Salute to the Surrealists:
Dreamworld: Surealism at 100
Reviewed by Ed Voves
Original photography by Anne Lloyd
"The only thing I know," Leonora Carrington declared, "is that I don't know."
Coming at the end of a very long artistic career, these words might seem like an admission of doubt and incomprehension. Actually, Carrington's remark was anything but negative or filled with regret.
Carrington was a Surrealist artist. Her inscrutable paintings were featured in the just-concluded exhibition, Dreamworld, at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
As can be seen in Carrington's Ulu's Pants, created in 1952, coherent subject statements and clearly depicted visual content have little place - in fact, no place - in Surrealism.
According to the foundational document of Surrealism, the essential attribute of Surrealist art was that it need be done “in the absence of any control exercised by reason, beyond any aesthetic or moral concern.”
Surrealism, by definition, was - and is - an art characterized by "not knowing."
If you departed, feeling bemused or befuddled, from the Dreamworld exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, don't feel alarmed. Your response was entirely in keeping with Surrealism's approach to understanding and depicting life. Surrealist painters like Carrington seek after truth. But their art is not intended to be a deliberate, conscious exercise of their artistic powers.
To speak of Carrington in the present tense - or of any of the other artists whose works appeared in the Dreamworld exhibit - may seem distinctly odd.
Leonora Carrington died in 2011. Most of the leading figures of Surrealism died years, even decades, earlier. Max Ernst passed in 1976, Salvador Dali in 1989. Surrealism as a formal art movement began in 1924 and the years of its greatest influence were over by 1950. Yet, to assign begin/end dates to Surrealism and the artists who embrace it strikes me as a debatable premise, even a misleading one.
The world is a very surreal place - and always has been. Long before Andre Breton issued the Surrealist Manifesto in 1924, Francisco Goya created disturbing images, emerging from his troubled subconscious state. Goya's "caprichos" certainly qualify as Surrealist art.
So too, does the the first painting displayed in the Dreamworld exhibition. This was Giorgio de Chirico's The Soothsayer's Recompense, 1913.
No amount of explanation will ever solve the riddle of this enigmatic work of art, one of the treasures of the collection of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I've studied it endless times and am still scratching my head, trying to reach a conclusion. But there can be no doubt that De Chirico, a year before the outbreak of World War I, set the stage for the Surrealist movement a decade later.
Many of the great paintings in view in Dreamworld, dating from nearly a century ago, seemed anything but dated. That's not true of the three dimensional works in the exhibit. Salvador Dali's Aphrodisiac Telephone (1938) is a period piece as much by its rotary phone dial as its lobster shell receiver!
In the case of Jacques Herold's The Great Transparent One (actually a replica of the original) which was displayed at the International Surrealist Exhibition of 1947) and Maria Martin's The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow, it is difficult to suppress a smile. These were, it needs to be remembered, serious pieces of sculpture of their time.
One generation's vision of the future or of inner psychic realms often appears naive or even absurd to their successors. Then, much later, a more favorable verdict is rendered. No doubt, the same cycle of bemusement and rediscovery will hold true for the art of our contemporary era.
With paintings, Dreamworld demonstrated how artistic insights can maintain their relevance across broad expanses of time. The simpler these enduring works of art are, the likelier they are to strike a chord with museum visitors years later.
Rene Magritte's The Secret Double (1927) is one of several doppelganger-themed works which he executed during his career. It depicts a bisected face which may be either male or female. The interior is exposed to reveal dangling bells. The symbolism of these is difficult to interpret. Yet, had Magritte used 1920's mechanical gears or electronic components, rather than these medieval-looking metal bells, Secret Double's universality would have been compromised.
Max Ernst's Fireside Angle (1937) and Salvador Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) (1936) are powerful works which have a resonance today much like the impact they made back in the 1930's. War and civil strife in the 21st century were dangers we thought and hoped were left behind in the past. And yet, these paintings speak to us of our present and, quite possibly, our future.
Fireside Angel evokes the rapacious militarism which most people by 1937 feared would lead to a second "war to end all wars." Dali's symbolic premonition of a nation - his own, Spain - hopelessly divided against itself was a prediction which swiftly came true. By the time Ernst painted Fireside Angel, Spain was being ravaged by civil war. Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union both sent "volunteers" to Spain in order to test their new modern weapons. The city of Guernica was one of the targets.
The leering, desiccated skull in Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War) had become both surreal - and real.
I went to Dreamworld three times and was hugely impressed with the number of outstanding works on view and the brilliant organization and design which went into mounting the exhibit. Yet, each visit raised problems in posting a review. Writer's block was not the problem. There simply was too much to say, for almost every work on view.
Surreal.
Beneath Tanning's feet is another, seemingly loathsome, visage, straight out-of-hell. But once again, appearances are deceiving. The winged, bat-faced animal, is to be pitied, not feared. Impossible to classify, this compelling creature is a kindred being for anyone who has ever felt alone, isolated, abandoned in an alien world... in short for us all.
My interpretation of Birthday, influenced in large measure by the wartime date of its creation, is somber. Others see it in a more positive perspective. The title was coined by Max Ernst, who regarded Tanning's self-portrait as announcing the "birth" of a major new talent in the world of art.
What was true for Dorothea Tanning (1910-2012) was equally valid for Leonora Carrington (1917-2011) and Remedios Varo (1908-1963).
Dreamworld's final gallery was devoted to Carrington and Varo. The currents of mirth, magic and mysticism, so clearly present in each of these women's art, presented post-war Surrealism in a new, unexpected light. It was a surprising and upbeat conclusion to the exhibition.
The English-born Carrington and Varo, from Spain, were engaged in surrealist art when World War II broke out. They knew one another in Paris and when each escaped the German invasion of 1940, they emigrated to Mexico where they reunited. Their friendship and mutual exploration of Surrealist themes would endure until Varo died in 1963. Along with the famous photographer, Kati Horna, they were known as "the three witches."
If the art of Carrington and Varo can be characterized by a single word, then "alchemy" is a good choice. Both women searched and sought for inner wisdom, to express the spiritual in their art and to promote harmony and healing in the world.
Carrington's And then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur, now in MOMA's collection, is a representative example of her work. Deeply engaged in myth (as befits a devotee of Carl Jung's writings), Carrington created esoteric scenes which require a lot of imaginative effort from her viewers. But the reward, entry into a parallel universe untainted by war and exploitation, makes it worth our while to do so.
By contrast, I find Varo's art filled with a quirky, wry humor which disarms our worldly pretensions and involves us in the search for holistic wisdom in a more relaxed state of mind. As surrealist art, it is less cerebral, perhaps, than Carrington's art. Yet, I find that Varo's paintings promote a more proactive and energizing sense of art appreciation.
Varo's Creation of the Birds (1957) takes place in a sanctum of arcane experiment. A sorceress in an owl robe, who might be better described as a wisdom figure, sits alone absorbed in her otherworldly craft. She uses a hand-held light refracting device to direct beams of starlight onto figures of birds which spring to life and fly out the window.
Of course, there is more to Creation of the Birds than this literal description. More than blue jays are taking wing and soaring upward and outward to freedom. The soul of humanity, liberated by the nurturing forces of mystical alchemy, has been awakened to new life.
Creation of the Birds is a fitting, final image for our tribute to the Surrealists. However much we have learned or "don't know" from this brilliant exhibition, its singular message is clear.
Deep within ourselves are special, spiritual gifts that can enable us to "fly."
***
Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved
Original photography, copyright of Anne Lloyd
Introductory image: Anne Lloyd, (Photo 2025) Max Ernst’s Gala Eluard, 1924. Oil on canvas: 32 x 25 3/4 inches (81.3 x 65.4 cm.) Metropolitan Museum of Art. #2006.32.15
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Leonora Carrington's Ulu's Pants, 1952. Oil and tempera on Masonitel: 21 ½ x 36 in. (54.5 x 91.5 cm.) Private collection.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) The entrance to the Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100 exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art
Francisco Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, 1797-99. Etching and Aquatint. Plate: 8 3/8 x 5 7/8 inches (21.3 x 14.9 cm.) Philadelphia Museum of Art Collection #1949-97-9
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Giorgio de Chirico's The Soothsayer's Recompense, 1913. Oil on canvas: 53 3/8 x 70 7/8 inches (135.6 x 180 cm.) Philadelphia Museum of Art. #1950-134-38.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100.
Ed Voves, Photo (2025) Matthew Affron at the press preview for Dreamtime. At left, is Salvador Dali's Invisible Sleeping Woman, Horse, Lion (1930).
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Salvador Dali's Aphrodisiac Telephone (1938). Plastic and metal: 8 ¼ x 12 ¼ x 6 ½ in. (20.96 x 31.12 x 16.51 cm) Minneapolis Institute of Art # 96.2
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Surrealist Sculptures. From left, Jacques Herold's The Great Transparent One (1971), Collection of Jean-Jacques Plaisance, Paris, & Maria Martin's The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow (1946) Collection of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Rene Magritte's The Secret Double (1927). Oil on canvas: 114 x 165 cm. Centre Pompidou, Paris. #AM 1980-2
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Max Ernst’s Fireside Angel (1937). Oil on canvas: 114 x 146 cm. Collection Hersaint.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Salvador Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War), 1936. Oil on canvas: 39 5/16 x 39 3/8 inches (99.9 x 100 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, # 195-134-41.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of the Dreamtime exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, showing Dorothea Tanning's Birthday, 1942 (at right).
Dorothea Tanning's Birthday, 1942. Oil on canvas: 40 1/4 x 25 1/2 inches (102.2 x 64.8 cm.) Philadelphia Museum of Art. #1900-50-1
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Detail of Dorotheo Tanning's Birthday,1942.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026) Remedios Varo's Celestial Pablum (detail),1958. Oil on Masonite: 36 x 24 inches (91 x 61 cm) Colleccion FEMSA, Mexico.
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Leonora Carrington’s And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur, 1953. Oil on canvas: 23 5/8 x 27 9/16 in. (60 x 70 cm) Museum of Modern Art, NYC. #146.2019
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Remedios Varo's Creation of the Birds, 1957. Masonite: (52.5 x 62.5 cm) Museo de Arte Moderno, Mexico City
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