ABSTRACT
IT’S HARD TO believe that Surrealism is one hundred years old. Almost. Of all the isms that the twentieth century called forth (Goldwag 2008), Surrealism is perhaps the best known and most recognizable. If art movements were brands, which to some extent they are, Surrealism would surely rank alongside Impressionism as the art-market leader. Not only is the spirit of Surrealism alive and well in the work of Damien Hirst, Jeff Koons, Tracey Emin, Sarah Lucas and suchlike (Gale 1997), but its ability to shock and surprise remains delightfully undimmed. Whereas Pop Art often looks a little forlorn in the flesh – Lichtenstein’s paintings, in particular, haven’t aged very well – Dali’s lobster telephone, Oppenheim’s fur-covered teacup and Man Ray’s flat-iron with spikes continue to attract excited ‘come and see’, ‘look at that’, ‘well I never’ reactions from flabbergasted gallery goers.1 Similarly, the eyeball slitting scene from Un Chien Andalou remains near-enough unwatchable despite decades of slasher movies, Saw sequels and shockers by M. Night Shyamalan. Surrealism, as Hopkins (2004: xiv) rightly points out, is ‘modern art incarnate’.
