Olivia Ruffe Final

a scrapbook by Olivia Ruffe

ART FOR ART’S SAKE

the found object & found poetry

tristan tzara

hugo ball

marcel duchamp

ROUND TRIP THROUGH THE MOON AND THROUGH COLOR cabaret voltaire art

as A deconstruction

of itself

the precurcer to Dadaism

Comte de Lautréamont’s Les Chants de Maldoror

The Paris Commune and Lautrémont’s reaction against morality

Lautrémont is let loose am I insane, or a genius?

both!

baudelaire - THe Beautiful & Grotesque is g n ri e rm b o f m e rem a new only ffering u of s

the beauti ful is alway s bizarr e

alwa y a po s be et, ev in p e rose n

wwi and a transformed era the new face of writing

“Calm —indeed the calmest— re flection might be better than the most conf used decisions”

Then everything began to reel before my eyes, a fiery gust came fr. Iocm d an- the sea, while n a t s r e d the uyn yosu at k h e k c w a r a m d c k n e a t “I canno anyone underst not d in two, from end can ke not ma ng insidteomee. Ind, and a g reat sheet of lf.” eni ol myse is happ in it tf ame poured dow pla even ex n through the rift. Every n erve in my body was a stee“How lonlgesparboiun my grip closed r andtfgo i,f aI slneed a litt on the rervgeotlval-p l this le bit er. The trigger g nonse ave, and the nse” smooth underbel ly of the butt jogged my parrlem al. And s u s , d r u s b a o , f enid tho thwaht icchrigsapv,ew e “the blw is r hi e n a and mund sound kafkaesque” pcrack “, it all beg e iv t c e j d a e an h to t

the deconstruction of reality in art and literature as a reaction to WWI and Photography/Cinema

elsa von freytag-loringhoven - joyce mansour - andré breton - philippe soupault - claude cahun - andré masson

et opp r e m y o l so - mina

crevel

ar - rené h c é n e r e cahun d u a l c n i e enh

icas

ablo p p í l a d r o salvad

fritz lan

g - otto p

remiger -

orson w ells - frid a

kahlo - m

ax ernst -

man ray

- joan m

iró - pau

l éluard

André Breton & Philippe Soupault the distrubed

the random

the groteque

Nietzsche once said...

god is dead, and we have killed him

...Camus was like

shit

Then everything began to reel before my eyes, a fiery gust came from the s ea, while the sky cracked in two, from end to end, and a g reat sheet of flame poured d own through the rift. Every n erve in my body was a stee l spring, and my grip closed on the revolver. The trigger g ave, and the smooth underbel ly of the butt jogged my palm . And so, with that crisp, whipcrack sound, it all beg an

it’s so hot

yes, yes. But what do I do when life is meaningless?

the philosophy of absurdism

the absurd subjects

a response in the theater

hell is other people

we’re waiting for godot

Ideologies separate us

Aimé Césaire

Kamel Daoud camus on trial