Sense and Nonsense 

I remember my very first try at surrealism. That was a long time ago.

It was a pencil drawing, not a serious endeavour - I just wanted to annoy someone with it. But then I was fascinated by the possibilities of forms which resulted unexpectedly in this crazy-game. 

The question arose:
Do such pictures have a deeper meaning apart from an possible esthetic charm? Are they retrieved indications from the subconscious pointing to other, strange realities? 

Or are they projections of ones own, unknown self? 

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The Nightmare 

Some years ago I dreamt that I was a cardinal, a venerable and dignified personality. 

A great many pious people humbly knelt before me, awaiting my most gracious blessing. 

Just as I was about to dispense the blessing, something welled up in me akin to doubtfulness; but there was no doubt, it was certainty: I know myself, I am the ass I have always been and will continue to be.

So I quickly escaped into awakening. 

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The Title 

Pictures need to have names. 
Numbers would also suffice
to make distinctions or for the purpose of cataloguing, but to
characterize and to talk about
a painting one needs to name it.

It could be lapidary and simply indicate what can be seen on the picture: 

"Lady with a blue shawl",
for instance.

In surrealism, a name could have several meanings.
It could bring an additional motif 
into play or direct the eye towards some specific direction, even to an erroneous one.
It can circumscribe or be ironic,
veil or unveil. 
It can simulate or disappoint,
be banal or poetic. 
It can clarify or be a play on words.

We often take a long time to come up with the right name, since it is unfortunate when a picture ends up with an unfitting name.


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The Unconscious 

Surrealism attempts to retrieve images from the unconscious; thanks to depth psychology we know that unconscious thought determines who we are to a much greater extent than conscious thought, and that it is not advisable to ignore this. 

But what does it mean, to retrieve images from the unconscious? How is this supposed to happen? 

We are all familiar with images from the unconscious, from myths and fairy tales, and from dreams. They are not realistic images but fantasies, strange, unreal, confusing, beyond our grasp. And they rely on symbols: memorable and compelling shapes and objects. Myths and fairy tales tell us about gods, giants, kings, paradise and the underworld.

In a dream I once walked with Stalin from Moscow to Paris.

The Surrealist uses all of these things as stylistic devices:
strong symbols, combinations of objects that don’t belong together, strangeness, novel shapes, questioning the familiar by undermining and fracturing it, ignoring spatial reality. 

Here is the recipe: 
paint existing and non-existent objects as exactly and with as much plasticity as possible. Combine them as incongruously as possible and put them into a space where they don’t belong. 

It’s that simple? 
In principle, yes.
But something is missing there:
Don’t make it too easy for yourself.