Victor Brauner recounts a surreal evening in memory of SADE.

Victor BRAUNER (1903.1966)

Autograph letter signed to Alice Rewald

Eight pages in-4°.

Without place. December 22-26, 1959.

“One of the most extravagant things was this evening in memory of the will of the Marquis de Sade, a surreal ceremony which took place in a sumptuous apartment in Le Bois. »

Extraordinary letter from Brauner recounting in detail the unfolding of a surrealist evening in memory of the Marquis de Sade.

___________________________________________________________

“Dear Alice, sorry for replying to you so late, especially since I was very moved that you took the trouble to write to us by hand, because I know that you prefer to write by type. So I ask you to excuse any possible weeds in this letter (spelling mistakes, etc.) and I hope that you can still find things that amuse you.

Needless to say that you are fully installed in the interior space of this person who is myself and that like a conditioned reflex each time I open the door to enter, I hope to meet you in the corridor which is us common, radiant, pleasant, desirable and with this liveliness which does incredible good. But I didn't know that you could take such metamorphoses, because what was my amazement to see you come out one day, after many days of waiting, with a kind of giant Cov-boi with a big hat, (you had us hid that) but I quickly saw that it wasn't you, and also I told myself innocently that I should have brought my "fourtanelle" from Romania, to complete this folkloric cohabitation / fourtanelle is a shirt that l We wear white pants above, with lots of embroidery, and which are centered by a large red wool scarf.

In any case you must know that you are present in my universe from within, and that all these daydreams that we lead outside of all conventional boundaries, you have an active participation in which you are engaged against your will. But if this path of digression of feeling continues I would not write to you what I also wanted some fact which means that in Paris we have not been bored lately.

One of the most extravagant things was this evening in memory of the will of the Marquis de Sade, a surreal ceremony which took place in a sumptuous apartment in Le Bois , and I was by strict invitation to this evening gathering which included about 200 people invited. Needless to say, all the most brilliant things from the point of view of a selected intelligentsia were there, naturally elites sorted by surrealist conception.

So writers, poets, painters, filmmakers, critics, etc., found themselves gathered late, because they had to arrive at 10 p.m. A seemingly very fashionable evening, with bowing, kissing of hands, candle lighting, servants in white barboy blouses. Women in evening dresses, some timid extravagances, like nails painted blue or green, sequin headbands around their heads, heavy makeup, Rimmel galore and spectral foundation.

Also a woman in black velvet with the tip of her breast coming out through a small hole in the dress, embroidered around it with rhinestones, on the hair at the base of the forehead a kind of mirror star, making a social conversation "how to go- you dear friend” “my husband etc” which naturally only gives a very oriented desire and it was surely not the conventional sentences, but a more libertarian language, but naturally also immediately rejected in the throes of the curtains of the 'hypocrisy.

Finally after a while we were all transported to a huge empty room, lit by two reflector headlights from above. Everyone sits upright in a circle leaving a place in the center and I see the surrealists in large numbers taking a solemn attitude, a bit like the boy scouts, frozen in a sort of attention. Suddenly we hear a rumbling, which slowly grows louder and is the sound of an erupting volcano. When the noise reaches paroxysm we hear a booming voice declaiming the will of the Marquis de Sade (I think it was Breton's voice) which is a secular will and which gives / bequeaths his fortune to these servants and others poor people, and who asks to be buried without the help of religion.

After the reading, a silence, and then a reciter comes forward who places notes on a frozen music stand also at attention to you and who with a watercress voice, very unpleasant reads a text to prove that the family of Sade buried him religiously and that she took the inheritance for herself, and continues to read the texts of the writers who wrote about Sade, texts, mediocre besides bloated, poorly chosen, and then attacks poor clothing to Sade's detractors. For example: “ Simone De Bauvoire writes “should we burn Sade?” » We ask: “should we burn Simone de Bauvoire?” “we answer yes and we say we have to burn his butt!

Then the reciter announces that the ceremony is beginning and at that moment a door opens and an immense ghost appears which advances very slowly towards the center of the room. The reciter explains that this is the ceremonial costume. This costume is actually very surprising, I will send you the photos. A sort of collection of masks, very well made primitives inspired by the masks of British American Colombia, and surrealist images through Max Ernst and probably me (I have been informed of a great resemblance to my characters). This apparition is still very impressive, and as this character advances he produces a howl with each step and the foot produces a high-pitched and very high noise, the other a low and thunderous noise. The narrator explains that what this character is dragging behind him is Sade's coffin , and continues throughout to explain the symbols found on this large costume. A woman dressed in black with a headband around her hair and who looks very armed with Salvation, puritanical appears and begins to remove each part of this costume, which the living character found in this immense mobile scaffolding, is wearing on him.

In what they call the coffin there is naturally an immense penis on top, from the small hole at its end emerge five black petals in the center of which there are the five letters of the word love.

During all this time the reciter draws our attention to every detail and also the woman in black who is a kind of vestal operator of the ceremony removes each part of this costume starting with the coffin, which she skillfully tears into pieces detached to put each detail object on the wall. So she finds herself demonstrating the word love, holding this immense black cock for a few moments in her hands. After the coffins, the character is gradually undressed and wears a multitude of superimposed masks, which are removed (it is always the woman who carries out this undressing) to each time put the pieces in storage.  

The character wears a huge black penis (in fact all the costumes are volcano black, with dark blue and purple highlights) which we remove again and put on the wall, to reveal another smaller penis . Finally we arrive at a black undershirt with a kind of mask on the face, extremely organic, gelatinous and impressive, from which we can see two huge eyes. Subsequently, the woman of the ceremony helps the character to remove the undershirt and the character remains naked. It is very beautiful painted black and streaked with purple arrows which go up all over the body towards the heart. In place of the heart there is a red star on which we see a double-headed eagle, the arms of the Marquis de Sade. (I forgot to point out to you that the servant in the pantry lights a fire in a tripod container, where she places a branding iron which has a male penis as its handle, still in erect form.) The character with the popers (eyelids) painted violent red and the back of the ears also red.

During this time the reciter continues to detail each sign and drawing our attention to his immense penis, the officiating actor of this show makes it rise along the stomach with a nilon thread attached to a finger by lifting his hand towards the heart. This shows below the sex some more symbols, a red hole in which there is an hourglass with black volcano sand, from Stromboli. After the reciter stops the officiating actor also and after a moment of immobility and silence, with his left hand he tears off the red star, and there remains in this place the white spot on his skin and which is a star of his skin. (as I told you it is painted volcano black). He lets out a scream, grabs the red-hot branding iron and shouting something that ends with Sade, he marks himself with the name Sade at the place of the heart. He brandished the iron and said: “To whom? » Silence and suddenly Matta, who was a little drunk and very childish, rushes and, opening his shirt, marks himself too. Here are the facts recounted as a news item for you to draw the conclusions in any case no surrealist responded to the invitation to brand themselves with a hot iron. Then we enter the living room and the evening ends very mundanely with whiskey and champagne and mediocre conversation. The next day André Breton telephones me with a rehabilitative text from Matta and myself which I will send to you without comment. Victor. »