Tag Archives: exquisite corpse

Exquisite Corpse


Exquisite Corpse, or Cadavre Exquis, to give it its original French title, started out as a surrealist writing game in 1920s Paris. The name comes from a line in one of the original games: “The exquisite corpse will drink the new wine.” Penned by Andre Breton.

It’s quite simple really, you just write a sentence and then fold it over (leaving part of the sentence uncovered) and pass it on. The next person carries on where you left off. Obviously, you need a few people to do it. Four is a good number. At the end of the page, or whenever you feel like stopping, unfold the paper and read it as one complete piece. I can guarantee you it will be surreal.

You’ve probably already played the pictorial version of the game as a kid, (or with your kids). It’s the same principle – you draw the head and shoulders of a person or creature then fold it over. The next person draws the torso and the next draws the legs and feet.

I remember playing this game in a restaurant in Dublin once. Me and three friends/colleagues went for lunch at one o’clock and left at two. Not an hour later, but 13 hours later. (We had dinner as well.) We didn’t play the game for the whole 13 hours, but it did wile away the time between blinis and Bellinis. 

Why am I telling you this? Well, you should try it. It’s fun. I’ve played it at various arts groups over the years and it’s always gone down well. And, because a colleague of mine played it recently with her flatmates and I thought what they wrote was brilliant so I wanted to share it with the class.

“The clouds above parted, like the Red Sea, revealing the beautiful, chiselled face on the moon. The man who lived a monochrome and solitary life. The lonely lifestyle of a duck on water; the only ripple on the pond. What a privilege it is to revel in the wonder of nature – and forget, for a second, the pain of being alive. In contrast the joys make it all worthwhile. I sit on the edge pondering what I dreamt about last night. The shapeless figure slipping through the doorway, watching me sleep. I dream of my own life, of starting all over again, and doing everything the same. In monotony I finally found peace. Then I woke up. The crushing weight of reality on my eyelids, as I wrench myself from the dark. The worst thing about me is that I’m afraid to open my eyes again, to look up at the dark side of the moon, shining judgement down on me. I thought only Jesus could judge what was right or wrong, but this proved me “wrong”. Everything in my life had led to this point. It was the most important moment in all my time. I finally did it – I took a deep breath and forgave myself for the choices I made whilst just trying to please others. I should have just prioritised myself, it seems like everyone else does. I can’t be like everyone else – or do I risk becoming a shadow of my former self. Oh, how I miss how I blossomed in the sunshine.  Now I wither as the Seasonal Affective Disorder gets to me. I should get a lamp. Something to light the way, from the darkness of which I crawled.” 

I think Breton et al would have been proud.

And the relevance of Florence + The Machine?

This is a post about surrealism.

There doesn’t have to be any.

4 Comments

Filed under Advertising, Art, Contemporary Arts, Creativity, Education, Games, History, Illustration, Innovation, Inspiration, Inventions, Literature, love, Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

Le cadavre d’exquis, de l’amour – new poem


Le cadavre d’exquis, de l’amour.

Draguignan, 1999.

© David Milligan-Croft

Outside the vineyard,
Droplets of rain refresh us,
Along with the bottle of white wine,
On the wrought iron table.

There’s a sunflower between us
On the cover of your notebook;
We take it in turns
To write our exquisite corpse, of love.

Occasionally, we stop,
To exchange wine through baisers,
While the rain makes our words bleed,
Like your mascara at Nice airport.

2 Comments

Filed under Art, Contemporary Arts, Creativity, Ideas, Inspiration, Poetry, Writing

3hundredand65 tweets for Teenage Cancer Trust


3hundredand65 is a brilliant initiative by a guy called Dave Kirkwood.

Bottom line: 365 authors will tweet part of the story everyday for a year. Dave illustrates the tweets superbly as he goes along.

It’s sort of like Exquisite Corpse, except you can actually see what’s gone before.

Jan 4th by Dave Kirkwood

Why?

It’s to raise money for the Teenage Cancer Trust. A charity dedicated to improving the lives of teenagers and young adults with cancer.

I salute you, Sir. What a noble, (and daunting), task.

Jan 5th by Dave Kirkwood

There are still plenty of slots left if you want to join in. You don’t have to be a writer, so don’t be shy – be part of something amazing.

Jan 7th by Dave Kirkwood

But if you don’t fancy joining in with a tweet, you can always donate a few bob via the website.

2 Comments

Filed under Art, Books, community, Contemporary Arts, Cross of Iron, Design, Disability, Ideas, Illustration, Inspiration, Writing