《100 Artists' Manifestos》的读后感10篇
《100 Artists' Manifestos》是一本由Danchev, Alex著作，Penguin Books出版的Paperback图书，本书定价：150.00元，页数：496，特精心从网络上整理的一些读者的读后感，希望对大家能有帮助。
《100 Artists' Manifestos》读后感(一)：[manifesto] Aleksandr Rodchenko and others
Manifesto of Suprematists and Non-Objective painters, 1919
Achievements in creative work of the world's explorers.
The only innovators of the earth, the Suprematists and non-object ive painters, play with inventiveness like jugglers with balls.
We are already outstripping one another.
eople, look, this is my latest venture: concentration of colour. The light of colour.
Flying ahead of others, I greet the rest of the Suprenons [a compound of Suprematists and non-objectivists].
You there!
Don't look back, always move ahead.
The world will be enriched by the innovators of painting.
Objects died yesterday. We live in an abstract spiritual creativity
We are creators of non-objectivity.
of colour as such,
Of tone as such.
We glorify the revolution aloud as the only engine of life.
We glorify the vibrations of the inventors.
Young and strong, we march with the flaming torches of the revolution.
Henceforth, always be revolutionary, new and audacious.
This is the place for the rebellious spirit.
The petty and materialistic -be off with you!
Greetings to all of you, comrades, who are fighting for new ideas in art.
Innovators of all times, and countries, inventors, builders of the new, eternally new, we are rushing into the eternity of achievements.
We, who enter the fray with art speculators who have got the knack of stencilling one manner or another.
We are proud, we are starving in attics, but we have not yielded one iota to the bourgeoisie.
We painted our furious canvases under the hisses and sniggers of overfed bureaucrats and petty bourgeois.
Today we reiterate that even now we will not yield to the so-called proletariat of the former monarchist lackeys, to the intelligentsia, which has taken the place of the previous bureaucrats.
Twenty years from now, the Soviet Republic will be proud of these canvases...
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《100 Artists' Manifestos》读后感(二)：[manifesto] Kandinsky+Franz Marc
reface to Der Blaue Reiter Almanac. 1912.
A great era has begun: the spiritual awakening the increasing tenden to regain lost the inevitable necessity of spiritual plantings, the unfolding of the first blossom.
We are standing at the threshold of one of the greatest epochs that mankind has ever experienced, the epoch of great spirituality.
In the nineteenth century just ended, when there appeared to be the most thoroughgoing flourishing -the great victor of the material the first new' elements of a spiritual atmosphere were formed almost unnoticed. They will give and have given the necessary nourishment for the flourishing of the spiritual
Art, literature, even 'exact' science are in various stages of change m this new era, they will all be overcome by it.
Our most important aim is to reflect phenomena in the field art that directly connected with this change and the essential on phenomena in facts of light these other fields of spiritual life
Therefore, there will find works in our volumes that in this respect show an inner relationship although they may appear unrelated on the surface. We are considering or making note not of work that has a certain orthodox, externalform (which usually is all there is), of work that has an inmer life connected with the great change.
It is only natural that we want not death but life. The echo of a living voice is only a hollow form, which has no arisen out of a distinct inner necessity in the same way, there have always been created and will increas. ingly be created, works of art that are nothing but hollow reverberations of works rooted in this inner necessity. They are hollow, loitering lies that pollute the spiritual air and lead wavering spirits astray Their decep. tion leads the spirit not to life but to death. With all means available we want to try to unmask the hollowness of this deception. This is our second goal.
It is only natural that in questions of art the artist is called upon to speak first. Therefore the contributors to our volumes will be primarily artists. Now they have the opportunity to say openly what previously they had to hide. We are therefore asking those artists who feel inwardly related to our goals to turn to us as brethren. We take the liberty of using great word because we are convinced that in our case the establish- ment automatically ceases to exist
It should be almost superfluous to emphasize specifically that in our e principle of internationalism is the only one possible. However, in these times we must say that an individual nation is only one of the creators of all art; one alone can never be a whole. As with a personality automatically reflected in each great work. But the national element is in the last resort this national coloration is merely incidental. The whole work, called art, knows no borders or nations, only humanity.
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《100 Artists' Manifestos》读后感(三)：Aleksandr Rodchenko, 2nd manifesto
Manifesto of the Constructivist Group, 1922
We don't feel obliged to build Pennsylvania Stations, skyscrapers, Hand- ley Page Tract houses, turbo-compressors, and so on.
We didn't create technology.
We didn't create man.
UT WE,
Artists yesterday
CONSTRUCTORS today,
I. WE PROCESSED
the human being
2. WE ORGANIZE
technology
I. WE DISCOVERED
2. PROPAGATE
3. CLEAN OUT
4. MERGE
REVIOUSLY-Engineers relaxed with art
OW- Artists relax with technology
WHAT'S NEEDED-IS NO REST
Who saw A WALL
Who saw JUST A PLANE-
EVERYONE... AND NO ONE
omeone who had actually seen came and simply SHOWED:
the square
This means opening the eyes TO THE PLANE.
Who saw an ANGLE
Who saw an ARMATURE, SKETCH
EVERYONE AND NO ONE
omeone who had actually seen came and simply SHOWED:
A line
Who saw: an iron bridge
a dreadnought
a zeppelin
a helicopter
EVERYONE...AND NO ONE.
We Came-the first working group of CONSTRUCTIVISTS-ALEKSEI GAN, RODCHENKO, STEPANOVA
...AND WE SIMPLY SAID: This is-today
Technology is-the mortal enemy of art. TECHNOLOGY...
We-are your first fighting and punitive force.
We are also your last slave-workers.
We are not dreamers from art who build in the imagination:
Aeroradiostations
Elevators and
Flaming cities
WE-ARE THE BEGINNING
OUR WORK IS TODAY:
A mug
A floor brush
oots
A catalogue
And when a person in his laboratory set up
A square
His radio carried it to all and sundry to those who needed it and those who didn't need it, and soon on all the 'ships of left art', sailing under red, black and white flags rything all over, throughout everything was covered in squares.
And yesterday, when one person in his laboratory set up
A line, grid, and point
His radio carried it to all and sundry, to those who needed it and those who didn't need it, and soon, and especially on all the 'ships of left art with the new title "constructive' sailing under different flags...everything all over everything throughout is being constructed of lines and grids
OF COURSE, the square existed previously, the line and the grid existed previously.
What's the deal.
Well it's simply-THEY WERE POINTED OUT
THEY WERE ANNOUNCED.
The square-1915, the laboratory of MALEVICH
The line, grid, point-1919, the laboratory of RODCHENKO
UT-after this
The first workinggroup of CONSTRUCTIVISTS (ALEKSEI GAN, RODCHENKO, STEPANOVA) announced:
THE COMMUNIST EXPRESSION OF MATERIAL CONSTRUCTIONS and
IRRECONCILABLE WAR AGAINST ART:
Everything came to a point, wrote construct
and "new" constructivists jumped on the bandwagon, ive poems, novels, paintings, and other such junk. others, taken with our slogans, imagining themselves to be geniuses, designed elevators and radio posters, but they have forgotten that all attention should be concen trated on the experimental laboratories, which shows us
EW
elements
routes
things
experiments
THE DEMONSTRATION EXPERIMENTAL
LABORATORY AND MATERIAL CONSTRUCTIONS'
TATION OF THE FIRST WORKING GROUP OF
CONSTRUCTIVISTS OF THE RSFSR.
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《100 Artists' Manifestos》读后感(四)：[Dada manifesto] Pacabia
1. Dada Manifesto (1920)
The Cubists want to cover Dada with snow; that may surprise you but it is so, they want to empty the snow from their pipe and cover Dada like a blanket.
Are you sure about that？
Absolutely, the facts spill out from their grotesque mouths.
They think that Dada might put a stop to their odious trade: selling art for vast sums of money.
Art is worth more than sausages, more than women, more than everything.
Art can be seen as clearly as God! (see Saint-Sulpice).
Art is a drug for imbeciles.
The tables are turning thanks to the spirits: pictures and other works of art are like strong box-tables: the mind is locked inside and becomes more and more fantastic as sale-room prices rise.
Comedy, comedy, comedy, comedy, comedy, my dear friends.
Dealers don't like art, the know the mystery of the spirit
uy reproductions of signed works.
Don't be a snob, you are no less intelligent because your neighbour has the same as you
o more fly shit on the walls.
There will be some in any case, obviously, but not quite so much.
Dada will certainly be increasingly vilified, its wire-cutters enabling it to cut through the procession singing "Come on Darling' la nineteenth- century popular song]. What sacrilege!!
Cubism represents the dearth of ideas
They have cubed primitive art, cubed Negro sculpture, cubed violins, cubed guitars, cubed comics, cubed shit and cubed the profiles of young women. Now they want to cube money!!!
As for Dada, it means nothing, nothing, nothing. It makes the public say "We understand nothing, nothing, nothing. "
The Dadaists are nothing, nothing, nothing and they will certainly succeed in nothing, nothing, nothing.
Francis PICABIA
who knows nothing, nothing, nothing
2. Dada Cannibalistic Manifesto(1920)
You are all accused; stand up The orator will speak to you only if you are standing.
tanding as for the Marseillaise,
tanding as for the Russian hymn, standing as for God save the king
tanding as before the flag.
Finally standing before DADA, which represents life and accuses you of loving
everything out of snobbism from the moment that it becomes expensive
Are you completely settled？ So much the better, that way you are going to listen to
me with greater attention.
What are you doing here, parked like serious oysters for you are serious, right？
erious serious, serious to death Death is a serious thing, huh？ One dies as a hero, or as an idiot, which is the same thing. The only word which is not
ephemeral is the word death. You love death for others.
To death, death, death.
Only money which doesn't die, it just leaves on trips.
It is God, one respects it, the serious p respect of families. Honour, honour to money; the man who has money is an honourable man
Honour is bought and sold like ass. Ass, ass represents life like fried pota- toes,
and all of you who are serious, you will smell worse than cow shit.
DADA doesn't smell anything, it is nothing, nothing, nothing.
It is like your hopes: nothing
like your paradise: nothing
like your idols: nothing
like your political men: nothing
like your heroes: nothing
like your artists: nothing
like your religions: nothing
Whistle, cry, smash my mouth and then, and then？ I will tell you again that
you are all pears. In three months we, my friends and I, are going to sell you
our paintings for several francs.
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《100 Artists' Manifestos》读后感(五)：[manifesto] Vladimir Mayakovsky
A Drop of Tar. 1915
A speech to be delivered at the first convenient occasion.
Ladies and Gentlemen! This year is a year of deaths: almost every day the newspapers sob in grief about somebody who has passed away before loudly time. Every day with syrupy weeping the brevier wails over the huge number o names slaughtered by Mars. How noble and monastically severe t newspapers look. They are dressed in the black mourning garb of the obituaries, wit the crystal-like tear of a n in their eyes. That's why it has been particularly upsetting to see these sa newspapers, usually ennobled by grief, note with indecent merrimen one death that involved me very closely.
When the critics, harnessed in tandem, carried along the dirty road the road of the printed word the coffin of Futurism, the newspapers trumpeted for weeks: ho, ho, ho! serves it right! take it away! finally! (Concerned alarm in the audience: "What do you mean, died？ Futurism died？ You're kidding.')
Yes, it died.
For one year now, instead of Futurism, verbally flaming, barely manoeu vring between truth, beauty and the police station, the most boring octogenarians of the Kogan-Aikhenvald type [literary critics with official positions creep up on the stage of auditoriums. For one year now the auditoriums present only the most boring logic, demonstrations of trivial truths, instead of the cheerful sound of glass pitchers against empty heads.
Gentlemen! Do you really feel no sorrow for that extravagant young with shaggy red hair, a little silly, a bit ill-mannered, but always ohl always, daring and fiery？ On the other hand, how can you understand youth？ The young people to whom we are dear will not soon return from the battlefield; but you, who have remained here with quietjobs in news paper offices or other similar businesses; you, who are too rickety to carry a weapon, you, old bags crammed with wrinkles and grey hair, you are preoccupied with figuring out the smoothest possible way to pass on to the next world and not with the destiny of Russian art.
ut, you know, I myself do not feel to sorry about the deceased although for different reasons
ring back to mind the first gala publication of Russian Futurism, titled with that resounding 'slap in the face of public taste'. What remained particularly memorable of that fierce scuffle were the three blows, in the form of three vociferous statements from our manifesto
1. Destroy the all-canons freezer which turns inspiration into ice
2. Destroy the old language, powerless to keep up with life's leaps and bounds
3, Throw the old masters overboard from the ship of modernity.
As you see, there isn't a single building here, not a single comfortably designed corner, only destruction, anarchy. This made philistines laugh, as if it were the extravagant idea of some insane individuals, but in fact it turned out to be 'a devilish intuition' which is realized in the stormy today. The war, by expanding the borders of nations and of the brain forces one to break through the frontiersof what yesterday was unknown.
Artist! Is it for you to catch the onrushing cavalry with a fine net of contour lines？ Repin! Samokish! Realist paintersl Get your pails out of the way the paint will spill all over!
oet! Don't place the mighty conflict of iambs and trochees in a rock- ing chair the chair will flip over!
Fragmentation of words, word renewal! So many new first Petrograd, and conductress! Die, severyanin cult Ego among them shout that is futurist po Is it really for the Futurists to old literature forgotten？ Who would still hear behind the Cossack whoop the trill of Bryusov's mandolin [precious symbolist writer]! Today, everyone is a Futurist. The entire nation is Futurist,
FUTURISM HAS SEIZED RUSSIA IN A DEATH GRIP.
ot being able to see Futurism in front of you and to look into y selves, you started shouting about its death. Yes! Futurism, as a specific group, died, but like a flood it overflows into all of you.
ut once Futurism had died as the idea of select individuals, we do not need it anymore. We consider the first part of our programme of destruction to be completed. So don't be surprised if today you see in our hands architectural sketches instead of clownish rattles, and if the voice of Futurism, which yesterday was still soft from sentimental reverie, today is forged in the copper of preaching.
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《100 Artists' Manifestos》读后感(六)：[Surrealism Manifesto] André Breton
André Breton
Manifesto of Surrealism, 1924
eloved imagination, what I most like in you is your unsparing quality.
The mere word "freedom' is the only one that still excites me. I deem it capable of indefinitely sustaining the old human fanaticism. It doubt less satisfies my only legitimate aspiration. Among a the many misfortunes to which we are heir, it is only fair admit that we are allowed the greatest degree of freedom of thought. It is up to us not to misuse it. To reduce the imagination to a state of slavery even though it would mean the elimination of what is commonly called happiness is to betray all sense of absolute justice within oneself. Imagination alone offers me some intimation of what can be, and this is enou remove to some slight degree the terrible injunction; enough, too, to allow me to devote myself to it without fear of making a mistake (as though it were possible to make a bigger mistake). Where does it begin to turn bad, and where does the mind's stability cease？ For the mind, i the possibility of erring not rather the contingency of good？
There remains madness, the madness that one locks up, as it has aptly been described. That madness or another We all know, in fact, that the insane owe their incarceration to a tiny number of legally reprehensible acts and that, were it not for these acts their freedom (or what w their freedom) would not be threatened. I am willing to admit that they are, to some degree, victims of their imagination, in that it induces them not to pay attention to certain rules outside of which the species feels itself threatened which we are all supposed to know and respect. But their profound indifference to the way in which we judge them, and even to the various punishments meted out to them, allows us to suppose that they derive a great deal of comfortand consolation from their imagination, that they enjoy their madness sufficiently to endure the thought that its validity does not extend beyond themselves. And, indeed, hallucinations. illusions, etc., are not a source of trifling pleasure. The best controlled sensuality partakes of it, and I know that there are many evenings when I would gladly tame that pretty hand which, duringthe last pages of Taine's L'Intelligence, indulges in some curious misdeeds. I could spend my whole life prying loose the secrets of the insane. These people are honest to a fault, and their naiveté has no peer but my own. Christopher Columbus should have set out to discover America with a boatload of madmen. And note how this madness has taken shape, and endured.
...
We are still living under the reign of logic: this, of course, is what I have been driving at. But in this day and age logical methods are applicable only to solving problems of secondary interest. The absolute rationalism that is still in vogue allows ustoconsider only facts relating directly to ourexperi ence. Logical ends, on the contrary escape us. It is pointless to add that experience itself has found itself increasingly circumscribed it paces back and forth in a cage from which it is more and more difficult to make it emerge. It too leans for support on what is most immediately ex protected by the sentinels of common sense. Under the pret of civilization and progress, we have managed to banish from the mind everything that may rightly or wrongly be termed superstition, or fancy. forbidden is any kind of search for truth which isnot in conformance wit accepted practices. It was, apparently, by pure chance that a part of our mental world which we pretended not to be concemed with any longer and, in my opinion by far the most important part-has been broughtback to light. For this we must give thanks to the discoveries of Sigmund Freud On the basis of these discoveries acurrent of opinion isfinally formingby means of which the human explorer will be able to carry his investigations much further, authorized as he will henceforth be not to confine himself solely to the most summary realities. The imagination is perhaps on the point of reassertingitself of reclaiming its ights lf the depthsof our mind contain within it strange forces capable of augmenting those on the surface, or of waging a victorious battle against them, there isevery reason to seize them first to seize them then, if need be, to submit them to the control of our reason. The analysts themselves have everything to gainby it. But it is worth noting that no means has been designated a priori for carrying out this undertaking, that until further notice it can be construed to be the province of poets as well as scholars, and that its success isnot dependent upon the more or less capricious paths that will be followed.
Freud very rightly brought his critical faculties to bear upon the dream. lt is, in fact, inadmissible that this considerable portion of psychic activity (since, at least from man's birth until his death, thought offers no solution of continuity, the sum of the moments of dream, from the point of view of time, and taking into consideration only the time of dreaming, that is the dreams of seep, is not inferior to the sum of th moments of reality, or to be more precisely limiting, the moments of waking) has still today been so grossly neglected. have always been amazed at the way an ordinary observer lends so much more credende nd attaches so much more importance to waking events than to those occurring in dreams. Itis because man, when he ceases to sleep, is above plaything of his memory, and in its normal state memory takes leasure in weakly retracing for him the circumstances of the dream, in stripping it of any real and in dismissing the only determin from the point where he thinks he has left a few hours before: this firm hope, this concern. He is under the impression of continuing some thing that is worthwhile. Thus the dream finds itself reduced to a mere parenthesis, as is the night. And, like the night, dreams generally contrib ute little to furthering our understanding. This curious state of affairs seems to me to call for certain reflections
1) within the limits where they operate (or are thought to operate) dreams give every evidence of being continuous and show signs of organization. Memory alone arrogates to itself the right to excerpt from dreams, to ignore the transitions, and to depict for us rather a series of dreams than the dream itself By the same token, at any given moment we have only a distinct notion of realities, the coordination of which is a question of will What is worth noting is that nothing allows us to presuppose a greater dissipation of the elements of which the dream is constituted. am sorry to have to speak about it according to a formula which in principle excludes the dream. When will we have sleeping logi cians, sleeping philosophers？ would like to sleep in order to surrender myself to the dreamers, the way surrender myself to those who read me with eyes wide open: in order to stop imposing, in this realm, the conscious rhythm of my thought. Perhaps my dream last night follows that of the night before, and will be continued the next night, with an exemplary strictness. It's quite possible, as the saying goes And since it has not been proved in the slightest that, in doing so, the reality' with which am kept busy continues to exist in the state of dream, that it does not ink back down into the immemorial, why should Inot grant to dreams what occasionally refuse reality that is, this value of certainty in itself which, in its own time, is not open to my repudiatian？ Why should not expect from the sign of the dream more than I expect from a degree of consciousness which is daily more acute？ Can't the dream also be used in solving the fundamental questions of life？ Are these questions the same in one case as in the other and, in the dream, do these questions already exist？ Is the dream any less restrictive or punitive than the rest？ I am growing old and, more than that reality to which I believe I subject myself, it is perhaps the dream, the difference with which treat the dream, which makes me grow old.
2) Let me come back again to the waking state. I have no choice but to consider it a phenomenon of interference. Not only does the mind display in this state, a strange tendency to lose its bearings (as evidenced by the slips and mistakes the secrets of which are just beginning to be revealed to us), but, what is more, it does not appear that, when the mind is func tioning normally, it really responds to anything but the suggestions which come to it from the depths of that dark night to which I commend it. However conditioned it may be, its balance is relative. It scarcely dates express itself and, if it does, it confines itself to verifying that such and such an idea, or such and such a woman, has made an impression on it What impression it would be hard pressed to say, by which it reveals the degree of its subjectivity, and nothing more, This idea, this woman disturb it, they tend to make it less severe. What they do is isolate the mind for a second from its solvent and spirit it to heaven,asthe beautiful precipi tate it can be, that it is. When all else fails, it then calls upon chance, a divinity even more obscure than the others to whom it ascribes all its aber. rations. Who can say to me that the angle by which that idea whichaffects it is offered, that what it likes in the eye of that woman is not precisely what links it to its dream, binds it to those fundamental facts which, through its own fault, it has lost？ And if things were different, what might it be capable of7 i would like to provide it with the key to this corridor.
3) The mind of the man who dreams is fully satisfied by what happens to him. The agonizing question of possibility is no longer pertinent Kill fly faster, love to your heart's content, And if you should die, are you not certain of reawaking among the dead？ Let yourself be carried along events will not tolerate your interference. You are nameless. The ease of everything is priceless.
What reason, I ask, a reason so much vaster than the other, makes dreams seem so natural and allows me to welcome unreservedly a welte of episodes so strange that they could confound me now as I write？ And yet f can lieve my eyes, my ears; this great day has arrived, this beast has spoken.
If man's awaking is harder, if it breaks the spell too abruptly it is because he has been led to make for himself too impoverished a notion of atonement,
4) From the moment when it is subjected to a merhodical examination when, by means yet to be determined, we succeed in recording the contents of dreams in their entirety (and that presupposes a discipline of memory spanninggenerations: but let us nonetheless begin by noting the most salient facts), when its graph will expand with unparalleled volume and regularity, we may hope that the mysteries which really are not will give way to the great Mystery. Ibelieve in the future resolution of these two states, dream and reality, which are seemingly so contra- dictory into a kind of absolute reality, a surreality, if one may so speak. lt is in quest of this surreality that I am going, certain not to find it but too unmindful of my death not to calculate to some slight degree the joys of its possession.
A story is told according to which Saint-Pol-Roux, in times gone by used to have a notice posted on the door of his manor house in Camaret, every evening before he went to sleep, which read: THE POET IS WORKING
A great deal more could be said, but in passing l merely wanted to touch upon a subject which in itself would require a very long and much more detailed discussion: I shall come back to it. At this juncture, my intention was merely to mark a point by noting the hate of the marvellous which rages in certain men, this absurdity beneath which they try to bury it. Let us not mince words: the marvellous is always beautiful, anything marvellous is beautiful, in fact only the marvellous is beautiful.
...
Those who might dispute our right to employ the term SURREALISM in the very special sense that we understand it are beingextremely dishon- est, for there can be no doubt that this word had no currency before we came along. Therefore, I am defining it once and for all:
URREALISM, n. psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.
ENCYCLOPEDIA. Philosophy. Surrealism is based on the belief in the superior reality of certain forms of previously neglected associations, in the omnipotence of dream, in the disinteresred play of thought it tends to run orce and for all an other psychic mechanisms and to substitute itself for them in solving allthe principal problems of life. The following have performed acts of ABSOLUTE SURREALISM Messrs Aragon. Baron, Bodland Breton, Carrive,crevel, Delteil, Desnos, Eluard, Gerard, Limbour, Malkine. Morise, Naville, Noll, perem, Picon, Soupault, Vitrac
They seem to be, up to the present cime, the only ones, and there would be no ambiguiry about it were it not for the case of Isidore Ducasse, about whom t lack information. And, of course, if one is to judge them only superficially by their results, a good mumber of poets could pass for Surrealis beginning with Dante and, in his fner moments, Shakespeare in counco various attempts have made to reduce what is, by hreach of trust, called genius.I have found nothing whidi in the final analysis can be attribited to any other method than that.
Young's Nights are surrealist from one end to the other: unfortunately it is a priest who speaking, a bad priest no doubt, but a priest nonethe less.
wift is surrealist in malice,
ade is surrealist in sadism.
Chateaubriand is surrealist in exoticism.
Constant is Surrealist in politics.
Hugo is Surrealist when he isn't stupid.
Desbordes-Valmore is surrealist in love.
ertrand is surrealist in the past.
Rabbe is Surrealist in death.
oe is Surrealist in adventure.
audelaire is surrealist in morality
Rimbaud is surrealist in the way he lived, and elsewhere
Mallarme is surrealist when he is confiding.
Jarry is Surrealist in absinthe.
ouveau is Surrealist in the kiss.
aint-Pol Roux is surrealist in his use of symbols
Fargue is surrealist in the atmosphere.
Vache is surrealist in me
Reverdy is Surrealist at home.
aint Jean-perse is surrealist at a distance.
Roussel is surrealist as a storyteller.
Etc.
I would like to stress this point: they are not always surrealists, in that discern in each of them a certain number of preconceived ideas to which naively!-they hold. They hold to them because they had not heana the surrealist voice, the one that continues to preach on the eve of death and above the storms, because they did not want to serve simply to orches. trate the marvellous score. They were instruments too full of pride, and this is why they have not always produced a harmonious sound*.
urrealism does not allow those who devote themselves to it to forsake it whenever they like. There is every reason to believe that it acts on the mind very much as drugs do; like drugs, it creates a certain state of need and can push man to frightful revolts. It also is, if you like, an artificial paradise, and the taste one has for it derives from Baudelaire's criticism for the same reason as the others. Thus the analysis of the mysterious effects and special pleasures it can produce-in many respectsSurrealism occurs as a new vice which does not necessarily seem to be restricted to the happy few;like hashish, it has the ability to satisfy all manner of tastes such an analysis has to be included in the present study.
...
urrealism, such as I conceive of it, asserts our complete non-conformism clearly enough so that there can be no question of translating it, at the trial of the real world, as evidence for the defence. It could, on the contrary, only serve to justify the complete state of distraction which we hope to achieve here below. Kant's absentmindedness regarding women, Pasteur's absentmindedness about "grapes", Curie's absentmindedness with respect to vehicles, are in this regard profoundly symptomatic. This world is only very relatively in tune with thought, and incidents of this kind are only the most obvious episodes of a war in which I am proud to be participating. Surrealism is the invisible ray' which will one day enable us to win out over our opponents. You are no longer trembling, carcass. This summer the roses are blue; the wood is of glass. The earth, draped in its verdant cloak, makes as little impression upon me as a ghost. It is living and ceasing to live that are imaginary solutions. Existence is elsewhere.
*I could say the same of a number of philosophers and painters, including, among the latter, Uccello, from painters of the past, and, in the modern era, Seurat, Guatave Moreau, Matisse, Derain. Picasso (by far the most pure), Braque, Duchamp, Picabia, Chirico (so admirable for solon), Klee, Man Ray. Ernst and, one so close to us, Andre Masson.
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