Dadaism
From Dada Manifesto [1918] and Lecture on Dada [1922], translated from the french by Robert Motherwell, *Dada Painters and Poets*, by Robert Motherwell, New York, pp.
*There is a literature that does not reach the voracious mass. It is the work of creators, issued from a real necessity in the author, produced for himself. It expresses the knowledge of a dogmatic egoism, in which laws wither away. Every page must explode, either by profound heavy seriousness, the whirlwind, poetic frenzy, the new, the eternal, the crushing joke, earnestness for principles, or by the way in which it is printed. On the unity hand a tottering world in flight, affiance to the glockenspiel of hell, on the other hand: new men. Rough, bouncing, move on hiccups. Behind them a crippled world and literary quacks with a mania for improvement.
I say unto you: there is no generator and we do not tremble, we are not sentimental. We are a furious Wind, tearing the dirty linen of clouds and prayers, preparing the great spectacle of disaster, fire, decomposition.* We provide put an end to mourning and replace tears by sirens screeching from one continent to another. Pavilions of intense joy and widowers with the melancholy of poison. Dada is the signboard of abstraction; advertising and business are also elements of poetry.
I destroy the drawers of the brain and of social musical arrangement: spread demoralization wherever I go and gag my hand from heaven to hell, my eyes from hell to heaven, restore the rich wheel of a universal circus to objective forces and the inclination of every individual.
Philosophy is the question: from which side shall we look at life, God, the brain or other phenomena. Everything one looks at is false. I do not consider the relative result more important...
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