Surrealism Reason 1920s Paris origins Logic omnipotence of

Surrealism Reason 1920’s Paris origins Logic “omnipotence of dreams” “disinterested play of thought” Inspired by Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis • Inspired by the power of unconscious thought • Fascinated by hypnosis and hidden thoughts • •

André Breton (1896 1966) Charles Baudelaire (1821 1867) Arthur Rimbaud (1854 1891) Guillaume Apollinaire (1880 1918) Pierre Reverdy (1889 1960) César Vallejo (1892 1938)

"Je pense. . . . À quiconque a perdu ce qui ne se retrouve Jamais, jamais!" (I think. . . Of whomever has lost that which can Never, never be found again!). Charles Baudelaire

L’été Surtout, vaincu, stupide, il était entêté A se renfermer dans la fraîcheur des latrines: Il pensait là, tranquille et livrant ses narines. (In summer, especially, stupid, he persisted In locking himself up in the latrines Where he reflected in peace, inhaling deeply. ) Arthur Rimbaud 1995 movie Total Eclipse starred Leonardo Di. Caprio playing Arthur Rimbaud

Clotilde by Guillaume Apollinaire Translated By Donald Revell Anemone and columbine Where gloom has lain Opened in gardens Between love and disdain Made somber by the sun Our shadows meet Until the sun Is squandered by night Gods of living water Let down their hair And now you must follow A craving for shadows

Clock by Pierre Reverdy Translated By Lydia Davis In the warm air of the ceiling the footlights of dreams are illuminated. The white walls have curved. The burdened chest breathes confused words. In the mirror, the wind from the south spins, carrying leaves and feathers. The window is blocked. The heart is almost extinguished among the already cold ashes of the moon — the hands are without shelter — as all the trees lying down. In the wind from the desert the needles bend and my hour is past.

Miguel by César Vallejo Translated By Don Paterson I'm sitting here on the old patio beside your absence. It is a black well. We'd be playing, now. . . I can hear Mama yell "Boys! Calm down!" We'd laugh, and off I'd go to hide where you'd never look. . . under the stairs, in the hall, the attic. . . Then you'd do the same. Miguel, we were too good at that game. Everything would always end in tears. No one was laughing on that August night you went to hide away again, so late it was almost dawn. But now your brother's through with this hunting and never finding you. The shadows crowd him. Miguel, will you hurry and show yourself? Mama will only worry.