André Breton's Brain Blasted to Smithereens!!! sans droit moral into the coffers of the filth who suck and shit beauty faster that it can be found...international thugs masterbated on irrational objects, ejaculated on Oceanic beauty, and contrary to all previous reports did locate a chainsaw and removed BRETON's WALL; the Family did not object inasmuch as The Wall is far more valuable than 42 rue Fontaine so the destruction of the building was considered "collateral damage."
"The simplest Surrealist act consists of dashing down into the street, pistol in hand, and firing blindly, as fast as you can pull the trigger, into the crowd."--André Breton, Second Manifesto of Surrealism
The Surrealists were so busy bickering, circulating and signing ineffectual petitions, (see UPDATES below) creating cool web pages with lotsa flash, and pointing fingers that no Surrealist actions had been planned. One lonely street walker aimed a 9mm double-action semi-automatic Smith & Wesson into the anonymous crowd and fired but it turned out the he/she was aiming at he/she's pimp who had used the proceeds from the 20,000 blowjobs he/she had performed that morning to buy catalogues of the carnage and was scalping the excited onlookers.
Received mail from an unnamed source today regarding the dreaded proviso below...long story short (and it was a long story) apparently I received it "in error." I was advised that for a very short time it was considered as a possible solution to the "French problem" but was almost immediately rejected; was also advised the proviso is not a part of the protest and should not be included in any copy circulating on the web. However, I am leaving it published on this page as I find it interesting and it was part of the fairly screwed-up process (ya know, like most history). I still am not able to ascertain the names included in the petition inasmuch as aside from the originators and a few notables, signatories are cited "and many many more."
Oh well...I guess I'll never know if my name is on that petition. I was also told by the same source that "In France, there are those who are still living who were very close to Breton during the last years of his life and who know how strongly he felt personally against several "apologists" of Louis Aragon. Aragon personally betrayed him, and these same "apologists" again personally betrayed him. They now appear again, in the context of that petition and this is rather too much for Breton's close friends to bear." All I have to say is THE DUDES ARE DEAD...DEAD...DEAD...and I am sure a majority of the signatories either do not know about the "betrayals" or do not care.
Came across the following New York Interview with André Breton in ARSON, An Ardent Review, Part One of a Surrealist Manifestation, published in 1942, originally given to the double surrealist number, edited by Nicolas Calas, of the American paper VIEW.
"Yes, I reproach myself that I still have an eye for the sad recantations of this gentleman. "It is peace that the people desire:" yet before and after Munich he invited them often enough to war! And the rest: "When we met in the shop of Brest, I was buying some ribbon for the crois de guerre of my first citation. I have received a second (with palm) and I was awarded the medaille militaire. I look respectable indeed with all my decorations and my hair whitened by age." Respectable is good! (All we have to do is to recall that the same author wrote these lines and the last page of Traité du Style.) But it would be unreasonable to become indignant. I have often asked myself if it is not the same with some intellectuals as with some women, to whom youth alone gives what is called la beauté du diable, of which there is no trace later. But this view appears very shortsighted when one wishes to apply it to the most striking individual cases of more or less complete collapse: Barrés, Valéry, Derain, Chirico--Apollinaire a little--Soupault, Aragon, Desnos--I'm afraid: Eluard, etc. (You will appreciate the fact that I do not even name Avida Dollars.) Nothing will be done until a true clinical study is made of this specifically modern malady (having nothing to do with the silence of Rimbaud) which makes these intellectuals radically change their opinions and renounce in a masochistic and exhibitionist manner their own testimony, becoming champions of a cause quite contrary to that which they began serving with great fanfare. Etiology, symptomatology, etc., this disease ought to be described just as any other mental disease. Perhaps I will try to do so when I am convinced that the public life of these men I have named warrants, and that the risk they make others run by deluding them justifies certain invasions of their private lives, without which nothing decisive or conclusive would be attained."
WOW! The Master speaks. He did talk some shit BECAUSE HE COULD but in reading his words, especially the passages emphasized, (emphases mine) one gets a sense of an objective, measured, and very generous gentleman. Shame on you spatting surrealists of the new Millenium...listen to the Master for he had all the knowledge you seek. He faulted many but I betcha later that evening he sipped Absinthe with the worst of them.
Speaking of talking shit, the following is a letter written by André Breton to Joseph Delteil in response to a request for an interview and was published in La Révolution surréaliste, no. 4 (July 15, 1925): "Thanks for the Rumanian journalist but I already have much to do with all kinds of frightful bores, among whom, for the last few months, I regret, Joseph Delteil, to number you. Between ourselves, your Joan of Arc is a vast heap of rubbish. I've been rather mistaken about you, but never mind. your disgusting articles in that evening paper L'Intransigeant, your infamous jokes about love like the ones that La Révolution surréaliste published, your beautiful statements to a certain Robert Gaby: 'Those who are coming' [sic], your maniacal taste for life, for what is most lousy in it - you never dream - are beginning to get singularly on my nerves. The question should be of finding out whether you are a swine or an ass (or a swine and an ass). Being in doubt, I prefer, of course, to see you no more, to have to examine you no longer. And only, in case you become cumbersome, see Cocteau, to take the necessary steps to reduce your activity to its true proportions; you don't pay enough attention to the fact that, all the same, this is within my power." Now tell us what you really think, André.
On December 20, 2002, I received a request to sign the "No Forced Sale" petition in my mailbox so I immediately signed it - actually that was how I found out about the sale of 42 rue Fontaine. In the meantime I located the "French" petition and placed it here, on my site (I also signed that petition). Today I received the list of signators to that petition and noticed that my name did not appear which I thought odd inasmuch as I had responded immediately.
Upon scrolling down, I found the following words..."The above names became a part of this protest between December 16, 2002 and January 9, 2003. Since that time we have become aware of a petition being circulated in France supported by the old friends of Louis Aragon, and to which we expressly deny any affiliation or support. It is not practical at this time to contact all the above signatories concerning this matter, so they cannot be held accountable for this additional proviso: It is now to be made clear that any name that is to be found supporting that petition will not be accepted here. Furthermore, the following signatories will be known to accept the wording of the above text provided that the words "We, the undersigned, support any and all opposition to the 2003 CalmelsCohen, Drouot-Richelieu sale of the collections of André Breton to be changed to read: We, the undersigned support this opposition to the 2003 CalmelsCohen, Drouot-Richelieu sale of the collections of André Breton." (Emphases mine) There appeared approximately fifty signators.
OH REALLY...so now the PETITIONS ARE BICKERING. Somebody has some 'splaining to do...why would support for the "French" petition be arbitrarily withdrawn? LOVE the "it's not practical" excuse...yeah, well, André...you are spinning in your grave on that one, huh? NOT PRACTICAL? SINCE WHEN HAS SURREALISM BECOME PRACTICAL?Just keep suckin' on your thumbs, wetting your beds, and babbling...it is a slow death, but it is coming...
MEA CULPA: Wouldn't ya know it...the only protest received yesterday (01/22/03) to my mailing to artists (loosely termed it appears) regarding signing the French "No Breton Sale petition,"
came from our own G.A.G., uh, I mean C.A.G. (Charlottesville Arts Guild), of which I am a member, again, loosely termed.
As I informed the individual who requested that he/she be removed from my mailing list, "Cannot remove you from this list...this will be the first and last time I use it, however, I assure you...guess it's payback for ya'all since I have probably received at least 100 messages from the list re job searches, people trying to sell services and equipment, inane personal mail, and the like...guess something like André Breton's life's work being blown to smithereens doesn't measure up...it is RAW, I admit; apologize that I offended your sensibilities."
I AM SO, SO SORRY. When I get back to C'Ville I think a public lashing would be appropriate...and I think we should invite all the arts reporters who have rated the Charlottesville arts community with a big F***; no kidding, we fail abysmally...we could bill the lashing as a performance piece...might bring our rating up to a C***; in any event, I shall never again use the mailing list, especially for an arts-related matter. And I will continue to simply hit the DELETE button in my mailbox...'tho, betcha after this prolly I'll be removed.
Interestingly, the INTERNATIONAL arts community is responding with requests for a link banner to the site...go figure C'Ville.
ART is sanquine...the blood you feel rushing to your head when you hang upside down eating breakfast, the blood you see on the avenues every day, the blood of your ancestors attempting to block your birth with a tourniquet, the blood of a capon in the morning sunrise, the blood of desire, the blood of melancholy, the blood of your mother's silly tears, the blood of a painting fashioned with a brush of your own hair dipped in your own blood, the blood running freely on the moon some of it making it to Earth on a bloody asteroid, the blood on the shark's tooth you used to slash your father's love, the bloodstained primer of your youth, the blood of the wound left by an extortionist on the nape of your neck, the green blood of absinthe, the blood...(you continue from here for I have to start the bleeding)...
This page is dedicated to my sister, Lydia, who has supported with love her Surrealist Sister without fail.
