{collage} – Page 2 – { feuilleton }

The exquisite corpse will drink the new wine

From One Dough (1996) by Martin Stejskal, Jan Svankmajer, Eva Svankmajerová.

From A Dictionary of Surrealism by José Pierre (Eyre Methuen, 1974):

Exquisite corpse. The most famous of the surrealist games takes its name from the opening sentence that materialized: “Le cadavre—exquis—boira—le vin—nouveau” (1925) (The exquisite corpse—will drink—the new wine). It was produced by five players writing in turn subject, adjective, verb, object, complement, each folding over the paper so that the next player could not see what had been already written. The violent whiff of strangeness and the droll effects obtained by these verbal collages reappeared in the drawn “exquisite corpses” in which Surrealist poets and painters often combined. Despite the fact that each contribution—especially in the case of painters—is relatively identifiable, the total effect (mostly in the form of a “personage”) results from the combined elements. In this, the “exquisite corpse” can claim to have scored a victory for collective invention over individual invention and over the “signature”.

Nude (1926–27) by Yves Tanguy, Joan Miró, Max Morise, Man Ray.

Exquisite Corpse (1927) by André Masson, Max Ernst, Max Morise.

Exquisite Corpse (1928) by Man Ray, André Breton, Yves Tanguy, and Max Morise.

Exquisite Corpse (1928) by Man Ray, Max Morise, André Breton, Yves Tanguy.

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Ragnar von Holten’s Maldoror

More Maldoror, and more collage, this time from Swedish artist and art historian Ragnar von Holten (1934–2009). The Historical Dictionary of Surrealism describes von Holten as a Gustave Moreau enthusiast who first contacted the Paris Surrealists in 1960 when he was organising a retrospective of Moreau’s work at the Louvre. André Breton had long been a champion of Moreau, especially in the decades when the artist was out of fashion, and wrote a preface for von Holten’s L’Art Fantastique Gustave Moreau. One of the many things I like about the Surrealists is the continuity they provide with the history of fantastic and visionary art.

Von Holten’s Maldoror collages were begun in the late 1960s and completed in 1972 when they were published in a Swedish edition of the novel. I don’t know how many illustrations there were in all but you can see more at the Moderna Museet website. Not all the collages are labelled as being derived from Maldoror but many of the titles refer to the text all the same. Also there are two drawings intended as vignettes, one of which depicts in a rather literal fashion Lautréamont’s most popular metaphor.

Elsewhere on { feuilleton }
• The Surrealism archive

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Harry O. Morris’s Maldoror
• Covering Maldoror
• Kenneth Anger’s Maldoror
• Chance encounters on the dissecting table
• Santiago Caruso’s Maldoror
• Jacques Houplain’s Maldoror
• Hans Bellmer’s Maldoror
• Les Chants de Maldoror by Shuji Terayama
• Polypodes
• Ulysses versus Maldoror
• Maldoror
• Books of blood
• Magritte’s Maldoror
• Frans De Geetere’s illustrated Maldoror
• Maldoror illustrated

Harry O. Morris’s Maldoror

Lautréamont’s delirious prose poem/novel/proto-Surrealist dream-text is sufficiently wild and free-ranging to inspire many visual interpretations. One of the peculiarities of the book is that all these interpretations are valid to some degree, although some still suit the general tone better than others. Quite a few of the well-known Surrealist artists had a crack at illustrating Les Chants de Maldoror but artists who don’t illustrate on a regular basis have a tendency to gesture vaguely at the given text while offering yet more of their own concerns.

Expert collage artist Harry O. Morris does a better job than Dalí, Magritte and co. in his depictions of Lautréamont’s mutable scenarios. Maldoror is very much a collaged text, a product of its author’s enthusiastic plagiarism, which suggests that if the book has to be illustrated at all then collage is the technique to use. Morris’s interpretation was published in 1983 as Scenes from Lautréamont’s Maldoror, a portfolio of 10 plates. A note from the artist on this page acknowledges the influence of photo-montagist JK Potter, Morris being better known for his collages of engraved illustrations and other pictorial matter.

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Moon Flight by Sándor Reisenbüchler

Moon Flight is the English title given to Holdmese, a Hungarian word that Google translates as “Moon tale”. Both translations suit this short film by Hungarian animator Sándor Reisenbüchler in which we discover that the Moon is a giant space vehicle contructed by an alien race. Moon Flight was Reisenbüchler’s third short, made in 1975 using the same collage technique as an earlier film, The Year of 1812 (1973). The animation is minimal but there’s an immense amount of variety in the tableaux that convey the story. The visual style is also strikingly vivid in a manner that might be labelled “psychedelic” if that term means anything when applied to cinematic fare from the Eastern Bloc. Reisenbüchler wasn’t the only Hungarian animator borrowing Pop and psychedelic influences at this time. The first two feature films by Marcell Jankovics, Johnny Corncob (1973) and The Son of the White Mare (1982), are equally vivid; Johnny Corncob even mimics some of the style of Yellow Submarine. I’ve not seen much other Hungarian animation from this period so this makes me wonder what else I may have been missing.

Moon Flight is a recent upload at Rarefilmm where you can also see The Year of 1812, both as high-quality transfers. The Year of 1812, which concerns Napoleon’s failed invasion of Russia, won an award at Cannes but I prefer Moon Flight. It’s not only more visually interesting it’s also free of Tchaikovsky’s bombast. Reisenbüchler’s first short, Kidnapping of the Sun and the Moon (1968), is another work of fantasy which may be seen at the YouTube channel for NFI, the Hungarian film archive.

Previously on { feuilleton }
• Three short films by Marcell Jankovics
• Short films by Gérald Frydman
• Raoul Servais: Courts-Métrages
• Scarabus, a film by Gérald Frydman
• The Heat of a Thousand Suns by Pierre Kast
• L’Araignéléphant
• Le labyrinthe and Coeur de secours
• Chronopolis by Piotr Kamler

Weekend links 689

Salammbô (1899) by Adolphe Cossard.

• At Unquiet Things: “A mystery that no longer exists: Wrinkle in Time cover artist revealed”. S. Elizabeth explains. I did a little research of my own into this enigma without success. Good to know that it’s been resolved.

• James Balmont’s latest guide to Japanese cinema is an examination of the transcendental oeuvre of Yasujiro Ozu.

• At Spoon & Tamago: Trains intersect with everyday life in nostalgic illustrations by Shinjiro Ogawa.

• DJ Food discovered a set of Zodiac posters by Bruce Krefting from 1969.

• At Wormwoodiana: John Howard on looking for misplaced Machens.

• At Vinyl Factory: Discovering Mort Garson with Hilary Wood.

• At Dennis Cooper’s: More Ozu in Yasujiro Ozu Day.

• New music: Multizonal Mindscramble by Polypores.

• Mix of the week is a mix for The Wire by Aho Ssan.

• Ioneye in conversation with Bill Laswell.

• Train Song (1969) by Pentangle | Love On A Real Train (1984) by Tangerine Dream | Tokyosaka Train (2002) by Funki Porcini