The New Surrealist Institute is now a barcode in the Barbicide of cyberspace’s blue chill.
While I have plans to resurrect it, I failed to dissuade members of the group from abandoning Facebook and joining me in abandoned hotels on the fringes of L.A.–just kidding.
As of a few months ago, I deleted my Facebook account, as I had been growing more and more uncomfortable being a JPG on Mark Zuckerberg’s privacy raping, virtual plantation of advertisement. Facebook’s minions took an immediate dislike, I guess, to my negative opinion of The Social Network and deleted the NSI very, very quickly.
Which brings up a fairly relevant question with regards to Surrealism and “the image as a perfect creation of the mind” (Reverdy:Beloved By Breton): when does the Free Image STOP being free and combustible and become the property of a hyperimagistic hemorrhage taking place on virtual marketing grounds for the purposes of hyper capitalists? Of course, no group can exist without compromise; but Surrealism
is one rare arena of the arts that has never stopped in it’s arguments against social imperialism. From figures like Lacenaire to Baudelaire to Jarry to Name Anyone,
only convenient stand asides like De Chirico could speak of the Marvelous without an actual commitment to the social ramparts of the time, and the igniting of these ramparts.
There should be no special pleading: surrealists are more prone to the addictive propensities of the spectacle than other groups, and with the decay of more archaic
forms of communication our commitment to rebellion against the existing order may weaken.
When authority triumphs, it is through the dissipation of community, the slow
destruction of communal bonds via goods, favors, small things that eat away at the fabric of social revolution and make us inert and satisfied. Groups are looked upon, as our group has been, with a dismissive sense of naiveté.
May the Surrealist revolution NOT find it’s consummation in the commodified image. May it resist that which eats wholesale even the purposelessness anarchy of the purposeful image.
Let us rejoice in Turkey and Top Hats, swallow the Narco Uterine Pills, but let us not be DOWNLOADED.