Marcel Breuer / smuggling banknotes out of Germany

Bauhaus, Gestalt and Problem Solving

Bauhaus, Gestalt and Problem Solving: Thinking Outside the Box , a recent online video talk, includes an old familiar joke about a factory worker who left work each day with a wheelbarrow full of packing peanuts. The joke is a prime example of a switch of attention (as in, for example, misdirection in magic acts). The worker was suspected of smuggling factory components, but nothing was found. In the end it was determined that he was stealing wheelbarrows. I was reminded of this when I ran across the story of how Bauhaus furniture designer and architect Marcel Breuer succeeded in smuggling banknotes through customs when he left Germany for London. 

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Jack Pritchard, View from a Long Chair (London : Routledge & Kagan Paul, 1984), p.111—

Carola Giedion [wife of Sigfried Giedion] and Sybil Moholy [wife of Laszlo Moholy-Nagy] were sharing a flat [in London] for a while, and Sybil had received a book from [Marcel] Breuer which , when opened, was found to be [Adolf Hitler’s famous book] Mein Kampf. It was worse than a poor joke, she and Carola were furious and threw it away wtth the rubbish. Breuer arrived soon after, apparently happy at being away from Nazi Germany, only to find two furious dames attacking him wtth no mercy. When he could get a word in he explained that, in order to get some of his money through German Customs, he thought it would be a bright idea to interleave their leader’s great book with banknotes. They would surely not examine it with any great care. There was immediate pandemonium, all rushed down, hoping the rubbish had not yet been taken away. When they found the book, all was forgiven.

magic motorways / camouflage / norman bel geddes

Christopher Innes, Designing Modern America. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005, p. 147—

During [World War II] the army borrowed part of the Futurama model [designed for the 1939 New York World's Fair by Norman Bel Geddes] for a camouflage school, where it was used to demonstrate techniques of deceptive coloration and the effectiveness of visual illusion.

In addition to his Futurama landscape being used in the camouflage school, Bel Geddes himself designed camouflage patterns for military vehicles and aircraft.

dazzle camouflage meets John Cage's chess pieces

Below is an excerpt from “Composing Chess,” an essay by Paul Franklin and Lowell Cross, as published in Larry List, ed., The Imagery of Chess Revisited. New York: George Braziller, 2005. The book’s cover is reproduced above. 

The passage refers to a musical composition (embedded within a painting) by American composer John Cage titled Chess Pieces (1944). It suggests a possible link between the chessboard pattern of Cage’s painting and geometric (sometimes checkerboard) color schemes used for so-called dazzle patterns used in World War I and II ship camouflage. If there was in fact a link, the writers surmise, the younger Cage may have learned about "high difference" camouflage from his father, an inventor named John Milton Cage, Sr. The extent to which wartime camouflage was “Cubist-inspired” (a common claim) has long been debated.

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Even though neither the structure nor the mechanics of Cage’s score refer specifically to chess, in choosing Chess Pieces as his title, the composer punningly associated its twenty-two movements (pieces) with the pieces of the game. The visual prominence of the notes in the painting also suggests a correlation between the shorthand language of musical notation and that of chess notation. The sixty-four-square chessboard format of the artwork reiterates these ideas. Sixty-four became sacrosanct for Cage in the early 1950s, when he embraced chance operations derived from the sixty-four symbolic hexagrams found in the ancient Chinese I Ching (Book of Changes) as his principal method of composing. He later identified the rigor of chess as “a balance with my use of chance operations.” In addition to the checkerboard pattern of Chess Pieces, the white and black inks Cage used for his musical notations evoke the common colors of the game’s two opposing armies, not to mention the palette of the piano keyboard on which the notes were meant to be played. This alternating gridlike color scheme also calls to mind Cubist- inspired “dazzle” camouflage developed during World War I and redeployed in World War II to disguise naval vessels. Repeating geometric schemes of highly contrasting tonal values, often black and white, applied by artists known as camoufleurs created dramatic optical illusions that prevented ships from being targeted. In Chess Pieces, the staves and musical notes function similarly, veiling the chessboard beneath their shimmering warp and woof. Cage may have been familiar with dazzle camouflage thanks to his father, an inventor who obtained patents for submarine air-delivery, steering, and propulsion systems just before World War I and during World War II researched and developed, with his son’s assistance, a radarlike system to help pilots see through fog. This activity constituted the younger Cage’s sole contribution to the war effort; in late 1942 or early 1943, he received a Class III-A deferment from the draft (“hardship for dependents”) due to the ill health of his wife, Xenia. An avowed pacifist and anarchist in later years, Cage condemned the conflict, admitting: “As a child I was very much impressed by the notion of turning the other cheek. You know, if someone struck me on one cheek, I actually did turn the other cheek. I took that seriously.” 

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Mrs. P.R. Woodhouse (source unknown)—
A hefty whaler, after some discussion with [British missionary Samuel] Marsden, remarked: “Your religion teaches that if a man is hit on one cheek, he will turn the other.” And he hit Marsden on the right cheek. Marsden obediently offered his left cheek and received a second blow. “Now,” said Marsden, “I have obeyed my Master’s commands. What I do next, he left to my own judgment. Take this.” And he knocked the man down.  

RELATED LINKS ship camouflage online video talks

blending / assuming the look of an overturned stump

Above  Cartoon from Lilliput Magazine, date and artist unknown.

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Arthur Henry Howard Heming, The Drama of the Forests, Romance and Adventure.  Garden City: Doubleday, Page and Co, p. 61—

As regards trailing game, whether large or small, he [a Canadian Native American] cautioned me to watch my quarry carefully, and instantly to become rigid at the first sign that the game was about to turn round or raise its head to peer in my direction. More than that, I should not only remain motionless while the animal was gazing toward me, but I should assume at once some form that suggested the character of the surrounding trees or bushes or rocks. For example, among straight-boled, perfectly vertical trees, I should stand upright; among uprooted trees, I should assume the character of an overturned stump, by standing with inclined body, bent legs, and arms and fingers thrust out at such angles as to suggest the roots of a fallen tree. And he added that if I doubted the wisdom of such an act, I should test it at a distance of fifty or a hundred paces, and prove the difficulty of detecting a man who assumed a characteristic landscape pose among trees or rocks. That was years before the World War had brought the word camouflage into general use; for as a matter of fact, the forest Indians had been practicing camouflage for centuries and, no doubt, that was one reason why many of the Indians in the Canadian Expeditionary Force did such remarkable work as snipers.