Salvador Dali's "Metamorphosis of Narcissus"

Since I have already discussed in detail Salvador Dali's paranoiac-critical method as it relates to the interpretation of past works of art, I will also discuss an example of how this method allows for the creation of entirely new works of art.

The way that the paranoiac-critical method works in the interpretation of art is by analyzing, through psychoanalysis, various artistic free associations that are not consciously intended. The supposed end product is a fuller understanding of the work and a near-perfect understanding of why the work has a particular emotional effect. Paranoiac-critical interpretation is discussed in some of my previous blog posts: in Salvador Dali's Paranoiac-Critical Method which discusses Dali's paranoiac interpretation of "The Angelus," and also "The Moses of Michelangelo" by Sigmund Freud which discusses Freud's influence on this method of interpretation.

Salvador Dali also used this method outside of interpretation. The best example is his famous painting "Metamorphosis of Narcissus." By consciously creating free associations and thereby forcing the viewer to have a paranoiac view of the painting (that is to say, a view that resembles paranoia, linking two distinct objects without rationality), Dali creates both a disorienting image as well as a philosophical statement that relates to the unconscious mind.

The painting follows from the Greek mythological character Narcissus, a man who was known for his extreme beauty. The myth ends tragically, with Narcissus falling in love with his own image that he sees in the water, starving himself to death because of his inability to simply look away. On the left of the painting, we see a yellowish Narcissus, staring at his reflection in the water. The paranoiac creation is of course the hand holding an egg out of which a flower is sprouting. The fact that both of the images resemble each other in shape and size demonstrates, according to Dali, our unconscious mind's ability to create paranoiac images. Furthermore, Dali may have also been attempting to go deeper with the symbolism. Perhaps the egg, a symbol of sexuality, juxtaposed with the image of a conceited and sexually appealing Narcissus serves to demonstrate that these paranoiac associations do in fact have a deeper meaning than we originally believe. The same could be said for the fact that the flower sprouting from the egg is actually a daffodil, also known as a narcissus.

We have already discussed Sigmund Freud's free associations and how they work into various works of art. Salvador Dali continues this trend, but in a much more creative way. His invention of these mirrored paranoiac images conveys the idea of free association in a surprising and beautiful way, encouraging the viewer to watch, think, and enjoy.

"The Phantom of Liberty" by Luis Bunuel

As this will be my last week staying in Washington DC, I decided to focus on late Surrealism, particularly a French film titled The Phantom of Liberty (Le Fantôme de la Liberté) released in 1974 by Luis Buñuel. I have already analyzed the influence that Sigmund Freud's theory of free associations have had on both poetry and painting, but not yet on film.

One of the most notable features of the film as a whole is the fact that no single character is focused upon for too long. Instead, the plot shifts from person to person, event to event with very insignificant connections between them. For example, early on in the film, the character who has been the major focus of attention visits a doctor to complain about rather bizarre dreams or hallucinations he had experienced the night before. Shortly after, the doctor's assistant nurse interrupts the meeting and informs the doctor that she must visit her sick father. The film then proceeds to follow the nurse's life for a time period, a seemingly random switch not common in most films. This switch, predictably surrounded by imagery that involves dreams and doctors, is most definitely a product of Sigmund Freud's theory of free association. The switch in plot focus may be considered a free association, while the nurse may be considered the superficial association, in Freudian terms.

The film also contains other scenes that call to mind Sigmund Freud's theories, at least indirectly through Andre Breton's influence. One of the most famous scenes in the film is a perfect example: a group of people gather around a dinner table, but instead of eating and drinking, the guests each begin to use the toilets that surround the table in place of chairs! The image is both surprising and disgusting. To complete the extraordinary scene, a man excuses himself from the table to privately have a meal in the eating room! The juxtaposition and reversal of these two activities is an attempt to cause the same alarm experienced in a bizarre dream. Andre Breton's influences (and therefore Freud's influences as well) are obvious, even 50 years after the publication of the first Surrealist Manifesto, and even in an entirely new medium of art: film.

Andre Breton, the Doctor

A few days ago at my internship (Burton Marinkovich Fine Art), an artist by the name of Cianne Fragione and her husband stopped by to visit the gallery. Ms. Fragione's husband writes extensively on various art works, so I thought I would mention my research to him. He immediately asked me if Andre Breton had actually read the work of Sigmund Freud, to which I responded, "Of course. He explicitly references Freud in many of his writings." Mr. Fragione then told me that referencing is one thing, and that reading is another. This simple statement astonished me. I therefore thought it would be necessary to find a more complete history of Andre Breton's experience with psychoanalysis.

I discovered a lot of interesting information in "Surrealism: the Search for Freedom" (found at the website of Miami Dade College), an essay that contains a useful historical background of Surrealism. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Andre Breton was a doctor himself. He even worked in a psychiatric hospital during World War I, interviewing "deranged soldiers" with Sigmund Freud's techniques for analyzing free associations. Not only did Andre Breton read Freud's theories from a purely artistic standpoint, which is what I originally believed, but he actually used them himself in a hospital when interviewing patients.

Andre Breton as a soldier/doctor during WWI

I find it quite simple to conclude that Andre Breton had a very close understanding of Sigmund Freud's works. Next time I see Mr. Fragione, I will be sure to inform him of my findings: not only did Breton understand psychoanalysis from an artist's perspective, but also from a doctor's perspective.

"The Moses of Michelangelo" by Sigmund Freud

Today I will expand (or perhaps revise) one of my earlier posts on Salvador Dali's paranoiac-critical method. After reading through a book titled Psychoanalysis Outside the Clinic by Stephen Frosh, and specifically a section titled "Freud on Art, Culture, and Society," I have come to realize that Sigmund Freud had a much greater impact on Dali's method of art-analysis then I originally suspected. In fact, Dali may not have invented the method himself, as he claims. Instead, Sigmund Freud was already using this method, albeit without such a striking name.

First of all, Stephen Frosh's book, which never mentions Surrealism directly, referenced an essay by Freud titled "The Moses of Michelangelo." In this work, Freud goes about analyzing Michelangelo's sculpture in terms of psychoanalysis, just as Salvador Dali did with his interpretation of "The Angelus" by Jean-Francois Millet. On page 46 of Psychoanalysis Outside the Clinic, Frosh states that

Freud applies psychoanalysis in order to enhance the understanding of the work of art itself, with his remarkable if rather underpersuasive analysis of The Moses of Michelangelo.

Salvador Dali attempted to use this exact method in his essay "The Tragic Myth of the Angelus of Millet." Calling it his paranoiac-critical method, Dali asserted that his radical new approach would aid in the analysis of art and literature for years to come; however, there was nothing new about this method by the time Dali wrote his essay. Freud had already published "The Moses of Michelangelo" by 1914.

Either way, this psychoanalytical approach, according to Freud, was nonetheless extremely radical: using psychoanalysis to interpret a work might help draw new light on a piece of art that is hundreds of years old. In "The Moses of Michelangelo," Freud even goes so far as to say:

It is possible, therefore, that a work of art of this kind needs interpretation, and that until I have accomplished that interpretation I cannot come to know why I have been so powerfully affected.

Stephen Frosh further elaborates on the importance of this technique on page 47:

...the key point here is that psychoanalysis is being used to make sense of the art object not in order to advance understanding of psychological process...but rather as a mode of art criticism.... This is, in some ways, a scandalous claim, displacing specialist art criticism...in favour of a speculative "reading into / out of" the art object in terms of the possible psychological intentions of the artist.

Thus, we are able to conclude that Freud influenced Salvador Dali's paranoiac-critical method in a much more emphatic way than we previously concluded. After all, Freud first invented the method years before. Interpreting a piece of art "in terms of the possible psychological intentions of the artist" is exactly what Dali was attempting with his essay on "The Angelus."

"The Sleeping Venus" by Paul Delvaux

A few days ago, in a flash of serendipitous chance (which Andre Breton himself would have adored), I stumbled into a bookstore near Dupont Circle. On one of its feature shelves, a certain book presented itself to me, as if it knew I would glance in its direction: The Surrealist Revolution in France by Herbert S. Gershman. After reading through the first few chapters, a certain artist by the name of Paul Delvaux was brought to my attention. The painting I would like to focus on today is "The Sleeping Venus."

"Sleeping Venus" is an obviously Surrealist painting, especially rich with influences from Rene Magritte, a painter whom Delvaux revered. The typical juxtaposition is present: the sleeping Goddess and the serene Greco-Roman architecture contrasted eerily with naked women panicking and mourning over some unnamed catastrophe. This whole image is further juxtaposed with a clothed woman conversing with a skeleton (which includes enough imagery to be considered a Surrealist image in and of itself).

The Greco-Roman influence which is so prevalent in this painting seems most definitely a Freudian influence. From the classic architectural setting to the sleeping Goddess of sex and beauty at the forefront of the painting, it seems apparent that Freud's love of classics carried over to Delvaux. Throughout The Interpretation of Dreams, as well as his other writings, Freud makes various references to the world of classics, citing intellectuals like Aristotle, Macrobius, and Artemidorus, and even discussing the ways in which his desire to visit Rome had been reinforced "from the impressions of [his] childhood" (referring to his classics education as a boy -- chapter 5.B.). Freud even frequently (and this is not an overstatement in the slightest) uses classic literature to make points. The most obvious example is his use of the term Oedipus Complex when referring to one of his most famous theories, of course referring back to the Greek play Oedipus Rex. Perhaps Delvaux was touched by Freud's own unintentional (yet somehow beautiful) juxtaposition of Greco-Roman imagery with psychoanalytic theory.

Furthermore, "The Sleeping Venus" is full of sexual imagery. After all, Venus is the Goddess of sexuality, and naked women are strewn about in the background. Since the focal point of the painting is an obvious representation of sexuality, we may assume that a major theme of the painting is sexuality itself. Perhaps the women in the background are terrified at the fact that they are naked. If this were the case, it seems to be heavily influenced by Freud. After all, The Interpretation of Dreams has an entire section titled "The Embarrassment-Dream of Nakedness." If the women are not terrified simply by being naked, perhaps they are calling out for a mate. There is not a single male in the painting, except perhaps the skeleton. This brings to mind a section from Freud's "The Transformation of Puberty" titled The Object-Finding:

The child behaves here like the adult, that is, it changes its libido into fear when it cannot bring it to gratification, and the grown-up who becomes neurotic on account of ungratified libido behaves in his anxiety like a child; he fears when he is alone, ie, without a person of whose love he believes himself sure, and who can calm his fears by means of the most childish measures.

Perhaps the women in the painting are becoming "neurotic" or generally fearful from a lack of libidinal gratification. This possibility also points to an obvious influence from Freud's theories.

Many of the points I have made may be argued against and are by no means complete analyses of "The Sleeping Venus." Nonetheless, the painting seems to contain a large amount of Freudian influences, whether the psychoanalysis of sexuality or Freud's apparent interest in classics.

Blair Hughes-Stanton's Wood-Engraving

As a part of my internship at Burton Marinkovich Fine Art, I have been learning about printmaking. This technique involves creating a work of art by cutting into a piece of metal, copper, wood, stone, linoleum, etc. and placing ink either into the cuts ("valleys") or, conversely, onto everything that has not been cut. Finally, a piece of paper is pressed down onto the surface of the block, and the final work of art is created when the ink is transferred onto the paper. This process of pressing (and therefore creating the "print") can be redone many times; however, each print is considered an original artwork and not just a copy. There are many variations of printmaking, from etching to the linocut technique to wood-engraving.

As I was reading through a book titled Avant-Garde British Printmaking, I stumbled upon a chapter that focused on Surrealist printmaking. One wood-engraving specifically caught my attention: a work named Creation (1936) by Blair Hughes-Stanton.

Creation (1936)

When first looking at the picture, your mind is, in a way, forced to search for something that is familiar. Is there an animal hidden in the work? Perhaps a windowsill is situated in the distance? Or maybe at least a mop or broom is intersecting the picture? Either way, the viewer is left confused but also astonished at the work's beauty. Furthermore, the use of various different textures, shades, and designs reinforces this disorientation and confusion.

Throughout The Interpretation of Dreams, Freud describes a similar confusion when attempting to understand dreams. One example (out of many!) occurs in chapter 7.C. when referring to a dream he himself experienced.

Not only was its content senseless, but it failed to show any wish-fulfilment. But I began to search for the source of this incongruous expression of the solicitude felt during the day, and analysis revealed a connection.

Perhaps Blair Hughes-Stanton was attempting to represent the same type of disorientation experienced when remembering an extremely confusing dream. Although Hughes-Stanton was only briefly influenced by the Surrealists and although he may have not read these exact lines from Freud's most famous work, the idea he was trying to convey nonetheless may be interpreted as the confusion experienced during sleep. After all, even a brief encounter with Surrealism would have left, at the very least, a small impact on the wood-engraver, probably one involving dreams and disorienting the viewer.

Working for Mr. Burton and Ms. Marinkovich has been a wonderful learning experience and has even, unexpectedly, helped my research. I am still ecstatic with gratitude for this entire experience. Thank you for reading and please comment below if you have any feedback!

S. Dresden's "Psychoanalysis and Surrealism"

Today, I visited the Library of Congress again. As soon as I arrived, I requested a book that I assumed would be extremely useful to my research: Freud and the Humanities edited by Peregrine Horden. This book even contains an entire essay titled "Psychoanalysis and Surrealism" by S. Dresden.

Upon reading the first few pages of the essay, I found, much to my surprise, that Dresden's comparison of Surrealism and Psychoanalysis both confirmed my own views of their parallelism and also drew many contrasts between the two movements. These qualifications are definitely necessary in Dresden's analysis but do not retract from my thesis: the contrasting elements that Dresden points out are largely superficial and furthermore do not deny that Surrealism was in fact influenced by Freud in many ways.

S. Dresden's essay begins with a comparison of the beginnings of Surrealism and psychoanalysis. On pages 111 of the book itself (Freud and the Humanities), the essay ("Psychoanalysis and Surrealism") compares the beginnings of the movements, referencing frequent schisms early on:

Within the movement itself, which Freud would so dearly have liked to see firmly organized, schisms occurred again and again, and these...have continued right up to the present. The initial picture offered by the Surrealist school is remarkably similar.

Furthermore, the essay compares Sigmund Freud to Andre Breton on page 112. Referring to Breton, Dresden states that

Much like Freud, this leader would resort to excommunication (occasionally followed by reconciliation), and would dictate policies with an unflinching sense of his own superiority.

Aside from these superficial comparisons, which proved to be an interesting introduction, S. Dresden also reaffirms some of the ideas about which I have already written. For example, on page 120, he discusses automatic writing:

...the method of the [psycho]analyst consists primarily in allowing the patient to speak without guidance.... In many respects, therefore the process exactly resembles what Surrealism was aiming at in its automatic writing.... 

What matters is to see the parallel with the Surrealists's methods, a parallelism beautifully evidenced in the identical terms they used.

This analysis alone was enough to make me happy: after all, I have come to an identical conclusion (see my previous post, Free Associations and Automatism).

Dresden also reaffirms my theory that the Freudian theory of displacement had a major influence on Surrealist painting. On page 116, Dresden states

We may be even more surprised when we recall the fundamental importance to psychoanalysis of what Freud called the primary process -- condensation, displacement and symbolization. The Surrealists were certainly very much aware of these concepts; they availed themselves of them in both their literature and their art.

Again, I have already come to an identical conclusion (see my previous post, Dream-Displacement and Magritte's "Blank Signature").

Although most of S. Dresden's analyses are followed, almost universally, by a qualification stating "we find a crossing of paths -- and a rapid subsequent divergence" (page 126),  these analyses have still completely reaffirmed my own thoughts in almost identical rhetoric. Most of Dresden's attempts at contrasting the two movements are only superficial, making irrelevant and obvious statements like "They did not share a starting-point, nor did they intend to reach the same destination" (page 118), or referencing Freud's disgust for Surrealism [Freud is quoted on page 115 as calling the Surrealists "absolute (let us say 95 per cent, like alcohol) cranks"].