Exquisite Corpsing (a surrealist poem)

Latent gospel plucked from slumber

Writhing as seething logic tears asunder

These retinal confessionals which drawn

From the tattered slacks of droning hacks whose dawn

Is borne from fleeting mania amongst ceaseless cognitive curfews

Where spontaneous poetic passions percolate like zeppelins doing corkscrews

Where cubist contortions reign and the blighted blatherings of historians

Wither into stony columns of drivel and whitespace – trivial emporiums

Which shy away from the kaleidoscopic sensorium of surreality

An exclusive realm of poets and purveyors of psyche, far beyond mere animality



NB: featured image is Max Ernst’s ‘triumph of surrealism’ (1937)

China Mieville – The Last Days of New Paris (2016) BOOK REVIEW

This alternative history/fantasy novella is set in Paris in the year 1950, in which WW2 is still ongoing, and in which Surrealist artworks or ‘manifs’ (short for ‘manifestations’) have come to life and are reaping havoc across the capital. As if that wasn’t enough the Nazis have also managed to summon a demonic horde using Aleister Crowley’s occult magic. So as demons and artworks stalk the city streets it is down to Thibaut – a member of the intellectual resistance, the ‘main a plume’, and one of only a few veterans learned in the ways of Surrealist doctrine – to find a way to stop them. Whilst the premise is daring, original and wicked fun, this novella is let down by an underdeveloped plot and characters, but perhaps most glaringly, by the bustling pit of empty Surrealist allusions. Whilst it is somewhat enjoyable for the first dozen or so pages to try and identify the various artworks from Mieville’s descriptions without using the notes/art appendix/answers at the back of the book, this enthusiasm quickly ebbs as you become conscious of the fact that you are missing countless references which are coming at you rapidly and from all directions. As a student who specialises in Surrealism and other art movements in post-war literature I can tell you, the references in here are not in any way accessible to the everyday reader, and unless you have a significantly above average knowledge of Surrealist art you will find yourself frequently flitting to the appendix for help (or you could do what I did and open up the handy ‘graphic annotations’ guide by Nicky Martin of medium.com which includes all the referenced Surrealist images).

Hardback cover edition of the book featuring one of Breton’s most famous ‘exquisite corpse’ images.  This ‘figure’ also stars as the protagonist’s unlikely sidekick.

One redeeming aspect of this novella however is that it does induce you to track down these incredible artworks, to find the source material for the manifs, many of which were new to me (I’ve included some of my favourite allusions intermittently throughout this review). It’s interesting to consider that we as readers are being given the choice to either go out and view these works in their original form or instead rely on the literary descriptions – which could be seen as a Surrealist move in that we are being given the choice, and are subjectively empowered in this respect. The main problem however is that these artworks are utterly leeched of any of their original intent. This is a text about Surrealist art, and as the Surrealists were concerned with psychical redemption in the wake of the upsurgence of the omnipotent spectacle, it seems antithetical to the movement to have these artworks stripped of their significance – not to mention the subjective narratives unique to their creator – and instead have them warped and twisted into the story of another’s making.

However, if we consider the Afterword as a crucial constituent part of the whole narrative, then perhaps this ideological sterilisation can be, at least in some part, forgiven.

p. 17 – ‘sagelands, smoothed alpine topographies like sagging drapes’ – we are told in the notes that this description alludes to the painting “Danger, Construction Ahead” by Kay Sage (1940)

In fact, I’d argue that it is only upon reading the Afterword as (meta)narrative that we are truly moved into Surrealist spheres. In the Afterword Mieville presents us with a choice. He does this by revealing that the entire narrative was originally told to him by a mysterious friend of a friend, an elderly war veteran who claimed to be the real-life Thibaut (the central character). This real-life Thibaut is said to have told the entire story to Mieville, who acted as nothing more than what we might call his literary vessel. So now we must consider the crucial question as to whether this mysterious unseen narrator is indeed fictitious or not? If we choose to view this ‘final scene’ as a part of the internalised story then we must therefore view Mieville as character. But if we choose to view the text as having been told to Mieville by a real-life Thibaut then we are being asked to view the story as metaphor or perhaps more intriguingly as a coping mechanism for Thibaut’s traumatic experiences during the war.

In such a reading the demons become emblematic of his religious beliefs, whilst the Surrealist artworks becomes manifestations of the torments of war on his unconscious mind; phantasms brought about through the horrors of Nazi Germany. Now we’re in true Surrealist territory. Viewed in this respect, it is hard not to be reminded of Yann Martel’s Life of Pi, and the similar revelation that Pi’s zoological story could in fact be a fantasy (or more aptly ‘phantasy’) rendering of a truly harrowing tragedy which he has formulated as a means to cope with the horrors of reality (though again, this is left ambiguous). On the whole, whilst there were sparks of satisfaction in reading this story, I expected much more, and whilst still a fan of Mieville (Perdido Street Station, The Scar and Embassytown are hugely entertaining and original reads), I feel he has much more to offer than this wobbly and hollow testament to one of the greatest art movements of the twentieth century.

Below are a few more of my favourite allusions and their coinciding artworks:

Ernst’s Celebes stomps through the streets of Paris. “The Elephant Celebes” by Max Ernst (1921)
‘Smoke figures wafting in and out of presence’ (p. 58), these figures are said to imitate “Grand Fumage” by Wolfgang Paalen (1930s)
‘weeds grow through old cars and the floors of newspaper kiosks’ (p. 10). Many of the allusions referred to are compiled by Mieville but not all. This is one such not compiled in his list but seems to recall one of Dali’s cars, perhaps ‘the special automobile’ (1941).
‘the Surrealists had drawn new suits, a cartographic rebellion’ (p. 88). The characters featured are said to wander Paris, characters which echo the Marseille face cards, by various artists (1943)
‘A man in a coat watches eyelessly from a chessboard head’ (p. 125). This man is in fact “René Magritte with a Chessboard Over His Face” by Paul Nougé (1937)

Continue reading “China Mieville – The Last Days of New Paris (2016) BOOK REVIEW”

Max Ernst’s Surrealist Collage Novel – ‘A Week of Kindness’

Finished in just three weeks whilst in Italy in 1933, Ernst’s ‘Une Semaine de Bonte’ or ‘A Week of Kindness’ is a breathtaking series of wood engraved illustrations hijacked from various French popular fiction and periodicals of the late nineteenth century and morphed and warped into Ernst’s own surrealist iconography. It is split into seven parts, one for each day of the week, and each revolves around one of the seven deadly elements (as opposed to sins). Sunday (mud) is dedicated to one of the surrealist forefathers, Grandville, famed for his animal men (obviously a big influence on Ernst) and as such the first part contains lots of lion-men (psychologist Dieter Wyss suspected this to be an incarnation of the Freudian superego). Monday (water) alludes to Noah’s flood. Tuesday (fire) is day of the dragons and flight; serpentine wings sprout from the backs of the characters. Wednesday (blood) is dedicated to Oedipus and Oedipal drives take the form of great human-birds – LopLop, Ernst’s alter ego and familiar, took such a form on the basis of Freud’s identifying humanity’s age-old fascination with birds in his 1910 ‘Leonardo DaVinci and a Memory of His Childhood’. Ernst was greatly influenced by Freud, and through him found a way of exerting his Oedipal conflict with his father; we might view his famous 1922 ‘Oedipus Rex’ as a kind of subconscious blueprint for this section. Thursday (blackness) is the day of ‘The Rooster’s Laughter’ and ‘Easter Island’. Friday (sight) revolves around ‘the interior of sight’ and is made up of what Ernst calls visible poems. Saturday (unknown) is ‘The Key to Songs’, the most cryptic of days which seems to draw upon many of the various images throughout. Below I’ve collected a few of my favourite images from each of the days:


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J. G. Ballard ‘The Evening of the Birds’

a week of kindness
plate from Max Ernst’s collage novel ‘A week of kindness’ (1934)

“Their dreaming minds suspended me in my flight. As I passed above their heads I knew that I was flying, not as a pilot in an aircraft, but as a condor, bird of good omen… I sailed grandly through the  cold air. I could see my huge wings and the fluted rows of ice-white feathers, and feel the powerful muscles across my chest. I raked the sky with the claws of a great raptor… All over Shepperton birds were appearing on the rooftops, raised by my cries from the sleeping minds of the people below, husbands and wives wearing their brilliant new night plumage, parents with their excited nestlings, ready to mount the air together. As I soared above them I could hear their eager cries and feel the beat of their wings overtaking mine. A dense spiral of flying forms rose into the night, an ascending carousel of wakening sleepers”

– J. G. Ballard, The Unlimited Dream Company 

Christmas Surrealism: a selection of festive surrealist art

What better way to celebrate Christmas than with a cocktail of festive surrealist art?Surprisingly (or not so) there are few works which fall into this category, but I’ve managed to track down some particularly interesting examples. I’ve included a mix of new and old works in line with that old Christmas trope of temporal negation. Have a Merry Christmas and enjoy! (NB: the artist and title if known is beneath the image)

Why not begin with the master himself?…

Salvador Dali, Noel, 1948.
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1958
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1960
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1962
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1968
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1968
Navidad, Dali, 1971
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1971
Dali, Felicitacion de Navidad, 1974
dali hallmark
This is my favourite. Dali’s santa clause (left) opposite Norman Rockwell’s santa clause, both designed for Hallmark in the 50s. Look closely at Dali’s image and you’ll even see his signature melting clock oozing from the chest of drawers which opens from santa’s torso!
central park, winter
Dali, ‘New York central park winter’ (1971)
Dorothea Tanning, The Truth about Comets (1945)
Max Ernst, ‘Unknown Gods’
(not intended to be Xmas themed but there’s a mystic penguin in it so that surely counts?!)
Picasso, 1953
Jonah Kinigstein, from his 2015 book The Emperor’s New Clothes: The Tower of Babel in the “Art” World
Leonora Carrington, title unknown
Vladimir Kush, title unknown
Veks Van Hillik, title unknown


NB: Dali Xmas cards from here. Kinigstein’s drawing is from here.  Featured image is by James McCarthy (aka. Tolkyes @ deviantart)