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    Broodthaers - Dreamland

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    Darcy Wedd
    The document is an excerpt from Marcel Broodthaers' writings about investigating dreamland through immobility and sitting motionless in a chair. It describes spending a vacation practicing not moving and building up vertigo. It references Mallarme and talks to the moon to prove he is still alive. The life he leads changes from moonrise to moonrise, cornered in the city that is his life, with nothing being built for the moment.

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    Broodthaers - Dreamland

    Uploaded by

    Darcy Wedd
    11 views3 pages
    The document is an excerpt from Marcel Broodthaers' writings about investigating dreamland through immobility and sitting motionless in a chair. It describes spending a vacation practicing not moving and building up vertigo. It references Mallarme and talks to the moon to prove he is still alive. The life he leads changes from moonrise to moonrise, cornered in the city that is his life, with nothing being built for the moment.

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    The document is an excerpt from Marcel Broodthaers' writings about investigating dreamland through immobility and sitting motionless in a chair. It describes spending a vacation practicing not moving and building up vertigo. It references Mallarme and talks to the moon to prove he is still alive. The life he leads changes from moonrise to moonrise, cornered in the city that is his life, with nothing being built for the moment.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    11 views3 pages

    Broodthaers - Dreamland

    Uploaded by

    Darcy Wedd
    The document is an excerpt from Marcel Broodthaers' writings about investigating dreamland through immobility and sitting motionless in a chair. It describes spending a vacation practicing not moving and building up vertigo. It references Mallarme and talks to the moon to prove he is still alive. The life he leads changes from moonrise to moonrise, cornered in the city that is his life, with nothing being built for the moment.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    of 3

    Investigating Dreamland

    Author(s): Marcel Broodthaers and Paul Schmidt


    Source: October, Vol. 42, Marcel Broodthaers: Writings, Interviews, Photographs (Autumn,
    1987), pp. 30-31
    Published by: The MIT Press
    Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/778261
    Accessed: 22-01-2017 12:53 UTC

    JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted
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    This content downloaded from 129.127.13.227 on Sun, 22 Jan 2017 12:53:52 UTC
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    Investigating Dreamland

    MARCEL BROODTHAERS

    translated by PAUL SCHMIDT

    (first version)

    A chair. Sitting down in a chair. Not moving (photograp


    Not letting the inner delirium show. Get well, that's what yo
    of whatever has a form. Certainty. The end of the world
    terror, top to toe.
    I spent my vacation practicing immobility. Sitting in a chair puts you into a
    void. A device for thinking about writing. Three months later I'd built up
    enough vertigo to justify a breath of air. (I got up.) I'll never write another line, I
    said to the Future. The lines in my hand will have to do. They're already written
    down.

    Like the phantom of Mallarme, whom I could not understand, I've now
    become a tourist. City light captivated me, such beautiful images. Finally I went
    back to bed, and I sleep there now. I make movies (make a scene) as a spectator.
    Do you have to pay to get in? Is my freedom worth a question like that? (Money
    won't ever matter between us, neither will politics, no politics, please, except the
    chair.)
    It's too early in the season. It's hot. The season begins with a torn moon. In
    that old engraving, the clouds are torn. And the moon looks torn too. Sometimes
    I talk to it to prove I'm still alive, like pinching yourself. The life I lead changes
    from moonrise to moonrise. The moons have me cornered in this narrow sector,
    a street of some kind. My life as city. Nothing being built, for the moment.
    Everything stays the way it is.

    This content downloaded from 129.127.13.227 on Sun, 22 Jan 2017 12:53:52 UTC
    All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
    (second version)

    A chair. Sitting down in a chair. Above all, not moving. Not letting the
    inner delirium show, any movement brings it on. (Must get rid of this illness,
    mustn't think. Get rid of whatever has a form once and for all. Certainty. The
    end of the world.)
    I spent my vacation practicing immobility. Sitting in a chair puts you into a
    void. A device for thinking about writing. Three months later I'd built up
    enough vertigo to justify a breath of air. (I got up.) I'll never write another line, I
    said to the Future. The lines in my hand will have to do. They're already written
    down.
    Like the phantom of Mallarme, whom I could not understand, I'm a tourist.
    City light captivated me, such beautiful images. Finally I went back to bed and I
    sleep there now, in black and white. I make movies (make a scene) as a spectator.
    Do you have to pay to get in? Is my freedom worth a question like that?
    Death is seductive, I say to my English governess, who also is. Do you think
    so . . . I talk to her just to prove I'm still alive, like pinching yourself. If I don't
    say anything, she talks to me, just to let me know she's still alive. The fact is we
    don't have anything to talk about.
    Three years ago, I knocked at the door of O. Dominguez.

    1960

    This content downloaded from 129.127.13.227 on Sun, 22 Jan 2017 12:53:52 UTC
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