Anna Blume . Die Kathedrale . Dada 3 . 391 . Tristan Tzara (1896 - 1963) & "Dadaism" [Dada Manifesto (1918)] . Blindman No. 2 . Merz No. 20: Kurt Schwitters Katalog (Hanover, 1927) . Richard Huelsenbeck: Deutschland Muss Untergehen (Berlin, 1920) . Hans Richter´s Ghosts Before Breakfast (1927) . 291 No. 1 (1925) . Aventure No. 3 . Merz Nos. 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 8 and 21 . Aesthete 1925 . Dada No. 1 . Dada No. 2 . Dada No. 3 . Raoul Hausmann (1886-1971): Works and Biography . Francis Picabia: 391 magazine - No. 2 (Barcelona 1917)...
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Cover of Kurl Schwitters' poem Anna Blume (1919), a parody of love and an emblem of the chaos and madness of the era. Originally published in Der Sturm magazine in August 1919, the poem made Schwitters famous overnight.
Online version of the whole book to read and download: http://sdrc.lib.uiowa.edu/dada/Anna_Blume_Dichtungen/ DADA 3, DESIGN AND EDITING BY TRISTAN TZARATristan Tzara reading to the crowd at St Julien le Pauvre church, Paris (1921). Courtesy Bibliothèque Littéraire Jacques Doucet
The site of Hugo Ball's nightclub Cabaret Voltaire as photographed in 1935. Courtesy Baugeschichtliches Archiv Zürich
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Dada itself feels nothing, it is nothing, nothing, nothing
It is like your hopes, nothing Like your heaven, nothing Like your idols, nothing Like your politicians, nothing Like your heroes, nothing Like your artists, nothing Like your religions, nothing. Schwitters' 1920 second book Die Kathedrale, containing 8 lithographs in the style of Schwitters' drawings, by means of using found elements, collage and stamps, scratchy pen and ink. The cathedral is a metaphor for unification in the arts and for masters teaching 'apprentices'.
DADA NEWSPAPER. PAGE COMPOSITION AND TYPOGRAPHY: 391. EDITED AND DESIGNED BY FRANCIS PICABIAClick to set custom HTML
Francis Picabia, The cover of 391. New York, Collection of Arthur and Elaine Cohen. Duchamp had added a beard and moustache to the Mona Lisa in his campaign to debunk the reverence bestowed on works of art. The five-letter title, LHOOQ, may be read as "she has a hot bit of tail".
Poster for the tour around St Julien le Pavre church in Paris led by André Breton and Tristan Tzara as part of the Dada season of 1921. Courtesy Bibliothèque Littéraire Jacques Doucet
Hugo Ball reciting Karawane in a Cubist costume at the Cabaret Voltaire, Zürich (1916). Gelatin silver print 71.5 x 40cm. Courtesy Fondation Arp.
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Tristan Tzara ( 1896 – 1963), Romanian poet , essayist and one of the founders of the Dada movement. Known best for his manifestos, he was a collaborater with Marcel Janco.
Tzara was born in Romania to a family of Romanian-speaking Jewish ancestry. Tzara wrote in 1916 the first Dada texts, La Première Aventure céleste de Monsieur Antipyrine (The First Heavenly Adventure of Mr. Antipyrine), Vingt-cinq poèmes (Twenty-Five Poems) in 1918 [1], and the movement's manifestos, Sept manifestes Dada (Seven Dada Manifestos) in 1924. In Paris he engaged in tumultuous activities with Dadaists André Breton, Philippe Soupault, and Louis Aragon to shock the public and to disintegrate the structures of language.
In 1929, weary of nihilism and destruction, he joined his friends in the more constructive activities of Surrealism. He devoted much of his time to the reconciliation of Surrealism and Marxism and joined the French Communist Party in 1937. He was active in the French Resistance movement during World War II. He left the Communist Party in 1956, in protest against the Soviet quelling of the Hungarian Revolution.
His political commitments brought him closer to his fellow human beings, and he gradually matured into a lyrical poet. His poems revealed the anguish of his soul, caught between revolt and wonderment at the daily tragedy of the human condition. His mature works started with L'Homme approximatif (The Approximate Man), and continued with Parler seul (Speaking Alone), and La Face intérieure (The Inner Face) (1953). In these, the anarchically scrambled words of Dada were replaced with a difficult but humanized language. He died in Paris and was interred there in the Cimetière du Montparnasse. http://www.artandpopularculture.com/Tristan_Tzara |
Tristan Tzara: "Dadaism" [Dada Manifesto (1918)]
There is a literature that does not reach the voracious mass. It is the work of creators, issued from a real necessity in the author, produced for himself. It expresses the knowledge of a supreme egoism, in which laws wither away. Every page must explode, either by profound heavy seriousness, the whirlwind, poetic frenzy, the new, the eternal, the crushing joke, enthusiasm for principles, or by the way in which it is printed. On the one hand a tottering world in flight, betrothed to the glockenspiel of hell, on the other hand: new men. Rough, bouncing, riding on hiccups. Behind them a crippled world and literary quacks with a mania for improvement.
I say unto you: there is no beginning and we do not tremble, we are not sentimental. We are a furious Wind, tearing the dirty linen of clouds and prayers, preparing the great spectacle of disaster, fire, decomposition.* We will put an end to mourning and replace tears by sirens screeching from one continent to another. Pavilions of intense joy and widowers with the sadness of poison. Dada is the signboard of abstraction; advertising and business are also elements of poetry.
I destroy the drawers of the brain and of social organization: spread demoralization wherever I go and cast my hand from heaven to hell, my eyes from hell to heaven, restore the fecund wheel of a universal circus to objective forces and the imagination of every individual.
Philosophy is the question: from which side shall we look at life, God, the idea or other phenomena. Everything one looks at is false. I do not consider the relative result more important than the choice between cake and cherries after dinner. The system of quickly looking at the other side of a thing in order to impose your opinion indirectly is called dialectics, in other words, haggling over the spirit of fried potatoes while dancing method around it.
If I cry out:
Ideal, ideal, ideal,
Knowledge, knowledge, knowledge,
Boomboom, boomboom, boomboom,
I have given a pretty faithful version of progress, law, morality and all other fine qualities that various highly intelligent men have discussed in so manv books, only to conclude that after all everyone dances to his own personal boomboom, and that the writer is entitled to his boomboom: the satisfaction of pathological curiosity; a private bell for inexplicable needs; a bath; pecuniary difficulties; a stomach with repercussions in life; the authority of the mystic wand formulated as the bouquet of a phantom orchestra made up of silent fiddle bows greased with philtres made of chicken manure. With the blue eye-glasses of an angel they have excavated the inner life for a dime's worth of unanimous gratitude. If all of them are right and if all pills are Pink Pills, let us try for once not to be right. Some people think they can explain rationally, by thought, what they think. But that is extremely relative. Psychoanalysis is a dangerous disease, it puts to sleep the anti-objective impulses of men and systematizes the bourgeoisie. There is no ultimate Truth. The dialectic is an amusing mechanism which guides us / in a banal kind of way / to the opinions we had in the first place. Does anyone think that, by a minute refinement of logic, he has demonstrated the truth and established the correctness of these opinions? Logic imprisoned by the senses is an organic disease. To this element philosophers always like to add: the power of observation. But actually this magnificent quality of the mind is the proof of its impotence. We observe, we regard from one or more points of view, we choose them among the millions that exist. Experience is also a product of chance and individual faculties. Science disgusts me as soon as it becomes a speculative system, loses its character of utility-that is so useless but is at least individual. I detest greasy objectivity, and harmony, the science that finds everything in order. Carry on, my children, humanity . . . Science says we are the servants of nature: everything is in order, make love and bash your brains in. Carry on, my children, humanity, kind bourgeois and journalist virgins . . . I am against systems, the most acceptable system is on principle to have none. To complete oneself, to perfect oneself in one's own littleness, to fill the vessel with one's individuality, to have the courage to fight for and against thought, the mystery of bread, the sudden burst of an infernal propeller into economic lilies.... Every product of disgust capable of becoming a negation of the family is Dada; a protest with the fists of its whole being engaged in destructivc action: *Dada; knowledge of all the means rejected up until now by the shamefaced sex of comfortable compromise and good manners: Dada; abolition of logic, which is the dance of those impotent to create: Dada; of every social hierarchy and equation set up for the sake of values by our valets: Dada; every object, all objects, sentiments, obscurities, apparitions and the precise clash of parallel lines are weapons for the fight: Dada; abolition of memory: Dada; abolition of archaeology: Dada; abolition of prophets: Dada; abolition of the future: Dada; absolute and unquestionable faith in every god that is the immediate product of spontaneity:* Dada; elegant and unprejudiced leap from a harmony to the other sphere; trajectory of a word tossed like a screeching phonograph record; to respect all individuals in their folly of the moment: whether it be serious, fearful, timid, ardent, vigorous, determined, enthusiastic; to divest one's church of every useless cumbersome accessory; to spit out disagreeable or amorous ideas like a luminous waterfall, or coddle them -with the extreme satisfaction that it doesn't matter in the least-with the same intensity in the thicket of one's soul-pure of insects for blood well-born, and gilded with bodies of archangels. Freedom: Dada Dada Dada, a roaring of tense colors, and interlacing of opposites and of all contradictions, grotesques, inconsistencies: LIFE
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