The Dada Painters and Poets: An Anthology
This book provides an overview of Dada, the art movement developed in reaction to World War I, through showcasing a variety of works. The word “Dada” suggests the first word of a child in any language, evoking a childness and absurdity that could be communicated to anyone. Dadaist Hugo Ball expressed the group’s timely goal: “For us, art is not an end in itself … but it is an opportunity for the true perception and criticism of the times we live in.” Dada has roots in visual and literary arts, but also made headway into poetry, music, and sound.
By Erik Satie
An artist must organize his life. Here is the exact timetable of my daily activities:
I rise at 7:18; am inspired from 10:23 to 11:47. I lunch at 12:11 and leave the table at 12:14. A healthy ride on horseback round my domain follows from 1:19 P.M. to 2:53 P.M. Another bout of inspiration from 3:12 to 4:07 P.M. From 4:27 to 6:47 P.M. various occupations (fencing, reflection, immobility, visits, contemplation, dexterity, swimming, etc.)
Dinner is served at 7:16 and finished at 7:20 P.M. From 8:09 to 9:59 P.M. symphonic readings (out loud). I go to bed regularly at 10:37 P.M. Once a week, I wake up with a start at 3:19 (Tuesdays).
My only nourishment consists of food that is white: eggs, sugar, grated bones, the fat of dead animals, veal, salt, coconuts, chicken cooked in white water, fruit-mould, rice, turnips, camphorated sausages, pastry, cheese (white varieties), cotton salad, and certain kinds of fish (without their skin). I boil my wine and drink it cold mixed with the juice of the Fuchsia. I am a hearty eater, but never speak while eating, for fear of strangling.I breathe with care (a little at a time). I very rarely dance. When walking, I clasp my sides, and look steadily behind me.
My expression is very serious; when I laugh it is unintentional, and I always apologize most affably.
I sleep with only one eye closed, very profoundly. My bed is round, with a hole to put my head through. Once every hour a servant takes my temperature and gives me another.
I have subscribed for some time to a fashion magazine. I wear a white cap, white stockings, and a white waistcoat.
My doctor has always told me to smoke. Part of his advice runs: “Smoke away, dear chap; if you don’t someone else will.”