Andre Breton, 1929 “The Second Manifesto of Surrealism” trans. Seaver and Lane. reprinted in Art in Theory 1900-2000 ed. Harrison and Wood. pp. 463-467
“I do not believe in the present possibility of an art of literature which expresses the aspirations of the working class. If I refuse to believe in such a possibility, it is because, in any prerevolutionary period the writer or artist, who of necessity is a product of the bourgeoisie, is by definition incapable of translating these aspirations and that, in rather exceptional moral circumstances, he may be capable of conceiving of the relativity of any cause in terms of the proletarian cause. I consider it to be a matter of sensitivity and integrity for him. This does not mean, however, that he will elude the remarkable doubt, inherent in the means of expression which are his, which forces him to consider from a very special angle, within himself and himself alone, the work he intends to do. In order to be viable, this work demands to be situated in relationship to certain other already existing works and must, in its turn, open new paths” p. 465
“We can recognize [inspiration] by that total possession of our mind which, at rare intervals, prevents our being, for every problem posed, the plaything of one rational solution, by that sort of short circuit it creates between a given idea and a respondent idea (written for example). Just as in the physical world, a short circuit occurs when two ‘poles’ of a machine are joined by a conductor of little or no resistance. In poetry and painting, Surrealism has done everything it can and more to increase these short circuits. It believes, and ti will never believe in anything more wholeheartedly, in reproducing artificially this ideal moment when man, in the grip of a particular emotion, is suddenly seized by this something ‘stronger than himself’ which projects him, in self-defense, into immortality. If he were lucid, awake, he would be terrified as he wriggled out of that tight situation. The whole point for him is not to be free of it, for him to go on talking the entire time this mysterious ringing lasts: it is, in fact, the point at which he ceases to belong to himself that he belongs to us” p. 466
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