拍品專文
"I never impose a title on a picture; I wait for the title to impose itself. After painting it, I often remain - and sometimes for quite a while - haunted by the picture, and this obsession does not leave me until the title appears as if by magic. Quite ordinary events of everyday life frequently come to my aid. An example of this picture I once finished just before going on holiday. It pursued me, demanding a name, not giving me a moment's of peace. Pondering over a possible title, I was strolling beside the lake in Geneva when I was accosted by a pleasant-looking woman who addressed me in the following terms:'The prince eats badly'. I was intrigued. 'It isn't the name of a restaurant', she went on. I became suspicious.'Is it the name of a street?' I asked her.'Yes', she answered, and moved away. The next day -I had forgotten the incident- I met another pleasant-looking woman. She began: 'The prince...' and I continued '...eats badly', to which she responded with a smile of complicity. By turning it into verse, the meaning of the phrase became clear: The prince eats badly
In his marriage bed
The title of my picture flashed through my brain at that very moment. It would be called Les princes dorment mal (Princes sleep badly).
(Max Ernst, 'La nudité de la femme est plus sage que l'enseignement du philosophe', 1959, in Ecritures, p. 336-337.)
In his marriage bed
The title of my picture flashed through my brain at that very moment. It would be called Les princes dorment mal (Princes sleep badly).
(Max Ernst, 'La nudité de la femme est plus sage que l'enseignement du philosophe', 1959, in Ecritures, p. 336-337.)