One hundred years ago last month, the 28-year-old poet André Breton penned the Surrealist Manifesto, shucking off “the reign of logic”, calling out “the pretence of civilisation and progress” and heralding “the omnipotence of dream”. Breton wanted nothing less than a new reality – one that might overturn a world shaped by religion, schools and governments – by seeking truths within the self: “The future resolution of these two states, dream and reality […] into a kind of absolute reality, a surreality.” To create it, he and his evolving gang of Parisian writers and artists turned to the unconscious, spontaneity, automatic creation and collagist games.
Two exhibitions mark the manifesto’s centenary in Britain this month, giving some sense of just how playful and diffuse the fruits of Breton’s rallying cry have been. At Forbidden Territories: 100 Years of Surreal Landscapes at the Hepworth Wakefield, you can encounter young artists still flying the flag for the movement alongside some of its signature historical works. These include the eerie wastelands Salvador Dalí filled with random phones, shape-shifting rocks and melting clocks, and the classic philosophical game by René “bowler hat” Magritte, where a painted landscape within a painted landscape riffs on Plato’s allegory of the cave. There’s also Max Ernst’s painting using floorboard rubbings to suggest tangled woods haunted by his childhood fears and fantasies, and his one-time partner Leonora Carrington’s fairytale-esque animal-human fusions.
