Shards of Memory 14.1, by Kathleen Fox. Fox notes on her site that “The delicate images that resemble doodles were created by directing light through pinholes onto a bowl of water lined with black plastic. These reflections were overlaid onto recordings of organisms in river mud” in a soundscape created by Johannes Bergmark.
My review of Surrealism and Photography in Czechoslovakia is up at Rain Taxi:
Photography has been unusually fruitful for Surrealist artists perhaps for an obvious reason—in denaturing sight it exposes the unconscious of vision. The image “Paris Afternoon” by writer/collagist/photographer Jindřich Štyrský provides a powerful example by the simplest of means. On first glance this black and white picture couldn’t be any clearer: a somewhat overexposed image of spider webs in a basement.
Founded in Toronto in 1974 by Ludwig Zeller and Susana Wald on emigrating from Chile to Canada as a continuation of their publishing work in Santiago, Oasis Publications became Canada’s only surrealist publishing house and link to the international Phases movement. With a steady stream of exquisite hand-printed chapbooks of poetry, gallery brochures, and journal The Philosophical Egg, Oasis brought out works by Benjamin Péret and Paul Éluard, Arturo Schwarz, Édouard Jaguer, Anne Ethuin, Perahim, Jean Schlechter Duvall, and many others, often accompanying gallery exhibits in Toronto. Importantly, Oasis was to introduce Anglophone America to a number of a Spanish and French surrealist writers unavailable previously in translation. Susana Wald describes the atmosphere in their home office: “There wasn’t much in the way of furniture and when friends visited, as was the case for the collating and sewing of the book of proverbs by Éluard and Péret, which we produced in collaboration with Dreadnought Press, people sat on cushions on the floor. The beauty of the orchard, the vastness of the landscape opening in front of our windows, the pheasants and other birds filled us with joy and helped us to overcome our homesickness and relative solitude.” Zeller and Wald moved to Oaxaca, Mexico in 1994, where they continued their work.
"In the Country of the Antipodes," by Susana Wald in the Surrealism in Canada issue of Open Letter (Summer 2013)
Dictionnaire général du surréalisme et de ses environs, edited by Adam Biro and René Passeron (Office du Livre, 1982)
Avant-Garde Canadian Literature: The Early Manifestations, by Gregory Betts (University of Toronto Press, 2013)
My review of Ce Qui Sera, What Will Be, Lo Que Será is now up on City Lights’ blog:
“For the last 50 years the editors, Her de Vries and Laurens Vancrevel, have published and produced surrealist works under the Brumes Blondes imprint in Amsterdam, and their command of the field has enabled them to produce a definitive collection. Drawing its title from the statement in a 1947 manifesto, ‘Surrealism is what will be,’ the focus is determinedly on the present and future, on evoking new visions and highlighting new voices the vast majority of whom will be unknown to most American readers (for that alone, the editors have rendered a great service).”
See the just-updated Publications page for more recent works.
Alex Fatta’s terrific stop-motion film-and-sound collages
From the exhibit La Chasse à l’Objet du Désir in Montreal.
From the opening night of the exhibit La chasse á l’objet du desir at Galerie Espace in Montreal curated by the Liaison surrealiste du Montreal and up until June 17.
Manifesto AU CONTRAIRE: The Whitney Bienniale
To: Michele Grabner, Chicago Art Inst.
Zoe Leonard, artist, Stuart Comer Museum of Modern Art
Notarysojack, as Barney Stover says,
to unlock the mystery of Existenz
—1 April AD2014
There are no “Women Artists.” There are no “Men Artists.” There are only Artists who happen to embody one gender or another.
When I speak of Art I AM ART I AM AMONGST THE ARTISTS, those who are so-called.
Again, I AM ART.
That which I do is “Art.”
That which I write: “Everything I do is poetry.”
I remain French Surrealist and therefore, therefore, Ainsi Mesdames et Messieurs, Vide Napoli e muori!
I revive my dictum after so many years in abeyance: “C’est la guerre totale” Total Assault!
Your museums and galleries must open the door to the Maelstrom which is US.
A man walking outside in the pouring rain. Prendre d’assaut! – Faire d’Orage!
Artists of Colour? C’est l’Afrique C’est l’Ethiopie C’est le Dogon! There is the veracity of ART, in the true cradle of Civilisation. (Not the Tigris or Euphrates, — Sorry!) It’s Africa.
But if you would ask the Question: “What is Contemporary Art?” Ask, then, Africa; ask the Cameroun. Ask the Siné-Saloum!
One must enter the domaine of the oneiric.
—Thus, my absence from your midst is my Presence.
Art, what you call “Art” is going on beyond your conceptions—Au delà, Beyond the walls of your galleries and museums: Art IS HERE where I am. I speak it each day. In turn it speaks Ancient Egyptian, modern Bambara and Amhara. It speaks in every word André Breton ever wrote.
Thus, AU CONTRAIRE!
—Inscribed in the journals of Arshille Gorky; evidenced in the paintings of Gorky and those of Jackson Pollock.
It is they who lead the Maelstrom, the Siege of the Citadel.—Avant! Avant!
Yet despite all philistinism Je t’aime. JE SUIS L’ART.
I am sure Le Grande Artiste, the Cookie Monster, would agree with me.
Respondez s’il vous plaît
My tall next door neighbor’s long lovely legs. I am sure the rocks are happy as she walks on them. Alors, même que je suis encore fatigué. Alas I am not a Czar so I can’t sweep her off her feet. She knows nothing about Art. She is one of the tribe of technophiles, digitalized.
But there goes Art (in her) although it knows it not—The Unknown, the Nameless One (I do not know her name or station in life)….but that she goes into a house and emerges therefrom,–onto the thoroughfare, past this window from time to time.
Now I am all silent. I recall the grand artist—pope of us all!—Jackson Pollock once declared he would rather cease talking with human beings altogether, in favor of expressing his communiqué solely in his art of painting. Bravo. I concur. Yet I persist with talk—talk—talk—when I should only write! And otherwise keep silence.
"And disguised I sat amongst you. And you wrapped
yourselves in different webs. Silently, you guarded
the rusty keys of the gates.”
—These words could have come from my own mouth but they did not. They came from the Russian Artist turned Mystic and Pilgrim, Nicolas Roerich, who migrated to the Himalayas to live his life there.—
For you who so tenaciously guard the rusty keys to the Gates.
1 April – 30 April AD2014
See Publications for information about Sotère Torregian’s The Age of Gold (Redux) from Rêve à Deux. Video courtesy of Brian Lucas, text courtesy of Sotère Torregian. For more about Sotère Torregian, see Garret Caples’ City Lights post.
“Silence, Words, and Music,” an evening of song, sound and poetry on Wednesday, May 28, 6:30-8:00 pm at Westbeth Gallery, 55 Bethune Street, NYC
Tamara Wyndham, “Evaporations,” a street performance piece.
Pat Robinson, poetry
Hugh Seidman, poetry
Alice Jones, flute and Mary Hubbell, vocals
Miriam Chaikin, haiku and tanka poetry
Marc Straus, poetry
Valery Oisteanu, poetry and Liubisha Ristic, guitar, “Waters of Time”
For more, see Events.
Image: Polaroid Fingerprint Grid (2007), by Valerie Huhn