"Arrange whatever pieces come your way."

Collect your thoughts, your memories, your associations, your fantasies, your obsessions, your confusions, your confessions.

Tie them up, bind them tight. Then let the resulting potion seep through the web.

This is where we begin...
cavetocanvas:

Alexander Calder, Necklace (The Jealous Husband), c. 1940
From the Metropolitan Museum of Art:

During his lifetime, Calder created about 1,800 pieces of jewelry, most between 1933 and 1952. Many were made for family members or friends and given away on special occasions. This necklace was made by hammering brass wire into flat strips and then fashioning them into a decorative linear design that relates directly to his early wire portraits.

cavetocanvas:

Alexander Calder, Necklace (The Jealous Husband), c. 1940

From the Metropolitan Museum of Art:

During his lifetime, Calder created about 1,800 pieces of jewelry, most between 1933 and 1952. Many were made for family members or friends and given away on special occasions. This necklace was made by hammering brass wire into flat strips and then fashioning them into a decorative linear design that relates directly to his early wire portraits.

cavetocanvas:

Alexander Calder, Critter With Mobile Top, 1974

cavetocanvas:

Alexander Calder, Critter With Mobile Top, 1974

spectrumvivace:

Roland Penrose - Paul, Nusch Éluard et Lee Miller,1937

spectrumvivace:

Roland Penrose - Paul, Nusch Éluard et Lee Miller,1937

sfrueda:

Eileen Agar by Lee Miller

sfrueda:

Eileen Agar by Lee Miller

Surrealism! What is Surrealism? In my opinion, it is above all a reawakening of the poetic idea in art, the reintroduction of the subject but in a very particular sense, that of the strange and illogical.

Paul Delvaux (via demolishedthoughts)

(Source: 300bombs)

Free Union, by Andre Breton

My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
My wife with her rosette mouth and a bouquet of stars of the last magnitude
With the teeth of tracks of white mice on the white earth
With the tongue of rubbed amber and glass
My wife with the tongue of a stabbed host
With the tongue of a doll that opens and closes its eyes
With the tongue of an unbelievable stone
My wife with her eyelashes in the strokes of a child’s writing
With eyebrows from the edge of a swallow’s nest
My wife with brows of slates on a hothouse roof
And with steam on the windowpanes
My wife with shoulders of champagne
And of a fountain with dolphin heads beneath the ice
My wife with wrists of matches
My wife with fingers of luck and the ace of hearts
With fingers of mown hay
My wife with armpits of marten and of beechnut
And of Midsummer Night
Of privet and of an angelfish nest
With arms of seafoam and of riverlocks
And of a mingling of the wheat and the mill
My wife with legs of flares
With the movements of clockwork and despair
My wife with calves of eldertree pith
My wife with feet of initials
With feet of rings of keys and Java sparrows drinking
My wife with a neck of unpearled barley
My wife with a throat of the valley of gold
Of a tryst in the very bed of the torrent
With breasts of night
My wife with her undersea molehill breasts  
My wife with breasts of the ruby’s crucible
With breasts of the spectre of the rose beneath the dew
My wife with the belly of an unfolding of the fan of days
With the belly of a gigantic claw
My wife with the back of a bird fleeing vertically
With a back of quicksilver
With a back of light
With a nape of rolled stone and wet chalk
And of the drop of a glass where one has just been drinking
My wife with hips of a skiff
With hips of a chandelier and of arrow-feathers
And of shafts of white peacock plumes
Of an insensible pendulum
My wife with buttocks of sandstone and asbestos
My wife with buttocks of swans’ backs
My wife with buttocks of spring
With the sex of an iris
My wife with the sex of placer and platypus
My wife with a sex of seaweed and ancient sweetmeat
My wife with a sex of mirror
My wife with eyes full of tears
With eyes of purple panoply and of a magnetic needle
My wife with savanna eyes
My wife with eyes of water to be drunk in prison
My wife with eyes of wood always under the axe
My wife with eyes of water-level air-level earth and fire

Wink

Parakeets fly through my head when I see you in profile
and the greasy sky streaks with blue flashes
tracing your name in all directions
Rosa coiffed with a black tribe standing in rows on the stairs
where women’s piercing breasts point out through men’s eyes
Today I look out through your hair
Rosa of morning opal
and I wake through your site
Rosa of armour
I think through your exploding breasts
Rosa of a pool the frogs turn green
and I sleep in your navel of Caspian sea
Rosa of honeysuckle in the general strike
and I’m lost in your milky way shoulders impregnated by comets 
Rosa of jasmine in the night of washing
Rosa of haunted house
Rosa of black forest filled with blue and green postage stamps
Rosa of kite over a vacant lot where children are fighting
Rosa of cigar smoke
Rosa of seafoam turned into crystal
Rosa

-Benjamin Peret