History of Modern Art with Klaire
Explore Modern Art history including Impressionism, Cubism, Surrealism, and other key Modernist art movements. Join artist and educator Klaire Lockheart as she examines famous artists and artwork through a 21st century intersectional feminist lens. Whether you’re an artist, student, or patron of the arts, you will hopefully learn something new about Modern Art.
Surrealism: Forget Dalí, Make Room for Magritte and Kahlo
Surrealists, such as Magritte, Cahun, and Dalí created dreamlike compositions, and they wanted to show the unseen. Explore the strange, weird, and upsetting aspects of Surrealism with Klaire Lockheart. Discover that Surrealism has more to offer than just melting clocks, such as Frida Kahlo’s self-portraits.
Artists and Artwork: Salvador Dalí (Persistence of Memory), René Magritte (The Treachery of Images, Son of Man), Meret Oppenheim (Object (Luncheon in Fur), Glove (for Parkett no. 4)), Claude Cahun (Self-Portrait (I am in Training Don’t Kiss Me)), Marcel Moore, Frida Kahlo (Frieda and Diego, Two Fridas), and Diego Rivera
Additional Topics: André Breton (“Manifesto of Surrealism”), Sigmund Freud, World War II, Gender Roles, Photography, and Self-Portraiture
Artists and Artwork: Salvador Dalí (Persistence of Memory), René Magritte (The Treachery of Images, Son of Man), Meret Oppenheim (Object (Luncheon in Fur), Glove (for Parkett no. 4)), Claude Cahun (Self-Portrait (I am in Training Don’t Kiss Me)), Marcel Moore, Frida Kahlo (Frieda and Diego, Two Fridas), and Diego Rivera
Additional Topics: André Breton (“Manifesto of Surrealism”), Sigmund Freud, World War II, Gender Roles, Photography, and Self-Portraiture
Transcript
Hello, my friends! Welcome to the History of Modern Art with Klaire, an intersection feminist exploration of Modernism one movement at a time. I’m your host, Klaire Lockheart, and I look forward to sharing what I know about Surrealism with you. If you’re an artist, a student, or you just enjoy weird art, I hope you’ll appreciate this episode.
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I would like to, if I may, take you on a strange journey in to the realm of Surrealism. When I think of Surreal art, my mind goes to artwork that looks like the subjects belong in the real world, but they were left in the microwave a little too long. Surrealist artwork is often rooted in the reality, but the compositions are bizarre, deformed, or altered in a strange way. Surrealism was a Modern Art movement that officially began in Paris, France in 1924 when poet André Breton wrote the “Manifesto of Surrealism.” Breton defined Surrealism as, “Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express -- verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner -- the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by the thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.” Like its predecessor Dadaism, Surrealism was an art movement that liked to be nonsensical and obtuse. The world did not make sense to artists who were recovering from World War I, and they didn’t think that art should make sense either. The movement lasted throughout the 1940s, but that end date could vary depending on the source. After Surrealism ended, many of the artists continued to make art in the style they pioneered.
Surrealist artists created dreamlike compositions, and they wanted to show the unseen. The artists claimed their work did depict the real world in a way that surpassed artists before them. There is nothing new about artists trying to outdo the previous generations, but before I delve into any further details about Surrealism, I want to reveal the problematic areas just to get them out of the way. First of all, the Surrealists were really into psychoanalysis and Sigmund Freud. If you ever took Psych 101, then you probably already know that basically everything Freud decreed was wrong. Not only were his ideas wrong, but some of them were dangerous. Freud claimed that only men could be moral because they feared that their fathers would cut their penises off if they did anything wrong. But, wait, there’s more! Apparently, Freud believed women couldn’t understand morality because, according to him, women thought they had already been castrated. Did he think that women had Barbie doll anatomy, or did he forget that women tend to have their own business? Oh! It’s probably too late for a content warning, but if this is a topic you’re not in the mood to handle, just skip ahead about a minute.
The most disturbing idea Freud put forth was his response to child abuse. The gist is that he thought rich and powerful men, his friends, couldn’t possibly be responsible for molesting children, primarily their daughters. So, Freud concluded that the children were seducing adult men. Now, I shouldn’t need to state this because this should be obvious, but I want be very clear: child abuse is wrong. It is never the child’s fault. Anyway, Freud liked to come up with his conclusions first and then seek out evidence to support his claims. He also insisted that anyone who disagreed with him was mentally ill. Artists in the 1920s-40s were influenced by Freud at the time, but it’s important to acknowledge that Freud’s ideas were flawed. I occasionally encounter artists or art fans who still cling to Freud’s ideas as though they are currently valid. There have been many advances in the last 100 years, and so it is vital to update our understanding of art history. There can still be value in Surrealism even through Freud was wrong.
The next problematic aspect I need to address is that Salvador Dalí was a big fan of Adolf Hitler. There’s no way to soften the blow. I’m sorry if you love Dalí and didn’t know this about him. I don’t think many people are aware about this. The Surrealists kicked Dalí out of their organization due to his support of fascism, yet he remains of the most famous Surrealist artists. I’m not sure why the art world continued to support him after his peers rejected him, but I’m surprised this knowledge isn’t more widespread. When I was an undergraduate student, Dalí’s fascism was never mentioned in classes, lectures, or any texts that I encountered. I know that there are people who insist that the artist should be separated from the art, but artists create art to communicate with others. I think it would be a little more than difficult to separate Dalí’s appreciation of Hitler when looking at his 1939 painting called The Enigma of Hitler or his 1973 painting titled Hitler Masterbating.
In his autobiography The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí, he proclaimed, “At the age of six, I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since.” I am aware that his childhood was unusual, but I know several people who were spoiled as children or had a parent die, and yet they managed to not become nazis when they grew up. In addition to being a fan of fascism, he was also very fond of himself. Dalí studied art in Madrid, but instead of completing his program he told his committee, “I am very sorry, but I am infinitely more intelligent than these three professors, and I therefore refuse to be examined by them. I know this subject much too well.” I don’t know about you, but the smartest people I’ve met don’t feel the need to constantly proclaim how intelligent they are.
Regardless, Salvador Dalí is still very famous. His most popular painting is The Persistence of Memory from 1931. This is the melting clocks picture, and it’s at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Many of Dalí’s paintings have a melting, deformed quality that might remind you of Cronenberg Rick and Morty. The Persistence of Memory is pretty small; it’s only 9.5” tall by 13” wide. I’m 99% sure I saw this painting when I went to the MoMA a few years ago, but seeing it in person didn’t leave a lasting impression. I’m not proclaiming that it is a bad painting, but I recall being more enthralled by other artwork at the time. Additionally, I’m not telling you that you have to hate Dalí or his art, but I will share that I’m opposed to fascism, antisemitism, and nazis. If I lived at the same time as Dalí I wouldn’t want to be associated with him personally or professionally, and so I’m not going to support his work. You can still invoke “Death of the Author” when looking at artwork and claim that the artist’s biography or original intent has no meaning; many people do this. I just think that it is irresponsible to whitewash and ignore the parts of history that make us uncomfortable.
Please join me after the break to learn about Surrealists who weren’t in the Hitler-fan club.
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René Magritte was another famous Surrealist. He was born in Belgium, but he lived in Paris and London. In 1929, he painted the Treachery of Images. This horizontal canvas is almost 2’ tall, and it has a solid beige background. He painted a large, brown pipe that fills up most of the composition. Underneath the pipe, he painted in cursive “Ceci n’est pas une pipe,” which reminds me that I need to apologize for any of the words or names I mispronounce on accident. Anyway, this text translates to, “This is not a pipe.” I find this painting hilarious because Magritte is correct; this isn’t a pipe. It’s a painting! When viewers confronted Magritte about his composition, he told them if it was actually a pipe then they should be able to stuff it with tobacco. The painting is just a representation.
He made many other paintings that invoke his sense of humor, and this is probably why I appreciate his artwork. (I also enjoy that he wasn’t a nazi like some other artists were at the time, but that is setting the bar pretty low.) Regardless, I saw an exhibition of Magritte’s work at the San Fransisco Museum of Modern Art in 2018, and it was fun to see his art in person. Most art is vastly better in real life because we can see it the right size, the actual colors, and experience the textures. Unfortunately, not everyone has access to see famous artwork in person, but if you get the chance to see any art first-hand I recommend that you go when you can. It doesn’t have to be famous historic art either. Start supporting your local artists now, and eventually they will get famous and you get to brag that you knew them at the start of their careers. Seriously, artists rely on their friends and communities in order to gain recognition. You have the power to shape the future of art history by attending exhibitions and visiting artists’ studios.
Magritte created The Son of Man in 1964. This is the painting of the man in a dark grey coat, black bowler hat, and there is a green apple floating in front of his face. The artist included apples and this man in several of his other paintings, but my favorite compositions by René Magritte are his bizarre faux-landscapes. The Minneapolis Institute of Art owns one of these compositions; it’s called Where Euclid Walked, and I’ve been fortunate enough to see this one in person. The National Gallery of Art has one titled The Human Condition. For these pictures, Magritte painted a window leading to an outdoor scene, but he put a canvas of the painted landscape in front of the window. He lined everything up so it takes a second to realize that the canvas is in front of the window, and we’re just looking at a painting of a painting blocking the view of the landscape. I typically enjoy it when the artist includes their sense of humor, which is probably why I am drawn to these compositions.
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Even though women artists continued to face discrimination in the Western world during the first half of the 20th century, I’m pleased that I can include them along with non-binary artists in the history of Modern Art during the era of Surrealism. Unfortunately, they typically aren’t given as much time or space as the men Surrealists, which is why I need to point out that they weren’t always included in the Modernist canon of important artists. Some of these women were added back into the common Modern Art history narrative in the 1980s and ‘90s, but historians like to pretend that they were always included and omit the discrimination they faced. I specifically mention this because I don’t think half a paragraph about Meret Oppenheim versus the three pages devoted to Salvador Dalí in the H. H. Arnason History of Modern Art standard undergraduate textbook is good enough.
If you are unfamiliar with Meret Oppenheim, I understand. Art historians and teachers tend to forget to include her. Oppenheim spent some time in Paris, which was basically a requirement to be a Surrealist or any Modern Artist. In 1936 she created Object. This is a teacup, saucer, and spoon, completely covered in fur. Some people may wonder what is so special about this 3D composition, but just imagine trying to use this tea set! Yuck! This sculpture certainly can evoke a reaction from the viewers. It’s also just absurd, which makes it surreal. The MoMA purchased this artwork for $50, but that was only half of her asking price. Adjusted for inflation, that equates to a little under $1,000. This seems like a bargain for the MoMA considering this was the first work of art by a woman they added to their collection. For context, at around the same time Salvador Dalí priced his painting The Enigma of Hitler at $1,750, which is over $30,000 today. While the MoMA has a lot of work by Dalí in their collection, at least they didn’t buy this one. It’s at the Reina Sofia Museum in Madrid. Regardless, my point is that the MoMA was open for 7 years before bothered to purchase art made by a woman, and they severely underpaid her.
André Breton later gave Object the title Luncheon in Fur to evoke the masochistic story Venus in Furs or Manet’s painting Luncheon on the Grass. In contrast, Oppenheim insisted that she just wanted to transform an everyday object into something strange. The MoMA also has a pair of her gloves that she printed with veins. They’re called Glove (for Parkett no. 4), and she made them in 1985. They’re a blue-ish grey pair of suede gloves that have magenta veins branching off the backs of the hands down the fingers.
Claude Cahun was another Surrealist that tends to be overlooked, and I didn’t learn about them until I was in graduate school. I’m very lucky to have had a fantastic art history professor when I pursued my MFA. Before I continue, I want to quickly mention that I will use “they/them” pronounces when I talk about Cahun because they once stated, “Shuffle the cards. Masculine? Feminine? It depends on the situation. Neuter is the only gender that suits me.” When I first learned about this artist, many people referred to them as “she,” but I’ve noticed more authors are currently using gender neutral pronouns. I bring this up in case the scholarship on Cahun changes and I spoke about them incorrectly. I don’t intend to be disrespectful.
Cahun lived during the first half of the 20th century in France. They lived during a time when being born a woman, Jewish, and LGBTQ+ was dangerous. Cahun, along with their partner Marcel Moore, were opposed to World War II, and they were part of the resistance on the island of Jersey during the German occupation. They were both arrested and sentenced to death by the nazis, but they escaped their death sentences when the island was liberated. Unfortunately, they both suffered terrible conditions while they were imprisoned. Cahun never fully recovered and died prematurely in 1954.
Cahun was a Surrealist photographer, and many of their compositions were self-portraits that addressed identity, gender roles, and gender performance. They often collaborated with Marcel Moore too. These black and white photographs capture a range of characters all played by Cahun. In 1929, they staged Self-Portrait (I am in Training Don’t Kiss Me). Cahun is dressed as a stereotypical “strong man,” leaning against a dark curtain. The character is standing on his left foot; his right leg is bent at the knee with the right foot overlapping the left knee. He’s wearing black gym shorts over a light bodysuit augmented with hand-drawn tattoos. On the chest, the text reads, “I am in Training Don’t Kiss Me.” The weightlifter has a large barbell casually resting on his left shoulder. His hand is holding the huge weightlifting prop, with one spherical black weight pointed toward the viewer. The model’s right hand is resting on his head with the right elbow pointing out to the side. The strong man’s dark hair is parted in the middle with two little curls plastered to the forehead. There is a little heart painted on each cheek.
After a quick break, I will discuss Frida Kahlo, who also excelled in creating self-portraits.
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Another artist who challenged gender roles and created self-portraits was Frida Kahlo. After André Breton met her, he declared that she was a Surrealist, but she rebuked this categorization. Kahlo was born in Mexico and lived during the first half of the 20th century. Her mother had indigenous ancestry, but Kahlo said her father was Jewish and moved to Mexico from Germany. Kahlo faced many obstacles on her path to become an artist, but her perseverance and tenacity is still inspirational to artists today.
Frida Kahlo survived many tragedies including polio as a child, a horrifying bus accident as a teenager, and her relationship with muralist Diego Rivera. She really didn’t begin creating art until she was bed-ridden while recovering from the bus accident, and she is probably best known for her self-portraits. Kahlo once said, “I paint myself because I am often alone and I am the subject I know best.” If you haven’t made a self-portrait recently, I want to encourage you to start making one today. You can make a sketch, a painting, or use the self-timer on your camera. Many people adore Kahlo’s self-portraits because they’re relatable. Even if you don’t intend to share your self-portrait publicly, I want you to make one because it will help you express yourself and have a shared an experience with this prolific artist. If you do want to share your self-portrait on Instagram, please use the hashtag #historyofmodernartwithklaire so I can see it.
The MoMA in New York is home to her 1940 painting called Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair, and the San Fransisco Museum of Modern Art houses her 1931 painting Frieda and Diego. I was fortunate enough to see the latter painting in person a few years ago, and this vertical canvas is just a little under 40” tall. She created Frieda and Diego when she lived in California. The background of this painting includes a neutral green-ish gray wall and a dull brown floor. The lefthand of the canvas is filled with the portrait of her husband Diego Rivera. He is wearing a gray suit with high waisted pants hiked up to an uncomfortable level. He sports brown shoes and a blue buttoned shirt. He is holding a wooden painting pallet with four paint brushes in his right hand. He is holding Kahlo’s right hand with his left. Kahlo is noticeably smaller than her spouse, and her mother used to refer to them as the elephant and the dove. Kahlo is wearing a long green dress, and the bottom edge of the dress has a gathered ruffle that brushes the tops of her feet. She is wearing a long red-orange shawl over her shoulders, and she clasps it in place with her left hand. The shawl has a pattern made out of various red diamonds at the fringe ends. She has two silver necklaces, gold hoop earrings, and her hair is twisted on top of her head with blue ribbons. Over her head there is a bird holding a banner in its beak. It’s well-noted that Rivera and Kahlo had a tumultuous relationship, but they respected each other as artists. Both of them praised each other’s artwork. Perhaps Kahlo placed the painting equipment in her husband’s hand to show her respect for his career as a painter. Diego Rivera was famous during his lifetime. However, I will argue that her sign of adoration backfired because even though this painting indicates her respect for her husband as an artist, we all know who painted this picture. This composition is too good to deny Kahlo’s success as an artist.
I also wanted to quickly mention that Kahlo’s first name for this painting was spelled “F-R-I-E-D-A.” This was how her name was originally spelled, but she thought it sounded too German and she changed the spelling to “F-R-I-D-A.” Kahlo hated nazis so much she changed her name to avoid being associated with them. This is just another reason that I will argue that more time and space should be made for Kahlo as opposed to Dalí.
It’s unfortunate that Kahlo did not always get the respect she deserved during her lifetime. In the 1930s, the Detroit News published an article about her called “Wife of the Master Mural Painter Gleefully Dabbles in Works of Art.” Sigh. I know what it’s like to have articles written about me by journalists who didn’t quite get what I was doing or somehow missed some key information. At least the author, included this quote by Kahlo about her husband, “Of course, he does pretty well for a little boy, but it is I am who am the big artist.” This is one of the reasons why I tell people that I sprung fully-formed out of the head of Frida Kahlo when they ask about my history.
One of my favorite paintings that I’ve never seen is the Two Fridas, which resides in the Museum of Modern Art in Mexico City. Kahlo created this 68.3x68” painting in 1939. Even though Kahlo and Rivera were married and respected each other as artists, neither of them were monogamous, and this continuously hurt each other. They got divorced the same year Kahlo painted the Two Fridas. The background of this canvas includes a brown ground, which fades from dark brown in the background to light brown in the foreground. The sky is filled with tumultuous white and gray clouds churning against a dark blue. This oil painting features, of course, two Fridas. They are sitting on a green bench and holding hands. The Frida on the viewer’s right is wearing traditional Tehuana garb. She has an olive green skirt with a white ruffle on the bottom hem. Her blouse is blue with gold accents around the neckline, the bottom edge, and around the shoulders. This Frida is leaning back with her knees pointed toward the viewer. She is holding a tiny portrait of Diego Rivera with her left hand on her lap. Her dark hair is piled up on top of her head. Her right hand is holding the left hand of the other Frida. The Frida on the left side of the picture plane is wearing a white gown, which is meant to signify her European heritage. The dress is reminiscent of her mother’s wedding dress: white and frilly with a high neckline. Both of the Fridas are staring at the viewer, and they both bear exposed hearts. The figure on the right, in the colorful outfit, has her heart floating in front of her ribcage. One of the arteries wraps around her left arm, and the other is connected to the heart of the figure on the right. The white top is torn away, along with the left side of this Frida’s chest. The heart is also slightly cut away like an anatomical illustration. The red artery branches off behind her right elbow down to her lap. Her right hand is holding a silver pair of medical scissors, which pinch off the bleeding artery. The blood is pooling in her at her knees and drips cascade down her skirt. The bloodstains match the red flowers embroidered at the bottom of her skirt along the pleated ruffle.
Kahlo’s life was difficult. She survived many obstacles, including numerous medical issues. She endured over 30 surgeries and was in constant pain. She also suffered through early 20th century abortions, miscarriages, amputations, and she battled alcoholism. Despite all the challenges, she still continued to create art. Many people find her relatable because she was a complex person. She also loved animals and owned birds, dogs, and monkeys! She received some recognition during her lifetime, but her popularity truly took off after her death.
Before I wrap things up, I would like to note that the demographics of the artists I shared do not reflect the traditional way Surrealism is taught or written about. I spoke about two men, two women, and one non-binary artist. Most textbooks and museums devote way more space and money to men, with women being in a far off second, and gender fluid artists often receive even less representation. I purposefully wanted to discuss Meret Oppenheim, Claude Cahun, and Frida Kahlo to attempt to correct this trend, but I must reveal that this isn’t typical. The Western art world still continues to favor men artists. The most expensive painting by Salvador Dali sold for $21.5 million in 2011, which is over $25 million when adjusted for inflation today. Compare that to Frida Kahlo’s most expensive painting, which sold for $8 million in 2016, which is about $8.7 now. Kahlo’s painting was only valued at about 1/3 of the price of Dalí’s. Art made by people who aren’t cis-men is continually undervalued, but I hope that one day you will become fabulously wealthy and the art you purchase will help improve these dismal statistics. The Surrealists, regardless of their gender, created unusual and dream-like artwork. This art movement was centered in Paris during the 1920-40s. Many of the artists were actively involved in this movement, but some of them were categorized as Surrealists whether they wanted to be or not.
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I would like to, if I may, take you on a strange journey in to the realm of Surrealism. When I think of Surreal art, my mind goes to artwork that looks like the subjects belong in the real world, but they were left in the microwave a little too long. Surrealist artwork is often rooted in the reality, but the compositions are bizarre, deformed, or altered in a strange way. Surrealism was a Modern Art movement that officially began in Paris, France in 1924 when poet André Breton wrote the “Manifesto of Surrealism.” Breton defined Surrealism as, “Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express -- verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner -- the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by the thought, in the absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.” Like its predecessor Dadaism, Surrealism was an art movement that liked to be nonsensical and obtuse. The world did not make sense to artists who were recovering from World War I, and they didn’t think that art should make sense either. The movement lasted throughout the 1940s, but that end date could vary depending on the source. After Surrealism ended, many of the artists continued to make art in the style they pioneered.
Surrealist artists created dreamlike compositions, and they wanted to show the unseen. The artists claimed their work did depict the real world in a way that surpassed artists before them. There is nothing new about artists trying to outdo the previous generations, but before I delve into any further details about Surrealism, I want to reveal the problematic areas just to get them out of the way. First of all, the Surrealists were really into psychoanalysis and Sigmund Freud. If you ever took Psych 101, then you probably already know that basically everything Freud decreed was wrong. Not only were his ideas wrong, but some of them were dangerous. Freud claimed that only men could be moral because they feared that their fathers would cut their penises off if they did anything wrong. But, wait, there’s more! Apparently, Freud believed women couldn’t understand morality because, according to him, women thought they had already been castrated. Did he think that women had Barbie doll anatomy, or did he forget that women tend to have their own business? Oh! It’s probably too late for a content warning, but if this is a topic you’re not in the mood to handle, just skip ahead about a minute.
The most disturbing idea Freud put forth was his response to child abuse. The gist is that he thought rich and powerful men, his friends, couldn’t possibly be responsible for molesting children, primarily their daughters. So, Freud concluded that the children were seducing adult men. Now, I shouldn’t need to state this because this should be obvious, but I want be very clear: child abuse is wrong. It is never the child’s fault. Anyway, Freud liked to come up with his conclusions first and then seek out evidence to support his claims. He also insisted that anyone who disagreed with him was mentally ill. Artists in the 1920s-40s were influenced by Freud at the time, but it’s important to acknowledge that Freud’s ideas were flawed. I occasionally encounter artists or art fans who still cling to Freud’s ideas as though they are currently valid. There have been many advances in the last 100 years, and so it is vital to update our understanding of art history. There can still be value in Surrealism even through Freud was wrong.
The next problematic aspect I need to address is that Salvador Dalí was a big fan of Adolf Hitler. There’s no way to soften the blow. I’m sorry if you love Dalí and didn’t know this about him. I don’t think many people are aware about this. The Surrealists kicked Dalí out of their organization due to his support of fascism, yet he remains of the most famous Surrealist artists. I’m not sure why the art world continued to support him after his peers rejected him, but I’m surprised this knowledge isn’t more widespread. When I was an undergraduate student, Dalí’s fascism was never mentioned in classes, lectures, or any texts that I encountered. I know that there are people who insist that the artist should be separated from the art, but artists create art to communicate with others. I think it would be a little more than difficult to separate Dalí’s appreciation of Hitler when looking at his 1939 painting called The Enigma of Hitler or his 1973 painting titled Hitler Masterbating.
In his autobiography The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí, he proclaimed, “At the age of six, I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since.” I am aware that his childhood was unusual, but I know several people who were spoiled as children or had a parent die, and yet they managed to not become nazis when they grew up. In addition to being a fan of fascism, he was also very fond of himself. Dalí studied art in Madrid, but instead of completing his program he told his committee, “I am very sorry, but I am infinitely more intelligent than these three professors, and I therefore refuse to be examined by them. I know this subject much too well.” I don’t know about you, but the smartest people I’ve met don’t feel the need to constantly proclaim how intelligent they are.
Regardless, Salvador Dalí is still very famous. His most popular painting is The Persistence of Memory from 1931. This is the melting clocks picture, and it’s at the Museum of Modern Art in New York. Many of Dalí’s paintings have a melting, deformed quality that might remind you of Cronenberg Rick and Morty. The Persistence of Memory is pretty small; it’s only 9.5” tall by 13” wide. I’m 99% sure I saw this painting when I went to the MoMA a few years ago, but seeing it in person didn’t leave a lasting impression. I’m not proclaiming that it is a bad painting, but I recall being more enthralled by other artwork at the time. Additionally, I’m not telling you that you have to hate Dalí or his art, but I will share that I’m opposed to fascism, antisemitism, and nazis. If I lived at the same time as Dalí I wouldn’t want to be associated with him personally or professionally, and so I’m not going to support his work. You can still invoke “Death of the Author” when looking at artwork and claim that the artist’s biography or original intent has no meaning; many people do this. I just think that it is irresponsible to whitewash and ignore the parts of history that make us uncomfortable.
Please join me after the break to learn about Surrealists who weren’t in the Hitler-fan club.
[Break]
René Magritte was another famous Surrealist. He was born in Belgium, but he lived in Paris and London. In 1929, he painted the Treachery of Images. This horizontal canvas is almost 2’ tall, and it has a solid beige background. He painted a large, brown pipe that fills up most of the composition. Underneath the pipe, he painted in cursive “Ceci n’est pas une pipe,” which reminds me that I need to apologize for any of the words or names I mispronounce on accident. Anyway, this text translates to, “This is not a pipe.” I find this painting hilarious because Magritte is correct; this isn’t a pipe. It’s a painting! When viewers confronted Magritte about his composition, he told them if it was actually a pipe then they should be able to stuff it with tobacco. The painting is just a representation.
He made many other paintings that invoke his sense of humor, and this is probably why I appreciate his artwork. (I also enjoy that he wasn’t a nazi like some other artists were at the time, but that is setting the bar pretty low.) Regardless, I saw an exhibition of Magritte’s work at the San Fransisco Museum of Modern Art in 2018, and it was fun to see his art in person. Most art is vastly better in real life because we can see it the right size, the actual colors, and experience the textures. Unfortunately, not everyone has access to see famous artwork in person, but if you get the chance to see any art first-hand I recommend that you go when you can. It doesn’t have to be famous historic art either. Start supporting your local artists now, and eventually they will get famous and you get to brag that you knew them at the start of their careers. Seriously, artists rely on their friends and communities in order to gain recognition. You have the power to shape the future of art history by attending exhibitions and visiting artists’ studios.
Magritte created The Son of Man in 1964. This is the painting of the man in a dark grey coat, black bowler hat, and there is a green apple floating in front of his face. The artist included apples and this man in several of his other paintings, but my favorite compositions by René Magritte are his bizarre faux-landscapes. The Minneapolis Institute of Art owns one of these compositions; it’s called Where Euclid Walked, and I’ve been fortunate enough to see this one in person. The National Gallery of Art has one titled The Human Condition. For these pictures, Magritte painted a window leading to an outdoor scene, but he put a canvas of the painted landscape in front of the window. He lined everything up so it takes a second to realize that the canvas is in front of the window, and we’re just looking at a painting of a painting blocking the view of the landscape. I typically enjoy it when the artist includes their sense of humor, which is probably why I am drawn to these compositions.
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Even though women artists continued to face discrimination in the Western world during the first half of the 20th century, I’m pleased that I can include them along with non-binary artists in the history of Modern Art during the era of Surrealism. Unfortunately, they typically aren’t given as much time or space as the men Surrealists, which is why I need to point out that they weren’t always included in the Modernist canon of important artists. Some of these women were added back into the common Modern Art history narrative in the 1980s and ‘90s, but historians like to pretend that they were always included and omit the discrimination they faced. I specifically mention this because I don’t think half a paragraph about Meret Oppenheim versus the three pages devoted to Salvador Dalí in the H. H. Arnason History of Modern Art standard undergraduate textbook is good enough.
If you are unfamiliar with Meret Oppenheim, I understand. Art historians and teachers tend to forget to include her. Oppenheim spent some time in Paris, which was basically a requirement to be a Surrealist or any Modern Artist. In 1936 she created Object. This is a teacup, saucer, and spoon, completely covered in fur. Some people may wonder what is so special about this 3D composition, but just imagine trying to use this tea set! Yuck! This sculpture certainly can evoke a reaction from the viewers. It’s also just absurd, which makes it surreal. The MoMA purchased this artwork for $50, but that was only half of her asking price. Adjusted for inflation, that equates to a little under $1,000. This seems like a bargain for the MoMA considering this was the first work of art by a woman they added to their collection. For context, at around the same time Salvador Dalí priced his painting The Enigma of Hitler at $1,750, which is over $30,000 today. While the MoMA has a lot of work by Dalí in their collection, at least they didn’t buy this one. It’s at the Reina Sofia Museum in Madrid. Regardless, my point is that the MoMA was open for 7 years before bothered to purchase art made by a woman, and they severely underpaid her.
André Breton later gave Object the title Luncheon in Fur to evoke the masochistic story Venus in Furs or Manet’s painting Luncheon on the Grass. In contrast, Oppenheim insisted that she just wanted to transform an everyday object into something strange. The MoMA also has a pair of her gloves that she printed with veins. They’re called Glove (for Parkett no. 4), and she made them in 1985. They’re a blue-ish grey pair of suede gloves that have magenta veins branching off the backs of the hands down the fingers.
Claude Cahun was another Surrealist that tends to be overlooked, and I didn’t learn about them until I was in graduate school. I’m very lucky to have had a fantastic art history professor when I pursued my MFA. Before I continue, I want to quickly mention that I will use “they/them” pronounces when I talk about Cahun because they once stated, “Shuffle the cards. Masculine? Feminine? It depends on the situation. Neuter is the only gender that suits me.” When I first learned about this artist, many people referred to them as “she,” but I’ve noticed more authors are currently using gender neutral pronouns. I bring this up in case the scholarship on Cahun changes and I spoke about them incorrectly. I don’t intend to be disrespectful.
Cahun lived during the first half of the 20th century in France. They lived during a time when being born a woman, Jewish, and LGBTQ+ was dangerous. Cahun, along with their partner Marcel Moore, were opposed to World War II, and they were part of the resistance on the island of Jersey during the German occupation. They were both arrested and sentenced to death by the nazis, but they escaped their death sentences when the island was liberated. Unfortunately, they both suffered terrible conditions while they were imprisoned. Cahun never fully recovered and died prematurely in 1954.
Cahun was a Surrealist photographer, and many of their compositions were self-portraits that addressed identity, gender roles, and gender performance. They often collaborated with Marcel Moore too. These black and white photographs capture a range of characters all played by Cahun. In 1929, they staged Self-Portrait (I am in Training Don’t Kiss Me). Cahun is dressed as a stereotypical “strong man,” leaning against a dark curtain. The character is standing on his left foot; his right leg is bent at the knee with the right foot overlapping the left knee. He’s wearing black gym shorts over a light bodysuit augmented with hand-drawn tattoos. On the chest, the text reads, “I am in Training Don’t Kiss Me.” The weightlifter has a large barbell casually resting on his left shoulder. His hand is holding the huge weightlifting prop, with one spherical black weight pointed toward the viewer. The model’s right hand is resting on his head with the right elbow pointing out to the side. The strong man’s dark hair is parted in the middle with two little curls plastered to the forehead. There is a little heart painted on each cheek.
After a quick break, I will discuss Frida Kahlo, who also excelled in creating self-portraits.
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Another artist who challenged gender roles and created self-portraits was Frida Kahlo. After André Breton met her, he declared that she was a Surrealist, but she rebuked this categorization. Kahlo was born in Mexico and lived during the first half of the 20th century. Her mother had indigenous ancestry, but Kahlo said her father was Jewish and moved to Mexico from Germany. Kahlo faced many obstacles on her path to become an artist, but her perseverance and tenacity is still inspirational to artists today.
Frida Kahlo survived many tragedies including polio as a child, a horrifying bus accident as a teenager, and her relationship with muralist Diego Rivera. She really didn’t begin creating art until she was bed-ridden while recovering from the bus accident, and she is probably best known for her self-portraits. Kahlo once said, “I paint myself because I am often alone and I am the subject I know best.” If you haven’t made a self-portrait recently, I want to encourage you to start making one today. You can make a sketch, a painting, or use the self-timer on your camera. Many people adore Kahlo’s self-portraits because they’re relatable. Even if you don’t intend to share your self-portrait publicly, I want you to make one because it will help you express yourself and have a shared an experience with this prolific artist. If you do want to share your self-portrait on Instagram, please use the hashtag #historyofmodernartwithklaire so I can see it.
The MoMA in New York is home to her 1940 painting called Self-Portrait with Cropped Hair, and the San Fransisco Museum of Modern Art houses her 1931 painting Frieda and Diego. I was fortunate enough to see the latter painting in person a few years ago, and this vertical canvas is just a little under 40” tall. She created Frieda and Diego when she lived in California. The background of this painting includes a neutral green-ish gray wall and a dull brown floor. The lefthand of the canvas is filled with the portrait of her husband Diego Rivera. He is wearing a gray suit with high waisted pants hiked up to an uncomfortable level. He sports brown shoes and a blue buttoned shirt. He is holding a wooden painting pallet with four paint brushes in his right hand. He is holding Kahlo’s right hand with his left. Kahlo is noticeably smaller than her spouse, and her mother used to refer to them as the elephant and the dove. Kahlo is wearing a long green dress, and the bottom edge of the dress has a gathered ruffle that brushes the tops of her feet. She is wearing a long red-orange shawl over her shoulders, and she clasps it in place with her left hand. The shawl has a pattern made out of various red diamonds at the fringe ends. She has two silver necklaces, gold hoop earrings, and her hair is twisted on top of her head with blue ribbons. Over her head there is a bird holding a banner in its beak. It’s well-noted that Rivera and Kahlo had a tumultuous relationship, but they respected each other as artists. Both of them praised each other’s artwork. Perhaps Kahlo placed the painting equipment in her husband’s hand to show her respect for his career as a painter. Diego Rivera was famous during his lifetime. However, I will argue that her sign of adoration backfired because even though this painting indicates her respect for her husband as an artist, we all know who painted this picture. This composition is too good to deny Kahlo’s success as an artist.
I also wanted to quickly mention that Kahlo’s first name for this painting was spelled “F-R-I-E-D-A.” This was how her name was originally spelled, but she thought it sounded too German and she changed the spelling to “F-R-I-D-A.” Kahlo hated nazis so much she changed her name to avoid being associated with them. This is just another reason that I will argue that more time and space should be made for Kahlo as opposed to Dalí.
It’s unfortunate that Kahlo did not always get the respect she deserved during her lifetime. In the 1930s, the Detroit News published an article about her called “Wife of the Master Mural Painter Gleefully Dabbles in Works of Art.” Sigh. I know what it’s like to have articles written about me by journalists who didn’t quite get what I was doing or somehow missed some key information. At least the author, included this quote by Kahlo about her husband, “Of course, he does pretty well for a little boy, but it is I am who am the big artist.” This is one of the reasons why I tell people that I sprung fully-formed out of the head of Frida Kahlo when they ask about my history.
One of my favorite paintings that I’ve never seen is the Two Fridas, which resides in the Museum of Modern Art in Mexico City. Kahlo created this 68.3x68” painting in 1939. Even though Kahlo and Rivera were married and respected each other as artists, neither of them were monogamous, and this continuously hurt each other. They got divorced the same year Kahlo painted the Two Fridas. The background of this canvas includes a brown ground, which fades from dark brown in the background to light brown in the foreground. The sky is filled with tumultuous white and gray clouds churning against a dark blue. This oil painting features, of course, two Fridas. They are sitting on a green bench and holding hands. The Frida on the viewer’s right is wearing traditional Tehuana garb. She has an olive green skirt with a white ruffle on the bottom hem. Her blouse is blue with gold accents around the neckline, the bottom edge, and around the shoulders. This Frida is leaning back with her knees pointed toward the viewer. She is holding a tiny portrait of Diego Rivera with her left hand on her lap. Her dark hair is piled up on top of her head. Her right hand is holding the left hand of the other Frida. The Frida on the left side of the picture plane is wearing a white gown, which is meant to signify her European heritage. The dress is reminiscent of her mother’s wedding dress: white and frilly with a high neckline. Both of the Fridas are staring at the viewer, and they both bear exposed hearts. The figure on the right, in the colorful outfit, has her heart floating in front of her ribcage. One of the arteries wraps around her left arm, and the other is connected to the heart of the figure on the right. The white top is torn away, along with the left side of this Frida’s chest. The heart is also slightly cut away like an anatomical illustration. The red artery branches off behind her right elbow down to her lap. Her right hand is holding a silver pair of medical scissors, which pinch off the bleeding artery. The blood is pooling in her at her knees and drips cascade down her skirt. The bloodstains match the red flowers embroidered at the bottom of her skirt along the pleated ruffle.
Kahlo’s life was difficult. She survived many obstacles, including numerous medical issues. She endured over 30 surgeries and was in constant pain. She also suffered through early 20th century abortions, miscarriages, amputations, and she battled alcoholism. Despite all the challenges, she still continued to create art. Many people find her relatable because she was a complex person. She also loved animals and owned birds, dogs, and monkeys! She received some recognition during her lifetime, but her popularity truly took off after her death.
Before I wrap things up, I would like to note that the demographics of the artists I shared do not reflect the traditional way Surrealism is taught or written about. I spoke about two men, two women, and one non-binary artist. Most textbooks and museums devote way more space and money to men, with women being in a far off second, and gender fluid artists often receive even less representation. I purposefully wanted to discuss Meret Oppenheim, Claude Cahun, and Frida Kahlo to attempt to correct this trend, but I must reveal that this isn’t typical. The Western art world still continues to favor men artists. The most expensive painting by Salvador Dali sold for $21.5 million in 2011, which is over $25 million when adjusted for inflation today. Compare that to Frida Kahlo’s most expensive painting, which sold for $8 million in 2016, which is about $8.7 now. Kahlo’s painting was only valued at about 1/3 of the price of Dalí’s. Art made by people who aren’t cis-men is continually undervalued, but I hope that one day you will become fabulously wealthy and the art you purchase will help improve these dismal statistics. The Surrealists, regardless of their gender, created unusual and dream-like artwork. This art movement was centered in Paris during the 1920-40s. Many of the artists were actively involved in this movement, but some of them were categorized as Surrealists whether they wanted to be or not.
Resources
Cathy Bedworth, “Claude Cahun. A Surrealist Queer Prophet,” Daily Art Magazine, June 15, 2020, https://www.dailyartmagazine.com/claude-cahun/
Jeffrey Belnap, “Disentangling the Strangled Tehuana: The Nationalist Antinomy in Frida Kahlo’s ‘What the Water Has Given Me,’” University of Colorado Boulder, June 01, 2001, https://www.colorado.edu/gendersarchive1998-2013/2001/06/01/disentangling-strangled-tehuana-nationalist-antinomy-frida-kahlos-what-water-has-given-me
André Breton, “Manifesto of Surrealism,” 1924, http://www2.hawaii.edu/~freeman/courses/phil330/MANIFESTO%20OF%20SURREALISM.pdf
“Dali painting sells for record $21.5m,” ABC, February 10, 2011, https://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-02-11/dali-painting-sells-for-record-215m/1939178
William V. Dunning, Changing Images of Pictorial Space. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1991.
Agence France-Presse, “Frida Kahlo painting sells for record price,” Hurriyet Daily News, May 13 2016, https://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/frida-kahlo-painting-sells-for-record-price-99156
Kelly Grovier, “Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera: Portrait of a complex marriage,” BBC, December 04, 2017, https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20171204-frida-kahlo-and-diego-rivera-portrait-of-a-complex-marriage
Caoimhe Hale, “The Soldiers With No Name,” Tribune, July 07, 2019, https://tribunemag.co.uk/2019/07/the-soldiers-with-no-name
Frida Kahlo “On Moses,” in Art in Theory 1900-2000: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, ed. Charles Harrison and Paul Wood (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2003), 649-652.
Peter Kalb, ed., H. H. Arnason History of Modern Art, 5th ed. (Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, Inc, 2004).
Kamna Kirti, “Salvador Dali’s Obsession with Nazism and Fascism,” Medium, February 11, 2021, https://medium.com/the-collector/salvador-dalis-obsession-with-nazism-and-fascism-4769af704b96
Nina Martyris, “'Luncheon In Fur': The Surrealist Teacup That Stirred The Art World,” NPR, February 09, 2016, https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2016/02/09/466061492/luncheon-in-fur-the-surrealist-tea-cup-that-stirred-the-art-world
Kelsey McKinney, “This 1930s article calling Frida Kahlo the ‘wife of the master mural painter’ is all wrong,” Vox, March 17, 2015, https://www.vox.com/2015/3/17/8231295/frida-kahlo-detroit
Stanley Meisler, “The Surreal World of Salvador Dalí,” Smithsonian Magazine, April, 2005, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/the-surreal-world-of-salvador-dali-78993324/
Carolina Rodríguez Monclou, “Tehuana Woman: cultural icon of femininity and empowerment in Mexico,” LatinAmerican Post, July 27, 2020, https://latinamericanpost.com/33791-tehuana-woman-cultural-icon-of-femininity-and-empowerment-in-mexico
Sam Phillips, …isms: Understanding Modern Art. (New York: Universe, 2013).
Anna Souter, “Claude Cahun Artist Overview and Analysis,” Art Story, October 27, 2017, https://www.theartstory.org/artist/cahun-claude/
Anna Souter, “The Dark Side of Surrealism That Exploited Women’s ‘Hysteria,’” Artsy, January 18, 2019, https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-dark-side-surrealism-exploited-womens-hysteria
Joseph B. Treaster, “Overlooked No More: Claude Cahun, Whose Photographs Explored Gender and Sexuality,” New York Times, June 19, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/19/obituaries/claude-cahun-overlooked.html
“When The Surrealists Expelled Salvador Dalí for ‘the Glorification of Hitlerian Fascism’ (1934),” Open Culture, March 29, 2018, https://www.openculture.com/2018/03/when-the-surrealists-expelled-salvador-dali-for-the-glorification-of-hitlerian-fascism-1934.html
Shira Wolfe, “Stories of Iconic Artworks: Frida Kahlo’s ‘The Two Fridas,’” Artland, https://magazine.artland.com/stories-of-iconic-artworks-frida-kahlos-the-two-fridas/
Jeffrey Belnap, “Disentangling the Strangled Tehuana: The Nationalist Antinomy in Frida Kahlo’s ‘What the Water Has Given Me,’” University of Colorado Boulder, June 01, 2001, https://www.colorado.edu/gendersarchive1998-2013/2001/06/01/disentangling-strangled-tehuana-nationalist-antinomy-frida-kahlos-what-water-has-given-me
André Breton, “Manifesto of Surrealism,” 1924, http://www2.hawaii.edu/~freeman/courses/phil330/MANIFESTO%20OF%20SURREALISM.pdf
“Dali painting sells for record $21.5m,” ABC, February 10, 2011, https://www.abc.net.au/news/2011-02-11/dali-painting-sells-for-record-215m/1939178
William V. Dunning, Changing Images of Pictorial Space. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1991.
Agence France-Presse, “Frida Kahlo painting sells for record price,” Hurriyet Daily News, May 13 2016, https://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/frida-kahlo-painting-sells-for-record-price-99156
Kelly Grovier, “Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera: Portrait of a complex marriage,” BBC, December 04, 2017, https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20171204-frida-kahlo-and-diego-rivera-portrait-of-a-complex-marriage
Caoimhe Hale, “The Soldiers With No Name,” Tribune, July 07, 2019, https://tribunemag.co.uk/2019/07/the-soldiers-with-no-name
Frida Kahlo “On Moses,” in Art in Theory 1900-2000: An Anthology of Changing Ideas, ed. Charles Harrison and Paul Wood (Malden: Blackwell Publishing, 2003), 649-652.
Peter Kalb, ed., H. H. Arnason History of Modern Art, 5th ed. (Upper Saddle River: Prentice Hall, Inc, 2004).
Kamna Kirti, “Salvador Dali’s Obsession with Nazism and Fascism,” Medium, February 11, 2021, https://medium.com/the-collector/salvador-dalis-obsession-with-nazism-and-fascism-4769af704b96
Nina Martyris, “'Luncheon In Fur': The Surrealist Teacup That Stirred The Art World,” NPR, February 09, 2016, https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2016/02/09/466061492/luncheon-in-fur-the-surrealist-tea-cup-that-stirred-the-art-world
Kelsey McKinney, “This 1930s article calling Frida Kahlo the ‘wife of the master mural painter’ is all wrong,” Vox, March 17, 2015, https://www.vox.com/2015/3/17/8231295/frida-kahlo-detroit
Stanley Meisler, “The Surreal World of Salvador Dalí,” Smithsonian Magazine, April, 2005, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/the-surreal-world-of-salvador-dali-78993324/
Carolina Rodríguez Monclou, “Tehuana Woman: cultural icon of femininity and empowerment in Mexico,” LatinAmerican Post, July 27, 2020, https://latinamericanpost.com/33791-tehuana-woman-cultural-icon-of-femininity-and-empowerment-in-mexico
Sam Phillips, …isms: Understanding Modern Art. (New York: Universe, 2013).
Anna Souter, “Claude Cahun Artist Overview and Analysis,” Art Story, October 27, 2017, https://www.theartstory.org/artist/cahun-claude/
Anna Souter, “The Dark Side of Surrealism That Exploited Women’s ‘Hysteria,’” Artsy, January 18, 2019, https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-dark-side-surrealism-exploited-womens-hysteria
Joseph B. Treaster, “Overlooked No More: Claude Cahun, Whose Photographs Explored Gender and Sexuality,” New York Times, June 19, 2019, https://www.nytimes.com/2019/06/19/obituaries/claude-cahun-overlooked.html
“When The Surrealists Expelled Salvador Dalí for ‘the Glorification of Hitlerian Fascism’ (1934),” Open Culture, March 29, 2018, https://www.openculture.com/2018/03/when-the-surrealists-expelled-salvador-dali-for-the-glorification-of-hitlerian-fascism-1934.html
Shira Wolfe, “Stories of Iconic Artworks: Frida Kahlo’s ‘The Two Fridas,’” Artland, https://magazine.artland.com/stories-of-iconic-artworks-frida-kahlos-the-two-fridas/