Dolls Surrealism La Poupée / The Doll | Hans Bellmer, 1934 -1939 1 Hans Bellmer, La Poupée, 1935 Hans Bellmer, La Poupée, 1935 Hans Bellmer, La Poupée, 1934 Hans Bellmer, The Doll, 1938-1939 Hans Bellmer, The Doll’s Game, 1938-39 Hans Bellmer was a German artist, best known for the life-sized pubescent female dolls he produced in the mid-1930s. La Poupée, Hans Bellmer, GLM, 1936 Hans Bellmer, 1902-1975 Tags: 1930s, Hans Bellmer Continue Reading Previous VVV magazine (1942-44) | edited by David Hare with Marcel Duchamp, André Breton & Max Ernst, N.Y.Next 100 Good Reasons to Kill Myself Right Now | Roland Topor, 1977 More Stories Dolls Poems Choose your leaders | Octavia E. Butler, 1998 0 Surrealism Days [ ) Days [ ) Test | Salvador Dalí, 1954 0 Surrealism Frame inside Frame Inside | The Son of Man | René Magritte, 1946-1964 0 1 thought on “La Poupée / The Doll | Hans Bellmer, 1934 -1939” All over the world major museums have bowed to the influence of Disney and become theme parks in their own right. The past, whether Renaissance Italy or Ancient Egypt, is re-assimilated and homogenized into its most digestible form. Desperate for the new, but disappointed with anything but the familiar, we recolonize past and future. The same trend can be seen in personal relationships, in the way people are expected to package themselves, their emotions and sexuality, in attractive and instantly appealing forms. Science is the ultimate pornography, analytic activity whose main aim is to isolate objects or events from their contexts in time and space. This obsession with the specific activity of quantified functions is what science shares with pornography. In the post-Warhol era a single gesture such as uncrossing one's legs will have more significance than all the pages in War and Peace. The media landscape of the present day is a map in search of a territory. A huge volume of sensational and often toxic imagery inundates our minds, much of it fictional in content. How do we make sense of this ceaseless flow of advertising and publicity, news and entertainment, where presidential campaigns and moon voyages are presented in terms indistinguishable from the launch of a new candy bar or deodorant? What actually happens on the level of our unconscious minds when, within minutes on the same TV screen, a prime minister is assassinated, an actress makes love, an injured child is carried from a car crash? Faced with these charged events, prepackaged emotions already in place, we can only stitch together a set of emergency scenarios, just as our sleeping minds extemporize a narrative from the unrelated memories that veer through the cortical night. In the waking dream that now constitutes everyday reality, images of a blood-spattered widow, the chromium trim of a limousine windshield, the stylised glamour of a motorcade, fuse together to provide a secondary narrative with very different meanings. Sex is now a conceptual act, it's probably only in terms of the perversions that we can make contact with each other at all. At the logic of fashion, such once-popular perversions as pedophilia and sodomy will become derided cliches, as amusing as pottery ducks on suburban walls. Their violence (the jungle wars of the '70s), and all violence for that matter, reflects the neutral exploration of sensation that is taking place, within sex as elsewhere and the sense that the perversions are valuable precisely because they provide a readily accessible anthology of exploratory techniques. Travers’s problem is how to come to terms with the violence that has pursued his life – not merely the violence of accident and bereavement, or the horrors of war, but the biomorphic horrors of our own bodies. Travers has at last realized that the real significance of these acts of violence lies elsewhere, in what we might term “the death of affect”. Consider our most real and tender pleasures – in the excitements of pain and mutilation; in sex as the perfect arena, like a culture-bed of sterile pus, for all the veronicas of our own perversions, in voyeurism and self-disgust, in our moral freedom to pursue our own psychopathologies as a game, and in our ever greater powers of abstraction. What our children have to fear are not the cars on the freeways of tomorrow, but our own pleasure in calculating the most elegant parameters of their deaths. The only way we can make contact with each other is in terms of conceptualizations. Violence is the conceptualization of pain. By the same token psychopathology is the conceptual system of sex. J.G. Ballard / The Atrocity Exhibition / 1970 –Joy Division / Atrocity Exhibition / Closer / 1980https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5AqeqAQ1ILI. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel replyYour email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Comment * Name Email Website Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment.