“How many more times do I need to bite out of this fruit populated by worms in order to be able to taste what has been labeled life’s experience, in order to be no longer bewitched by the charm of its cadaveric putrefaction? The decadence of each gesture I execute like a death sentence and the aura that surrounds my head each time I think about corpses, about wax figures, about ruins, manuscripts half devastated by arson, about a spoon between the fingers of a woman putrefying leisurely on its journey to the mouth, about movements captured in slow-motion in old movies, but preeminently about mustaches, the mustaches of men at the turn of the century, provoke me to peruse the things that surround me with a retina that presupposes itself perused, with a retina of stone pursued by a stone of flesh and, impervious to how minuscule and how relative this casually passive and easy to violate position might be, I can’t deprive myself of its morbid charm. I would prefer to posses the philosopher’s stone in order to transmute lead to gold. I would prefer to murder a child and spare the life of a butterfly.” — Gherasim Luca, Mineral O! Statue of Desire, translated by Julian Semilian


“I would propose the discovery of a new language that genuinely expresses the psychic phenomena which resemble, but are not identical to, dream. This dream, which, even if still opposed to external reality, has long since ceased to be opposed to the life of the dreamer. In this language, the one I have been unable to find, the ancient antinomies, beginning with that of good and evil, will be resolved for the meanwhile at an individual level. The surrealists - who at this individual level represent synthesis - have found a way out of that great drama separating the dreamer from the dream, while on a collective level their coming to consciousness still holds them within this drama. The nocturnal image, which in its waking state finds its identity in the apparition of phantoms, leads us to consider people and objects with no psychic resonance as equivalent to the diurnal residue of the dream. We approach the world of phantoms as we would a reality lying outside this world at odds with itself, a world with no valid correspondence within ourselves. In the world in which I like to breathe, a woman; the delirious and fetishistic love between a man and a box thus casts a prophetic, thaumaturgic light onto the outer world. Because of the multiple possibilities for symbolisation that an impulse might assume, tomorrow’s world will be given a quality that corresponds to our inner delirium. Phantoms will be approachable and commonplace, and we will no longer need the pretentious rituals of hypnotic séances to produce mediumistic phenomena; in a world where the mediumistic will be commonplace, the projecting of our unconscious will occur as automatically as a slip of the tongue. A man smitten with a shoe will no longer be exposed in journals of psychiatry - those revolting prisons in which our society reveals its own monstrosity by seeking to put its “monsters” on display - and the numbused phantoms of paralytic spirits will transform their haloes into spittoons and gather around us to complete our dreams, our poems, our simplest gestures.” — Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire


“the beauty of your smile your smile
in crystals the crystals of velvet
the velvet of your voice your voice and
your silence your silence absorbent
absorbent like the snow the snow
warm and slow slow is
your step your step diagonal
diagonal thirst night silk and floating
floating like the moans the plants
are in your skin your skin them
mess she messes your perfume
your perfume is in my mouth your mouth
is a thigh a thigh that flies
she flies towards my teeth my teeth
devour you I devour your absence
your absence is a thigh thigh or
shoe shoe that I kiss
I kiss this shoe I kiss it on
your mouth for your mouth is a mouth
she is not a shoe mirror that I kiss
just as your legs just as
your legs just as your legs
just as your legs your legs
legs of sigh sigh
of vertige vertige of your face
I enjamb your image like one enjambs
a window window of your being and of
your mirages your image her body and
her soul your soul your soul and your nose
surprised I am surprised nose of your
hair your hair-cut in flames your soul
in flames and in tears like the toes of
your feet your feet on my chest
my chest in your eyes your eyes
in the forest the forest liquid
liquid and in bones the bones of my cries
I write and I cry from my tearing tongue
I tear your arms your arms
delirious I desire and tear your arms and your arms
the bottom and the top of your body shuddering
shuddering and pure pure like the orange
orange of your knees of your nostrils of
your breath of your stomach I say
stomach but I think of the swim
of the swim of the cloud cloud of
secret the secret marvelous marvelous
like yourself
you on the rooftop somnambulist and cloud
cloud and diamond it is one
diamond that swims that swims with suppleness
you swim with suppleness in the water of the
matter of the matter of my spirit
in the spirit of my body in the body
of my dreams of my dreams in action.”
— 

Ghérasim Luca, Dream in Action, translated by Fiona Sze-Lorrain




“I close my eyes, as active as a vampire, I open them within myself, as passive as a vampire, and between the blood that arrives, the blood that leaves, and the blood already inside me there occurs an exchange of images like an engagement of daggers. Now I could eat a piano, shoot a table, inhale a staircase. All the extremities of my body have orifices out of which come the skeletons of the piano, the table, the staircase, and for the very first time these ordinary—and therefore non-existent—objects can exist. I climb this staircase not to get to the first floor but to get closer to myself. I lean on the banisters not to avoid vertigo but to prolong it.” — Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire


you black slip me
you red ballet slipper me
and when you don’t high heel my senses
you crocodile them
you seal you fascinate them
you cover me
I discover you I invent you
sometimes you deliver yourself

you damp lips me
I deliver you and I delirious you
you delirious me and passionate me
I shoulder you I vertebra you I ankle you
I eyelash and pupil you
and if I don’t shoulder blade before my lungs
even at a distance you armpit me
I breathe you
day and night I breathe you
I mouth you
I palate you I teeth you I fingernail you
I vulva you I eyelid you
I breathe you
I groin you

— Ghérasim Luca, The End of the World: To Embody, translated by Mary Ann Caws for Yale Anthology of Twentieth Century French Poetry, 2004


regardintemporel:

Gherasim Luca - Cubomanie

regardintemporel:

Gherasim Luca - Cubomanie




Babyarms by Ghérasim Luca for The Passive Vampire, 1945
"In the world in which I like to breathe, a box can take on the same psychic content of a beloved woman; the delirious and fetishistic love between a man and a box thus casts a prophetic, thaumaturgic light onto the outer world."
— Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire
Also

Babyarms by Ghérasim Luca for The Passive Vampire, 1945

"In the world in which I like to breathe, a box can take on the same psychic content of a beloved woman; the delirious and fetishistic love between a man and a box thus casts a prophetic, thaumaturgic light onto the outer world."

— Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire

Also




“My words bite your thighs, it is as though my teeth were written. It is a delirious calligraphy, to be studied today by tomorrow’s graphology inside pyramids under an immense block of ice growing in the middle of the desert like a miracle. The mysterious calligraphy of illiterates where images seem closer to the objects which have not been invented yet, the simulated calligraphy of illiterates. I open you up like a horse and look inside for the bridle bit, forgetting you already hold it between your teeth. Night falls again, it is night incessantly. It is the witching hour, permanently bewitching, where the consistency of your being is far more certain than flesh, your bewitching flesh, permanently bewitching. I caress your ectoplasm like I would a shark. I sip you from tall beakers of crystal propped up on living frog leg. I invite you, I shout you, I bestow a name on you, any name.” — 

The Volcanoes Inside Vegetables, Gherasim Luca translated by Julian Semilian

(via deliryo)




“[I]n the forests where butterflies, jackals, and flaming squirrels are lovers, the eye, turned into a prism with all its faces in spasm, leads us like a horse through a universe in ashes.” — Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire


“Objects, these mysterious suits of armour beneath which desire awaits us, nocturnal and laid bare, these snares made of velvet, of bronze, of gossamer that we throw at ourselves with each step we take; …we reintroduce the walking stick, the bicycle with odd wheels, the timepiece, the airship, keeping the siphon, the telephone receiver, the shower head, the lift, the automatic mechanisms that deliver chocolate when numbered buttons are pressed; objects, this catalepsy, this steady spasm, this “stream one never steps into twice” and into which we plunge as into a photograph; objects, those philosopher’s stones that discover, transform, hallucinate, communicate our screaming…” — 

Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire




yama-bato:
High-res→
Gherasim Luca
L’Artistic-bibliohèque est une série de collages de Gherasim Luca qui a été exposée à L’Usine en novembre 2009.
Utilisant le même procédé que pour les cubomanies, Gherasim Luca a réalisé ces collages en découpant des parties de tableaux célèbres. Il les a collés sur la couverture de livres sur les grands peintres  publiés en 1930 dans une collection qui s’appelait  L’Artistic-bibliothèque
link

yama-bato:

High-res

Gherasim Luca

L’Artistic-bibliohèque est une série de collages de Gherasim Luca qui a été exposée à L’Usine en novembre 2009.

Utilisant le même procédé que pour les cubomanies, Gherasim Luca a réalisé ces collages en découpant des parties de tableaux célèbres. Il les a collés sur la couverture de livres sur les grands peintres  publiés en 1930 dans une collection qui s’appelait  L’Artistic-bibliothèque

link




“I would like to be a killer in a white velvet costume, at an operating table or leaning over a child’s pram. At another operating table, stands the handsome, silent vampire. In evening dress, his lips glued to a bared neck like a bird, now he resembles a flautist playing pulses of blood on living instruments. At slightly increasing intervals the drops flow from the instrument to his lips. Each gulp is held for a while in his mouth to let the scent reach his nostrils, to intoxicate his breath. Like a fiery whip across the breast, the drink passes swiftly through the digestive system. Tottering, growing increasingly pale, every more solitary, the handsome vampire swallows another gulp of blood. Dressed in white velvet, I’d like to vivisect a child, from time to time looking up at the vampire by the window, moonlight streaking his face.” — Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire


Cubomanie IV by Ghérasim Luca
"I refuse all forms, all categories, all acts, all plans, all laws, all your castrating scents.  I eat, breathe, drink, think, rejects, dress myself and move aphrodisiacally.  I keep every cell of my being in a state of permanent excitation, excited and exciting at the same time, the zones traversing my being are genital and pregenital, erotic and criminal, black, ferocious, satanic."
— Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire

Cubomanie IV by Ghérasim Luca

"I refuse all forms, all categories, all acts, all plans, all laws, all your castrating scents.  I eat, breathe, drink, think, rejects, dress myself and move aphrodisiacally.  I keep every cell of my being in a state of permanent excitation, excited and exciting at the same time, the zones traversing my being are genital and pregenital, erotic and criminal, black, ferocious, satanic."

— Ghérasim Luca, The Passive Vampire




frenchtwist:

The Letter L (The Passive Vampire) by Ghérasim Luca, 1945

On Luca, via Mute magazine:
The book [Le Vampire Passif] falls into two distinct sections, the first of which is concerned with what Luca terms the ‘Objectively Offered Object’ (OOO), and describes the circumstances surrounding a number of these composite surrealist objects, each made by combining found or chosen individual items. […] One such object, entitled ‘The Letter L’, is constructed from an old, wooden child’s doll found in an antique shop, with hundreds of pictorial riddles from the pages of an almanac randomly pasted over its torso and leg, and with another doll’s head disturbingly attached upside down on its groin. Razor blades are inserted into this second doll’s head, with one sliced into an eye. The photographs immediately call to mind the violent re-articulations of Hans Bellmer and, more recently, the Chapman brothers. Through associations with Nadja, this object had been made as an embodiment of Luca’s desire to form a rapport with André Breton, whom he admired and had met only once, briefly. As Luca expresses it:

The doll found in the shop window and the envelope full of riddles in the drawer only imposed their presence, violently, into my life at the moment when the desire to know B. [Breton] located in them the overt substitute means for doing this. The incubus found its full realisation through the use of these two magic objects in which I was also shortly to discern sorcery’s demonic power. (pp.44-45)

There is something distinctly sulphurous in Luca’s allusions, from his poetic hermeticism to the various thaumaturgical and satanic references that run through the book. Certainly, there was a ritual element to the creation of these objects, doubtlessly stemming from his participation in various collective games of the Romanian Surrealist Group; games of giving and receiving ‘awards’ in absurdist ceremonial, and those of exploring the poetic qualities of objects in a darkened room through touch alone. These were games without competition, based upon exchange and complicity, without a predetermined point of arrival; through play the participants were able to explore the relationships that exist between subject and object, and the latent messages that are carried by the objects through a web of inter-subjectivity, in a ‘language of desire’.

frenchtwist:

The Letter L (The Passive Vampire) by Ghérasim Luca, 1945

On Luca, via Mute magazine:

The book [Le Vampire Passif] falls into two distinct sections, the first of which is concerned with what Luca terms the ‘Objectively Offered Object’ (OOO), and describes the circumstances surrounding a number of these composite surrealist objects, each made by combining found or chosen individual items. […] One such object, entitled ‘The Letter L’, is constructed from an old, wooden child’s doll found in an antique shop, with hundreds of pictorial riddles from the pages of an almanac randomly pasted over its torso and leg, and with another doll’s head disturbingly attached upside down on its groin. Razor blades are inserted into this second doll’s head, with one sliced into an eye. The photographs immediately call to mind the violent re-articulations of Hans Bellmer and, more recently, the Chapman brothers. Through associations with Nadja, this object had been made as an embodiment of Luca’s desire to form a rapport with André Breton, whom he admired and had met only once, briefly. As Luca expresses it:

The doll found in the shop window and the envelope full of riddles in the drawer only imposed their presence, violently, into my life at the moment when the desire to know B. [Breton] located in them the overt substitute means for doing this. The incubus found its full realisation through the use of these two magic objects in which I was also shortly to discern sorcery’s demonic power. (pp.44-45)

There is something distinctly sulphurous in Luca’s allusions, from his poetic hermeticism to the various thaumaturgical and satanic references that run through the book. Certainly, there was a ritual element to the creation of these objects, doubtlessly stemming from his participation in various collective games of the Romanian Surrealist Group; games of giving and receiving ‘awards’ in absurdist ceremonial, and those of exploring the poetic qualities of objects in a darkened room through touch alone. These were games without competition, based upon exchange and complicity, without a predetermined point of arrival; through play the participants were able to explore the relationships that exist between subject and object, and the latent messages that are carried by the objects through a web of inter-subjectivity, in a ‘language of desire’.