opposition: thewoven material itself (the choice of fabric), the physical dimensions, the cooperativeassociation of artist and artisan, the revival of the medieval and the collusion theretofore of39myth and ancient and contemporary history.The reestablishment of tapestry at the workshops of Beauvais, Gobelins, Tabardand Aubusson had been preceded by experiments in tapestry cartoons by artists such asLurcat, Braque, Matisse, Dufy, Picasso, and Derain, in the early 1930's. These efforts werelargely the result of the sponsorship of gallery director and collector, Mme. Cuttoli.18Lurcat came to believe that most of these endeavours were only poorer copies of paintingand, having rediscovered in 1938 France's oldest existing medieval tapestry, the Apocalypsed'Angers19, he felt that there was much to learn from the direct study of such ancientworks. He wrote an article on the tapestry for a 1943 issue of Confluences, and based hisview of tapestry production on such medieval works. Post-medieval tapestries, he believed,had lost through the use of fine threads and many colours, the simplicity and economy ofmeans which distinguished the older works. He claimed that these later tapestries,particularly those designed by such painters as Boucher in the 18th century, haddegenerated into pale imitations of painting. In turn, these "false pictures" by their silkenelegance and frivolous subject matter had become mere decoration for the homes of theprivileged and the courts of kings.20What emerged as the first objective for Lurcat and Gromaire's 1939 study of thetapestry industry was to find a kind of marriage of aesthetics and economics, to studymaterials and their costs. The second was to make tapestries more of a joint creation ofweaver and artist, and less the assertion of the authority of the painter.21 The solution tothe latter dilemma they found in the medieval process, wherein the weaver had beenaccorded a greater freedom of interpretation than in later tapestry production. Lurcat andGromaire recreated this through a new method of instruction between designer andweaver: a cartoon coded by numbers for colours, which the weaver would interpret and 'fillin' when at work on the tapestry. In subsequent writings, Lurcat made much of theeconomic viability for tapestries,22 reviving the use of locally-produced vegetable dyes:madder from Carpentras, yellow weed from Normandy, woad from Albi. These thencreated a link with the very soil of France. The woven materials then, connected with the40natural world, and as a result of the study, in his own works Lurcat preferred the use ofsimple wool to sumptuous silks, and used a coarse warp. [See Figures 3, 5, 13-18.] He thenwove these threads in a simple gros point, with fewer then five threads per centimetre. Herelied on oppositions of few colours, one simple field of colour juxtaposed against another;this method gleaned from medieval tapestries. According to writer Pierre Hirsch, theopposition of masses and colour were to be read as opposition in general -- to the world ofthe here-and-now, but also against oppression.23The only depth created in these weavings was that of the sturdy wool surface, whichasserted itself as robust, warm, and vibrant, with each thread casting a shadow. Tapestry, inmedieval times, so Lurcat claimed, had all the simplicity and complexity of poetry, andFrench 'genius' then he considered to be more poetic than realistic. Medieval outlook, inhis analysis, was taken to be deeply allegorical -- the earth, for example, was viewed as amirror of heaven: everything on earth was imbued with special spiritual meaning. In thisthere seemed to exist a profound sense of nature and communion with powers and theelements: earth, air, fire, and water. This reference to the medieval Lurcat and Gromaireused to transform nature or landscape from pictures of pastoral scenes, to morecomplicated subjects. The four elements in, for example, Lurcat's la Terre of 1944[Figure 17] and Gromaire's work of the same name in 1943, and also Marc St. Saens' LeFeu of 1945, were revived to indicate the endurance of these basic entities throughouthistory.Medieval craftsmen were often nomadic and, uprooted by war, formed independentcompanies as a result.24 At the end of the fifteenth century, the Valois reestablished thecapital in the Loire valley, and there in art sought to free themselves from adherence toFlemish dictates of realistic representations to instead develop their own, more lyrical,evocations of nature. The weavers studied flowers, for example, but then scattered themarbitrarily over the background.25 This medieval departure from realism writer RenéHuyghe has described as ". . . no more imitating depth and perspective, where nature pilesitself up into a thick microcosm", adding, "Tapestry remains a surface, an animation of a41surface. It only borrowed from nature since realism was there." 26 In Huyghe's view then,this kind of tapestry insists on being both nature and artifice: the Gothic is presented aspositing a poetic solution, but unlike the trompe l'oeil of the 18th century, Huyghe sees therestricted number of tones in these medieval products acting as safeguard againstconfusion.27 In medieval art, then, Lurcat found much to transform into the modern inresponse to the rise of fascism. Medieval tapestries were considered to hold no hierarchyof forms, since all the pictorial elements were equally significant. Medievalism such asLurgat's harked back to a more harmonious time, a spiritual communion of people workingtogether as a unit, and a time wherein people approached the world poetically rather thanwith strict rationality.The medieval reference is apparent in Lurgat's Combat de coqs of 1939 [Figure 3].The composition derives from a medieval tapestry, Unicorn in Captivity [Figure 4], fromthe series The Hunt of the Unicorn,  from about 1500. The unicorn, a familiar icon forChrist, a symbol for courtly love, and a powerful, magical entity whose horn has the abilityto purify, appears in an Edenic garden, the hortus conclusus.28 The previous tapestry in theHunt of the Unicorn series depicts the killing of the unicorn; the Unicorn in Captivitypresents its rebirth.29 Lurgat replaces the unicorn with three battling French cocks --resplendent, but trapped. The entrapment is somewhat ambiguous: an escape is affordedby the open gate, of which the cocks appear unaware, and the fence appears as an opticalillusion. The broken fence of the mythical garden could also indicate the possibility of anintrusion into paradise of outside, alien forces, while the cocks, proud and preoccupied,look the other way. Is the combat amongst each other, or a potentially losing battle againstevil? Lurgat marshalled medieval allegory and myth to compose a language through withto speak of contemporary events.Another tapestry of 1939, Le Poete30 [Figure 5, and detail, Figure 6] exhibits thebeginnings of what became Lurgat's vision of a universal Man, called up in response to thedebasement, through fascism, of notions of common humanity. In Lurcat's piece, thisvegetal, natural man, hairy, bearded, aged and with white hair, appears in a garden42surrounded with what appear to be either oak or holly leaves. Oak and holly were bothvenerated, tied to France's Celtic past, and were also sacred symbols in medieval art,associated with fertility.31 A dark shadow crosses the sun, and large black areas contrastwith bright yellow spaces. The Man holds a fish and either a falcon or eagle, signifying hisposition as earth, joining sea and sky, balancing underworld and heaven. The eagle mayhere stand for the Nazi symbol, tamed and neutralized.With this image of the Poet, Lurcat speaks here to Nazi ideology; the Manconfronts the concept of 'man-superman' of fascist doctrine. Nazi ideology emphasized thecult of total man, homo fascista: connoting youth, the athletic, perfect physical specimen,and a virile elite or leader, suggesting aggression and force. Such ideology was succinctlyconveyed by the stoic, cold, imposing marble neoclassical sculptures by Nazi artist ArnoBreker32 [See Figures 7, 8, 9]. Lurcat's Man assaults this Nazi concept and its visualrepresentations in every way, both in materials and image. Man, soft, aged, wise, in hisgarden home, contradicts the Volkisch doctrine of distance from nature and the materialworld. As well, Man here is the poet, whose power lies in the ability to recreate the worldafresh, and who rescues language from its abuse in propaganda.Lurcat also brings to bear upon tapestry another medieval mythical entity, the 'wildman' [Figures 10, 11]. As Timothy Husband has noted in a recent study, the wild man mythpersisted for at least two centuries, from the 13th to the 15th. With supernatural powers,close to nature, and immune to civilization's evils, the wild man "was both antithesis andideal, savage and sublime "33 In carnivals and masquerades, the world turned upside down,he evolved as a critic of society's corruption. In Le Bal des ardents [Figure 12], arepresentation in a Book of Hours, the 'wild man dance' from the end of the 15th centuryprovides an illustration of a common theme, one also produced in tapestry. At thesedances, lords and ladies would masquerade as their social opposites.The wild man, associated with nature and unbounded fertility, was the outcast 'manof the woods'. In one form he was the 'green man', or green knight, and leafy rather thenhairy, he was the personification of spring.34 He was often portrayed in sculpture as43covered with foliage. This allusion to leafy sculpture, in Le Poête, can be seen asconfronting and defusing the power of Nazi statues, a regenerative verdant growth inopposition to frozen and academic classicism. Lurcat's Le Poete then, can be interpretedas a travesty of fascist ideology on many levels: the 'spirit of the team', the virile fascistelite, is contradicted by the collective, anti-authoritarian teamwork of tapestry production.And Nazi art, the geometric, absolute forms, the colossal architecture of the granite ormarble tomb or monument, is confronted by huge elastic tapestries, of colourful, warm,woven, earthy materials, destined to blanket bare walls or open a window in a prison cell.While fascism relied on mass spectacle,35 visual only, tapestry is appreciated by touch aswell, living and sensual. Rigid control and total order are absent from this tapestry designas it posits a poetic vision of soft edges and haphazard details.In 1940, Jean Lurcat produced the tapestry L'Hallali [Figure 13]. The poet's gardenis snowed under, dark and silent. The Man is poised as if to flee, anxious and alert.France's occupation, the chaos of the exode, and the imposition of censorship inform thiswork. The years of the Armistice, 1940-1941, were years characterized by a silence whicharose from the immediate response to the trauma of unexpected defeat. Stricken by therapid defeat and consequent invasion of their country, 85% of the population welcomed theinvestiture of Marechal Petain as the new leader of the unoccupied zone, forming aunanimity of disparate groups and individuals cleaved together by fear, resignation, andfatalism. Five to ten million people fled the occupied zone, a shocking phenomenon ofchaos and despair, a migration unknown since the Middle Ages. Lurcat described theevent of the exodus of June, 1940, witnessed from his home in the south:This pitiful wandering. . . almost submerged the movement. The loomsstopped. . . Completely overwhelmed, we stood on the crossroads watchingthis human flood, this panic of men to save their wealth, this flood ofmattresses, grandmothers, wireless sets. . . 36To resist would have been futile, and the refugees thought only of survival and shelter.This surely was the topsy-turvy world: no belonging, no home, no routine. The exoduscreated a community of exiles. Jean-Paul Sartre spoke of the trauma:Certain madmen, they say, are haunted by the feeling that a ghastly event has44turned their world upside down. . . At every moment we felt that a link withthe past had been broken.37As H.R. Kedward has noted, paranoia was rampant on the road, with the fear thatthe Germans were right behind, superhumanly fast, and hiding in every cornfield.38 Thefeelings of the exodus, the fear and bewilderment, the anger and bitterness toward thegovernment of the Third Republic which had not protected them, set the stage for people'sacceptance of Petain's reassurances. Silence was one form of passive resistance to theregimes, particularly to the German presence. Indeed, as James King analyzes, "Languagewas the last line of defence for a defeated people."39 In these early years, before theemergence of the clandestine press as a form of oppositional communication, language wasnot the active weapon it would become.The tapestry, L'Hallali of 1940 [Figure 13] shows a frozen, paralytic winter, the silentnight of Occupation. Man is the hunter or the hunted; Thallali' is the rallying cry of thehunt. The appearance of three-headed hounds in medieval art generally signifies Cerebus,the three-headed dog who guards the gates of hell. The landscape of winter in medieval artwas the depiction of life gone underground, as Christ himself entered a wintry hell beforehe rose in the spring.' ° In this tapestry, Lurcat evokes rebirth, as an open gate: will Manhear the call of the hunt? Which way will he turn?The image evokes the exodus of 1940 which had caused swelling populations in thesouth of France, with many areas tripling their populations41, and with urban refugees nowdependent upon the peasantry for survival. The countryside, for those whom modernityhad failed, meant comfort and safety. In particular, as H.R. Kedward has argued, thelanguage expressive of traditional provincial values held special meaning.The 40 million French people, if affected by anything, were moved by thelanguage and imagery which expressed hopes of basic survival, words whichwere felt to be good, simple, warm, and protective: mere, famille, enfant,pere, nourriture, courage, honneur, joie, esprit, fraternite, relevement,renaissance, amour, paysans, la France eternelle.42Kedward has convincingly demonstrated that Petain monopolized the comforting wordsand values such as hearth, village, community, and safety, up until the end of 1941. At thattime a growing resistance movement sought to challenge this monopoly. Thus, La France45libre's first issues, published in London, were filled with photographs of the Frenchcountryside:43 the exile's vision concurred with that of the refugee. Resistance began withthe struggle over words and consciousness as the imagery was transferred and realigned.Language became a permanent battlefield.As part of a study of Resistance poetry in France, writer Ian Higgins has claimedthat "the death-dealing abuse of language characterizes fascism; the life-giving use oflanguage equals resistance to fascism." He adds that the use of language in Nazipropaganda, with its effect of a 'spring to attention', is antithetical to poetry, which is"supple, dynamic, creative." 44 In 1947, looking back at the motives for poetry-making, poetPierre Emmanuel observed, "Ce regime ne pouvait vivre qu'en pervertissant les mots, maisqui blesse le langage, blesse l'homme."45 This significance to what Surrealist writer PaulEluard called life-giving words or words made flesh', was asserted in his own poem of 1942for Gabriel Peri, one of the editors of L'Humanite, who had been tortured and executed bythe Germans in October of 1941. Part of that poem reads:Ii y a des mots qui font vivreEt ce sont des mots innocentsLe mot chaleur le mot confianceAmour justice et le mot liberteLe mot enfant et le mot gentilesseEt certains noms de fleurs et certains noms de fruitsLe mot courage et le mot decouvrirEt le mot frere et le mot camaradeEt certains noms ,le femmes et d'amisAjoutons-y Peri.41Vichy's attempt to legitimize its domination of the values associated with thecountryside came in large part from the ideas of Charles Maurras. Vichy's NationalRenovation of its first two years was largely created by Maurras, staunch upholder ofFrench conservatism, entrenched in his beliefs for half a century.' 8 A longtime opponentof the Third Republic, Maurras sought to link the 20th century with the ancien regimeoverthrown at the end of the 18th century. Thus, the Resistance needed not only to combatMaurras' concept of what he termed the pays reel, but also his slavish devotion toclassicism. The response was to call up another period of French glory, the medieval, and46drive a wedge into the false national unity embraced by Petain and Maurras.When in the winter of 1940-1941 Petain toured the provinces, local mayors andprefects revived local festivals and folklore.49 But in October 1941, at the time of thehostage-taking of French citizens at Chateaubriant50, Le Travailleur de Languedoc, anewspaper from the south, traditionally aligned with the oppositional left and not theforces of repressive order, claimed a different local history:In a period which greatly resembles the one in which we live, in 1851 theLanguedoc forcefully opposed the coup d'etat of Napoleon-le-petit. . . theCommune and the Dreyfus affair reasserted the old fighting tradition, aflame never extinguished. . . and it was the people of Languedoc whopassionately upheld the Spanish Republic.5'In the realm of culture, an Occitan revolt was taking place, and a group of Occitanpoets rivalled the Felibrige, the literary movement begun in the 19th century, and promotedby Maurras to preserve the Occitan language.52 Also, by 1942 Occitan-speaking peasantsjoined or aided the Maquis, the early organized and armed resistants.53 Rural support forresistance, according to H.R. Kedward, was consecrated by the tendency to draw from localhistories, myths, or folklore. For example, this outlaw group, the Maquis, living literally inthe open air in the hills, drew on precedents such as the Purs of the Cathars, or the 19thcentury Camisards.54 Other localities remembered their own persecuted pasts: thepredominantly Huguenot village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon secretly sheltered largenumbers of Jews during the war.55Historical precedents for fighting oppression were upheld to validate illegal acts,committed now not by criminals, but by ordinary French citizens who made difficult moralchoices. At first, then, such concepts as nation, unity, countryside, dignity were espoused bythose in support of Petain, but by 1942 allegiance in the south had swung to the Resistance,and as H.R. Kedward writes:Maurras' real freedoms could have been written by any Maquisard, for whileVichy appropriated many of the words and sentiments which hadtraditionally been the property of the left, by 1944 the Resistance wasreferring to libertes anciennes, le pays des ancetres, as if the concept of le paysreel had been invented by the Maquis and not the Nationalist Right.56Poetry and its historical tradition in the south served a role in this context. The47mode of writing under censorship created a role for poetry much as it was practised in theMiddle Ages. Then, it was an oral tradition. During the war, this tradition was revivedwith a more public face, as poetry was recited, for example, around Maquis campfires. Aswell, the clandestine press, an active agent in the Resistance after 1942, produced handbillsand poetry on small pieces of paper, much of which could be quickly memorized andconcealed or destroyed. Ian Higgins has argued that the nature of poetry during wartimewas necessarily altered: the shortage of paper and the threat of reprisal created a relianceon rhyme, especially old and familiar French forms, and a strict rationing of words, simpleimages for easy memorization. This rationing caused an increase in value for each word57,making each the bearer of multiple meanings. The Occupation had changed the outsideworld to the extent that even the most everyday, taken-for-granted thing or situation couldhave a sinister side or, at least, could not be counted upon to be there tomorrow. A tree,for example, which might at one time have evoked images of sunlight, or a woman's hair,now might have execution notices pinned to it.58 Even the most private feelings wereturned public. Hence, the mission of the poet within this environment was to keep a senseof freedom alive by preserving la vie interieure, to reveal the hidden emotional or abstractmeanings in reality, often by defamiliarizing everyday objects to register them moreintensely.Poetry, as Higgins has noted, had traditionally been considered (among other formsof writing) to be by its very nature resistant. Protesting against accepted ways of looking atthe world, it draws attention to its own process of expression. Poetry then could be seen asincompatible with propaganda -- la fausse parole -- which depended upon and reinforcedlinguistic cliches. In contrast, poetry could negate the world in its relation to language.59In terms of Resistance poetry, its distinguishing characteristic was its discreet use oflanguage. This, in Higgins' analysis, was more true of the writing produced through legally-sanctioned channels which was known as contrebande, than of the militant poetry of theclandestine press which, being anonymous, could be more explicit.60 Contraband poetry,he explains, "had two themes: one on the surface -- for example, love, nature God. . . and a48hidden one, which will be seen by those who have eyes to see."61 Such poetry was highlycoded, packed tight with imagery and unexpected words or phrases which could triggerchains of associations. The phrase `Octobre vert', for example, in Pierre Seghers' 1944poem "Octobre 41", may seem at first a simple image of nature. But October would be red,not green: red like blood -- and green is the colour of the Nazi uniform. The poemreferred, in fact, through this juxtaposition of words, to the hostage-taking at Chateaubriantin October 1941. Similarly, the river evoked in the first line of Bórimont's 1942 "Le Tempsdu beau plaisir" [Appendix A], could signify the Loire, reminiscent of castles or past glory.However, in wartime it also evoked Nantes on the Loire, the scene of a notorious executionof hostages. Indeed, reading of the poem depends upon knowing the circumstances of itspublication by Resistant poets, les Amis de Rochefort, as Rochefort is on the Loire.62This kind of image-making is similar to Lurcat's, and his tapestry venture in thesame years shares with such poetry the rationing of simple images, the exploration of la vieiraerieure, and the attempt to make a public gesture, using old, familiar forms and symbolsto convey contemporary meaning. Lurcat included in his tapestries poems by suchResistance writers, overtly linking the analogous means of expression and shared imagery,and also denoting the community and conspiracy of cultural resistant workers.63 In makinga traditional association which holds that as poetry is said to be passion, prose reason,Lurcat made the statement, "Where reason falters, isn't poetic fervour more capable ofunderstanding the world, of interpreting it, expressing it, even as reason is?"64Some poetic themes link most directly with Lurcat's work; in particular those drawnfrom the surrealist poetry of Tristan Tzara, Luc Berimont, and Louis Aragon who allcontinued to write during the war. While sharing the composite ideology of the Resistance,these and the other poets pursued their own styles and themes, and elements of this poetrycan be seen to parallel Lurcat's subjects. Tristan Tzara, for example, through the 1930'swrote of the bounty and wisdom of the natural world in his poems of plenitude, wherein hedescribed of the "slow consciousness of the plants and things", the "fire of the word sewn tothe fruits of the world".65 And Terre sur terre, written during wartime, begins with an49inventory of positive objects:Voice le sable voici mon corpsVoici le marbre et le ruisseau66It ends with rebirth, crows replaced by images of sun, crystal, and flame, opening out fromindividual perception to a universal vision.° Rebirth, sun, flames, the creation of the'marvellous' as the dream passes through everyday life,68 are all elements in Lurcat'stapestries from 1942-1944. [See Figures 14-181 Like Lurcat, Luc Berimont too wovethemes of time and seasons, life and death, soil and France, and resurrection into hispoems. Other allusions from his poem, "Le Temps du beau plaisir", were clear in 1942:'dead', 'ocean of blood' were read as war and occupation. And 'stars', 'fire' were light,hope, purity, and dawn -- le jour se leve: renewal and liberation.69Aragon's imagery was drawn from history, nature, art, and everyday life. "Theessential", he said, "is the mystery of the everyday."70 In Aragon's work, contradictions tooare essential aspects of life, to remain without pat resolution.71 Aragon's patriotic poetryrelied on the distinction between nation and race, wherein a community was not viewed asbased on blood (as contemporary German doctrine argued) but on shared language andculture.72 Blending medieval and modern history, Aragon used archaic forms, evenballads, as vehicles for modern. The past could be spoken about; it was the present whichwas the censored topic. Aragon used the medieval for its exaltation of heroism, revivingpatriotic figures such as Perceval-le-justicier, or Bertran de Born.73 He thus establishedconnections between the troubadours and the Resistance poets much as Lurcat lookedback to the beau metier of the medieval tapissier. The troubadours were viewed asnomadic, 'men of the soil', lords of language. Troubadours were thought to uphold theconcept of freedom of speech in more than one way. On the one hand, troubadours couldsing to a woman while her husband listened (such were the deceptive lyrics). As well, inthat medieval period France was divided in two, and the langage of half of France and thetroubadours -- the langue d'oc -- had been proscribed heretical by Pope Innocent IV.In 1942, Aragon underscored the relationship between troubadours chansons andcontemporary politics. He wrote, "Tous les Francais ressemblent a Blondel",74 evoking the50troubadour poet-companion to Richard Coeur-de-Lion, who rescued the king from prison,announcing the arrival of help by singing a ballad outside the prison window -- a balladboth he and the king knew. In his introduction to Jean Cassou's 33 Sonnets composes enprison, Aragon wrote:Chansons de gestes came into being in the sanctuaries that mark the route ofthe pilgrimaps along the roads of France. Today, however, the epic ofFrance is being composed in other sanctuaries on the road to NationalCalvary. From the prisons there arises a new Song of Roland.75In his verse, Aragon's medieval adventures often involved references to tapestry. His poemof 1940 on the wartime exodus is entitled "Tapisserie de la Grande Peur", a title which alsorefers to the Revolution's peasant rebellion of July/August 1789 that followed theeradication of rural feudalism. Later, Lurcat created a tapestry which he called La GrandePeur, suggesting a parallel with both Aragon's verse and the revolutionary event. Anotherof Aragon's poems produced in 1943-44, "Six Tapisseries inachevees", evokes a link withLurcat and holds up tapestry as a symbol of Resistance art.76Lurcat's tapestries of 1942-1944 signal a departure from his earlier works77. A singleoverall image was rejected for a more abstract pattern, a condensation of individual, highly-charged elements, each resonating with meanings, often multiple, even contradictory, asare words in Resistance poetry. The images evoke the complex from the simple, theabstract from the concrete, and involve contrasts of colours, light and dark, sea and sky,water and fire, song and silence, bestial and human, nature and culture, life and death,night and dawn.Liberte, produced in 1942 and nearly 9 square meters [Figure 14], is Lurcat's mostfamous Resistance tapestry. On the black circle is a skull: death; on the sun is a handpassing a torch. Wild foliage on one section is juxtaposed to an abstract floral pattern onanother. The verses inscribed are from Paul Eluard's 22-verse poem, "Liberte":Sur les formes scintillantesSur les cloches des couleursSur la verite physiqueJ'ecris ton nomSur la mousse des nuagesSur les sueurs de l'orage51Sur la pluie epaisse et faderecris ton nomPour te connditrePour te nommerLiberte78Eluard possesses the word liberte through the familiar use of tu, and such usage alsoinvokes intimacy, and a suggestion of prayer. The abstract concept of liberty is inscribed onthe most everyday objects or natural phenomena, "schoolboy notebooks", "wings of birds",to the progressively more abstract, multi-levelled, "on my reunited houses", the walls of myweariness", "on hope without memory".Significantly, the word liberty is only written, unspoken until the very last line, agesture of bravura and a rallying call. In his tapestry, Lurcat gives the word specialpredominance by juxtaposing it on the rising sun, a traditional French symbol (since the19th century) of political opposition and regeneration.79 He omitted some of theimportant words from the last stanza which, complete, reads:Et par le pouvoir d'un motJe recommence ma vieJe suis ne pour te connditrePour te nommerLiberte.This deliberate omission creates a kind of censure, which forces the reader to activelyparticipate, join together to fill in the rest of the well-known words, which contain the ideathat the word had the power to create new life, and that one is born to possess liberty: it isan inalienable right, and moreover, a shared one. In Lurcat's tapestry, the border of seacreatures indicate the clandestine, secret life of the sea, and stars, light in the darkness. Asun, aflame, eclipses the dark circle, and the victorious Gallic cock crows the new morning,the dawn of renewal and liberation.The 1942 tapestries, L'Apollinaire [Figure 15], and Es la verdad [Figure 16], includethe same fragment of a poem by Guillaume Apollinaire [Appendix B]. A calligram, like aconcrete poem, is in the shape of an object, thus making of words a visible, concrete reality.The lines on the tapestry read, `Voici la maison oil naissent les etoiles et les divinites' andthe shape created is a house or castle. The calligram derives from the technique of52fragmentation and recombination, the interrelationships of the whole perceived globallyand hence more powerfully.80 This effort is much like the programme of Lurcat's laterworks: the viewer needs to fuse the elements into an overall statement, be it victory overalien evil, regeneration, or a new image of Man.In L'Apollinaire, the fragment of the calligram rests to the left of a spray of foliage.In the whole original poem, entitled "Paysage" (Landscape), that position of the foliagebelongs to the shape of a tree, formed by the words, "Cet arbriseau qui se prepare afructifier te ressemble." Again, the reader is offered the opportunity of what was referred toin medieval times as opera aperta, the filling-in of the image. In this case, the familiar formfor 'you', the te is a direct gesture, and the theme is, again, rebirth. A few of the manyelements in L'Apollinaire are the inevitable sun and flames (dawn and purification), andthese eclipse the horns of a bull. Division was a taboo theme during the Occupation, tooevocative of a divided France.81 Not accidentally, L'Apollinaire has its own demarcationline; one half of is darkened with an ominous shadow, a snake, and bloodlike red flames.The shadow, a more geometric, manmade form, is balanced by the positive, natural foliageimage on the right of the weaving. Within the sun are four parts: nature and the city on thelight areas -- the alliance of town and country, nature and culture, provinces and Paris,peasant and poet. Lighting up the dark, black sections are a man and a rising sun on oneside, and a lion (Christ, pride, dignity, Richard Coeur-de-Lion) on the other. On medievaltapestries, the lion provided a resurrection motif.82The title, Es la verdad -- it is the truth -- firstoff makes immediate reference toSpain. It may also indicate the difficulty, at times, of speaking the 'truth' in one's ownlanguage. Here the truth is the unending cycle of the seasons, of life and death, of the linkbetween nature and humanity -- the man and woman depicted form a living river. Herein,as with Lurcat's earlier tapestries, are symbols of the elements: earth, air, fire, and water.Water and fire are apparent opposites, but as Lurcat commented later, "Man lives byparadoxes and contradictions which are finally resolved. The water that quenches theflame that consumes, and seeds the world . . . "83 The river runs to the sea, the biological53and mythological source of life, to be reborn. And here, the river runs over the earth tofertilize it. On the sun are four regions: earth, animal, vegetable, mineral -- and Man.Under the earth are circles indicating the months of the year, rhythm without end, denotingfecundity, and a false, wintry death.84A living, mythical pyramid is on the left side of the tapestry, like a coat-of-arms onmany medieval works. The pyramid is composed of a goat, cock, and bisexual centaur,above which is a stabbed bull, and atop that a lyre. Goats, centaurs, roosters are all imageswith associations with lust. The goat is the most lowly, as the cock and centaur have dualnatures. The cock is a national symbol, and the centaur represents either instinctscontrolled by spirit, or the reverse, the domination a being by lower forces. In creating abisexual centaur, Lurcat may have been offsetting the centaur apparently favoured byVichy. In a rare description of Vichy tapestry, Lurcat condemned its 18th century focuswhich evoked the authoritative monarchical and aristocratic culture of the feudal ancienregime:Laval, Petain . . . detestaient le `moderne'; ne croyaient qu'aux Grand Rois, aBoucher, a Mignard, aux jupons, aux escarpolettes, aux seins echappes descorsages. . . aux Triomphes, aux Centaures, a Jupin-Jupiter, a Madame dePompadour, aux Enfants Jardiniers, aux Bacchus. . . On tissait aux GOelinsle 'Triomphe du Marechal', pour Goering un monstrueux Hercule . . .°'The triangle in Lurcat's image is itself the threefold principle of creation, all things aspiringto a higher end. The bull is conquered, and the pinnacle is the lyre, symbol of theharmonious union of cosmic forces, and the reconciliation of heaven and earth. A lyre alsorepresents poetry, and here, doubtless, indicates the means for such a reconciliation. Onthe seventh underground circle -- July -- is a sprig of cherries. Cherries, since theCommune, had been associated with the socialist struggle for justice, from J.B. Clement's19th century song, Le Temps des cerises. This title was also chosen by Jean Cassou for oneof his Sonnets.86In 1944, Jean Lurcat produced the tapestry, La Terre [Figure 17]. Another tapestry,Le Ciel et la Terre [Figure 18], has a nearly-identical man on one side and three flamingsuns on the other. The Man serves as the link between heaven and earth, and indeed as54earth itself, he is the connection between sea and sky. On that tapestry, Man has a roosterat head and heart. According to Claude Roy's account, Lurcat spoke of the inspiration forthe Man of both these tapestries as the black Moor from Francesco del Cossa's fresco atthe Schifanoia Palace in Italy. The image is from the section representing the month ofMarch, therefore 'spring', and also Mars, the god of war. Lurcat also referred to anothersource, a Resistance boy he had encountered on the road.87 What I would argue here isthat like the interpretation of Resistance poetry, Lurcat's tapestry involves the freeassociation of images, wherein the reader plays the crucial role of interpreter, construingthe abstract from a deceptively simple image. Such is the case with Lurcat's specialreconstruction of the concept of Man. An example of this type of interpretation, whichwould consider this imagery as part of an oppositional vocabulary, might be the following:This Man is the profane: the black Moor, the outcast, the warrior, the visionaryCamisard, a Maquisard, the wild man of the woods.88 He is also the divine: the rural deity,and Christ. He is a pauper, a ragged peasant -- not the idealized 'wholesome' peasant ofPetain and Maurras -- but he is also regal, a vegetation king. He is the heretic, but also thepatriot, with French cock at head and heart. This is the barbarian from the topsy-turvytime when the true barbarian is the Nazi, whose preferred self-image is cold, dead,sculpture. Unlike a statue or a cold-blooded fascist, Lurcat's Man is visceral, fertile,regenerative, with the creative powers of the poet-seer. He is the wise man, the troubadour-- he is the universal Everyman. Both hero and antihero, he is the pays legal, true heir ofthe pays reel. He is the exile, the refugee, an alien in his own land, but his home is thewhole natural world. Weaponless and naked, he nevertheless represents strength, anddignity in defiance. He may be one of the poet-martyrs: St.Pol-Roux or Peri, or anothermartyr, the Wandering Jew who, while condemned to wander the earth, was characterizedin medieval times by his longevity.89 So older, much older even than Petain, he persists intradition and endures through art and legend long after the foibles of real men are buthistorical aberrations.Lurcat chose the largest format to make his statements public. In his attempt to55rediscover a public art, Lurcat found a special democracy -- a fraternity -- in tapestry. In1950, he wrote of his vision of the capacities that tapestry offered:And by contrast with the posturings and saccharine efforts of the easelpicture, for the purposes of high warp, the world is made up of the best andworst, the pure, the impure, abstract, base concrete, domestic or divine,sweet, bitter, or salty, forms in mural tapestry ferment, reflect, join togetherfuriously. . . the great lady of tapestry holds open house, welcomes allcorners, all forms, familiar animals, nettles, pittances, ships, pools, brawls,crows, unicorns, great ladies or stable boys -- everything has its place intapestry.90Lurcat's venture, fuelled by urgent hope for final victory, unfolds not only testimonyto the period of struggle against fascism, but with its imagery, uniquely posits a vision of atruly united, classless France.56ENDNOTES1 Julian Jackson, The Popular Front in France. defending democracy 1934-38  (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1989), pp. 120-138. Jackson devotes a chapter of his book tothe 'cultural explosion', and within that, a section discussing responses to the desire to bringart 'to the masses'. Breaking down barriers on many fronts was part of the Popular Frontproject. Jackson also discusses the various histories and traditions espoused by PopularFront intellectuals.2 Ibid., p. 118.3 Ibid, p. 126.4 Berthold Hinz, Art in the Third Reich (New York: Pantheon Books, 1979), p. 8.5 Ibid., pp. 25-26, 38-40. Actual destruction of art began early. The first major actsoccurred in 1930, with the destruction of Oskar Schlemmer's frescoes at the Bauhaus, andthe subsequent removal of 70 works from the Schloss museum.6 Jackson, The Popular Front in France. defending democracy 1934-38, p. 120.7 Francis Thomson, Tapestry: Mirror of History (New York: Crown Publishers, Inc., 1980),p. 186.8 Laurent Bertrand Dorleac provides a thorough discussion of the group Jeunes peintresde tradition francaise, in Chapter IV, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944 (Paris: Publicationsde la Sorbonne, 1986). Dorleac also gives an account of that group's tendency towardmedievalism (Ch. IV, Section 3: 'Renaissance et retour au Moyen Age', pp. 179-181).9 M. Adereth, Aragon: The Resistance Poems (London: Grant and Cutler Ltd., 1985),p. 43. Aragon cited such references to nation as "la douce France" in the Chanson de Roland.10 Uger, for example, wrote of the Renaissance in this way. In 1938 in Europe, in anarticle entitled "Colour in the World" (Functions of Paintin• (New York: The Viking Press,1965), p. 126) he declared: "An artistic culture will be born, based on the collective arts ofthe Middle Ages". In 1937, in "The New Realism Goes On", Art Front (Functions ofPainting, p. 115-116), he wrote, ". . . [even] our tastes, our traditions incline to the primitive,popular artists before the Renaissance. It is from this same Renaissance that individualismin painting dates." In 1952 Leger in "Mural Painting", Derriere la Miroir,  criticized easelart: "It was born in the Italian Renaissance, along with the advent of individualism andcapitalism." (Functions of Painting, p. 178.) Leon Gischia, member of the Jeunes peintres,also claimed that the Renaissance had led France to defeat, and art into decadence,upholding medieval art as an antidote: "L'art byzantin, par exemple, ou l'art du MoyenAge, constitue une renaissance par rapport a la decadence de l'art classique . . ." Quotedby Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944,  p. 179.11 See Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944,  p. 45.12 Ibid, p. 45.13 Texcier, member of Resistance group, `Liberation-Nord', wrote this in Ecrit dans la nuit(1945). He was quoted by Alexander Werth, France 1940-1955 (London: Robert HaleLtd., 1956), p. 50.5714 Dorleac, Histoire de l'Art: Paris 1940-1944,  P. 35.15 Ibid., p. 196.16 Werth, France 1940-1955, p. 42.17 From "En Etrange pays dans mon pays lui-meme" Merlin-Broceliande, 1942. Aragon,L'oeuvre poetique Tome IX 1939-1942 (Livre Club Diderot, 1979) p. 350. Quoted inEnglish by Anna Balakian, Surrealism: The Road to the Absolute (Chicago: University ofChicago Press, 1959), p. 217.18 Mme. Cuttoli was the director of the Galerie Vignon in Paris in the 1930's.19 The Apocalypse d'Angers is a series of 13 of St. John's visions. The oldest survivingFrench tapestries, they were designed by Jean de Bondolf, painter to the king, andproduced in 1375-79. Lurcat devoted an article to these in Confluences 26, 1943.20 See René Huyghe, "French Tapestries in Paris", Magazine of Art, Vol. 40, No. 1,January 1947, p. 14.21 See Francis Thomson, Tapestry: Mirror of History, p. 186.22 See Lurcat, Designing Tapestry (London and Southampton: The Camelot Press, 1950),Chapters III and IV, for a discussion of the economics of tapestry design. Before Lurcat'sand Gromaire's 1939 study, tapestry had been a very expensive proposition and, therefore,few tapestries were commissioned. Also, Lurcat and Gromaire wanted to be able toexperiment, to practise, to learn from mistakes. They needed to find a way of designing thetapestries which would allow the weavers a shorter period of production on each work. Itshould be noted that Lurcat and Gromaire were interested in an art form for which thereexisted no private customer.23 Pierre Hirsch, Jean Lurcat et la Tapisserie (Paris: Victor Michon Editeur, 1946), p. 13.He wrote: Ce double aspect de la lutte que menait le pays `contre' l'oppression et 'pour' laliberation ne sont pas les termes d'une opposition purement verbale: le choc des deuxtendances forment le fondement qui se traduit par des oppositions de masses et de colons24 Andre Lêjard, French Tapestry (London: Paul Elak Publishers Ltd., 1946), p. 15.25 René Huyghe, "French Tapestries in Paris", Magazine of Art, January 1947, p. 12.26 Ibid.27 Ibid, p. 11.28 Francis Klingender, Animals in Thought and Art to the End of the Middle Ages(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1971) p. 463, discusses the unicorn as an icon forChrist. John Williamson, The Oak King, The Holly King, and The Unicorn: The Myths and Symbolism of the Unicorn Tapestries (New York: Harper and Row, Publishers, 1986),p. 123, describes the powers possessed by the unicorn.29 Williamson, The Oak King, The Holly King and The Unicorn, p. 199.30 The 1942 version was destroyed in 1944 when the Germans set fire to Lurcat's atelier.This work was rewoven in 1947. (See Claude Roy, Jean Lurcat (Geneve: Editions PierreCailler, 1956), p. 105.) Lurcat's work may have been targeted for his political activities ashe was a member of the Comite de liberation for the Lot region. According to Pierre58Seghers, La Resistance et ses poêtes, p. 180, Lurcat's tapestries literally smuggledmessages, transporting forged documents from the Galerie Bucher in Paris to the south,rolled up in the tapestries.31 John Williamson, The Oak King, The Holly King and The Unicorn, pp. 61-64. It shouldbe emphasized that interpretation of the symbols from Lurcat's tapestries should be opento many possible meanings. Indeed, the iconography is meant to involve many readingsand to encourage active interpretation. This is conspiratorial in the sense of speaking tothose 'in the know', but this excluded those who would not be receptive. In the later worksespecially, the great amount of iconographic detail was meant to confound, through aninnocent face, those wielding power, i.e. Vichy and the Germans.32 Breker was awarded most state commissions after 1938. See Steven Kasher, "The Artof Hitler", October 59, Winter 1992, pp. 56-57.33 Timothy Husband, The Wild Man: Medieval Myth and Symbolism (New York: TheMetropolitan Museum of Art, 1980), p. 15.34 John Williamson, The Oak King. The Holly King, and the Unicorn, pp. 72-73.35 Terry Smith, "A State of Seeing Unsighted", Block 12, Winter 1986-1987. Smithprovides a discussion of the kinds of Nazi manipulation of spectacle and their effects.36 Jean Lurcat, Designing Tapestry, p. 49.37 Sartre from "Paris sous l'occupation", 1949. This section is translated by StephenHawes, "The Individual and the Resistance Movement in France", Resistance in Europe1939-1945 (London: Penguin Books Ltd., 1975), p. 126.38 H.R. Kedward, Resistance in Vichy France: A Study of Ideas and Motivation in theSouthern Zone 1940-1942 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1978), p. 6. He says, ". . . therumours ran that the Germans moved twice as fast as normal soldiers, and that in the hotdays of early summer, they were advancing les torses nues' through the ripening cornfields.It was a small step from here to believing that the Germans were in some way superhumanand that they were conquerors by sheer force of physique. . ." I might add that thisimagery, this nude superhuman, invokes Breker's statuesque athletes.39 J. H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and the FrenchResistance", European Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 1972, p. 227.40 John Williamson, The Oak King, The Holly King, and the Unicorn, pp. 177-178.41 H.R. Kedward, Resistance in Vichy France, p. 7. The population of Cahors, forexample, rose from 13,000-60/70,000, Pau in the Basses-Pyrenees had an increase from38,000 to 150,000.42 H.R. Kedward, "Patriots and Patriotism in Vichy France", Transactions of the RoyalHistorical Society, 12 Sept. 1981, p. 189.43 Ibid, p. 190.44 Ian Higgins, "France, Soil and Language: Some Resistance Poems of Luc Berimont andJean Marcenac", Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology, H.R. Kedwardand Roger Austin, eds. (Totawa, New Jersey: Barnes and Noble Books, 1985), pp. 211-212.45 Ibid, p. 217.5946 H.R. Kedward, "Patriots and Patriotism in Vichy France", p. 190.47 The complete poem in both French and English is reproduced in Paul Eluard: SelectedWritings, (Norfolk, Conn.: New Directions, 1966), pp. 114-116.48 The importance of Charles Maurras to Vichy is discussed by H.R. Kedward. "CharlesMaurras and the True France", Ideas Into Politics: Aspects of European History 1880-1950,passim.49 H.R. Kedward, "Patriots and Patriotism in Vichy France" (Totawa, New Jersey: Barnesand Noble Books, 1984), p. 176.50 Forty-nine hostages were executed at Chdteaubriant and Nantes in October 1941.These were the first such incidents; others followed. Hostage-takings began after the firstassassination of German soldiers in the Occupied Zone. For each German shot, up to 100prisoners were executed.51 H.R. Kedward, Resistance in Vichy France, p. 59. This was not the only journal torespond in similar fashion: Pere Duchesne's longevity aimed to rival Pótain's ("The fatherof all revolutionary papers" started by Hebert in 1793; see Kedward, p. 153). Such leftwingjournals as L'Humanite and Le Cri du Peuple were the first anti-Vichy organs.52 Kedward discusses the decline of the Felibrige and the rise of the Occitan poets in"Charles Maurras and the True France", Ideas Into Politics, p. 127.53 Ibid.54 The Camisards were French protestant peasants of the 1700's, who organized militaryresistance to the government over the Edict of Nantes. They were visionaries; the stars inthe sky guided them to safety and voices sang encouragement to them. The Purs were a12th century heretical group which believed that man was a sojourner in an evil world. TheMaquis' assumption of these historical predecessors is discussed by Kedward, "The Maquisand the Culture of the Outlaw", Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology,p.245.55 Pierre Sauvage who, as an infant with his family, was protected by the villagers of LeChambon, made a film on the phenomenon of this conspiracy which involved an entiretown. The documentary, entitled Weapons of the Spirit, was released in 1991, and wasshown on PBS.56 H.R. Kedward, "The Maquis and the Culture of the Outlaw", p. 249.57 In 1948, Sartre wrote in "Qu'est-ce que la litterature?": "La guerre de 14 a precipite lacrise du langage; je dirai volontiers que la querre de 40 l'a revalorise", p. 282. Quoted byJ.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and the French Resistance",p. 235.58 Ian Higgins, Anthology of Second World War French Poetry  (London: MethuenEducational Ltd., 1982), p. 23.59 Ibid, p. 28.60 This distinction is discussed by Higgins, ibid., pp. 7-8, and in "France, Soil, andLanguage: Some Resistance poems by Luc Berimont and Jean Marcenac", pp. 201-219.Titles of some poems illustrate the difference. Compare for example, Jean Marcenac'smilitant poems, "Mort a nos ennemis", "Les traitres se trahissent", with Seghers' "La verite",or "L'Automne", or Henri Frenauds "Les rois mages" or "Printemps", and Pierre60Emmanuel's "Le soir de l'homme "61 Higgins, Anthology of Second World War French Poetry, p. 7.62 Higgins, "France, Soil, and Language: Some Resistance Poems by Luc Berimont andJean Marcenac", p. 209. Segher's "Octobre 41" is discussed by Higgins in his Anthology ofSecond World War French Poetry. 63 Pierre Seghers used the term, 'la conspiration des poetes'; quoted by H. Josephson andM. Cowley, Aragon: Poet of the Resistance (New York: Duell, Sloan, and Pierce, Inc.,1945), p. 12. They also cite Aragon's comment, just after liberation: "The new poetry wasan art of conspiracy to. .. express what our masters wanted not to be told."64 Jean Lurcat, Designing Tapestry, p. 32.65 "The slow consciousness of plants and things" is from one of Tzara's 'plenitude' poemsin L'homme approximatif, 1931. This theme continued through La Signe de vie, 1946, fromwhich the second quote derives. See Mary Ann Caws, The Poetry of Dada and Surrealism(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970), p. 131.66 From "Sur une aurore grecque", Terre sur terre. Tristan Tzara, Oeuvres Completes Tome 3 1934-1946 (Flammarion 1979). English translation in Caws, The Poetry of Dadaand Surrealism, p. 126.67 Caws, The Poetry of Dada and Surrealism, p. 127.68 The idea of the 'marvellous' was part of the Surrealist programme from the 1920's. SeeCaws, ibid., p. 21.69 This was written in 1942, and published in 1943. Berimont was a member of L'Ecole deRochefort.70 Quoted by Caws, The Poetry of Dada and Surrealism, p. 40.71 According to Caws this was a legacy of Surrealism for the Surrealist poets' bond to eachother was their ". . . unique attraction to opposing elements which underlies all their criticaland imaginative ventures and marks all their prose and poetry. . . Surrealist writing ingeneral is characterized by its basic double centre." (Ibid., p. 19.)72 Aragon wrote in 1945, "La poesie d'un peuple n'est past un heritage dans le sens racialdu mot, mais dans le sens national du terme." Quoted by M. Adereth, Aragon: The Resistance Poems, p. 42.73 Aragon reworked Chretien de Troyes' 12th century Perceval from a warrior to a 'righterof wrongs', in les Yeux d'Elsa, 1942. See Adereth, ibid., p.48. Bertran de Born wasFrance's oldest patriot and a symbol of liberty. Aragon used him as an example to modernpoets in "Pour un chant national", Les Yeux d'Elsa, 1942. Quoted by Adereth, ibid., p. 47.Adereth also notes the liberties Aragon took with medieval history, such as his adoption ofthe Crusades, ". . . hardly wars of national liberation" (p.48).74 From the last verse of Richard Coeur-de-lion, Les Yeux d'Elsa, 1942. Aragon, L'oeuvre poetique, pp. 239-240. Tome IX, 1939-1942 (Livre Club Diderot 1979).Tous les Francais ressemblent a BlondelQuel que soit le nom dont nous appelionsla liberte comme un bruissement d'ailes.Repond au chant de Richard Coeur-de-lion.6175 Ibid., p. 152.76 This poem is from La Diane Francaise, 1944. Two lines from it are:J'ai rencontre ma Dame au bord de l'eauMa Dame est France et moi son LancelotReproduced in M. Adereth, Aragon: The Resistance Poems, p. 20.77 This is not conclusive, but based on the somewhat limited number of tapestriesavailable for study and evaluation at the time this research was carried out.78 The entire poem is reproduced in both French and English in Paul Eluard: SelectedWritings, pp. 137-141.79 See for example Jean-Paul Bouillon, "A-Gauche!' Note sur la Societe du Jing-Lar et sasignification," Gazette des beaux-arts, ser. 6, 91 (March, 1978): pp.107-18, who points outthe association between the rising sun and Republican opposition.80 From the introduction, by S.I. Lockerbie, to Guillaume Apollinaire's Calligrammes: Poems of Peace and War (1913-1916), p. 10.81 Robert Pickering, "Writing Under Vichy: Ambiguity and Literary Imagination in theNon-Occupied Zone", Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology,  p. 261.Pickering says that, "Images associated with division, intersection, a break of continuity(nostalgia for home and loved ones, etc.) articulate a deeper awareness of rupture --devolving from divided political and ideological loyalties and from the specifically physicalimage of a dividing line demarcating occupied and unoccupied France". These imageswere taboo, avoided at all costs by those negotiating writing between censorship andopposition.82 Williamson, The Oak King, The Holly King, and The Unicorn,  p. 77.83 Lurcat, "Le Chant du monde", Graphis, 1967, p. 86.84 Some of this description of the image is from Claude Roy, Jean Lurcat, p. 70. Forexample, the 'bisexual centaur', the 'living mythical pyramid' are Roy's terms, although theinterpretation ends there. Regarding the underground motif, Roy says, ". . . les douze moisde l'annee deploient leur rythme sans fin de fecondite et de fausse mort hivernale".85 Jean Lurcat, Le Bestiaire de la tapisserie du Moyen Age  (Geneve: Edition PierreCailler, 1947), p. 31. This is the most concrete testimony regarding Petain's aestheticprogramme for tapestry. Indeed, there is scant information available on Vichy tapestrydesign.86 Discussed by Ian Higgins, Anthology of Second World War French Poetry, p. 189. Thefourth verse of Clement's song begins:J'aimerai toujours le temps des cerises:C'est de ce temps - là que je garde au coeurUne plaie ouverte.Cassou's poem (ibid., p. 77) begins:La plaie que depuis le temps des cerisesJe garde en mon coeur s'ouvre chaque jour.87 Claude Roy, Jean Lurcat, p. 35.88 This rendering should be compared with two aforementioned similar images of the wildman in medieval art. Figure 11 is a tapestry from 1480. The wild man here has bright blueand red tufts instead of hair, similar to the Man in La Terre. By the end of the Middle62Ages, the wild man was more benign, living harmoniously in a woodland paradise -- incontrast to civilization. Figure 10 is The Wild Condition, from The Four Conditions ofSociety, one of four looseleaf illuminations from Tours, 1450-1500. The other 'conditions'are the poor, the working, and the noble.89 Galit Hasan-Rokem, The Wandering Jew: Essays in the Interpretation of a ChristianLegend (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986), p. 3.90 Lurcat, Designing Tapestry, p. 58.63Chapter 3Jean Dubuffet and the Struggle for ParisWhile he had studied art some twenty years before World War II, Jean Dubuffetbegan his art career in earnest in January, 1943 with a series of still life and portrait imagesentitled les Gardes du corps. Dubuffet was no stranger to Parisian circles of leftist artistsand writers. In 1943, he counted among his friends writers Francis Ponge, Jean Paulhan,Henri Michaux, Georges Limbour, Raymond Queneau, and the artist Jean Fautrier.1Among this circle, Dubuffet's art was known and although the artist was ostensiblyproducing primarily for his "personal pleasure",2 he was encouraged by this circle to publishhis work. Jean Paulhan suggested that they both cooperate on publication of Le Metro ofMarch 1943, with Paulhan writing an accompanying text for the images.3Throughout the war, Dubuffet confined his works to such small executions. Withthe exception of Paysages, produced as a result of country vacation in 1943, Dubuffet'sseries are explorations of Paris and depictions of its inhabitants, who are generallyrepresented engaging in mundane activities. The intimate size of the works (Vues de Paris,also of 1943, and Le Metro are 37 x 30 cm) and the numbers of versions of the subjectsindicate an attempt at familiarity, and an effort toward detailed knowledge of the peopleand the city. Yet the exhaustive series, the compulsive repetition of images which varylittle, still result in surface or facade. Dubuffet's eschewal of 'realism' and his embracing ofan alternative art of extreme simplicity of form results in the tension between known andunknown -- the pull of recognition and the refusal of an easy understanding.To be sure, Dubuffet's wartime series are cribbed and confined within their bordersand bear little resemblance to Lurcat's tapestries with the latter's characteristic grandflourishes and expansiveness. And unlike Lurcat, Dubuffet did not participate in the 1930'smovement toward public art. But, as will be developed in this chapter, during the warDubuffet, like Lurcat did articulate resistance themes in his works. Both constructed'outlaw' figures, for example, but while Lurcat's were stalwart peasants or patriots,Dubuffet's were anonymous city dwellers and faceless furtive urban lowlifes. Dubuffet's64version of the theme of the 'wall' does not evolve from the former decade's concern withthe public display of high art, but rises from Dubuffet's desire to reclaim Parisian spaceswhich, during the Occupation years, were dominated by the German authorities. Thus, in asense, the aim was reversed as Dubuffet produced a 'low' art for more private consumption.Humanism inspired Dubuffet's works, but his art took a cynical turn, from the ironic stanceof the 1943 series, Vues de Paris and Le Metro to a bitter edge in Messages of 1944 andLes Murs of 1945. So, while Lurcat and Dubuffet shared a concern for the defeat offascism, they differed in the kinds of written and visual language they used, in the views ofthe culture they espoused, and more basically, in their definitions of humanism.To some extent, their differing oppositional language stemmed from the nature ofthe experience of war in either occupied Paris or the rural south. Vichy had little realauthority in the occupied zone, both practically as a result of the domination of theGerman presence and its bureaucracy, and ideologically because Vichy sought to appeal toa rural sensibility in opposition to urban modernity, Even after the total occupation ofFrance in November 1942 the dichotomy existed although Vichy's ideology was waning,and many areas had been seized by and were controlled by the Resistance.4In Paris, the Resistance remained an underground movement, one that wasprimarily unarmed. In this sense, it was impotent in the face of repression, however highlyorganized it had become by 1942. In the early years of the Armistice, resistance wasenacted in isolated, anonymous gestures and relatively minor acts of sabotage. Some ofthese were graffiti, the wearing of forbidden emblems, the dispersions ofpapillons(leaflets), and the employment of linguistic tactics to irritate and insult the Germans.These signs -- visual, spoken, or written -- became linked in number, and were understoodto represent not a refus absurde5, but a potential for release, an underground activity whichgave visible form to a negation of control and oppression.In examining Dubuffet's art, one needs to 'picture' Paris at this time, for Dubuffet'sworks, Metro, Vues de Paris (1943), the walls of the series Messages (1944) and Les Murs(1945), are serial views of the city during Occupation. Significantly, however, they also65depict what transpired under the surface appearance of urban life. Dubuffet's art does notdepict armoured vehicles, uniformed soldiers, hungry Parisians in lengthy queues -- that is,a city under siege. Instead, he draws storefronts, strollers, and subway riders. How is itthen, that when the pictures were finally exhibited at the Galerie Drouin in 1944, viewersdescribed these seemingly congenial images of city life as "illegal", their gaiety as "sinister aprovocation, a condemned art"? The art was described as a "game of mirrors", and thepictures said to "denounce, with violence, the tragic burlesque of our bitter world".6These works may be taken to portray, with irony, a happily ordered world, yet whatkind of order is this? It goes beyond the visible, to present an illusion, on the one hand oforder ( the syncopated, dancing puppets of what Max Loreau has termed Dubuffet'sMarionettes de la ville et de la campagne) and on the other, the 'real' community ofParisians which lay underground, or else within the imagination of the artist.So much of what is written about the experience of occupation in Paris is cataloguedin visual terms: the omnipresent posters and parades, changes to familiar vistas wrought byforeign control. At the same time, the visual evidence of another reality, another outlookwas illustrated by other elements such as execution notices draped with flowers, or posterscovered with V's. Dubuffet in his art responded to visual, written, and spoken signs,bringing his own defiant order, even brilliant colour, to construct another reality. Hisimagery and style were so far removed from official proscriptions that they could be seen tolie outside the 'law'. When art was to be monumental, his was constricted; when it was tobe thematically and formally idealized, his retreated to the simplest of means to depict thestreet. When the artist was to be a conscientious artisan, Dubuffet took up an art of theuntrained; and when art was meant to glorify the state and be uplifting, he turned to someof the most marginalized sectors of society for his sources. Hence, this chapter focuses onthe Paris of Dubuffet, peopled with marionettes who dance to a different tune, whose wallsare alive with explosive energy, whose subway is an unpredictable rollercoaster ridethrough the underground, a city ready to erupt.Paris had become an open city in June, 1940. While the spectacle of the exodus was66one of chaos and pathos, the image of the deserted city was a scene of desolation. A Swissjournalist described the initial dislocation:I left Paris because it suddenly changed in appearance ... because the streetsseemed a little emptier each day, and everything that goes to make up astreet and gives it its confidence, was disappearing. . . The day thestreetcleaner fails to turn up and the paper stand stays shut, the street beginsto panic. . . On Wednesday, June 12, at 6 p.m., a herd of cows from theFerme d'Auteuil was wandering freely in the place de l'Alma . . . theirbellowing echoed sadly in the deserted quays. . . It w4s probably afterwitnessing this spectacle that I decided to leave Paris.'Yet when the streets gradually returned to life, those who remained endured not onlymaterial privation but visible reminders of defeat, and the city -- once familiar andtraversable -- was now the property of a foreign power. [Figures 19, 20] The presence ofthe Occupant, the paraphernalia of control and conquest, altered the appearance of Paris,a disorienting experience for a population accustomed to feeling 'at home' in a communityamong which a certain ownership of the city had been taken for granted. The spectacle ofmilitary parades, the colonization of the walls of Paris by systematic propaganda, even thesight of the 'correct' German soldier,8 represented in posters as a kindly relative[Figure 21], were met at first by some with fearful, mute resignation or chilly hostility.Jean-Paul Sartre, in The Republic of Silence of 1945, articulated one response to thisdevelopment:We had lost all our rights, beginning with the right to talk. Every day wewere insulted to our faces and had to take it in silence. . . Everywhere, onbillboards, in the newspapers, on the screen, we encountered the revoltingand insipid picture of ourselves that our oppressors wanted us to accept . . .Because the Nazi venom seeped even into our thoughts, every accuratethought was a conquest. Because an all-powerful police tried to force us tohold our tongues, every word took on the value of a declaration of principles.Because we were hunted down, every one of our gestures had the weight of asolemn commitment.9At first, oppositional leaflets cautioned Parisians to resist through silence: to refuseinvitations or places on the Metro, to refuse to read the Occupation press, and also topretend to misunderstand requests.° Mute protests, although a sign language understoodinitially only by the French, could register visually and at first this provided a means toescape repercussion. Great imagination was put toward display of the forbidden tricolour,for example, and by 1941, there was a veritable commerce in patriotic insignia.11 [See67Figure 22] Henri Michel, in Paris Resistant, dates the birth of opposition in terms ofbalbutiements: hesitant and individual words and acts of defiance. Word plays could beemployed, wrong directions given, and the German soldiers could be mocked without theirunderstanding; hence, the French language could be used as an offensive too1.12 And inthe dark anonymity of the cinema, loud responses to German films, hoots and jeers, werecommonplace enough to cause 26 theatres to close for several days in November, 1940.13The passivity of silence was soon exploited by the authorities perhaps since, as a position ofresistance, it was fairly quickly rejected. In the official Occupation journal, Aujourd'hui ofApril 2, 1941, was written: "Silence is a weapon. . . it is the nightlight of speech, a disguise,a protection. In this dramatic age we must learn to be sparing in our words, and betrayneither ourselves nor anyone else."14Writing was still the most stubborn means of expression, since one was freer to writethan to paint or sculpt, and radio, films, and walls were all subject to the control of theauthorities. Indeed, the clandestine press was alive in Paris, embracing the mostprimitively-produced papillons to the organized efforts of the Editions de Minuit. At first,writers who had no wish to cooperate with the authorities chose to protest by remainingsilent. However when faced with the literature of collaboration, the need to providealternatives became apparent.15 The January 1942 manifesto of the Editions de Minuit,drafted by Pierre Lescure, linked the aims of the new publishing house to the necessity ofcountering collaboration:At another period in French history the prefects 'eliminated' writers whorefused to praise their master. The master said of the others: "I opened thedoors of my anteroom, and in they rushed." In France, there are still somewriters who do not rush to the anterooms and who refuse to obey orders.They feel that they must express themselves. . . because if they don't expressthemselves the mind will die. . . Propaganda is not our field. We want tosafeguard our inner life and serve our art in freedom.16The need for expression, in response to suppression and propaganda, took manyforms, and was practised both in backrooms and on the street. In 1941, all graffiti wasforbidden by law. From March 24-21, 1941, 200 different leaflets were seized and 1200inscriptions counted.17 Despite the edict, on July 20, 1941, the BBC campaigned for a day68of V-signs: 4400 were tallied on buildings, 5500 on sidewalks. However, as a consequence,the following morning, giant V's appeared on German-controlled public buildings,including the Eiffel Tower, and the Chambre des deputes [Figure 23]. The occupyingforces, acknowledging the war of imagery, had conscripted the oppositional symbol.18German posters, heavy-handed in content and ostentatious in format, seemapparently to have been less effective than desired. A German report for the ArmisticeCommission at Wiesbaden, stated that, " . . . German posters sometimes obtain contraryresults than those they aim for, and convince no one."19 As the image of the polite Germansoldier became more difficult to sustain, in the light of the growing severity of wartimeoppression (the retaliatory hostage-takings beginning in 1941, the spectacle of the roundupof the Jews in 1942)20, it was replaced by more aggressive imagery [Figure 24].Concurrently, outright acts of sabotage occurred more frequently -- sabotage expressingwhat could not be put into words.The offenders need to be canny, both psychologically and tactically, attacking onlythe materials of the Occupant, to evade arrest, and to gain the support of the population.These combattants de l'ombre moved in the populous quartiers like fish in water, theirfamiliar neighbourhoods were like jungles to the foreign forces, wherein the soldiers wouldbe lost, isolated, in danger -- the victims of underground surveillance.21 Such urbanguerrillas were not professionals, anyone could be a spy. Graffiti artists would follow theposterers, lacerating the paper while it was still wet, gluing leaflets overtop, or covering theimages with phrases.22 [See Figure 25.] The intensity of this guerre des affiches, this'scribblers' war', worried the editor of L'Appel. On July 31, 1941, he wrote:Every morning carriages in the Metro are full of mimeographed leaflets.Walls of houses are smothered with inscriptions, revolutionary slogans, andhammers and sickles. L'Humanite is rearing its head again. Orders fromMoscow are passed on by word of mouth in workshops, offices, and queues.23The most public spaces were typical targets for the dispersion of resistance tracts.The Metro, the only means of transportation, save bicycles or ve/o-taxis, was one suchcrucial public forum. La Gerbe, on May 28, 1942, reported that, " . . . A leaflet headed'You Must Resist" has been circulating for the last few days. It was first distributed in69trains and stations in the Metro in the now time-honoured way. . . "24 Virtually everyoneused the Metro. Some felt that it provided a real sense of community in an otherwisefractured city25; for others it was a necessary indignation. A writer for Aujourd'hui inNovember 24, 1940, for example, expressed the tension involved in the confined situation:It was midday, and a crazed mass of humanity, streamed past me as I wentdown to the Orleans-Clignacourt line. Every step I took, I got an umbrella inmy legs, a parcel in my stomach, elbows in my ribs, and tense, angry faceswere thrust into mine, so close I had to turn away. . . All around me was anatmosphere of stale air. . . and silence too, the silence of bodies locked in adeadly combat, a dangerous silen , with fluctuating moods, in which oneshout . . . could provoke a storm.A voyage could have unforeseen repercussions; raids for identity cards were frequentepisodes. A rush for the last Metro was often complicated, as curfew times changed inresponse to threats to public order, or changes were simply enacted as wholesalepunishment for unlawful activities. The curfew was one of many restrictions which treatedParisians like juvenile delinquents. Resistant writer Lucie Aubrac, in 1945, wrote of someof the seemingly minor acts of resistance, which were nevertheless punishable by arrest:A little like children in the presence of a boorish teacher, the French tendedfrom the outset to make fun of the Germans. Travellers in the Metro woulddeliberately direct the Germans to stations miles out of their way, busconductors would skip stops, while shop assistants liked to sell Germans themost unsaleable articles after a glowing display of flattery.27Dubuffet's Un voyage en metro. les dessous de la capitale (la connaissance de Paris par son sous-sol), of March 1943, an album of 12 gouaches, each approximately 37x30 cm.[Figures 26-29], forms an early part of the artist's wartime work. 28 The primitive, childlikeexecution of these images casts the subjects in a humourous, or ironic, fixed, frozen, frontaldisplay of innocuousness. Clownlike faces stare poker-faced, wide-eyed and innocent,hands folded just-so, figures primly compartmentalized. As the title of the series tells us,this is the underground, the underside of Paris, the daily life of the Parisian 'commonman'.29 Cunningly artful masks could convey a jolly community, a bright otherside to whatLouis Parrot, in a 1944 introduction to a catalogue for Dubuffet's work, connoted as aworld of "ashes".30 Or meaning could rest in the deliberate and deceptively simple form ofrepresentation of what was sometimes a charged situation, a confrontation of nation and70class. Dubuffet's inclusion of the words Rauchen verboten in one gouache [Figure 281,floating like a visual clue, is a reminder of a hidden, complex, historical context behind thepresumed innocence of an art of the 'primitive' or of the child.In April, 1943, Dubuffet produced another group of small gouaches (37x30 cm.),Vues de Paris [Figures 30, 31], that were variations on a similar theme. These are streetscenes, including walls of buildings atop strict rows of trees, with human figures spacedbetween the trees or below them, ordered in compositions organized by Dubuffet alone.While some scenes seem to be site-specific (some so indicated by a subtitle, e.g. Vue de Paris avec quatre arbres et trois personnages: Place de l'Estrapade, Figure 31), and hencesupposedly recognizable, the views are remarkable similar and exceedingly simple, withvery few elements. Dubuffet here deliberately eschewed perspective, imposing anotherorder from top to bottom, and each view is delineated temporally and spatially. The seriesis meant to present a picture album of Dubuffet's own city, traversed by one of its owninhabitants. What is displayed is a personal view, a reclaiming of public spaces by a privatevision. Bright colour plays the role of emotionally enlivening the scenes; this use of colourby Dubuffet was emphasized by both Georges Limbour and Louis Parrot, friends of theartist, who wrote about his work. Parrot, in June 1944, claimed of the images:We are no doubt in a populous quartier. . . . a miserable glimmer lights thisdesolate facade where the words TRIPES and CAFE . . . appear on astorefront painted purple, a clarity from wherever colours in broad strokesthis building dedicated to poverty, and we, in fact, abruptly forget its ugliness.Facades more beautiful, more true, and more human than so many humanfaces. . . Under the revelatory brush of Jean Dubuffet, these facades, so longinsensible, return to life.31And Limbour, in Servir, 24 and 31 May 1945, wrote: "No doubt, the intelligent will of manorders the material chaos, harmonizing colours with the subtle virtuosity; nevertheless he isdedicated to the material to the point of loving in it resistance and revolts. . . "32Already a friend of Jean Paulhan and Raymond Queneau, both active in resistancenetworks, Dubuffet, in 1942 and 1943, met and befriended other intellectuals involved inresistant efforts. His friends then included the poets Paul Eluard, Pierre Seghers, EugeneGuillevic, and Louis Parrot. And in February 1944, he met René Drouin, who would71organize Dubuffet's first exhibition at the Galerie Drouin, for October 1944.33 PierreSeghers, in L'Homme du commun ou Jean Dubuffet, 1944, was decidedly unreserved aboutthe impact of Dubuffet's work. He began:Robot, who functioned for 2000 years, his testicles crushed in the easy chair,if he breaks his bolts, his targets, comes to life, what does he do? He takes apiece of chalk and on the first wall encountered, he writes MERDE, to beginwith.34Further in the book, he wrote:An epoch has the painting it deserves. The painting of Dubuffet is illegal, in astate of permanent insurrection. No order, says Dubuffet -- and he means bythis -- 'mine'. His order is his own, it is the force of savagery which takeseverything to zero, his palette, the yellow, the blue, the green, the red, andalso the black. Much black in Dubuffet: whoever likes that, says a proverb,likes writing on walls.35With Dubuffet then, as Seghers made clear, the slate is wiped clean. Aligned with theprisoner, the deranged inmate, Dubuffet does not see the world the same way as others, yethe is also the common man who, de facto, rejects order, institutions, authority. In furtherdiscussing Dubuffet's painting, which colours a "violin red, or feet green", Segherscontinued these associations, claiming of his art: "That isn't normal. . . it's marvellous and,however, very simple: we call that. . . liberty."36In May and June, 1944, Dubuffet produced a group of graffiti-like works, whichdeparted somewhat from the earlier series, because of their emphasis on written language,and on close-up encounters with inscribed walls of Paris. Language, to reiterate, was aminefield, from silence to balbutiements, always in response to the language ofcollaboration or propaganda, and the scarred walls attest to this 'war of words'. Radioprovided another voice for both sides of the struggle, and to some extent, informs this latterseries which Dubuffet called Messages [Figures 32-35].Following the German occupation and the seizure of all organs of communication,the official radio operations were Radio-Paris, the voice of the Third Reich, and Radio-Vichy, known as the 'radio of intoxication'.37 Nazi radio propagandists believed that themasses would be impressed by strength, and must remain "shudderingly submissive."38According to Adolf Raskin, "Dramaturgy of Propaganda" in the Handbuch der Deutschen72Rundfunks (1939-40), " . . . genuine, sincere radio is simply propaganda. . . it means fightingon the battlefields of the mind. . . to destroy, to weed out and annihilate, to build and toabolish."39On the 19th of June, 1940, General de Gaulle made his first broadcast fromLondon. While Petain's image was omnipresent, few would remember de Gaulle's face,but eventually, the solace of his voice, and the nightly BBC broadcast, 'Les francais parlentaux frangais' -- the whole notion of French speaking to French -- made the programmepopular despite official denouncement [see Figure 36]. The result was that listening toforeign radio was ultimately banned in 1941, and in 1943 Vichy outlawed the purchase ofradio sets.' ° Such listening took on the form of a kind of secret near-religious ritual. Withclosed doors and shutters, people would gather in what would be described as a'communion of hope', and the next day, in the interminable queues, commentary would bepassed, mouth to ear, or on pieces of paper.41Witnessing the phenomenon of the BBC, collaborationist writer Alfred Fabre-Lucewrote in his journal in 1940:French opinion is no longer guided by the government, still less it is guidedby the German occupation authorities. It can be seen obeying anonymouscatch-words, and spreading rumours from one end of the country to another.. . During the day, your Frenchman sounds so simpleminded, one wouldthink he had never read anything but the DNB news; but at night, behindclosed doors, and among trusted friends he turns on the BBC. . • 42A certain level of intrigue was added to the situation in the summer of 1941.Broadcasts were interrupted frequently by coded messages, sounding nonsensical, or likefamily greetings. Notifications to resistance agents in the field, 'Romeo embrasse Juliette','la chien de Barbara aura trois chiots', 'Esculape n'aime pas le mouton' could signify,respectively, 'safe arrival courier from Toulouse', 'arrival in Barcelona of three passengers',and 'a drop near Chaumone.43 The messages could not have been more public, butbecause of the use of a code wherein the message would be fully understood only by theintended receiver, the Germans were not able to decipher the meanings. As D-Dayapproached, the messages signalled calls to action, to sabotage railway and telephonetargets. On the 1st of June, 1944, 200 such messages were sent via the BBC, and on the 4th73of June, the awaited message that the Allies had landed took the form of a quote fromVerlaine: 'les sanglots longs des violons d'automne'. On the 5th of June, the day before D-Day, the remainder of the verse: `bercent mon coeur d'une langueur monotone,' passedover the airwaves.44 The ordinary citizen was aware of this secret language, and while notknowing the exact meaning of the code, understood nevertheless that the messages wereladen with import, and that their growing number signified the existence of a largeunderground network in France, increasingly called to overt action.The 17th of June, 1944, is the date of the first of Dubuffet's series of 12 Messages,each ink on gouache on newspaper, each roughly letter-sized (-20x23 cm.), some signedand dated. Dubuffet took portions of newspapers, the official German or French press,defaced these with gouache strokes, and handwrote overtop a number of 'messages', somenearly illegible, appearing hastily, furtively, yet audaciously scribbled. Some titles are:Georges arrive demain matin, toujours bien devoues a vos ordres  [Figure 35], Emile estreparti, je pense a toi, vu que j'aime pas, reviens, ma sante est toujours excellente et je nem'ennuie pas, [Figure 36]. The language of these is banal, innocuous, even cliched. Theyare private, letter-type communications directed toward an intimate listener. Yet thephrases echo the seemingly trite, but intensely charged, BBC messages.Other Dubuffet defacements have a blasphemous tone: Dubuffet est un sale con, unfoireux, un enculó [Figure 33], and Je n'aime pas les femmes saoules et les emmerdeuses.Both groups of words could have been written on walls, washrooms, prisons, fences, butwhereas the former evoke urgent communication, the latter are provocative examples ofthe transgressive language of graffiti, forbidden, abusive toward correct and properbehaviour, explosions indicative of a private hostility made public. The first of these,Dubuffet est un sale con. un foireux, un encule [Figure 33], is bitter self-deprecation, self-hatred. It is a mirror, in a way, to the prevalent image given back to the French in Germanpropaganda, that population defeated, violated, but ostensibly happily so. Or perhaps suchlanguage connotes the submissive collaborator, presenting a confrontational image to theovertly masculine, fascist construction of a 'man'. What remains of the self is a crude trace,74a frustration, not even on a real wall, but a shrunken representation.Certain concerns of the Parisian situation are articulated in Messages: conjunctionsof material and metaphor (the wall and the parole), the interior and the public realms,official and clandestine, individual and collective, personal and anonymous, overt andcovert, propaganda and censored speech, lies and authenticity (the 'real' fragment ofnewsprint, and the 'artifice' of art and language), nonsense and meaning. Dubuffet turnsthis latter around, making sense and meaning from the ostensibly meaningless scrawl,making his 'mark' with the handwritten message larger than the newsprint type, scratchingout the official version of events. In doing this, he overturns hierarchies of language, of theupside-down regime of the Occupation. Also, Dubuffet makes an evident gesture towardthe zazou, the delinquent, the troublemaker, the graffiti, the outlaw, the urban guerrilla,and also the field agent -- who all, risking arrest, kept alive the spirit of opposition duringthe war. This begs the question which arose in the previous chapter, in the discussion ofLurcat's images: who is the real barbarian? Language is assumed to be a civilizing force.Who is its abuser, the encoder, the blasphemer, or the propagandist? The outlaw may be aprimitive, but with the cunning, the 'intelligence' of a spy.Resistance poet, Eugene Guillevic, wrote a collection of 12 poems, Les Murs, in1943; Jean Dubuffet provided 15 lithographic illustrations for the book in 1945 [Figures 37-41]. Guillevic's verses [Appendix C], claim that walls are like people, some are friends tolean on, comfortable places to rest your palm or your elbow, but, like people, one cannotsee inside them. Even when broken, only the facade shows. "Some walls are ugly," wroteGuillevic, "made to hide or block, inset with broken glass," they may keep us from the past,from a time when we could make love behind them -- but, he said, "They cannot stop thetriumphal crowds." In a subsequent verse, Guillevic asked, "What is a wall for a woundedperson?. . . when he comes to it often, in battles, to rest again? It may allow him to die,with more leisure, and some liberty."Dubuffet's lithographs, while as varied as the verses, share some basic elementsamong themselves. In each, the walls constitute nearly the whole of the background, solid75confines which allow no glimpse of nature or the outside world. Walls are man-madestructures, instruments of imprisonment or protection, and while they may be eventuallyscaled, they must firstoff be confronted. In general, Dubuffet's walls are black slabs,enlivened only by scratched inscriptions; some nearly obliterated by script [Mur et gisant,Figure 37]; some have only a few names or phrases such as `vives les angletes', [Pisseurs aumur, Figure 38].Human figures appear grimly lockstepped up against the walls, the outlines of thebricks fixing the figures on the same plane as the walls, people treated, created by the sameartistic process as the ostensibly inanimate walls. In Mur et gisant, the horizontal, 'barelybreathing' body is etched out of the backdrop like another inscription. Like some walls,some men are ugly. One with a death's head grimaces beside the notice-format used toannounce executions [Mur et avis, Figure 39]. In Pisseurs au mur, two bleak figures bridgetwo walls, joined by the solid white space between them. Each has his own wall on which tourinate, and the twin, identical arcs of the streams of urine act as a framing device for thepicture -- a compositional mockery of traditional art practice. Homme coince dans lesmurs [Figure 40] makes clear the identification of Man and wall, the man constrained bywhite lines, mouth agape and drawn back with protruding tongue, as if to indicate a silentscream, or strangled speech. Language is transferred to the wall: it speaks for thespeechless. In Mur et homme [Figure 41], the 'man' is only a smear on the wall, like abloodstain after an execution.These are not 'pretty pictures', and are also far away from the colourful images ofthe earlier Metro and Vues de Paris, as the figures have none of the studied nonchalance ofthe subway riders, or the innocence of the strollers in Vues de Paris. Like the Messages,these pictures are not 'views', but involve interior confrontations. Yet Dubuffet indicates,in the same metaphorical vein as Guillevic, some certain endurance for Man (as solid as awall), or, ironically, the walls are as alive, vulnerable, temporal, even ephemeral, as thosehumans who both build and destroy them. Dubuffet, in Prospectus, wrote in 1946:There are in the world many objects which resemble and evoke each other.What must be underscored is this: not the differences and particularities, but76the contrary: the similarities. If one wishes to do humanist work -- andnaturally one wants to -- he must make the wind of unity and continuity blowwhich blows in the world of man.46There is nothing spiritual in these gritty pictures, which generalize a view of thehuman condition, specifically facing an almighty choice: cornered, against the wall, life 'onthe line', evoking an awareness (however fixed, depicted in two dimensions) of thenecessity of choosing between death or life (what kind of a wall, or Man). There is nopromise, no promesse de bonheur, no elevation of a belief in the inherent goodness orsweetness of human nature. In this regard, Dubuffet's Man parts company with Lurcat's.Urges Men have a spiritual purity about them, images of lyrical optimism to Dubuffet'stension and discordance. Lurcat's poetic anthems sing like hymns; the tapestries unroll likebanners to Man's infinite capacities, transcending the angst and violence around them.While Lurcat's images provide a strong voice, resistant to oppression, they are positiveproclamations for Man, when compared with Dubuffet's ambivalent constructions. Thoseof Lurcat are already in command, with no doubts of victory. In Dubuffet's Le Metro andVues de Paris, there is a sense of innocence and yet even in these, an irony pervades whichis absent in Lurcat's work. Irony turns to bitter cynicism in Dubuffet's Messages and LesMurs. Dubuffet's Men crouch or cringe, or display masks of pure malevolence ofexecutioners or terror of victims. His walls can be seen as corroded ruins or gravestones,and are always testimonials to those who could not speak, hence were dehumanized.The crude facticity of these latter works of Dubuffet's has more in common withworks like Fautrier's Otages [e.g. Figure 42], than with Lurcat's soft, sensual tapestries.The Otages, a series of images, produced in 1943, were a homage to hostages executedduring the war. Like Dubuffet's skeletons, Fautrier's heads or torsos are composted lumpsof flesh, petrified fossils. Brute matter, they are all that is left of Man, anonymous victimsof violence and torture, innocent martyrs who perhaps faced a most awful choice: to betrayothers, or to choose not to speak. Jean-Paul Sartre wrote of the preoccupation with thechallenge which torture presented in the Republic of Silence, 1945:Obsessed as we were by these tortures, a week did not go by that we did notask ourselves: 'Suppose I were tortured, what would I do?' And this questioncarried us to the very frontier of ourselves and of the human. . . 4777And of the tortured, he wrote:For it is within the human that one can distinguish means and ends, valuesand preferences, but they [the victims] were still at the creation of the world,and they had only to decide in sovereign fashion whether there would beanything more than the reign of the animal within it. They remained silentand man was born of their silence. We knew that at any moment of the day,in the four corners of Paris, man was a hundred times destroyed andreaffirmed."8In his art, Fautrier defiant, unearths, disinters, and exposes the remains incommemorative display. Fautrier, according to his friend, poet Francis Ponge (writing inJanuary 1945), said in response to a suggestion that he paint on a wall, because he hadsurpassed easel painting, " . . . it is the wall itself that one must come to terms with. . . "49Ponge explained that, " . . . it is clear that Fautrier has another ambition. He wants torupture the wall. . . Fautrier knows so many interior constraints . . . so many interiorscruples that he has no need to impose them on exteriors. . . his passion is imposed uponby the passions of other men, of anonymous humanity."50Dubuffet, friend of both Fautrier and Ponge, in 1945 illustrated another book,Francis Ponge's Matiere et memoire, providing human corollaries to Ponge's animation ofthe lithographic stone as it operates in the process of printmaking. Ponge ascribes to thestone the human qualities of memory and language, " . . . when one writes on thelithographic stone, it is as if one is writing it on a memory. It is as though one speaks infront of a face. . . appearing on the skin of a face."51 Moreover, the process is described interms of a seduction, the first between the stone (la pierre) and the artist. Ponge writes,"We come then to the reactions of the stone. . . when the artist struggles and plays with her,to finally impose his mark on her."52 And then he describes another love affair, themarriage of stone and paper, the "perfect fit". He says, "It's in the love here, in a kiss, in aseries of kisses that the stone is led to divulge its memory."53 The repetitive act ofprintmaking is like a women "recalling old lovers".54 "The concern here," writes Ponge, "isfor a depth of memory, of a profound interior repetition of the theme which is inscribed onthe surface . . . It is memory, spirit. . . which create the third dimension."55Dubuffet presents his equivalents in the form of quotidian activities, eating, dancing,78playing the piano. Several are of women, darning socks, plucking a chicken, looking in amirror, grinding coffee [Figure 43]. Two other women are at other work: le Supplice dutelephone [Figure 44], and Dactylographe [Figure 45]. They are frozen, in silent suspendedanimation: modern archetypes. Their repetitive activities congeal in the artist's memory:he, too, engages in repetitive labour, indicating a relation between the printmaking process,and other 'common' kinds of work. But Dubuffet's -- the artist's -- position vis a vis thestone and the printed image, is that of both the lover and the visionary foreman.The concerns for language, interior life, for Man, for the wall, continue then to be ofissue in this period just after Liberation, although the war still persisted. It was at this timethat the united front of resistance began to fragment into its component factions -- or,rather -- the political and philosophical differences between the various groups came to thefore, with the departure of the common enemy, and the ensuing purge of collaborators.While most intellectuals had attempted to retain a certain continuity of beliefs before,during, and after the war, for Sartre certainly, and I believe for Dubuffet as well, it wasprimarily the experience of years of Occupation which formed the direction of theirsubsequent art.79ENDNOTES1 Margit Rowell, "Jean Dubuffet: An Art on the Margins of Culture," Jean Dubuffet: ARetrospective (New York: The Solomon Guggenheim Foundation, 1973), P. 17.2 Max Loreau, Jean Dubuffet: Dellis. Deportements, Lieux de Haut Jeu (Paris: WeberEditeur, 1971), p. 173 Ibid. Dubuffet did publish a book, Metromanie, in 1949, but the images were new.4 By the spring of 1943, the internal Resistance had military as well as political andideological power. The three largest groups had become the United ResistanceMovements (MUR) and, after the total occupation of the country in November 1942,prefects in individual departments chose whether or not to adhere to Vichy. According toKedward, Occupied France: Collaboration and Resistance 1940-1944 (Oxford: BasilBlackwell Ltd. 1985), pp. 73-74, by 1944 Germany had only the Milice (the Vichy police) touphold its authority, since the Resistance had infiltrated the gendarmerie by 1943 or earlier.5 This term was Cassou's, cited by Kedward, ibid., p. 47.6 'Illegal' is Pierre Seghers' description, L'Homme du commun ou Jean Dubuffet (Paris:Editions Poesie, 1944), p.13. He writes, "Une époque a la peinture qu'elle merite. Lapeinture de Dubuffet est illegale, en etat de permanente insurrection." 'Sinister gaiety' isfrom Fr. Elgar, Carrefour, 4 November 1944; 'a game of mirrors' is from J. Grenier, inCombat, 27 October 1944; the 'tragic burlesque' quote is from L-G Clayeux, Le mondefrancais, October, 1945. All the above, save Seghers', are cited in the Catalogue desTravaux de Jean Dubuffets Vol.1. Marionettes de la ville et de la campagne (Paris: Jean-Jacques Pauvert, Editeur, 1966), pp. 242-243.7 E. Dubois, Paris sans lumiêre (Lausanne, 1946), cited by Gerard Walter, Paris Under the Occupation (New York: The Orion Press, 1960), pp. 11-12.8 German soldiers were specifically instructed to behave with decorum; this policy wascalled lorrektion'. See Robert Aron, The Vichy Regime 1940-1944 (London: Putnam andCo. Ltd., 1958), P. 136. According to Kedward, Occupied France, p. 9, the 'correct German'had become a "bad joke" within two months.9 Jean-Paul Sartre, "The Republic of Silence", The Republic of Silence, A.J. Liebling, ed.,trans. Ramon Guthrie (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Company, 1947), p. 498. This wasoriginally published in La France libre, in 1945. The writer Vercors (Jean Bruller) alsoexpressed the importance of maintaining clarity of thought. In discussing the setting up of aclandestine publishing house (the Editions de Minuit) in the fall of 1941, Vercorsrecollected events, ". . the point really was to show world opinion that France, amidmisfortune and violence, was able to keep faith with her highest purpose: her claim to thinkstraight." From Vercors, The Battle of Silence (London: William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd.,1968) p. 155.10 Henri Michel, Paris Resistant (Paris: Editions Albin Michel, 1982), p. 39. Michel isperhaps the most encyclopedic chronicler of events during the Occupation, providingnumerous details and statistics of resistant acts. Many of my examples of these activitiesare taken from Michel, although some of these have become somewhat legendary inresistance annals. Michel anchors his descriptions with exact dates, and police reports, andhence his exhaustive studies make his works a valuable source for scholarship in thisperiod.8011 Michel, ibid., pp. 40-41. An ingenious example of the use of the tricolour was thecombination of women dressed individually in red, white, or blue walking together. Paperand metal Lorraine crosses were sold, and insignia were sewn inside jackets or purses.Reprisals could be severe: on national holidays, the display of forbidden emblemsincreased, and, for example, on July 14, 1941, 1667 arrests were made of those wearingtricolour cockades.12 While these balbutiements were individual and often anonymous, and not attached toany organized movement, they were numerous enough to represent a generalizedexpression, viz, jokes and word plays became a kind of common currency: Abel Bonnard,Minister of Education, was called Abel Connard in some quarters; Vichy's retour a la term(as a result of privation) became retour dans la terre; and la fete des meres, la fete des miseres.See Michel, ibid., p. 25.13 Ibid., p. 43.14 From Gerard Walter, Paris Under the Occupation,  Trans. Tony White (New York: TheOrion Press, 1960), p. 153. According to Robert Aron, The Vichy Regime 1940-1944,  p. 199,Otto Abetz, the German ambassador, in September 1940, authorized two journalists, HenriJeanson and Robert Perrier, to publish Aujourd'hui. They refused to follow instructions,and were replaced in November 1940, by George Suarez, and Jeanson was imprisoned.Aron states that, ". . . from then on, the docility of Aujourd'hui was the more valuable tothe occupying power for the fact of the independence previously permitted it." This, Ibelieve, accounts for the kind of pretence of protection involved in the passage quoted.15 Jean Bruller details the situation in the winter of 1941, when silence was dwindling andmore writers chose, or were lured, to write for official publications. See Vercors (JeanBruller), The Battle of Silence,  pp. 130-132.16 'Another period' refers to the censorship in France in the 17th and 18th centuries. Themanifesto is included in Defeat and Beyond: An Anthology of French Wartime Writing1940-1945, Germaine Bree and George Bernauer, eds. Trans Alastair Hamilton (NewYork: Pantheon Books, 1970), pp. 247-248.17 Michel, Paris Resistant, p. 40.18 Ibid. Also, Asa Briggs, The War of Words (London: Oxford University Press, 1970),describes the V-campaign in detail, pp. 365-383.19 Cited by Michel, Paris Resistant, p. 42.20 These are only two examples, and the most dramatic ones. Of course, the Jews had longbeen threatened, and Vichy published the first decree against immigrant Jews within twoweeks of assuming power; this included Jews naturalized as French just before the war,who were also deprived of their rights. (See Kedward, Occupied France, p. 28.) Theroundup of 4000 Jewish children into the Velodrome d'Hiver on July 16, 1942, deportedwith 7000 others, an act administered by both Nazi and Vichy authorities, was only themost 'public' of persecutions, and resulted in greater loss of support for Vichy (Ibid., pp. 63-64). Concerning hostage-takings, see Chapter 2, Note 50.21 Michel, Paris Resistant, p. 15. One reprisal for such activities was the 'blind bombing' ofthese neighbourhoods.22 Ibid., p. 42.23 Gerard Walter, Paris Under the Occupation, p.158. L'Humanite was the officialCommunist party journal, suspended in 1939 when the Communist party was itself81prohibited. L'Humanite was published clandestinely during the war.24 Gerard Walter, Paris Under the Occupation, p. 159. La Gerbe was a legal journal,which began publication in 1940.25 Jean Paulhan, under a pseudonym in the clandestine journal, Cahiers de la liberation,in an article, "The Bee", wrote that the Metro, along with the grocer's, had become the onlyrefuge of any sort of community life, and a common meeting place. This is quoted byRobert Aron, The Vichy Regime 1940-1944. Trans. Humphrey Hare (London: Putnamand Co., Ltd., 1958), p. 433. The entire essay is reprinted in English in The Republic ofSilence, A.J. Liebling, ed., pp. 182-184.26 Gerald Walter, Paris Under the Occupation, p. 72.27 Quoted by Alexander Werth, France 1940-1955 (London: Robert Hale Ltd., 1956), p. 142.The passage is from Aubrac's book, La Resistance (Naissance et Organisation) (Paris,1945), p.15. Aubrac was a member of Liberation-Sud, the southern branch of Liberation,headed by Emmanuel d'Astier de la Vigerie. The southern group formed a paramilitaryorganization in 1942.28 It would be impossible to append copies of all the art which Dubuffet produced duringthis period, nor would it be possible to address every picture. I have chosen to deal,primarily, with five series, three in gouache (Le Metro, Messages, and Vues de Paris), andtwo lithographic (Les Murs and Matiere et memoire). From these I have selected severalindividual works which are typical of each series. I have chosen not to discuss his still livesof the period, nor his landscapes, since the subject matter does not concern the urbanexperience which this thesis addresses, and, in any case, this thesis is not meant to be anexhaustive study of all Dubuffet's output. Another series, Jazz, was excluded for similarreasons, although a case could certainly be made for inclusion of this as a representation ofa Parisian contemporary entertainment which was not a form encouraged by German orVichy authorities (especially not, because of its Afro-American origins). A catalogueraisonne does exist for Dubuffet's art, the aforementioned Catalogue des Travaux de JeanDubuffet.29 See Seghers', title, L'Homme du Commun ou Jean Dubuffet.30 Louis Parrot, Jean Dubuffet (Paris: Galerie René Drouin, Pierre Seghers, Editeur,1944), p. 10. Parrot said, "I think that a great desert of ash covered our old world and thatthe painter first of all incites us to grieve this desolate absence of colours..."31 Ibid., p. 12.32 Georges Limbour, "Jean Dubuffet ou l'imagination de la matiere", Servir, Lausanne, 24& 31 May, 1945. Reprinted in Catalogue des Travaux de Jean Dubuffet, p. 240.33 Catalogue des Travaux de Jean Dubuffet, p. 123.34 Pierre Seghers, L'Homme du commun ou Jean Dubuffet, p. 11.35 Ibid., p. 13. Again, here, the collusion of aesthetics and politics is presented. In morerecent art historical accounts of Dubuffet's works of the period, the rebellion encoded inthe art is seen to take place only within 'art'. For example, Max Loreau, in Jean Dubuffet: Delfts Deportements. Lieux de Haut Jeu (Paris: Weber Editeur, 1971) pp. 20-21, writesforcefully about the series Messages, describing the "futility and emptiness" of the subjectmatter as a "graphic dance bare of signification and value", without any mentionwhatsoever of the historical events surrounding the series.8236 Seghers, L'Homme du commun ou Jean Dubuffet, p. 16.37 Odile Vaillant and Myriam Duffau, "Quelques repêres, radio, television", Paris-Paris1937-1957 (Centre Georges Pompidou, 28 May-2 November, 1981), P. 470.38 Philip E. Jacob, "The Theory and Strategy of Nazi Short-Wave Propaganda",Propaganda by Short Wave, Harwood L. Childs and John B. Whitton, eds. (Princeton:Princeton University Press, 1942, pp. 51-108), p. 59.39 Ibid., p. 60.40 Gilles Perrault and Pierre Azema, Paris Under the Occupation (New York: Vendome,1989), p. 44.41 Michel, Paris Resistant, p. 37.42 Alexander Werth, France 1940-1955, pp. 10-11. Fabre-Luce, who was an advocate ofFranco-German collaboration even before the war, published Volume I of his Journal de laFrance, in January 1941, and a second volume in 1942.43 M.R.D. Foot, S.O.E. in France: An Account of the Work of the British SpecialOperations Executive in France 1940-1944 (London: Her Majesty's Stationery Office, 1966),p. 110. Foot provides a detailed study of some of the resistance networks in France: Twoagents, Bergeret and Herman Gregoire, offer a personal record of activity in a specificarea, near Bergerac, in Messages personels (Bordeaux, Editions Biêre, 1945)44 Vaillant and Duffau, "Quelques reperes, radio, television," Paris-Paris, p. 470.45 Guillevic's poems were published in 1945 as part of a larger collection of his workproduced during the war, Terraquó (Editions Gallimard). In 1950, with Dubuffet'sillustrations, the poems were republished by Les editions du Livre in Paris. Thelithographs appear in the Catalogue des travaux de Jean Dubuffet, pp. 211-233.46 This is from a larger group of Dubuffet's writings, Prospectus et tous ecrits suivant, vol.II (Paris: Editions Gallimard, 1966), p. 68. The first publication of Prospectus aux amateursde tout genre was by Gallimard, in 1946.47 Sartre, "The Republic of Silence", p. 220.48 Ibid.49 Quoted by Ponge, "Notes sur les &ages", Le Peintre a l'etude (Paris: EditionsGallimard, 1948), p. 69.50 Ibid., pp. 69-70.51 Ponge, "Matiere et memoire", 1945, in Le Peintre a l'etude, p. 87.52 Ibid., p. 91.53 Ibid., p. 97.54 Ibid., p. 100.55 Ibid., p. 99.83ConclusionBoth Lurcat and Dubuffet addressed resistance themes in their works: freedom inopposition to control and repression, confrontation to both French collaboration and Nazibarbarism, and the creation of alternative images to propaganda. For both, thedevelopment of a language which would be seen to encode resistance was central to theirwork as was the use of artistic means which would envelop local and national concerns.Indeed, the enterprise was an attempt to reach beyond the strictly individual or national, toembody notions of a human commonality. Ultimately, resistance art sought to testify to theexistence of an active opposition at a time when many thought that the rest of the worldbelieved that France had graciously or willingly submitted to defeat.1There were, however, significant differences in the two projects. Artists andintellectuals such as Lurcat, Aragon, and Eluard were adherents of a universal humanism,one which was based on such tenets as the inherent goodness of Man and the potential forchange, while preserving a continuity of culture -- the origins of which were national. Incontrast, the humanism of Sartre, Dubuffet, Ponge, and Fautrier was predicated upon amaterialist basis, the capacity of Man to do both good and evil, a refusal to accept anyempowerment not based on individual choice, and the refusal to accept a solution whichdid not blast away the cultural trappings of the past.Lurcat's agenda was well-established by the 1930's. It was a surefooted response tothe inquietude of that decade and his humanistic beliefs persisted, despite the calamitousattack of the war. With the identification of the Resistance with the French Communistparty (PCF), and the recognition of that party's role in the preservation of French culture,Lurcat -- who later jointed the PCF -- was seen as the quintessential Resistance artist.Dubuffet's crude and nasty investigations have been viewed differently by history, divestedof their political meaning despite Dubuffet's own activity within a milieu which includedmany Communists. Galvanized by the circumstances of the war, Dubuffet's images brieflyremained outside the realm of high culture as the artist continued his interest in84disenfranchisement, whether in his own art or in his collecting of Art Brut. It was throughthis very stance that Dubuffet maintained the mantle of the 'modern' avant-garde artistoutside an art of 'circumstance' or situation: a judgement which Lurcat could not escape.However, during the war, these milieus interlocked; for example, writers such as Eluard,Seghers, and Guillevic embraced both Dubuffet and Lurcat. But more importantly, as mythesis has argued, these two artists' works evinced a commonality and communality whichfor a brief moment appeared to be the reconciliation of politics and aesthetics hoped for inthe previous decade.The war in France was fought partially on the level of words and symbols -- thescribblers' war, a war of words, guerre des affiches. At first by necessity, and then design, thewar was won by transforming words and codes into action [See Figure 46]. Potentmetaphors for the upside-down world of Nazi occupation are with us today: night,nocturne, nightmare, silence, winter, night and fog, dark ages -- indicative of barbary in theseat of civilization and culture, irrationality in the heart of reason. The writer Vercorsrecalled a conversation with Jean Cassou in 1941, when the two feared that the Occupationcould last a hundred years. They anticipated that "the role of the intellectuals would besimilar to that of the monks who, during the long night of the Middle Ages, wereobstinately and secretly passing on the torch of ancient thought".2 The role of art took on asimilar task. By reclaiming the wall, by turning the private, interior world to the outside, bypersisting in a practice forced underground, and insisting on forms of freedom, the art ofLurcat and of Dubuffet served as testimony to the kind of clandestine activity which did, inthe end, overturn the regime of the Occupation.85ENDNOTES1 See Vercors, The Battle of Silence (London: William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd, 1968.Trans. Rita Barisse. First published in France, 1967), p. 129. Vercors' milieu, at least,chafed at this message to the world, given by Vichy press and by diplomats. Britishcontempt for France's weakness is described by Kedward, Occupied France: Collaborationand Resistance 1940-1944 (Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd., 1985), p. 1.2 J.H. King, "Language and Silence: Some Aspects of Writing and the French Resistance",European Studies Review, Vol. 2, No. 3, 1972, p. 232, quotes Vercors, from The Battle ofSilence (London: William Collins Sons and Co. Ltd., 1968), p.158.86, LEP1ARCCIIAL^f.4:7•..v.,a1 trur^1 t•ff paderip.d 1, m.priaervauni^(dn. tn.antribta-zi *tier& note ik per,I 1,1rhervqou.Figure 1 Poster of Marechal Petain. The Marshal thanks the Legionnaires: "In joiningthe crusade led by Germany, thereby gaining the undeniable right to worldgratitude, you are playing your part in warding off the Bolshevik peril fromour land". (Source: David Pryce-Jones, Paris in the Third Reich, London:William Collins Sons Co. Ltd., 1981.)Figure 2^Master baker H. Labazec with his Petain' cake, June 1943. (Source: AlainGuerin, La Resistance: chronique illustree 1930-1950, Vol. 2. Paris: ClubDiderot, 1985, p.97.)87Figure 3^Jean Lurcat, Combat de cogs, 1939. Tapestry, 600 sq.cm . Musee d'ArtModerne, Paris.88° t,+t +.4'^t„10..*,41i %.''' 144, tit sZrr,C--::::::Figure 4^The Unicorn in Captivity. The Unicorn Tapestries, Franco-Flemish, c.1515.300 x 200 cm. Collection of the Cloisters, Metropolitan Museum of Art, NewYork.89Figure 7^ Figure 8Arno Breker, Partei, 1938.^ Arno Breker, Wehrmacht, 1938.Figure 9^Arno Breker, unnamed statue at Breker exhibition at l'Orangerie, Paris,1942. (Source: Gilles Perrault and Pierre Azema, Paris Under theOccupation. New York: Vendome, 1989, p.98.)91Figure 10^The Wild Condition, from The Four Conditions of Society.  One of 4looseleaf illuminations, Tours, 1457-1521, 17 x 13.5 cm. Collection Paris:Ecole National Supórieure des Beaux Arts Bibliotheque, Miniatures 90-93.Figure 11^Wild Folk Working the Land,  detail. Tapestry, Switzerland, c.1480. 90 cm x600 cm. Collection Vienna: Osterreich isches Museum fiir angewandtekunst.92tieTcre 91444 c p011 coact Ouj-*tor a et ItICIU1 • IttVateCccf lc volt (c roumraurloa'ft moot Ca Wrist Nfuutce(cfrutcuinnc a Cut appanccuoan) bc Wyec tc cc,t, }-cif al °mutt'tf coirftCnut ett4 (Otiti6U MOM, tettne^tr—lrt-mactote- Nbtic Ne '41inoticitce. 2.c la nwucf cn futt-kdvt4 wrstcetce rarniawe Iry-wfuct, (ee•Zumaicace tourloft-ct-c tic veliour. ftpur cc"-- czluft lc wv Nmuc fa ow 1i)WicCictfptrItt fluke. k. -ne-auutpal a +nuert vtat _comic tot rot, tc too wee ore-ct ram ICU re, Et yttucur—auc•41:liaucr-lcJuc-_ IrrryNfzuttyroutluct (cunt,-fruuuceWX-out lc uutri--.y<= •"—e fcufa:cOott Chl-Trove pour la cau\.r.oicnc (cvot,104altaltt..E4 4140I-tAtit c a ucr-mcur cI fOrtt( el! WV cc-Iteouttp:ouchitto au Pop ee íaImhoff Dc itorificuric icciuctfc WI/11110a ittlfromi, erctifarft fabt4trt N quellticlutancitt pout- complattic auVutt rutrA.uticc-litt fa ccut..tcthircmcuc_vclf c tclvtIFNuip^cz---Figure 12^Bal des Ardents, (The Wild Man Dance of Charles VI). Illumination from aBook of Hours, end 15th century. 50 cm x 35 cm. Collection, London: TheBritish Library, Harley MS. 4380.93Cr), bsc .40.0 km^"MP^', At:^ •imirtftFigure 14^Jean Lurcat, Liberte, 1942. Tapestry, 325 cm x 235 cm. Collection Paris:Musee Nationale d'Art Moderne.95Figure 15^Jean Lurcat, L'Apollinaire, 1942. Tapestry, 250 cm x 350 cm.Figure 16^Jean Lurcat, Es la verdad, 1942. Tapestry, 300 cm x 750 cm. CollectionB.N.C.I., Bogota.96Figure 17^Jean Lurcat, La Terre, detail, 1944. Tapestry.Figure 18^Jean Lurcat, Le Ciel et la terre, 1944. Tapestry.Figure 19^German road signs at a Paris intersection, Place de l'Opera. (Source: DavidPryce-Jones, Paris in the Third Reich, London: William Collins Sons Co.Ltd., 1981, p.16.)Figure 20^Hitler in front of the Eiffel Tower, 1940. (Source: Gilles Perrault and PierreAzema, Paris Under the Occupation, New York: Vendome, 1989, p.67.)98POPULATIONSabandonnées,„kites conflanceAU SOLDAT ALLEMAND!Figure 21^1940 German poster, defaced by inscription reading, "He replaces the fatherhe killed". (Source: Russell Miller, The Resistance, Chicago: Time-LifeBooks, 1979, p.13.)Figure 22^Jockey wearing Gaullist Croix de Lorraine. (Source: David Pryce-Jones,Paris in the Third Reich, London: William Collins Sons Co. Ltd., 1981, p.23.)99GARANTE DE SA VICTOIRE•":4DENIASCAlin S\Vit laNk^y*,v.\\Figure 23^German use of V-sign on Chambre des deputes, Paris. (Source: GillesPerrault and Pierre Azema, Paris Under the Occupation, New York:Vendome, 1989, p.82.)Figure 24^"La Puissance Allemagne," German poster in occupied France. (Source:Zbynek Zeman, Selling the War: Art and Propaganda in World War II,London: Orbis, 1978, p.86.)100Figure 25^Picture sequence of nocturnal graffiti artist, France, World War II. (Source:Russell Miller, The Resistance, Chicago: Time-Life Books, 1979, p.12.)101Figure 26Jean Dubuffet, Metro, 10 March 1943.Gouache, 37 cm x 30 cm.Private collection, New York.Figure 27Jean Dubuffet, Metro, 11 March 1943.Gouache, 37 cm x 30 cm.Private collection, New York.Figure 28^ Figure 29Jean Dubuffet, Metro, March, 1943.^Jean Dubuffet, Metro, 14 March 1943.Gouache, 37 cm x 30 cm.^Gouache, 37 cm x 30 cm.Private collection, New York. Private collection, New York.102.11,VIA1DIOiiii3cw 0 0no cJo';Ity;ii 0^pi.i.--1 ,,,-,),t^4Figure 30^Jean Dubuffet, Vue de Paris, 8 April 1943. Gouache, 37 cm x 30 cm.Collection Mme. René Dubout, Paris.Figure 31^Jean Dubuffet, Vue de Paris avec quatre arbres et trois personnages (Placede l'Estrapade), April 1943. Gouache, 37 cm x 30 cm. CollectionE. Boissonas, Paris.103Figure 32^Jean Dubuffet, Message. (First words illegible) ". . . ma sante toujoursexcellente et je ne m'ennuie pas du tout. . .", 24 June 1944. Ink onnewspaper, 20.5 cm x 26 cm. Collection Alfonso Ossorio, New York.Figure 33^Jean Dubuffet, Message, "Dubuffet est un sale con, un foireaux, un encule• . .", 24 June 1944. Ink on newspaper, 25.5 cm x 25.5 cm. Collection AlfonsoOssorio, New York.104Figure 34^Jean Dubuffet, Message, "Ledru-Rollin sortie en metro", 25 June 1944. Inkand gouache on newspaper, 21 cm x 22 cm. Collection, artist.105Figure 35^Jean Dubuffet, Message, 'Toujours bien devoues a vos ordres .", 25 June1944. Ink and gouache on newspaper, 20 cm x 24 cm. Collection, artist.106[ES BOBARDS...SORTENT TOUJOURS DU OE NIFigure 36^Poster by André Deran, denouncing BBC "tall stories". From the collectionof the Comitê d'histoire de la 2e Guerre Mondiale. (Source: PhilippeMasson, ed. The Second World War,  Librairie Larousse, 1984. Twickenham,Middlesex: Hamlyn Publishing, 1985, p.71.)107Figure 37^Jean Dubuffet, Mur et gisant, Les Murs,  plate XI, 13 January 1945.Lithograph, 37 cm x 27 cm.108Figure 38^Jean Dubuffet, Pisseurs au mur, Les Murs, plate VIII, 16 January 1945.Lithograph, 34.5 cm x 28.5 cm.109Figure 39^Jean Dubuffet, Mur et avis, Les Murs, plate XII, January-March, 1945.Lithograph, 37 cm x 28 cm.Figure 40^Jean Dubuffet, Homme coincó dans les murs, Les Murs, plate III.Lithograph, 36 cm x 28.5 cm.110Figure 41^Jean Dubuffet, Mur et homme, frontispiece Les Murs, January-March, 1945.Lithograph, 32.5 cm x 27 cm.Figure 42^Jean Fautrier, Tete d'Otage. No. 3, 1943. Oil on paper on canvas, 35.5 cm x27.5 cm. Collection Sceaux Musee de l'Ile de France.111Figure 43^Jean Dubuffet, Moulouse de café, Matiêre et memoire, plate XXXII, 18November 1944. Lithograph, 29 cm x 20 cm. Collection, Mr. and Mrs. R.Colin, New York.112Figure 44^Jean Dubuffet, Le Supplice du telephone, Matiere et memoire, plate )0CX,1944. Lithograph, 29 cm x 18 cm.Figure 45^Jean Dubuffet, Dactylographe, Matiere et memoire, plate XVIII, 25 October1944. Lithograph, 26.5 cm x 16 cm.113IbrIvi.l..11,111ff,•^veHLe1111,11-7ran, IFigure 46^Resistance fighters dismantling German signs, 1944. (Source: David Pryce-Jones: Paris in the Third Reich,  London: William Collins Sons Co. Ltd.,1981, pp. 208-209.)114Appendix ALuc Berimont: "Le temps du beau plaisir . . ."Written in 1942 and published in 1943, this is the tenth of a series of 15consecutive pieces in verse in La Huche a pain.Le temps du beau plaisir serpente par des plainesOA les bles vont rugir avec leurs lions roux.Les enfants couleront de ces toisons oisives:Un peuple est A marir dans les caves de l'aofitDes levres, par milliers, sucent la terre ouverte.C'est le cargo du ble, c'est l'ocean du sangOn entend s'elever des vivats A la luneLes morts sont A nourrir la bouche des vivantsUn etendard de vent bat A la grande hune.Les couches dresseront leurs poings d'epis luisantsDe leurs ventres fendus jailliront des armeesTout retourne A Fete, tout rentre dans le rangLe boulanger petrit des neiges explosees.11 Ian Higgins, "France, Soil and Language: Some Resistance Poems by Luc Berimont andJean Marcenac", Vichy France and the Resistance: Culture and Ideology.  H.R. Kedwardand Roger Austin, eds. (Totawa, New Jersey: Barnes and Noble Books, 1985), p. 207.115Appendix BGuillaume Apollinaire, "Paysage", Calligrammes: Poems of Peace andWar (1913-1916), (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), p.30.116Appendix CLES MURSLes murs sont compagnons,Poses touj ours qu'ils sont pour le coude et lapaumeEt dresses vers les yeux,Ayant tin peu de terreOil confier leur bonte quand ils en ont excêsEt paraissant avoir prouve leur innocenceA se trouver dans l'air tout en vivant de noir.***Bien des murs sont tachesDe mousse on de lichen couleur des vaguesQui A peine emergesDe l'eau tiede et du sel oü vivre prend figureQui ont trainees parfois de gris jaune et de noirDessous les chiminees,Sont bons pour étre ecrans aux visions des passantsQui n'y trouvent pas forme ni legon,Mais soupirail:Un geant rouge a fait grand signeEt stir les toits ses pieds vont vite.C'est au ciel qui'il s'en prend,C'est A Pete. Ii a du feu entre les bras.II a laisse tomber un astre ou un enfant.II dit: Vengeance. Ii se rassoit.C'etait un pauvre.***Laissent de pierre A nuAussi gros que la plaie A ne pas trop montrer,PlutOt cherir quand on est seul.C'est dans les mursQue sont les portesPar oil l'on peut entrerEt par l'uneArriver.***Es ont affaire A l'airPour quelques distractions.Le vent de mer y passeEn poussant dans le ciel et la chair des garcons,Y porte feuille ou moucheronEt la caresse.us ont affaire aussiA la plui, aux lessives.Mais le soleilEst un pouvoir.***Les murs quand us sont hauts,Surtout ceux qui n'ont past fenetres et rideaux,II y a du terrible dans le mondeEt ce seraUn mur A travers champs, contre un prunier,Auprês de la charrette et ses timons dans l'air,Sous le soleil qui fait durer l'immensite.Un mur qui n'aura puS'habituerEt ne croit plusReduire l'espace A travers plaines.***Voir les dedans des mursNe nous est pas donneOn a beau les casser,Leur façade est montreeBien sill- que c'est pareilEn nous et dans les murs,Mais voirApaiserait.Des mursSont laids.Ils n'y auront pas misDu leur.117Faits pour cacher,^ Et puis, tau, c'est des racinesPour empecher, Qu'il ne pent plus se dómeler.Amidonnes parfoisDe lessons de bouteilles.--- Es n'arreteront pasLes foules du triomphe.Parfois les routes-,-- Nous y allions pour le plaisir ou le devoir --Etaient bordees de murs.Es nous donnaient la verticale,Du soleil blanc, la route encoureEt du loisir,Mais ils nous separaientDe la fraise attardee dans la fraicheur du boisOa toucher deux genouxQui ont tant de raisons de trembler sous lesfeuilles.***On ne serait pas tellement plus malDevenus le mur au bord de la placeOil les enfants jouent entre des vieillards,Lui qui de toute la ville ne sait que la colere.---On pourrait devinir aussiUn mur cache par le feuillage, a la campagne,Pour etre heureux.***Que peut un murPour un blesse?Et pourtantII en vient toujours dans les batillesS'y adosser,Comme si la mort ainsiPermettait de mourirAvec plus de loisirEt quelque libertóUn hommeEst devenu jaloux des murs,Ii assoit a l'ecartUn corps habitué,Exclut les portes,Exclut le tempsVoit dans le noirEt dit: amour.Eugene GuillevicTerracme (1942)118BibliographyBooksAdereth, M. Aragon: The Resistance Poems. London: Grant and Cutler Ltd., 1985.Amouroux, Henri. La Vie des Francais Sous l'Occupation. Paris: Librairie ArthemeFayard, 1961.Apollinaire, Guillaume. Calligrammes: Poems of Peace and War (1913-1916). Berkeley:University of California Press, 1980.Aragon, Louis. L'Oeuvre poêtique. Tome IX 1939-1942. Belgium: Livre Club Diderot,1979.Aron, Robert. The Vichy Regime 1940-44. Trans. Humphrey Hare. London: Putnam &Co. Ltd., 1958.Atack, Margaret. Literature and the French Resistance: Cultural Politics and Narrative Forms, 1940-1950. Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 1989.Baird, Jay W. The Mythical World of Nazi War Propaganda. 1939-1945. Minneapolis:University of Minnesota Press, 1974.Balakian, Anna. Surrealism: The Road to the Absolute. Chicago: University of ChicagoPress, 1959.Balfour, Michael. Propaganda in War 1939-1945. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,1979.Baynes, Norman H., ed. The Speeches of Adolf Hitler: April 1922-August 1939. 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