Salute to the Surrealists: Dreamworld at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

 Salute to the Surrealists: 

Dreamworld: Surealism at 100

The Philadelphia Museum of Art

November 8, 2025 - February 16, 2026

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. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Leonora Carrington's Ulu's Pants,1952

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."

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 The entrance to the Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100

 exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art

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. 

Francisco Goya, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, 1797-99

So too, does the the first painting displayed in the Dreamworld exhibition. This was Giorgio de Chirico's The Soothsayer's Recompense, 1913. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 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.

 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100

Dreamworld at the Philadelphia Museum of Art was part of an international collaboration of six museums, led by the Centre Pompidou in Paris, which used the centennial of the 1924 Manifesto as a touchstone for examining the leading artists and themes of Surrealism. 

Ed Voves, Photo (2025)

 Matthew Affron at the press preview for Dreamtime. At left, is

Salvador Dali's Invisible Sleeping Woman, Horse, Lion (1930)

Dreamworld at the Philadelphia Museum of Art was curated by Matthew Affron, the brilliant scholar of modern art who organized the memorable Matisse in the 1930's exhibition back in 2022. The heyday of Surrealism, ranging across the 1930's-1940's, was the same as it was for the Matisse exhibit. But how different was the artistic vision of the Surrealists!

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Gallery view of Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100

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!

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Salvador Dali's Aphrodisiac Telephone (1938)

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. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 From left, Jacques Herold's The Great Transparent One (1971) & Maria Martin's The Road; The Shadow; Too Long, Too Narrow (1946)

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.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Rene Magritte's The Secret Double (1927) 

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.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Fireside Angel (1937) painted by Max Ernst

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Salvador Dali's Soft Construction with Boiled Beans

 (Premonition of Civil War), 1936

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.

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) was indicative of my reaction to Dreamworld. To sit before this self-portrait for more than the average 27.2 seconds, which art museum visitors are said to devote to each work of art, was so emotionally draining as to be, dare I say it again ...?

Surreal.

Dorothea Tanning's Birthday,1942

At first glance, the most remarkable feature of Birthday is the series of doors behind the the semi-clad woman, leading to further doors and more doors. Closer inspection, however, will draw your attention away from these portals - and her bare torso! What appears to be a net of seaweed over her skirt is a tangled-mass of small, putrid-green human bodies. It is not a sight to linger on.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) 

Detail of Dorotheo Tanning's Birthday,1942

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.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2026)

 Remedios Varo's Celestial Pablum (detail),1958

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.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 And Then We Saw the Daughter of the Minotaur,

    painted by Leonora Carrington in 1953

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.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Remedios Varo's Creation of the Birds, 1957

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

 

Giacometti at the Guggenheim

Giacometti

Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York City

June 8, 2018 - September 12, 2018

Reviewed by Ed Voves
Photos by Anne Lloyd 

One of the first sculptures on display at the Guggenheim Museum's new exhibit of the lifework of Alberto Giacometti (1901–1966) is entitled Walking Man I. It is one of Giacometti's signature pieces, a notable example of the gaunt, featureless beings that have come to symbolize the post-Auschwitz, nuclear-weaponized world which emerged from the carnage of World War II.

The Giacometti exhibit at the Guggenheim is little short of sensational, with nearly two hundred works of art on view, sculptures, drawings, paintings. The works of art are mostly from the collection of the Fondation Giacometti in Paris. Among these generous loans, Walking Man I is a "standout" in many respects.

The significance of Walking Man I extends beyond the apocalyptic years of the Second World War back to the sculptor's youth. It is worth pausing a brief moment from reviewing the marvelous exhibit at the Guggenheim to look at an incident vividly described in the great biography of Giacometti by James Lord. 

Giacometti was a precocious fifteen year-old student at a elite Swiss boarding school when the event occurred. On the way home for the Christmas 1915 holiday, Giacometti stopped in a bookstore. He chanced upon an illustrated volume about the artwork of Auguste Rodin. The sight of the pictures of Rodin's sculptures filled the young Giacometti with awe. He bought the expensive book, even though this left him short of money to get home.

Clutching his book on Rodin, Giacometti trudged the final ten miles home over a mountain pass on a freezing, snowy night to his hometown of Stampa in rural Switzerland. That perilous journey set the tone for the rest of his life.

Striding forward, trudging onward, advancing against the winter winds, Giacometti became the Walking Man he would later sculpt. Rodin, himself, early in his career, had sculpted a figure with the same title. It is quite likely that there was a picture of this Rodin statue in Giacometti's book. Giacometti eventually became the new Rodin, an art traditionalist with a revolutionary vision. 

Giacometti painting in his Paris studio, 1958. Photograph by Ernst Scheidegger 

As if that legacy were not enough, Giacometti took on the role of the Walking Man for all of Western art.  Making our way up the ramps of the Guggenheim Museum, we are given the privileged opportunity to explore the course of Giacometti's engagement with ideals of art going back to the ancient Egyptians and the Cycladic art of the very earliest Greek cultures. We are enabled also to join in Giacometti's dialogue with other great artists and thinkers of the twentieth century.

A friend of Jean-Paul Sartre, Samuel Beckett and Jean Genet, Giacometti was in many ways an existentialist figure. However, Giacometti denied aiming to create definitive Existentialist art works. The same role had earlier applied to his short-lived Surrealist career during the early 1930's. Giacometti was and wasn't a new Rodin, was and wasn't a Surrealist or an Existentialist artist. 

Why the seeming contradictions?  Giacometti held to a singular, individualistic course of art that precluded him from ever joining, much less leading, a school of art, a new "ism."

"I am very interested in art but I am instinctively more interested in truth," Giacometti declared. "The more I work, the more I see differently.”

Giacometti was haunted by anxieties and nightmares that surfaced in his art. These were both personal and prophetic. Death, the negation of life and art, was a hovering specter. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit

Giacometti's The Forest (1950) appears in front

Giacometti feared that his oeuvre represented the final chapter of the great age of Western art. This disturbing reflection, brilliantly explored in James Lord's biography, was not founded upon an arrogant self-regard. Instead, by the 1950's, Giacometti believed that the dominant creed of modern art, Abstract Expression, was headed in the direction of a cul-de-sac.

James Lord quotes Giacometti around the time of his MOMA exhibit in 1965, a year before he died.

How can one talk here about copies of works of art, frail and ephemeral works of art that exist here and there on continents, works of art that decay, disintegrate, that wither away day after day, and many of which - among them those that I prefer - have already once been buried, hidden beneath sand, earth, and stones? And they all follow the same path.

Frail and ephemeral are appropriate words to use in describing many of the works of art created by Giacometti. His favorite medium for creating statues was initially clay, but switched to using plaster in his later years. When he was satisfied with an image (Giacometti was very exacting), his brother Diego would then cast the statues in bronze which we encounter in museums all over the world. Six versions of Walking Man I were cast in 1960; the one on view in the Guggenheim exhibit was done later in 1982.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit

In the foreground, is Giacometti's Woman Leoni, 1947-58

The Guggenheim exhibit features a massive array of Giacometti's works in all media. The plaster originals are much in evidence and it is a special treat to be able to study so many of them in one showing. In the case of several of these delicate plasters. These include Woman Leoni which curators restored, using laser technology to remove the layer of shellac which was applied during the casting process. 

Now we can see these "frail and ephemeral" and spiritually forceful works of art exactly as Giacometti saw them before instructing Diego to begin casting them in bronze. In their finished state, Giacometti's sculptures seem to exist in several time periods at once. 

Giacometti's The Chariot (1950) is a key example of the "time-bending" nature of Giacometti's art. After a visit to an archaeological museum in Italy, Giacometti became intrigued with ancient Egypt. The thin wheels on The Chariot replicate those of Egyptian war chariots from the New Kingdom. Yet, nothing in Giacometti's art can be reduced to a single element or influence.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Alberto Giacometti's The Chariot (1950)

Giacometti stated that a memory of pharmacy cart which he saw during a stay in the hospital played a role in the creation of The Chariot. He also declared that he aimed to create a work of art with a figure posed in empty space "in order to see it better and to situate it at a precise distance from the floor."

The answer to the source of The Chariot would therefore seem to be "all of the above." Yet, I cannot help but think that there is a spiritual level still waiting to be exposed after we peel away all the other layers of explanation. 

The Chariot was created in 1945 after Giacometti had spent the war years creating sculptures of tiny figures, mostly women, positioned on massive bases. These small figures are imprisoned by their bases while the female driver of The Chariot seems poised to launch into space. There is a real sense of awakening to freedom here which is rendered even more brilliant by the effect of the shadows cast by the chariot wheels and by the queen or goddess driver. She stands ready to command the vehicle forward in a bid for liberation.

I spent a lot of time looking at The Chariot. This incredible work of art was first displayed in the U.S. in 1950 at the Pierre Matisse Gallery in New York. It's only a "slight" exaggeration to say that I would not have been surprised to look back and see its gallery space at The Guggenheim vacant and Giacometti's magical cart on its way down the Guggenheim's ramp toward the door to Fifth Ave.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit

at the Solomon Guggenheim Museum, New York City

Truthfully, the "magic" of this sensational exhibit has much to do with the Guggenheim's design and the history which the museum and New York City shares with Giacometti. This is the third major exhibit of his work at the Guggenheim. The first took place in 1955 before the present Frank Lloyd Wright-designed building was constructed. The second was a major retrospective held in 1974. Along with the trailblazing Matisse Gallery show in 1950 and the 1965 MOMA exhibit, New York City's role in the Giacometti story is second only to that of Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit

Three of Giacometti's Women of Venice sculptures are shown here.

The special "magic" of this Giacometti exhibit is due to the fact that the spiraling ramp of the Guggenheim rotunda is the perfect display space for a retrospective emphasizing sculpture. The numinous shadow effect, mentioned in relation to The Chariot, appears and reappears. And often, due to the superb lighting, spacious display area and reflective surfaces of the display cases, we glimpse an interaction between museum goers and works of art. Anne caught such a unique moment with this picture of City Square (1948).

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Alberto Giacometti's City Square sculpture (1948)

When I mentioned how impressed I was with the Giacometti exhibit to the Guggenheim curator, Megan Fontanella, she paused for a moment and replied, "Sculpture sings at the Guggenheim."

When you look closely at key Giacometti in the exhibit, you cannot help but agree. Viewing Spoon Woman, influenced by the Cycladic art of early Greece, creates an atmosphere where the resonance of ancient ritual and music is almost palpable.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Alberto Giacometti's City Spoon Woman (1927)

If Spoon Woman "sings" then a full chorus is needed for Suspended Ball. In its shimmering case, Suspended Ball is one of the most animated and articulated of Giacometti's works on display. The only thing "suspended" about it is the string that holds it up in its supporting frame. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit 

Work at center is Giacometti's Suspended Ball (1930-31).

"Suspense" rather than "suspended" is a more meaningful adjective to apply to Suspended Ball. The work exist in the millisecond before action takes place, while we wait anxiously and at the ready. The next moment, the ball in its crescent-shaped support will start "rocking" like a baby in its cradle. 

That is an irrational concept. Indeed it is a surreal thought. André Breton, the "Pope of Surrealism" sought a meeting with Giacometti after seeing Suspended Ball. Giacometti, open to new experience, joined the Surrealist movement, but it was to prove a brief association. Giacometti, like almost all of the first-rank artists involved in Surrealism, could only tolerate Breton's doctrinaire ideology and insufferable manipulation for so long. This is one of the themes of the recent book, The Lives of the Surrealists by Desmond Morris.

Giacometti is in many ways the ultimate "Surrealist" because his works transcends tangible reality. Deeply moved by dreams - and nightmares - Giacometti often drew-upon the unconscious to inform and inspire his work. 

Giacometti's Surrealist period produced one of his key, transitional works, Hands Holding the Void (Invisible Object). 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018),Details of Hands Holding the Void (Invisible Object)

In 1934, he created the plaster original (now in the collection of the Yale University art museum) of the first length human statue. Giacometti was partly influenced by the art of the Pacific Islands, but the face was modeled on a World War I gas mask and the eyes from Byzantine mosaics.

While pointing toward his later statues, Hands Holding the Void remains a Surrealist work. There is a nightmarish quality to this remarkable sculpture. The figure seems trapped by the setting which appears to be some sort of chair with a prie-dieux or "kneeler" as you find in chapels. Is this a protest against the confining structure of organized religions or perhaps, slyly, the "religion" of Surrealism?

Giacometti did not, would not, cut his ties with the immediate world around him. As the world in 1945 revealed images of concentration camp survivors - emaciated, gaunt, blank-eyed - Giacometti responded with works that utilized the people and objects in his immediate orbit to create universal statements on life. 

Giacometti's portraits were the primary means by which he depicted ultimate realities of the world after World War II. He posed his brother Diego, his wife Annette, luminaries like Simone de Beavoir and now-forgotten acquaintances to create existential icons - and for once the term "icon" is not misused.

Giacometti's portraits are so fascinating - and involved - that I am going to treat them in detail in a later, focused review. The Giacometti exhibit at the Guggenheim, truly one of the best I have ever seen, defies a single review. There are too many worlds of experience here, calling for our attention.

For now, I will conclude with a reflection on Man Pointing from 1947. If there is one, essential, Giacometti work of art, i believe that this is it. I feel that a lot of art lovers would agree, though perhaps for different reasons.

Man Pointing was created during the grim aftermath of World War II and the equally grim opening round of the Cold War. Giacometti's "thin man" gestures toward the sky and points earthward. This sculpture is an embodiment of the basic contradictions of life. It reminds me of the title of the medieval philosophy treatise, Sic et Non, by Peter Abelard. Yes or no. 

Abelard, during the twelfth century, sought to reconcile conflicting points of religious doctrine. Giacometti, with his persevering search for truth, endeavored to do the same for the arts and society during the twentieth century. However, there is only so much reconciling, so much negotiating that people can do in life before we become the slaves of expediency. Ultimately, a choice must be made.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit

Art work is Giacometti's Man Pointing (1947).

That is what Man Pointing "said" to me as I confronted him at the Guggenheim gallery. Reaching toward heaven, Man Pointing pointed at me. 

"Make your choice", Man Pointing declared. "The choice is yours."

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved 

Images courtesy of Anne Lloyd and the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York City 

Introductory Image:    
Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Photo of Alberto Giacometti's Walking Man I, 1960 (cast 1982) Bronze: 71 1/16  x 10 5/8  x 38 3/16 inches  (180.5 x 27 x 97 cm). Collection Fondation Giacometti, Paris. # 2016.177

Ernst Scheidegger (Swiss, 1923-2016) Giacometti painting in his Paris studio, 1958. © 2017 Stiftung Ernst Scheidegger-Archiv, Zurich Courtesy of Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Gallery view of the Giacometti Exhibition at the Guggenheim Museum, New York. Giacometti's The Forest (1950) appears in the foreground.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018)  Photo of Giacometti exhibition at at the Guggenheim Musseum. Statue is foreground is Woman Leoni, 1947-58.  Plaster:  66 15/16 x 7 1/2  x 16 9/16 inches  (170 x 19 x 42 cm). Collection Fondation Giacometti, Paris. # 2016.10513

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Photo of Alberto Giacometti's The Chariot, 1950. Bronze on wood base: 65 3/4 x 27 3/16 x 27 3/16 inches (167x 69 x 69 cm) Denise & Andrew Saul # 2016.144

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit at the Solomon R, Guggenheim Museum, New York City

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018), Gallery view of the Giacometti exhibit, showing three of the Women of Venice statues, dating to the 1950's. On view at the Solomon Guggenheim Museum, New York City

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Photo of Alberto Giacometti's City Square,1948. Bronze: 8 1/2 x 25 3/8 x 17 1/4" (21.6 x 64.5 x 43.8 cm) Private collection. x 2016.10647


Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Photo of Guggenheim Exhibit showing Alberto Giacometti's  Suspended Ball,1930-1931 (version of 1965). Plaster, painted metal and string: 23.7/8 x 14 x 14.3/16 in. (60.6 x 35.6 x 36.1 cm) Collection Fondation Giacometti, Paris. # 2016.92

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) Photo of Alberto Giacometti's Hands Holding the Void (Invisible Object)(Detail), 1934 (cast ca. 1954-55).  Bronze:  59 7/8 x 12 7/8 x 10 in. (152.1 x 32.7 x 25.4cm) Museum of Modern Art Louise Reinhardt Smith Bequest # 775.1995 © 2018 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2018) of Alberto Giacometti's Man pointing, 1947 (cast by 1949).  Bronze, 70 1/16 x 37 3/8 x 20 1/8" (178 x 95 x 52 cm) Tate Museum, London. # 2016.136

Art Eyewitness Book Review: The Lives of the Surrealists by Desmond Morris

The Lives of the Surrealists

By Desmond Morris

Thames & Hudson/272 pages /$39.95

Reviewed by Ed Voves

Surrealism, the twentieth century art movement which sought to do away with art, was announced to the world in 1924. André Breton’s First Manifesto of Surrealism proclaimed that art was now to be created “in the absence of any control exercised by reason, beyond any aesthetic or moral concern.”

In short, Breton pronounced the death of Art – or at least of the kind of art that had been embraced in the Western world since the Renaissance.

It is peculiarly appropriate that Desmond Morris should evoke the very book that established the ideals of the Renaissance during the 1500’s in his book on the “Anti-Renaissance” of the 1900's. For his collective biography of the leading figures of the Surrealist movement, Morris recycled the title of Giorgio Vasari's Renaissance-era classic, The Lives of the Most Excellent Architects, Painters and Sculptors, aka “The Lives of the Artists.”

Morris’ choice of title, The Lives of the Surrealists, is not without some risk. The Surrealists were defiant in opposing everything that Vasari held dear –the rules of perspective, the careful delineation of form, the ideal of beauty. Where the Renaissance masters had sought to present the natural world as God's handiwork, the Surrealists probed the interior world of alienated humanity, a realm where nightmares were more prevalent than visions and dreams.

Conroy Maddox,The Poltergeist, 1941. 

Is Morris setting himself up for a fall by treating iconoclasts like Salvador Dali, André Masson, René Magritte, et al., with the kind of acclaim that Vasari had accorded to Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo?

Vasari and Morris actually have a lot in common. Morris, like Vasari, is a painter who personally knew many of the artists whose lives he so vividly portrays. Henry Moore, Joan Miró, Francis Bacon were some of the major Surrealists who were on friendly terms with Morris. Among the lesser known, all active in the British wing of Surrealism, Roland Penrose, Conroy Maddox and Edouard Mesens were close to Morris. Mesens sponsored the first exhibit of Morris' own Surrealist work in 1950.

Poster for Joan Miró, Desmond Morris, and Cyril Hamersma Exhibition, February 1950

Edouard Mesens (1903-1971), born in Belgium, was also a close friend of René Magritte (1898-1967). Morris was thus accorded privileged access to stories about the enigmatic Magritte. Second-hand testimony like this endows Morris' book with an immediacy which few other books about Surrealism can match.

Morris recounts how Mesens once walked into Magritte's studio and heard Magritte complaining to himself, "boring, boring, boring,"

Magritte, as is well-known, painted in an Old Master representational style. He was bored with painting because what he enjoyed was conceiving of the bizarre subject matter and  incoherent titles of his art works. That act of conception was the surreal element of Magritte's work and of his personality.

Why Magritte painted the "treachery of Images" - pipes that were not pipes, a man selecting facial expressions as if he were choosing a hat - may be explained by the effect of a family tragedy during his youth. Magritte's mother committed suicide in a particularly gruesome manner. 

While the effect of this experience of horror may have planted the seed of revolt in Magritte, the same does not appear to be true for most of the other Surrealists. Family tragedy at a young age occurs in only one other instance in Morris' book. Arshile Gorky's mother starved to death during the Armenian genocide in 1919, while helping her children escape. All of the other Surrealists grew-up in a comfortable life style, largely free of worry. A few - Leonara Carrington, Roland Penrose and Wolfgang Paalen - came from very wealthy families.

Wolfgang Paalen in Studio Daguerre, Paris, 1933.  Photographer unknown. 

Wolfgang Paalen (1905-1959), despite family money and a rich patroness ran through his resources and took to art smuggling. He eventually committed suicide in a remote location in Mexico where his corpse was set upon by wild pigs. Before this truly surreal demise, Paalen invented a technique called fumage, which involved streaking paint on canvases that had been exposed to smoke from a candle. Paalen's work during the 1930's influenced the American Abstract Expressionist painters, though Jackson Pollock scoffed at fumage.

Wolfgang Paalen, Pays Interdit, 1936-37.

If there is a common element to the lives of the Surrealists it was their rebelliousness against middle class morality. Many of the Surrealists were born during the 1890's, the last decade of Victorian respectability. It was against the conformist elements of Victorianism that the Surrealists rebelled. The slaughter of World War I was experienced by several Surrealists (Henry Moore, Max Ernst, André Masson) but a long-ticking social/emotional time bomb actually preceded the war.

This brings us to the central figure in Surrealism, André Breton (1896-1966). Having announced in the movement’s First Manifesto that art originates in the unconscious mind and cannot be directed by ethical precepts, Breton turned this theory into an ironclad creed. Artists like Salvador Dali and Henry Moore who refused to follow his dictates were expelled from the movement. Breton's ruthless treatment of dissenters was the artistic counterpart of Stalin's purges of the Communist Party and the officer corps of the Soviet Army during the 1930's.

Morris writes very perceptively about Breton's micro-managing of a cohort of arch-individualists:

This was the basic contradiction of the surrealist movement that beset Breton with endless argument, dissertation and debate for the rest of his life. He must have been aware of this, but the perverse truth was that he relished the disputes and the protests. He positively enjoyed the tensions at the very center of the movement and sometimes seems to have deliberately inflamed the differences between the members of the group. The reason seems obvious enough - the more disagreement there was, the more important was his role as the judge and the jury.

The ruthless control of Breton, the "Pope of Surrealism," gave the movement a cohesion that insured its survival. The benefits of that forced-unity are open to question. The Dada movement, Surrealism's predecessor, lasted only a few years but these were generally very productive. Most of the truly creative Surrealists, Henry Moore and Pablo Picasso, used Surrealist ideas and techniques for a few years and then moved on. Wolfgang Paalen, before his descent into hell, enjoyed three years of great success in the late 1930's.

If Surrealism had remained an option for artists during the 1920's and 1930's, rather than an "either-or" choice, the amount of quality work produced would have been much higher and the positive impact of Surrealism much greater. That is not what occurred.

In order for Surrealism to succeed as "movement," individuality was subordinated to Breton's dictatorship. Creativity was lost and many of Breton's acolytes frittered away their time and talent during the 1930's producing artworks of little value, based on a game of chance called "Exquisite Corpse." Also, a great deal of Surrealist "energy" was of the sexual kind, absorbed in marital betrayal. 

Morris ignores the absurdities of "Exquisite Corpse" but does give a considerable amount of attention to the sexual free-for-all that Surrealism occasioned. It's worth noting that the greatest sculptor of the Surrealists, Henry Moore (1898-1986), and the greatest Surrealist painter, Joan Miró (1893-1983), refused to join in the sexual mania of their colleagues - and the integrity of their work shows it.

Desmond Morris in his studio, 1948. Photographer unknown.

The chapter on Miró is a particular high-point of The Lives of the Surrealists. Morris knew him well. Miró visited Morris at the London Zoo where Morris worked and was conducting art experiments with a chimpanzee named Congo, who painted some pretty impressive Surrealist works. Miró was intrigued and swapped a painting with Morris for one of Congo's. Morris also shows a wonderful photo of Miró holding an exotic bird called a hornbill, taken by Lee Miller at the London Zoo in 1964.

Morris tells many amusing anecdotes - usually packing important insights. This makes The Lives of the Surrealists an absolute joy to read. Morris is also famed as an observer of humanity and this is where his personal skill-set is deployed to brilliant effect. Here is what he has to say about Henry Moore:

The only time I ever annoyed him was when I suggested that it might be worth making a visit to see the huge, new sculpture-garden of a Scandinavian artist that was making the news in the 1960's. To my surprise, Henry dismissed the man's work as appalling rubbish and a waste of space. This seemed so uncharacteristic of him because, on all other topics, he was the epitome of modest, friendly enthusiasm. I soon learned that there were two Henry Moores - the reserved, easy-going, eager-to-learn companion and the passionately driven sculptor who took no prisoners.

Henry Moore, c. 1930s. Photographer unknown.

For Henry Moore, as Morris perceptively noted, "the only thing that really mattered to him, and filled most of his waking hours, was the creation of sculpture."

The creation of sculpture no doubt filled Henry Moore's night-time dreams as well. Great artists are like that. They never sleep. 

Time will tell whether Morris' book will be referred to in the same way as "Vasari's Lives." After reading this thoughtful and hugely enjoyable book, I believe that there is a very good chance that “Morris’ Lives” will find a permanent place in the libraries of art history enthusiasts. They will keep it close to hand for frequent use, on the same book shelf as The Lives of the Most Excellent Architects, Painters and Sculptors.

***
Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved 

Images courtesy of Thames & Hudson.

Introductory Image: 
Book Cover, The Lives of the Surrealists, Courtesy of Thames & Hudson.

Conroy Maddox, The Poltergeist, 1941. Oil on  canvas, 61 x 51 cm (24 x 20 in.) Israel Museum, Jerusalem (B98.0516). By kind permission of the artist's daughter, Lee Saunders.

Poster for Joan Miró, Desmond Morris, and Cyril Hamersma, exhibition at E.L.T, Mesens' London Gallery, February 1950. Courtesy Desmond Morris

Wolfgang Paalen in Studio Daguerre, Paris, 1933. Photographer unknown. Succession Wolfgang Paalen et Eva Sulzer 

Wolfgang Paalen, Pays Interdit, 1936-37. Oil and candlesmoke (fumage) on canvas, 97.2 x 59.5 cm (38 1/4 x 23 3/8 in.) Succession Wolfgang Paalen et Eva Sulzer 

Desmond Morris in his studio, 1948. Photographer unknown. Courtesy Desmond Morris.

Henry Moore, c. 1930s. Photographer unknown. Height: 18.5 cm. Width: 14 cm (7 1/2 x 5 1/2 In. Photo Popperfoto/Getty Images