Title: " The Jongleuse " ( Paul Nougé ) of series -Subversion des images- , 1929-1930.
An acid burning sensation in the limbs,
muscles twisted and burned, the feeling of being a fragile glass,
a fear, a retraction to the movement and noise.
A deranged unconscious gait, gestures,
movements.
A will lay in perpetuity for the simplest gestures,
waiver simple gesture, a surprising and central fatigue,
a kind of fatigue candidate. The movement to rebuild,
a kind of mortal fatigue, spiritual fatigue
in the most simple muscle tension, making the gesture, unconsciously latching on to anything
, supported by a willingness applied.
A world debut fatigue, the feeling of carrying the body, an incredible sense of fragility,
breaker that turns into pain, a painful condition of obstruction of obstruction located in the skin,
not prohibit any movement, but that changes the inner feeling of a member, and the simple vertical
gives the reward of a victorious effort. Located
probably in the skin, but felt like the radical removal of a member and presenting images to the brain only filiform members and cotton, distant images never
members in place.
The fate of internal breakdown of the correspondence of all the nerves.
A movement vertigo, a sort of oblique drop accompanied by any effort, heat coagulation
that encloses the entire length of the skull, or break apart, never still hot plates.
A painful exacerbation of the skull, a sharp pressure on the nerves, determined to suffer neck, temples that crystallize or become petrified, a head trampled by horses.
should now speak of the descoporización of reality, that kind of break applied, which seems to multiply itself between things and the feeling they produce in our mind, the site that are taken. This instant classification
of things in the cells of the spirit, there is not so much as a logical order, but as a sentimental, emotional.
That is no longer made: things have no odor and do not have sex.
logical order But sometimes it breaks for its lack of emotional breath.
The words rot in the unconscious brain called all the words no matter what mental operation,
and especially those who play the most common spring, the busiest in the spirit.
A flat belly.
A belly of fine dust and as a focus. Under the belly a grenade burst.
The grenade rolled flow expands as it rises like tongues of fire, a cold fire. The flow
Belly grabs and spins.
But the belly does not round. They are blood veins as wine, blood combined with sulfur and sulfur saffron but with sweetened water.
On the belly protruding breasts. And up and in depth, but on another level of spirit inflamed sun so that one might think that is the heart that burns. And a bird
at the bottom of the grenade.
The sun seems to have a look.
But a look that would be looking at the sun.
And all the air is icy like a melody but an extensive, well-composed melody honda
and secret and full of frozen branches.
And all built with columns and with a kind of architecture that links the watery womb
with reality.
The fabric is hollowed out and layered.
The paint is very pressed to the fabric.
is like a circle that closes on itself, a sort of abyss
in motion that splits the middle.
It's like a spirit that looks and is recessed, is modeled and worked
ceaselessly clenched hands of the spirit.
Meanwhile the spirit grows its match. The spirit is safe. Has a well-supported foot
in this world.
The belly, breasts, pomegranate, are as testimonial evidence of reality. There is a dead bird and there is abundant emergence of columns.
The air is full of pencil strokes as blows of knives, like shrapnel from a bullet.
The air is sufficiently altered.
Thus where a seed germinates unreality is available in cells.
The cells are placed each in its place, range, around the belly,
before the sun further bird and the flow of sulfur water.
But architecture that supports and says nothing is indifferent to the cells.
Each cell contains an egg which highlights the germ. Suddenly
born an egg in each cell.
In each there is a tingling inhuman but clear,
the diversification of a universe stopped.
Each cell contains either an egg and what we offer; but the egg does not care too
be chosen or rejected.
Some cells do not carry eggs. In some spiral grows.
And the air hangs a larger spiral but as sulfur, phosphorus and still cover
of unreality.
And this spiral has all the relevance of the most powerful thought.
The belly has to remember the surgery and the Morgue, the winery, the public square and
table operations.
belly body seems carved in granite or marble or plaster, but a cast
hardened.
there a box to a mountain.
Sky Bubbles mountain draws on an aura
fresh and translucent. Around the mountain air is sound, compassionate, old
prohibited.
The entrance to the mountain is prohibited. The mountain has its place in the soul.
She is the horizon of something that continues to recede.
printing produces infinite horizon.
And I describe in this painting because it tears paint touches my heart.
It deployed feel my thoughts as an ideal, absolute, but a space
that one possible way would be inserted into reality.
I fall into it from the sky.
And some of my fiber breaks out and finds a place in certain boxes.
She returned as my source,
there I feel the place and the disposition of my spirit.
who has painted this canvas is the greatest painter the world. André
A Mason is right.
Excerpted from "L'Ombilic des limbs "
Antonin Artaud.
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