what is and isn't there.

i recently came across a collection of photographs, 'la subversion des images' by belgian surrealist paul nougé (who seemed to be an essential leader of the belgian sect, but who now appears relatively obscure in research) via the bottomless rabbit hole of tumblr and realized i had often come across the first one in the past; it is nice now to put a name to an image that has seeped into my private cosmos for so long ( it does also feel to me, so akin to francesca woodman & love to think how this may have been a muse to her works. ) to know these were created during a period of surrealist unfurlings thrills me in the way nearly anything dreamlike and obsessive and strange the surrealists have conjured up from that darkly absurd ether does. 

as poetic meditations on the obsession with 'objects' (both real and imagined in these cases), i feel a certain kinship with the spooky anxiety so palpably alive; manic levitation, fretful conjuring, the mutual madness of like-minded friends, a haunting finger perhaps pointing to an unseen fate gorged with doom.....

feeling alive in a strange, dangerous world.

I recently read a well crafted essay in Juxtapoz magazine on artist Odd Nerdrum. In it, Odd talked about how to command the helm of ones artistic path without fear; by traveling & immersing oneself in a foreign culture. This immersion is a metamorphosis: it changes you irrevocably, makes you realize you are only truly at home within the edges of your own skin. It is a powerful thing. 

I first began to be truly inspired by the ideas and notions of surrealism when I journeyed to Paris for the first time. In the Pompidou I came across a re-creation of part of Breton's studio as well as Hans Bellmer's infamous doll (or at least a version of it.) Though I had certainly read some surrealist texts and already had my introduction to Breton's Nadja, seeing these amazing artifacts in person truly set fire to my obsession with surrealism and all its nuances. 

Above is Tim Walker's most recent editorial featuring strange bird Tilda Swinton in this month's W magazine. The chosen location was Las Pozas, a surrealist garden of sorts deep in Mexico built by surrealist collector and eccentric Edward James. Freckled amongst intense and wild greenery are odd architectural buildings paying homage to surrealist ideas & shapes, a physical garden of strange delights that seems perilous to journey to. Set against this strange, dangerous world is Tilda, who beneath the phantasmal eye of Walker blooms into a surrealist rose, seemingly conjured from the paintings of the movement. 

how could i not fall in love ?

for nadja

when i first came across joão figueiredo's paintings, i has assumed that they were collages. often i'm distracted by paintings that feel like collages, but here, i love it. these portraits feel akin to 'nadja', the heroine of andre breton's work of the same name, built around notions of 'l'amour fou' or mad love, (a favorite surrealist theory" of mine) here nadja is also akin to gradiva, or a kind of phantom lover. she is real, but not. half here, half elsewhere. . . . a kind of strange half-life that i see in these works of regal women.

the last true surrealist darling.

rest now leonora.

the quest for the marvelous:

surrealism means a great deal to me & if i could, i would teleport to paris in 1929 to be among it's participants in my favorite of places. it's fantastical yet absurd ideas//philosophies//life styles//literature & art seem braided within my very veins. so i love it when i stumble upon a piece of surrealism i haven't seen before such as this glove by Méret Oppenheim who is probably most recognized for her fur covered tea cup & saucer, one of the most famous surrealist 'objects'. this glove makes me think of the surrealist myth of Gradiva. Gradiva is the unrealized ideal woman, the phantom, the woman who can walk through walls. she recognizes the male's desire to see through her 'real self' and plays her role accordingly, helping lift the veil so that the man can overcome his break from reality. in a way she is a lucid dream, leaving a glass shoe on the stair or a veined glove behind.

further reading on Gradiva here.

as for my own break from reality/quest for the marvelous, i have much to share this week to make up for my lack of posting.

xx

madame guillotine

the new editorials by eugenio recuenco, (especially this one) remind me of one of my favorite painters, dorothea tanning & of course, current perils.

xo

via.

unnatural desires.

ruth marten is part surrealism and part femme wit. her work reminds me primarily of max ernst, whose collage work i worship over here in the house of doom & gloom. her work is strange and inviting, curiously luring you in for a closer peek, daring you to come away from it unscathed.

xo.