Picturing Power: Representation and Las Meninas

Author(s): Amy M. Schmitter

Source: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 54, No. 3 (Summer, 1996), pp. 255268
Published by: Blackwell Publishing on behalf of The American Society for Aesthetics
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AMY M. SCHMITTER

PicturingPower: Representationand Las Meninas

Representationis often taken as a kind of picturing-at least insofar as to "picture"something is to stand proxy for that thing, and to
stand proxy on the basis of some sort of shared
resemblance. Given the diversity of fields in
which a notion of representationhas gained a
foothold, the sort of resemblanceassumed may
vary dependingon the function of the proxy:resemblance might be perceptual,or structural,or
in respect of interest, or with respect to informativeness. Even so, resemblance remains a
vague notion, and "picturing"scarcely less so.
This compound vagueness may be part of the
charm of the notion of representation,and part
of what makes it useful for fields ranging from
political theory to the philosophy of art to cognitive science. But the vagueness of such a version of representationdoes not preventit being
suspect, nor should it preventus from developing alternatives.
Of course, there may well be contemporary
notions of representationthat (when properly
understood) do not involve a picture-theoryor
any close relative thereof. But my object here is
not so much to identify any central component
of contemporaryuses of representationas it is to
diagnose a certain diagnosis of modernity-that
is, a diagnosis of modernity,or at least of modern philosophy, that sees it as caught under the
spell of a picture-theoryof representation,and
that thereby sees us as in need of disenchantment.1 On this view, modernity is born in the
coming-to-dominance of such a picture-theory
in the early modern works of Descartes, the
Port-Royallogicians, and Leibniz, to name just
a few of the favored candidates within philosophy. Its dominance might be explained by the
acceptance by many an early modern philosopher, whether of a "rationalist"or an "empiri-

cist" bent, of a split between the inner and the

outer,such that the outer,public world is forced
to reenactitself upon the stage of the privatetheater of the mind. I intend all due respect to theatricalnotions of representation,but explanation
of the dominance of some version of "representation"needs to take account of the early modern interestin the public realmof signs and symbols (written, drawn, or spoken) as much as of
the importanceof seemingly privateideas.
So on the one hand, it may well be true that
some notion of representationwas an implicit
underpinningof much that is characteristicof
seventeenth-centurythought.On the otherhand,
it is doubtful that the earliest of early modern
notions of representationis appropriatelydescribed as a picture-theory.Indeed, I think that
at least some early modern conceptions of representationare completely alien both to whatwe
might think of today as representationand to
what is often diagnosed as the origins of that
thought. And that is just the reason why those
early modernconceptionsdeserveour attention.
For if we truly do find ourselves in the grip of
suspect notions of representation,and if they
supposedly are part of the philosophical patrimony of modernity,then one way to free ourselves might be to practice a kind of historical
"deconstruction"of that inheritance-one that
finds resourcesin the traditionitself with which
to challenge the problematicpicture-theory.
It is with the aim of challenging the picturetheory of representationthat I propose to examine a concrete example of "picturing":namely,
the painting Las Meninas with respect to what
and how it represents.I make this proposalbecause the picture-theory cuts both ways: not
only is representationoften conceived as a sort
of picturing,2but picturesare taken to offer par-

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism54:3 Summer 1996

256

ticularlycompelling examplesof representation.

While the inadequacy of treating painting and
other images as representationssubstitutingfor,
by being similarto, some actualor possible sense
perception of objects or events has been the
theme of many theorists,I hope here to illustrate
and explain an alternativenotion of representation throughLas Meninas.The strategyof examining a particularpainting in orderto construct
a model of representationdramaticallydifferent
from those now current(ratherthan using paintings simply to exemplify some model) is, I trust,
also of methodological interest, to both historians and philosophers.

Velazquez worked at the Hapsburg court of

Philip IV, hence at the heart of the centralized
power structureof one of the original nationstates of early modernEurope,one that was also
on the forefront of early modern culturalproduction. Las Meninashas been judged-both in
Velazquez's time and in our own-to be his
masterpiece.I offer a brief and somewhatnaive
descriptionof the painting.The setting is a large
room, usually identified as one of the chambers
in the royal palace.3 On the right, we are given
an oblique view of the wall of the room, which
is cut by aperturesin which windows seem to be
set, letting light into the room. The view of the
room on the left is blocked by the edge of a large
canvas seen from the back. A man holding a
paintbrushstandson the otherside of the canvas
and a bit to the right,where he can be seen; he is
standardlytaken for Velazquez, who seems to
have just stopped working on his canvas for a
moment in orderto gaze out, portrait-like,from
this canvas. To the rightand more or less in the
center of the canvas stands a magnificently
dressed little girl; normallyidentified as the Infanta of Spain, she also gazes out in the manner
of a portrait.She is surroundedon either side by
two similarly dressed young women attendants
(the Meninasof the title), one of whom kneels at
her side, while the other inclines a bit to the little girl and turns her glance outward from the
canvas. To the right of this group, in the corner
of the canvas, stand two dwarves of varying appearance, also court attendants. The woman
gazes outward, while her male companion puts
his foot on a dog lying asleep in front of the two.

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

These figures form a rough semicircle in the
foregroundof the picture,with the Infantanear
the central point. Behind these figures on the
right hand side of the canvas stand two more
adultattendants:a woman who turnsher head to
addressa man, who stands beside her and looks
outward.Some distance behind them is the rear
wall of the room, which is pierced by an open
door throughwhich comes a flood of yellowish
light. Silhouettedin this door is a man standing
with one foot on a stair leading out of the room,
but pivoting aroundhis lower foot to face into
the room where the figures are: his gaze also is
directed out from the canvas.
The main figures of Velazquez and the Infantapresentlittle problemof identification;the
others are less obvious, although Velazquez's
earliest biographer,Antonio Palomino, names
the probableattendantson the basis of the known
populationof the court. For instance, the figure
in the doorway most likely depicts Jose Nieto,
theAposentadorof the queenandheadof hertapestry works.4Palomino likewise associates two
of the paintings appearingon the upperpart of
the back wall with the then currentroyal holdings: these are MinervaPunishingArachneand
Apollo'sVictory over Marsyas,both supposedly
by Rubens, and both depicting artistic contests
between a god and a mortal, each of which ends
unhappilyfor the mortal.5We do not haveto rely
on Palomino, however, for an account of the
small luminousrectangleto the left of the door;
just about everybody agrees that it representsa
mirrorreflecting two half-figuresneatly framed
underneath a red drapery. Arranged to face
frontally, so that it appears that their reflected
gazes are directed outwards, they are unmistakeablythe king, Philip IV,and his wife, Mariana of Austria.The reflected presence of these
figures in the mirror has prompted general
agreementthat the royal couple are supposedto
be "actually"located somewherein the space in
front of the pictureplane, wherethey arethe object of attention for most of the figures in the
painting.6

But that is aboutas far as any uncontroversial

descriptionof the layout can go. The relationof
the mirror to the space in front of the picture
plane, the source of its reflection, and the relation of both to the otherelements in the painting
are all mattersof dispute. And yet these are exactly the features of the painting from which

Schmitter PicturingPower:Representationand Las Meninas

most interpretationsof it hang. For curiously
enough, many of those interpretationsthat help
themselves to one or another of the disputed
readings agree in taking the work to somehow
or other offer a meta-accountof its own operation, either by referringto itself in particular,or
to the activity of painting,or to the whole nature
of representation.This is a view with a long lineage: indeed, one of the earliest titles given to
the work was TheArt of Painting.JohnR. Searle
suggests that the work constructs a pictorial
paradox that, like all rigorously characterized
paradoxes,is self-referential.7AndMichel Foucault, in The Order of Things, analyzes it as a
self-reflexive exemplification of representation,
a representationof representationitself.8 The
mirrorplays an importantrole in each of these
interpretations.Foucault, for one, comes to his
conclusions in part by tracing the play in the
work between the elements that appear within
the painting and the reference they make to
what remains outside, and hence is invisible,
with the mirroras the source of interchangebetween the two. His conclusion may be correct,
and even more importantly,it suggests a notion
of representationthat is not built upon any picture-theory. But like the other interpretations
mentioned, his argumentrequiresthat the mirror yield its reflection and its relationto thatreflection unequivocally,and that I think is less
plausible. I will turnto Foucault'sintriguingaccount to show why I think this is so.
Foucault begins by documentingtwo related
exchanges in the painting: that between inside
and outside and that between seen and (unseen)
viewer.These exchanges startwith the figure of
the painter,who seemingly becomes visible by
being separated from the depicted canvas on
which a further representationis in progress.
The painted painter turns his gaze toward the
space outside of the painting, thereby transforming it into a subjectto be representedon the
canvas whose back we see. But we cannot ourselves see the representationon the canvas'ssurface. So while the painter's gaze addresses the
outside space, that space remains invisible, not
accessibleeven as a furtherrepresentationwithin
the representation.But it is this outside space
that most of the gazes of the painted figures address. Turningoutward, they observe the space
from which they are observed:gaze encounters
gaze. The exchange of gazes is justone variation

257

on the interchangethat vision effects between

subject and object, seeing and seen: on the left
we see the unseen canvas, then the painterand
other figures whose gaze outward interlocks
with ours, and finally, the drowsing dog, seen
but unseeing. All these are bathedin light coming from a window to the extreme rightand out
of the range of the pictureplane: anotherexternal and invisible element,but one thatmakes the
represented space visible and links it to the
viewer's "space."All of these painted elements
are organizedarounda center of attention-the
outside space to which these possibilities are
presented and represented,but which remains
invisible even while serving as the object of vision of the figures.
Foucaulttells us thatthe centerof this outside
space is given by the mirror, which itself appears to be a representation,"butno one is looking at it."It does not re-presentby reflectionanything already visible in the painting, although
Foucaultthinks it might. Given its "moreor less
completely central" position, it ought "to be
governedby the same lines of perspectiveas the
pictureitself,"so that"itcould be the perfectduplication"9of what we see on the canvas. Instead, on Foucault'sview, this mirrorbringsinto
the painting representsinside the representation-a point outside of this or indeed any representation.For as he tells us, it is directly opposite the viewing position, and reflects this
standpoint.It therebypoints it out as a position
necessarilyexternalto that which is represented
to this position, but not thereforeany less necessary to the representation:it is what might be
called the subjectposition.10Foucaultalso identifies this position with the position takenby the
painter when producing such a representation,
the originatingposition. And because of the peculiar arrangementof this painting, it also appears to be the point where the painter'smodels
stand, whose transformationinto a representation is representedin this painting. Because of
the peculiar structure of this painting, these
three positions coincide: the originating position of the painter,the position of the models for
a further representation,and the position preparedfor the casual, latter-dayobserver.
Foucaultargues that this position cannot become visible in this representation,because it is
the point from which the representationitself is
constituted. But it can be represented:indeed,

258

Velazquez'sworkanalyzes it, breaksit apartand

scattersit acrossthe painting as the separateand
distinct elements of the creating gaze of the
painter, of the casual viewer's gaze stopped at
the convergence of two spaces, of the reflected
gaze of the exterior and otherwise invisible
models. The painting addressesthis outside position and illustratesits statusas a necessary but
external reference point for the representation,
which can, however,become the object for another, further representation.We might gloss
Foucault'saccount as holding that the painting
representsa tripartitestructureof representing:
an originatingpoint transformsa representatum
into material transmittedthrough some representing medium or device (a representans)to a
subject position. All of these are structuralmoments, not to be confused with any actualor empirical persons, positions, or projects,"1and all
of which are representedwithin the painting. In
such ways does the painting representclassical
representationitself.'2
Foucault'sexpress aim in the piece underdiscussion is to considerLas Meninasas an exhibition of a specific, peculiarly seventeenth-century notion of representation.If we are to treat
his work as a kind of secondary source, as in
some sense about Las Meninas,then I think it is
wise to keep both the limitations and the ambition of this goal in mind. Foucault's account
succeeds at the very least in demonstratingthat
representationneed not be analyzed according
to a picture-theory,that it has a complicated
structure,and that it is capable of proliferating
and turning on itself (something frequently
overlooked by picture-theories of representation). But we may wonderwhetherFoucaulthas
accurately accounted for the way that Las Meninas manipulatesits structure-particularly its
perspectivalstructurewith respect to the mirror.
I bring in the perspectival structurehere because I want to point out its use as a representational device (as opposed to, e.g., a strictlycompositional one). Perspective in general aims to
formulate a system whereby variations in the
use of certainpainterlydevices (e.g., color, line,
apparentsize of similarly sized objects) can be
encoded with informationaboutthe relativedistance taken by objects representedin the virtual
space of the painting from a proposed viewing
position. Single-point linear perspective in particularoffers rules to allow a precise mappingof

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

distances in the plane perpendicularto the picture plane from a point in front of the canvas
precisely determinedin three dimensions:a single, immobile, and punctilinear"viewing position." By treatingthe virtual space of the painting as continuouswith the space of this viewing
position, single-point linear perspective is able
to translate considerationsfrom projective geometry (albeit inconsistently) into rules for
mappingpositions in that virtual space. Mutatis
mutandi,if the rules of the system are followed
strictly, enough markersappear on the surface
of the image, and certain assumptionsaboutthe
shapes of the objects and space representedon
the pictorial surface are made,'3 then the position of projection, the ideal viewing (and originating) position, can readily be located, especially in the two dimensions parallel to the
picture plane. Now the point in a perspectival
scheme markedas continuous with the viewing
position is the central vanishing point, which
representswherethe axis of vision intersectsthe
pictureplane; it is markedas the point of recession for all the orthogonals, i.e., the lines and
edges understoodas perpendicularto the frontal
pictureplane in the virtualspace of the painting.
So if the mirrorwere a reflection of the viewing
position, it would have to be centered on this
vanishing point.

But this is not so-at least not according to

Joel Snyder and Ted Cohen.'4 Arguing on the
basis of the recession of the orthogonals,Snyder
and Cohentogetherlocate the vanishingpoint to
the right of the mirror,at the bent elbow of the
figure standing in the doorway.'5 This places
the viewing position well to the rightof any determinatepoint "opposite"the mirror.The mirror then must reflect something well to the left
of the viewer's standpoint.By painstakinglyreconstructing the virtual space of the painted
room and the angle of reflection of the mirror,
they decide that the mirror must reflect a portion of the paintedcanvas, the back of which we
see at the extreme left of the painting.'6 If so,
then the coincidence of positions that Foucault
found breaksapart.
Snyderand Cohen are surely right in making
the perspectival structure of the painting the
basis for determining the vanishing point and
viewing position, and also surelyrightin taking
the recession of the orthogonals as the telling
piece of evidence for that determination.In the

Schmitter PicturingPower:Representationand Las Meninas

absence of such an examination, any claims
about the mirror reflection lack support. It is
true, as Foucault points out, that the mirror is
centrally located (more exactly, its upper edge
is found at the verticalhalfway point on the canvas). This may make it eye-catching, which is
important,but it does not therebydeterminethe
viewing point. The only available means for a
precise determinationis the perspectivaldevice
of the recession of the orthogonals:it is a representational device for determining the relation
of the outside viewing position to the "contents"
of the painterly space.
Snyderand Cohen show thatthe mirroris not
the vanishing point, but I am not sure they have
succeeded in ascertaining an alternative spot.
True,it might seem to be a simple matterto decide the focal point of the orthogonals' recession, but actual opinions vary considerably.In
Snyder and Cohen's corner, we can find Velazquez's near contemporaryRamiro de Moya
and his biographerPalomino.'7MadlynMillner
Kahrlikewise tells us that the lines of recession
meet (somewhere)in the figure of the man in the
doorway, although she suggests rathervaguely
that the mirrorreflects the actual figures of the
royal couple, Philip and Mariana (but not the
viewing position).18 Among the Foucaultfraternity, i.e., among those who assume thatthe mirror reflects the viewing position, we find John
Searle,Ann Hurley,'9andeven the visitor'sguide
to the Velazquezrooms in the Prado-surely the
official word if any is. This second view seems
to be a common, first reactionto the work, even
if it does not hold up to strict scrutiny.
Such a diversityof opinion itself demandsexplanation. Snyder and Cohen propose that the
painting is so constructedas to presentmisleading clues about its perspectival structure.In a
later study, Snyder goes on to identify the misleading features:first, the mirror is "centered"
compositionally,that is to say, it is placed at the
focal point of various compositional devices.
Second, there is little in the painting to markits
perspectivalstructure;indeed the only orthogonal tracedat any length is buriedin the shadows
where the wall joins the ceiling.20Snyderis certainly correct to breaktraditionand to insist on
the difficulty the painting poses for deciphering
its perspectival layout, a difficulty he rightly
distinguishes from the impression many have
had of brilliantly handled spatial illusion. But

259

we can go Snyderone better.The perspective is

not just difficult to decipher;it is impossible, for
there is no determinatescheme to decipher.At
the very least, as JonathanBrown puts it, "Velazquez temperedgeometry with intuitionwhen
he composed the picture,"so that "the perspective was deliberatelyleft ambiguous."21
In this free-for-all, Brown'sview thatthe perspectival scheme is "tempered"is surely on the
right track, although I will take issue with his
understandingof the "ambiguity"at work. For
on the one hand, Snyder and Cohen are surely
rightwhen they say thatmanyof the orthogonals
recede towardsan area somewhatto the rightof
the mirror. Indeed they even miss one such
marker:the two lamphooks on the ceiling of the
room. On the other hand, they are also surely
rightwhen they say thatthe painting operatesto
make this focus, the vanishing point, far from
obvious. Even taking the lamp hooks (which
offer no actualedges to tracean orthogonal)into
consideration,the markersthat allow us to determine the recession are few and unclearsomething not even the recent cleaning of the
work can rectify. But what is crucial for decipheringthe perspectivalstructureof the work is
that the orthogonalssimplyfail tofocus at a single point. The top of the wall and the edges of
the bays may well recede to the point Snyder
and Cohen identify: the crooked elbow of the
man in the doorway.But the edges of the picture
frames seem to recede best to an area a bit to the
left of and below this point, in the doorway at
about the knee-level of the figure. I say "best"
recede, because the pictureframe at the left bottom does not seem to lie in a line with its fellows. Indeed the more one works with threads
and rulers to trace the orthogonals, the more
frustratedwith the attemptone becomes and the
more likely it seems that there are few truly
straight orthogonals in the whole painting.22
The lack of such orthogonals would produce a
sort of indeterminacy not unlike what can be
found in many of Velazquez'sother works.23
I concentratehere on single-point, linear perspective, because even if Velazquez frequently
cheated at it, it was still the only game in town
for depicting determinate spatial relationsboth within a painting and between the "inside"
and "outside"of a work. As such, it may seem
that we must eitheraccept thatthe room is a rectangle drawn in strict single-point perspec-

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

260

tive-and thus that the vanishing point and

viewing position can be determined exactlyor we must abandonall talk of the viewing position. But that, I think, presents us with a false
dilemma. A painting can follow single-point
perspective strictly, or it can also play with it,
manipulateit, producean almost-perspectivallycorrect structure,calling upon the resources of
the method without meeting all of its demands.
And knowledge of the way the device standardlyworks allows us to decipherthe representational structuresproposedby these manipulations of perspectival devices. For instance, it is
possible to manipulatethe technique so that the
viewing position becomes multiple, and in a peculiarly literal sense, "incoherent":an example
is Masaccio's fresco of the Trinity,as analyzed
by Norman Bryson.24 Bryson shows that the
work constructs two vanishing points, the secondary one many feet above the main one, so
that the correspondingviewing position breaks
apart as a single, immobile, punctilinear construction. Thus the work uses the resources of
single-point, linear perspective to fragment its
own viewing position.

Las Meninas likewise uses many of the devices of single-point perspective, especially the
setting of a stage-like space markedby at least
some receding orthogonals.25But it uses them
to manipulate the viewing point in a precisely
imprecise way. The orthogonals do not focus;
insteadthey convergein an area smallrelativeto
the overall size of the canvas, but nevertheless
extended, reaching from the point Snyder and
Cohen identify,down and to the left of this point
in the direction of the mirror.Like Masaccio's
Trinity,no punctilinear and immobile viewing
position is constructed. But neither are there
two competing and widely separatedvanishing
points. Rather, Las Meninas gives us a focal
area, far broaderthan that demanded by strict
perspectivaltheory and techniques, but at least
continuous to the eye. The effect is to construct
a viewing position that is somewhatmobile: we
might even say thatit shifts across the vanishing
area from here to there on the canvas's surface.
And as it moves from here to there, the eye
might well continue on to the "compositionally
central"mirror-one small step more acrossthe
viewing space would take us there.

II

It would be useful to settle debate aboutthe location of the vanishing point and the placement
of the mirrorif only to bring orderto the chaos
of opinion. But I would have hesitated to enter
the fray did not the properunderstandingof Las
Meninas probablyrequireresolving these problems. I believe that it well may, for I think that
the painting is indeed self-reflexive, at least in
the minimal sense that it is aboutthe natureand
purposesof painting,andof representationmore
generally. That the painting is somehow about
the art of painting is not itself a terriblycontroversialclaim. Kahr,for instance, arguesthatLas
Meninasmakes a case for the power of painting
and for the position of the painter as a practitioner of a liberal (rather than a mechanical)
art.26Indeed she reads the entire painting as a
play in Velazquez'sdecades-long campaign for
acceptance into one of the three Spanish military orders,an event which finally took place in
1659 and which requiredthat he be found free
from the taint of having engaged in manual
labor. And indeed Velazquez does depict himself within a circle of close intimatesof the royal
family, with the keys to the king's chamberand
of his post as Aposentadoron his belt, honors
due only to those hidalgos in positions of royal
trust.27We should keep in mind that Velazquez
had an interest (on many fronts) in improving
his statusand that of the professionof painting,
and thathe certainly was not above using painting to this end.28 So let us agree that the painting is somehow self-reflexive: Velazquez'sconcern with his own position as a painter, the
baffling use of the mirror,and the addressto the
outside viewing space all supportthe view that
the painting is about the nature and uses of
painting, or more broadly, of representation.
But saying that the painting is an advertisement
for Velazquez,and indeed for its own statusas a
painting, does not yet explain how it makes its
case, nor the exact natureof the case it is making.29 Furtherinterpretationis required,and it
ought to take into accountthe peculiar structure
of the painting.
Joel Snydersucceeds in providingsuch an interpretation,one built on his accountof how the
paintingtreatsits perspectivalstructure.Admitting that the work does have a misleading construction, he argues that it encouragesan initial

Schmitter PicturingPower:Representationand Las Meninas

urge to locate the vanishing point at the mirror-and then provides the resourcesto correct
that reading. Snyder argues that the painting
thereby demands reflection and reworking of
first impressionsin orderto make a case for the
power of art. The viewer is to make the first,
mistakenattributionof the viewing position and
then to correctit by realizingthatthe true source
of the mirrorreflection is the image on the canvas of the king and queen created by art. The
mirrordoes not reflect the actual bodies of the
king and queen, buttheirideal image;it operates
as the "mirrorof the prince,"the idea or ideal of
the prince,a figure thatSnyderfinds common in
the literatureof the time.30 The mirror in the
painting then operates as a sylleptic pun, in
which literal and figurative senses are independent of, yet reinforcedby each other,so that"the
mirrorreflecting their majesties"is "the mirror
of their majesties."31In Snyder'sinterpretation,
the mirroralso functions as a synecdochefor the
theme of the whole work: the fashioning of the
ideal princeby art. Thus we see the InfantaMargarita, the naturalreflection of her parents,but
as yet a blankcanvas, in the artist'sstudiounder
the rule of the mirror of royalty. She is in the
process of being fashioned into the ideal, the
mirrorof the princess; she moves from being a
merely naturalcreatureto an ideal through the
power of art.32In such ways does the painting
illustratethe power of art; it also displays this
power by its effect on the viewer, who moves
from error to knowledge. At first we took the
painting to refer and defer to the "reality"or nature that lay outside of it, to be dependentupon
an outside, natural world independent of its
power. But when we correct the initial misreading, we come to see that the painting is not in
such a relationof dependence.Rather,the painting reflects only its own art, and the outside,
naturalworld dependsuponit-depends upon it
for correction of the initial understandingof
that world's relationshipto the power of art and
for instruction in orderthat the world might be
fashioned into its appropriateform, a form ruled
by the mirrorof the prince.33
Snyder's view has the considerablevirtue of
trying to account for some of the diversity in
readings of the structure of Las Meninas; indeed, of making that diversity the result of the
painting's structureand an important component in any full-scale interpretationof the work.

261

As should be clear, I do not agree with his reading of that structure;instead I propose that the
vanishing point is not a point as such, but an
area, and thatthe viewing position is mobile and
shifting. Still, Snyder'sstrategyis a good one: if
the painting's perspectival scheme is indeed
ambiguous,indeterminate,misleading, or shifting, then this is somethingthatany intepretation
must accommodate.I emphasizethis in the face
of what I take to be frequent confusion about
what sorts of "ambiguities"can be attributedto
a painting. An example of such confusion might
be found in Leo Steinberg'sresponse to Snyder
and Cohen'sreading.While he accepts their account of the perspectival structureof Las Meninas,he suggests thatif a paintingencouragesa
misleading understandingof the mirror,so that
"two readings are allowed, then both are effectively presentand ambiguouslymeant."34That
the painting so misleads, however, does not
mean that it offers two readings, both "effectively present and ambiguously meant," in the
sense Steinbergsuggests. Weneed to distinguish
between the different"objects"of readings and
interpretationsbefore we can talk about how
they are related.Wemight attributeambiguityto
the representationaland other devices used in a
painting; we might also characterizethe interpretationsdemandedby a painting as ambiguous; and we might even say that paintings in
general are ambiguous sorts of entities. But
these are not the same sorts of ambiguity,even if
a claim about ambiguity of one type might be
used as supportfor a claim about ambiguityof
another type. Snyder and Cohen propose that
the painting is designed to be misleading about
its perspectival structure, and this view is
founded upon a tension between the operation
of the perspective markers and that of other
compositional features of the painting: we can
say then that their account shows an ambiguity
in the representational devices used by the
painting, without thereby making the move to
claim ambiguity for the interpretationof the
whole. Indeed, just as Snyder does, we can
make the first sort of ambiguitythe object of a
holistic interpretation.
Now, there may well be cases where several
readings apply without the possibility of reduction to a single one. And this sort of ambiguity
will undoubtedlyrequire ambiguoususe of the
various representational devices within the

262

work.35 But for interpretationsto qualify for

such interestingambiguity,they must be equally
"weighted,"that is, they must both count as independentof each other,or at least dependenton
each otherto the same small extent, and equally
able to stand on their own. This is not the case
when Snyder describes the way Las Meninas
misleadingly encourages the "first"reading of
its structure.If the first reading (thatthe mirror
is located opposite the viewing position) is corrected by the second (that the vanishing point
lies somewhereto the right of the mirror),then
we do not have two independentreadings,but a
single reading that operates ironically, that depends on undermining an initial proposal by
showing it to be inadequate. Such remarks do
not indicate that I have any satisfactory principle of differentiationfor interpretations;I am
not even sure that such a principleexists or that
it would be useful to have it in hand. Mine is an
ad hoc and context-dependentjudgment that
this sort of ironic underminingis quite different
from multiple, ambiguously meant interpretations. And such irony no more demands multiple "effectively presentreadings"than a picture
of a pipe with a caption denying that "this"is a
pipe demands two distinct interpretations:one
resting on identifying the picture as a pipe and
the other denying that it is a pipe. More generally, irreduciblemultiplicityof interpretationsis
not given by two "readings"that requirebeing
placed in appositionto each other.
In a sense I indeed want to propose that the
painting offers more than one "effectively present" reading, althoughthis is a far cry from the
kind of ambiguity Steinberg has in mind. For
these "readings"engage one anotherand are incomplete without each other,althoughone does
not undermine,correct, or replace the other. In
orderto make this case, I must urge, first of all,
thatwe take the readingthatfinds the vanishing
point in the mirrorand places the viewing position opposite it more seriously than do Snyder
and Cohen. Even if the view does not offer the
final word on the matter, it is less misguided
thanthey claim. For if the viewing position does
shift as I have suggested, then it moves far closer
to the mirror than they suggest, which greatly
reduces the distance (both literally and figuratively) between initial "misreading"and revised
understanding.Moreover,as Snyderhimself has
mentioned, the painting uses many devices to

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

encouragethe reading of the mirroras the vanishing point, and these are not ultimatelyirrelevant to considerationsof perspectivaltechnique.
The mirroris a compositional "center"as well
as the center of the representedroom,36if not
the centerof the canvas. But the vanishing point
Snyderand Cohenlocate is off-center.The effect
of this construction on the viewing position is
comparableto havingbad seats at the theater,far
to one side of the stage-a particularlystrange
construction,since if this paintingis constructed
in true single-point perspective,it shouldbe designed for an audience of one. Snyder and
Cohen'sreadingforces us to abandonmany features of the model of a window or stage-or at
least the requirementsof symmetry-that characterize the optical model underlyingthe original developmentof perspective. Finally,to consider the viewing position opposite the mirror
does not assume the painting thereforeto be dependent on an empirical reality outside of the
painting;rather,the painting would make reference to an "outside"point, but one no more empirical than the virtual space of the painting,
since the viewing position is an ideal one, a
structuralposition that can be occupied by an
actual embodied viewer but need not be.37
So I think we should take the reading of the
vanishing point in the mirrorseriously.True, it
cannot stand alone and may well be destinedfor
displacement.But it is worthconsideration,and
such considerationdoes raise some of the points
Foucault'saccount offers. At the very least, the
initial (mis)readingmakes obvious the necessity
of an outside (though not empirical) point,
a point of reception and transmissionrequired
for the painting to work as representation.The
painting is no more-and no less-dependent
on this point than the point is on the painting;
they are parts of a structuralwhole. When we
considerthis structuralwhole, we become aware
of the various positions-the originatingposition of the painter,the receiving position of the
observer, and the position of the object of the
representation-that Foucaultthinks both coincide in this outside point and are analyzed in
various elements of the painting. On the initial
reading, the work enumeratesthe structuralpositions separately and neatly, making them accessible to understanding.
But this readingcan be shifted as the viewing
position shifts to the right side of the vanishing

Schmitter PicturingPower:Representationand Las Meninas

area. When the viewing position moves to the
right,the painting no longer simply and directly
representseither the viewing position ("the casual viewer")or the point of origin (the painter)
as a mirrorreflection. Rather,the mirrorrepresents a further representation,the painting on
the reverse side of the canvas. One might say
thatthe points of origin and receptioncannot be
adequatelygrasped as such throughthis representation;instead, the painting raises the possibility that they are only accessible throughfurther representations.Thus the representationof
Las Meninas is not self-contained as Snyder
claimed, although neither does it depend upon
the outside, "real"world; even if we include the
outside pole of the viewing position as a part of
the representation,we do not have a self-contained whole. Instead, the representation demands a proliferationof representations.
That the representationcannot be grasped as
a self-contained whole with directly accessible
points of reception and origin may be signaled
by the break-upof the various "centers"of its
composition. As we have already seen, the mirror is a compositional"center";it is also located
at the center of the rear wall of the represented
room. But the geographicalhorizontalcenter of
the canvas is an axis runningthroughthe center
of the Infanta'sface. Yet another center is describedby the vanishing arearunningabove and
to the right of the Infanta's face. Each of the
three display differentsenses of the "center,"but
they might easily have coincided: indeed, traditional perspective practice assumes that at least
the last two coincide. Here they are dispersed:
the painting is "de-centered,"and the viewing
position is (both literally and in some figurative
senses) off-center.
At least, the viewing position is off-centerfor
the casual observer.But it was unlikely that any
casual observerwould simply have found himself or herselfplaced squarelyin the viewing position. "Casual observers" for this painting
would havebeen in shortsupply.I say this partly
to counterthe claim made by some that placing
the casual observer in the position of the king
and queen would be a breach of decorum.38
This claim is a specific version of a problem
John Berger thinks confronts all formal portraits: how to reconcile the intimacy and reciprocity of address that exists between an observer and an individualized portrait with the

263

"distance" needed for formal, public portraiture.39The problemof formal portraitureis indeed an issue faced by Las Meninas. But even
supposing a code of deferencewhich demanded
that no painting equate individuals of lesser
rank with the princely couple, it is unlikely
that Las Meninasviolated such a code even if
the viewing position did simply coincide with
the position of the king and queen in frontof the
work. To understandthe likely operationof the
viewing position, we should consider the work
in situ. JonathanBrownpoints out that the work
was designed for display in a privateapartment
of Philip IV,the pieza del despacho.40Thus the
expected viewer for the painting was the king
himself. To be sure, anyone who entered this
room would see the painting, and hence be a
candidate for taking up the viewing position.
But even if some coincidence between the commonly availableviewing position and the king's
position either as viewer of or as a model for the
representationwere to be recognized at all, we
can doubt whether such coincidence would operate to identifythe casual viewer with the king.
Let us not confuse the "taking the position of"
as used in the sentence abovewith otherkinds of
"takingthe position of": it is not tantamountto
usurping the throne. For anyone who entered
this room would be aware,just as all who found
themselves in the surroundings of the royal
palace would be aware,that they were in the environs of the king, in a building built to house
his body, in which he was the Subject to whom
all otherswere subjected.No viewer could "take
the position"of the king in the painting, even if
the "position"occupied by the king as a model
also serves as an empty placeholderinto which
any empirical viewer can afterwardsbe fitted.
The king-as-observerhas a special status quite
different from that of any other possible observer, at the very least because the subject of
the mirror'sreflection and the viewing subject
then coincide. And as we shall see, the king's
presence to and in the representationis special
in other ways as well.
Let us naively imagine what the king sees
when he places his royal body in front of the
canvas. Supposing that the king also reads the
painting as we suggested the casual observer
would initially do, he would see his own face,
accompanied by that of Mariana, reflected in
the mirrorat the back of the room-just as he

264

would expect if he were standingopposite it. He

would see himself as the object of attention,
drawingthe gaze of most of those in the rooma gaze thatjust aboutevery scholar agrees is the
king's due. At the center vertical axis of the
room, he sees the Infanta-also a manifestation
of the natural4'princely body, the extension of
his and Mariana'sbodies. In this reading, the
variouscentersare united:the viewing position,
the centerof the room, and the centerof the canvas, of which the last two are also compositional
"centers."Each centeris filled by the some manifestation of the same body: the dynastic, royal
body.42The consistency of this reading might
well tempt the kingly spectatorto overlook the
few clues markingthe crookedelbow as the vanishing point. But let us nevertheless suppose
thatthis initial readingwere to be '"corrected"
by
the reidentificationof the vanishing area somewhere to the right of the mirror.Even this reworkedreading would not createthe dissolution
of the centerthatit mightfor the casual observer.
The king would still see himself filling the various "centers"that the painting constructs. The
rear center of the room reflects the representation of the king on the canvas; the geographical
center of the room is filled by the king's natural
body in the person of the Infanta;and the viewing position is filled by the sovereignbody itself.
In this latter reading, the painting analyzes
what should remain an indissoluble unity: the
royal presence. If it is meant thoroughlyto displace the initial reading,it might seem to runthe
risk of fragmenting the king's position as
viewer: located first here at the center of the
room and then discontinuouslyover thereto the
left, the viewing position mightbreakup into incommensurablepieces. But as I have alreadyargued, the first reading need not be accounteda
misreading:the vanishingareamarkedby the recession of the orthogonalsconstructs the viewing position as mobile and so close to the mirror
thatthe displacementof the initial readingcan be
read as one continuousshift to the left. First the
king standsat the centerof the room reflected in
the mirror, the gaze of the eyes, and his own
daughter,then he steps to the left and sees his
presence analyzed into its natural and represented components. Both readings inform each
other. And when the king contemplates the
painting that analyzes his presence, the representation at work in it achieves completion. It

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

representsto the king that which makes him the
King: his naturalbody, his representation,and
the incorporationof the two in sovereignty.And
as such, the encounterbetween the king and the
painting of the relationsestablishedin representation both constitutes and embodies the Kingship.
The painting therebymakes use of representation in a sense described by Louis Marin.
Marin notes a use of "represent,"whereby one
representsor proffersto sight one's credentials,
e.g., one's passportor license. (AlthoughMarin
relies on an archaic use of the Frenchrepresenter, we can easily follow his description and
even find senses of the English cognate that
sharethe importantfeaturesof the French.43)In
this case, "to represent"does not mean to act as
a creditablesubstitute,but to display or exhibit
something along with its credentialsand salient
attributes.Marinsummarizesthis power of representationto constitute:
its own legitimate and authorizedsubjectby exhibiting qualifications,justifications,and titles of the present and living to being ... it reproducesnot only de
facto but also de jure the conditions that make its reproductionpossible, [so that]we understandthatit is
in the interests of power to appropriateit for itself.
Representationand power sharethe same nature.44

Because of this power,the king needs his representation to appearas the King; the representation needs the king'spresenceto gain its content.
Now accordingto Marin,it is in the natureof absolute royal power in generalto constituteKingship in and through images; kingship is power,
but it is an individual, embodied Power. And
power is not simply force. Ratheras Marin argues, it is a potential"thatputs force in reserve."
On the otherhand, this force-in-reserveneeds to
be displayed, and displayed as legitimate, to
constitute power. This double institution of
power is accomplishedby representation.45
But Las Meninas makes representationalso
requirethe presence of the king to the representation. It is true that the king's power is constituted and displayed by his representations.Velazquez's construction,however,makes the circle of representationcomplete only when the
king stands in the viewing position. So, through
the shifting readings it generates, Las Meninas
displays the king's need for his representation,

Schmitter PicturingPower:Representationand Las Meninas

and analyzes that interdependenceof King and
representation. Such display and analysis together constitute an exhibition of the attributes
and titles of representation:in this sense, Las
Meninasis indeed the representationof classical
representation-the representation of royal
power to royal power.
III

At the beginning I suggested that Las Meninas

would reveal a model of representationto challenge current accounts, even many current accounts of early modern notions of "representation." It mounts this challenge on two fronts:
first, the connections the painting displays between royal power and representation,indeed
the very nature and needs of absolute royal
power itself, are hardlythe stuff of our everyday
experience; second, Las Meninas suggests that
the natureof the subject position, its relation to
the representation,and the connections to the
representedobject are all functions of the representation itself, not some natural or external
givens. If so, perhapsthen what constitutes the
representativepower of a representationitself
might be open to variousconstructions.And the
view that these elements and their relations depend upon the model of representationin use
may point out new paths for tackling some of
the traditional questions concerning pictures
and representation.
I have already described many treatmentsof
representation as resting on a picture-theory,
whereby representationis conceived as a trustworthy or authoritativesubstitution-a substitution usually guaranteed by resemblance of
some sort. This view is strongestperhapsin discussions of pictorial representation, where it
often serves as a touchstone for opposing arguments. Put crudely, the representativepower of
a painting rests on its look-alikequalities:if one
views a painting under the right conditions it
"looks like" what one (e.g., the painter) would
see if she or he were to view the represented
scene under the right conditions. The painting
operates as a substitute, because it can produce-on the retina, in the brain,or in the mind
of the viewer-the same salienteffects as would
the representatumunder the right conditions.
The painting then seems merely inserted into

265

the naturaland pre-establishedcausal relations

of vision.
That this view is often greeted with skepticism should come as no surprise.Even paradigmatic cases of trompe l'oeuil imagery do not
live up to their name; whateverdelight we take
in their representationsis not that of uncovering
a trickby which we were once fooled. But there
is a danger in tackling the model head-on, in
simply denying that an image can act as a resembling substitute.Such a strategyis common
in discussions of perspective that attackits "realism" by pointing out all the ways that singlepoint perspective fails to "look like" what we
might see if we looked at some scene with a single, immobile eye. To some degree, even Nelson
Goodman employs arguments of this kind, as
well as pointing out how alternativeperspectival devices that would faithfully obey the laws
of geometry would not appear as convincing
as the traditional ones.46 But such a strategy
runs the risk of affirming the very grounds on
which the object of attackis based, in this case,
that there is some naturalrelation between the
viewer and the objects of view into which a substitution that would function to fool the eye or
mind might be inserted. Representationsin traditional perspective may not deliver the goods,
but there are goods to be delivered. To be sure,
one would be less vulnerableto this threatif one
were to argue,as Goodmanultimatelydoes, that
no picture (or photographor movie) could substitute under any circumstances for the represented objects in an act of seeing. But the very
notion of such substitutionsstill seems coherent,
and the nostalgic wish for a substitutingimage
may well remain undisturbed,even if its fulfillment becomes impossible.
This nostalgiais alive and well in ErnstGombrich'sArt and Illusion, for all its reputationas a
trailblazer in the campaign against "the innocent eye." For the "making"Gombrichdiscusses
is still to be held accountableto "matching"matching some naturalway things appearto us.
Gombrichemphasizes the historicityof schema
and the activity involvedin seeing, but that very
historicity and activity is explained by contrast
to some ahistorical standardagainst which the
correctnessof a schema may be measured.And
that is the main danger.When the issues of representation and resemblance are addressed in
such a way, the notion of a naturalway of seeing

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

266

objects only goes to ground temporarily;it still

haunts issues of pictorial representation,popping up now and again to invite picturesto measure themselves against it. Perhapsthen a more
successful strategywould be to seek to dislodge
the naturalnessof seeing by contextualizingand
historicizing the "ways we see." John Berger,
for one, comments on the historicalchanges affecting the understandingof the objects of vision, and the relation between vision and pictures.47The historicizingof ways of seeing may
also be partof Goodman'sgeneralproject,when
he claims that the realism of a picture"is a matter not of any constant or absolute relationship
between a picture and its object but of a relationship between the system of representation
employed in the picture and the standard system."48 He inverts the order of dependences
among realism, resemblance, and representation: successful representationis not a matterof
real resemblances;rather,realism and the constructionof resemblancesare mattersof systems
of representation.This is a promising project
and one to which the historicalstudyof different
"systemsof representation"could contribute.
But I am not particularly interested here in
discussing the naturalor unnaturalqualities of
our seeing, nor do I particularlywant to maintain the connections picturesand paintings purportedly have with vision-except insofar as it
may be thematized within particular works. I
am pretty sure that there is no universalor natural way that humans see or that things look,
which either could or could not be capturedby
paintings

(although paintings

can represent

themselves as having captured"the real look of

things").And I am convinced that there are any
number of different systems of representation
we could find in seemingly "realistic" paintings, which might serve to groundthe claim that
pictorial "realism"is historically variant.But I
am most certain of all that the very notion of
what constitutes a representationis historically
constructed-and it is on this claim thatI would
base an attack on the traditionalunderstanding
of pictorial representation.Whether a painting
seeks to produce a resembling substitute for
what it represents,or a substituteat all, is up for
grabs; so too whether a painting is designed to
correlatewith, denote, or describethe objects it
represents.Indeed it becomes an open question
whetherany particularpictorialrepresentations

need, imply, or even allow the systematization

of some code of representation.49
Foucault suggests that the seventeenth century produced an operation of representation
that took center-stage,while relationsof resemblance moved into the wings. Deprived of its
roots in resemblances,the picture-theoryof representation should wither away. And that is
indeed the lesson of Las Meninas.Las Meninas
reveals a notion of representationwhereby representation serves to analyze and enforce absolute royal power. If Marin'streatmentof the
connectionsbetweenabsolutepower and its representations is correct, then the representation
of the King cannot be accounteda symbol, resembling or otherwise, that substitutesfor what
it represents:absolute power admits no substitutes.50Instead, the King's representationis a
force or power, a manifestation of royal power
that embodies, displays, and extends it.5' It is a
representationthat acts, that representsby presenting, exhibiting, or exposing titles and qualifications, by figuring them in painting, by
being a sign, by bringingto observation,and by
playing in public.52 It thereby constitutes its
subject, the royal power and the royal office, by
representingit. In short, it is a representationact, for it does not so muchdescribea stateof affairs in the world as it helps to bring it about.
The traditionalquestions about pictorialrepresentation then are simply irrelevant to such
cases of representation;they cannot be asked
about forces and representation-acts.This is, I
think, the way to dislodge problematic views
about representation-by taking away the very
groundson which the questionsthey answercan
be asked.53
AMY M. SCHMITTER

Departmentof Philosophy
Universityof New Mexico
Albuquerque,New Mexico 87131

INTERNET:

AMYS@UNM.EDU

1. Examplesinclude Dalia Judovitz,Subjectivityand Representation in Descartes: the Origins of Modernity(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. ix, and
RichardRorty,Philosophyand the Mirrorof Nature(Princeton UniversityPress, 1980), see pp. 3-13. Similarviews, althoughmore nuancedin theirunderstandingof "modernity"

Schmitter PicturingPower:Representationand Las Meninas

can be found in Michel Foucault, The Orderof Things:An
Archaeology of the Human Sciences (New York: Vintage
Books, 1970), especially chap. 3, pp. 46-77, and Louis
Marin,The Portraitof the King,trans.M. Houle (University
of Minnesota Press, 1988), and Food for Thought (Johns
Hopkins UniversityPress, 1986).
2. This may well go back to Hegel's attackon representationalistaccountsof thought,wherehe describesthem as engaging in the habit of escaping to Vorstellungen [die
Gewohnheit,an Vorstellungenfortzulaufen].
Vorstellungcan
be translatednot only as "idea"or conception, but also as
"picture,""imagination,"even "theatricalperformance":in
all of these senses does it constitute a representation,a pictorialsubstitutefor what remainsabsent,"behind"the thing
placed before. Cf. G. W. F. Hegel, Phdnomenologie des
Geistes (Frankfurtam Main: SuhrkampTaschenbuchVerlag, 1986), pp. 56ff.; 68-70. Also cf. the English translation,
wherethe passageaboveis translatedas the "habitof picturethinking."Phenomenologyof Spirit,trans. A.V Miller (Oxford: OxfordUniversityPress, 1977), ??58-60, pp. 35ff.
3. JonathanBrown, Velazquez:Painterand Courtier(Yale
UniversityPress, 1986), p. 259.
4. Madlyn Millner Kahr, Velazquez:the Art of Painting
(New York:Harper& Row, 1976), pp. 130-132, 173.
5. Ibid., p. 138. The presence of the first of these works
raises the issue of whatconnections, if any,can be drawnbetween Las Meninas and Velazquez's late work Las Hilanderas, which supposedlyportraysthe Minervaand Arachne
legend. The theme of this later work is, however,no clearer
than is that of Las Meninas.
6. Cf. Joel Snyder,"Las Meninas and the Mirror of the
Prince,"Critical Inquiry 11 (1985): 539-572, see p. 553.
7. Searle, "Las Meninas and the Paradoxes of Pictorial
Representation,"Critical Inquiry6 (1980): 477-488.
8. Foucault,The Orderof Things,p. 16.
9. Ibid., p. 7.
10. I thank Gayatri Spivak for bringing this extremely
useful term to my attention.
11. It is therefore, strictly speaking, incorrect to equate
the subject position with "our"position in looking at the
work.
12. I do not maintain that the accountoffered above adequately describesFoucault'spiece in its own right.
13. A particularly important assumption is that at least
some of the objects are to be taken as having edges meeting
at rightangles. Withoutsuch an assumption,no single reading of how the perspectivalstructureof a painting translates
informationaboutthe objects in the virtualspace is possible,
since a single projection is consistent with any number
of arrangementsof oddly shaped objects. Cf. Ernst Gombrich, Art and Illusion (Princeton University Press, 1969),
pp. 247-252.
14. "Reflexions on Las Meninas:ParadoxLost," Critical
Inquiry 7 (1980): 429-447. Snyder and Cohen mount their
argumentas a responseto Searle's article (see note 7 above).
Searle also claims that the viewer's, painter's, and model's
position coincide, although within the context of his argument thatthis structuresets up a paradox,comparableto linguistic ones such as the Liar's Paradox.
15. Snyderand Cohen, "Reflexions,"p. 434.
16. The basis for this conclusion can be seen quite clearly
in the diagramSnyder and Cohen offer of the spatial structureof the painting ("Reflexions,"p. 435).

267

17. Cited in JonathanBrown, Velazquez,p. 259, and Images and Ideas in Seventeenth-CenturySpanish Painting
(PrincetonUniversityPress, 1978), p. 89.
18. Kahr,pp. 173, 179.
19. Hurley, "The Elided Self: Witty Dis-Locations in
Velazquez and Donne," The Journal of Aesthetics and Art
Criticism44 (1986): 357-369.
20. Snyder,"Mirrorof the Prince,"pp. 551-552.
21. Brown, Velazquez,p. 259. Brown argues both that
Velazquezcreatednumerousfocal points within the composition in orderto "imitatethe restless movement of the eye
as it scans a large space inhabitedby severalpeople and illuminatedby light of variableintensity"and that "thereis
also reasonto thinkthatthe perspectivewas deliberatelyleft
ambiguousin orderto accommodatemore than one reading
of the composition."
22. I admitthese attemptswere made underless than ideal
conditions;I have not even triedto gain permissionfrom the
officials of the Pradoto work with rulersand threadon the
painting itself (museum officials usually frown on such
things). So I have been restrictedto workingfrom reproductions much smaller than the original, but better suited to
drawingroom performance.
23. For instance,a lack of backgrounddifferentiationprovides a kind of spatialindeterminacyin manyof Velazquez's
portraits;this is readily seen in the portraitof The Buffoon
Pablo de Vallodid,and even in the earlier standing portrait
of Philip IV of 1626 (see Kahr,p. 51). An utterlack of perspectival "markers"also characterize the Rokeby Venus
(which likewise provides an example of a mirrordepicted
without any indication of its exact area of reflection). Perhaps the most telling comparison is with Las Hilanderas,
which, in its original state, offers few orthogonalsand disguises this paucity by foregroundclutter and the arrangement of figures.
24. NormanBryson, Visionand Painting:TheLogic of the
Gaze (Yale UniversityPress, 1983), pp. 108-110.
25. One might here consider other arrangementsthat
would not evoke the space demandedby perspectivaltechniques as formulatedby Albertiand embeddedin traditional
practice.Velazquezcould have paintedan oblique view of a
rectangularroom, one that might have been "correct"as a
projection from a single point on a flat surface, but would
have presentedno orthogonals,or he might have shown us
some kinds of orthogonals,but given up all requirementthat
they convergeat all.
26. Kahr,p. 134.
27. The cross of the order of Santiago also appears on
Velazquez'schest, apparentlypainted in after his deathaccordingto legend by Philip IV himself (see Kahr,p. 132).
28. He even took his case to Pope InnocentX for support.
Kahr suggests that the paperthe Pope holds in Velazquez's
portraitof 1650 is the painter'spetition (p. 111).
29. Of course Kahr's discussion of the advocacy role of
Las Meninas goes into much more detail than I mention
above. But althoughshe adduceseverythingfrom a Flemish
tradition of homages to painting, to the associations of
painters and their royal patronswith Appelles and Alexander, and to the status of the arts given in the depicted paintings, none of this seems to me to go beyond providingevidence that Velazquezdesigned Las Meninasto make a case
for the nobility of painting;that is not yet an explanationof
what painting is or does that is noble.

268
30. Snyder,"Mirrorof the Prince,"p. 553.
31. Ibid., p. 559.
32. Ibid., pp. 563-564. The theme of the making over of
a royal infant in the image of the King may be found in various Velazquezportraitsof the first heir to the throne,Prince
Baltasar Carlos. Examples include Prince Baltasar Carlos
with a Dwarf( 1631), in which the dwarf mimics and inverts
the royal baby's status, and both Equestrian Portrait of
Prince Baltasar Carlos (1634-1635) and Prince Baltasar
Carlos as a Hunter (c.1635-1636), which are paired with
similarportraitsof the King and seem to show BaltasarCarlos mimicking the image of his father. Of course, none of
these show anything like the complex understandingof the
function of art suggested by Snyderfor Las Meninas.
33. This summary of Snyder's account does not even
begin to do justice to its richness and erudition, especially
not to the wealth of source materialsSnyderhas assembled
as backgroundfor the symbolismof mirrorsand for the kind
of figurative play that he traces in the work. Snyder is not
alone in reading the mirroras a trope on the "mirrorof the
prince."Kahralso considersthis possibility and dismisses it,
but I do not find her reasonsat all convincing (pp. 175-176,
n. 73).
34. Steinberg, "Velazquez' Las Meninas," October 19
(1981): 45-54, seep. 46.
35. A particularlyfine example of the kind of ambiguity
that Steinberghas in mind might be the film The Draughtsman'sContract,directedby Peter Greenaway.There, several
readingsof the significance of the series of drawingsthatare
produced during the film, as well as the "stratagems"that
these drawings seem to motivate are offered (including the
possibility that they have no significance whatsoever).The
action seems both overdeterminedand underdeterminedby
these alternativereadings:any one of them does just as good
a job at explaining what is going on as any other, although
none of them satisfactorily ties up all the loose ends. As
such, the film is an excellent example of artistic ambiguity,
demanding several equally plausible but competing interpretations,none of which can trumpany other.On the other
hand, one might consider all works of art to be ambiguous
in a sense, that is, to be susceptible to any numberof interpretationsadvanced from differentviewpoints without any
requirementthat the interpretationsbe eitherreducedto one
or subsumedin some overreachingview (this is what I believe Joseph Margolis identifies as the "metaphysicalrelativism"of art works).For instance, one might hold thatquite
differentreadings of work X could be producedunderNew
Criticism, semiotics, Marxism, deconstruction, feminism,
Unitariantheology,and any number(an indeterminatenumber) of both known and unknown methodologies, without
thinking that there is a pressing need to make these diverse
readings commensurate with one another. But while Las
Meninasmay well be subject to this second sort of ambiguity, it is not the sort in question here.
36. The line of lamp hooks in the ceiling shows this, if we
assume them to be located along the centralaxis of the ceiling.

The Journalof Aesthetics and Art Criticism

37. This is a point that Snyderhimself makes in "Mirror
of the Prince,"p. 550.
38. Cf. Kahr,p. 172, and Snyder,"Mirrorof the Prince,"
p. 556. I have seen little evidence adducedfor this claim (unless it is supposed to rest on some sense of universal etiquette). "Decorum"as it was appliedto paintingat this time
has a completely differentsense. See RensselerLee, "UtPictura Poesis," Art Bulletin 22 (1940): 197-269; especially
pp. 228-237, and 268-269. Lee describes the prevailing
sense of "decorum"as the appropriatenessof depiction to
the narrative,thatis, the choice of dress, physical types, and
expressions appropriateto the role and rank of characters
within the narrativeillustratedby a painting-in short, appropriate"casting."
39. Berger, Ways of Seeing (London: Penguin Books,
1979), p. 97.
40. Brown, Velazquez,p. 259.
41. On the notion of the king's naturalbody, the individual body of each memberof the royal dynasty,and its incorporation into the body politic, the body that embodies sovereignty, cf. Ernest Kantorowicz, The King's Two Bodies
(PrincetonUniversityPress, 1957), esp. chap. 1.
42. Kantorowicz remarks on the frequent comparisons
made by baroquepolitical thought between the royal body
politic and the phoenix, at once both individualand species,
mortal and immortal(ibid.).
43. The first few entries under"represent"in the Oxford
English Dictionary (Compact Edition, 1986) are particularly useful.
44. Louis Marin,The Portraitof the King,p. 6. Main offers a remarkablyrich account of power and representation
in the Franceof Louis XIV.
45. Marin,Foodfor Thought,p. xvii.
46. I refer to Goodman's discussion of perspective in
Languages of Art (Indianapolis:HackettPublishing, 1976),
pp. 10-19.
47. Berger,pp. 10-33.
48. Goodman,p. 38.
49. NormanBryson suggests thatsome "realisms"depend
on keeping some of their representingdevices uncodified
(connotative rather than denotative) and hence seemingly
more naturalthan conventional,pp. 55-66.
50. Main, The Portraitof the King,p. 211. Marinsuggests
here that we think of representationsratheras Austin proposes we think of certain classes of utterances.
51. Ibid., pp. 6-7.
52. See Littre'sDictionnairedela languefrancaise,4 vols.
(Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, 1974-1978), "representer."
53.I would like to thankAnnette Baier and David Carrier
for their help with the originalversion of this paper.Thanks
are also due to Philip Alperson, Karen Fearing, and the
anonymous referees for The Journal of Aesthetics and Art
Criticism for their many comments about revisions: their
help truly went above and beyond the call of duty.