Surrealist Collage: 'Max Ernst — The Illustrated Books'

NESTLED IN A remote corner of the National Gallery, the exhibit "Max Ernst — The Illustrated Books" is barely noticeable. There are no plaques on the wall to explain anything about the works on display, and the 20 or so monochrome images stare from behind glass at a small, almost entirely empty room. Few museum-goers pay any attention, instead using the room as passage between other parts of the gallery.

Perhaps this is fitting. Ernst's three collage novels, the focus of "The Illustrated Books," have been all but forgotten since the artist — also a prolific painter and sculptor — pasted them together in the '20s and '30s. But if Picasso is often credited with the invention of the collage, it's only fair that Ernst be given the honor of having perfected it.

At first glance, the illustrations on display from "Une semaine de bonte," "Reve d'une petite fille qui voulut entrer au Carmel" and "La femme 100 tetes" appear to be ripped straight from Victorian novels and early 20th century pulp fiction — and indeed they are. Toying with the viewer's expectations, Ernst altered already existing illustrations, fitting different elements together and distorting the original subject matter.

Ernst's alterations range from subtle to drastic, but all are disconcerting, and any seams in the collages are so undetectable as to be nonexistent, heightening this effect. In one image from "Une semaine de bonte," two well-to-do Victorian ladies sit side by side in a drawing room, seemingly oblivious to the scaly anteater climbing up one of them. Other collages reveal one of Ernst's favorite themes: people with bird-heads.

Also on display are a few illustrations that Ernst did for books written by his friends, including Franz Kafka and fellow surrealists Paul Eluard and Jean Arp. Even more minimalist than the novels, many of these collages show just two figures on a white plain: a boy standing with a dog-like animal while a free-standing window keeps watch in the background; a young girl looking demurely at a lady with a hatching caterpillar for a head.

The motifs are familiar to any fan of surrealism. Dreamlike imagery? Check. Misplaced body parts? Check. Vaguely disturbing scenes involving animals or children? Check and check.

But Ernst never tries to beat the viewer over the head with craziness for its own sake. He eschews Rene Magritte's trompe l'oeils and Salvador Dalí's over-the-top neuroses in favor of a more subdued, haunting style reminiscent of Czech surrealists Toyen and Jindrich Styrsky.

On the other hand, those who long for the surrealist gimmicks they know and love need not be disappointed: "The Illustrated Books" includes five plates from Ernst's "Histoire Naturelle." In this portfolio of prints, Ernst used a technique he called frottage, also known as pencil rubbings. The finished pieces depict plants, leaves, and occasional strange creatures, all composed of wood grain and other textures.

The frottage from "Histoire Naturelle" are nothing short of forgettable, and seem almost out of place in the exhibit. In the end, it is the collages, in the way that they quietly tweak the familiar into something unrecognizable, that are capable of leaving a lasting impression.

Unfortunately, though, because of its uninviting setup, it's unlikely that "The Illustrated Books" will leave much of an impression at all.

» National Gallery of Art, West Building, 401 Constitution Ave. NW; through Sept. 6; 202-712-7458 (Archives-Navy Memorial/Penn Quarter)

Written by Express contributor Elizabeth Simins

Images, in order:
» Max Ernst | Les malheurs des immortels, 1922 | National Gallery of Art Library, Washington | David K. E. Bruce Fund | Photo by Andrew Thomas Clifton
» Max Ernst | Une semaine de bonte, ou Les sept éléments capitaux: roman, 1934 | National Gallery of Art Library, Washington | David K. E. Bruce Fund | Photo by Andrew Thomas Clifton
» Max Ernst | Une semaine de bonte, ou Les sept éléments capitaux: roman, 1934 | National Gallery of Art Library, Washington | David K. E. Bruce Fund | Photo by Andrew Thomas Clifton
» Max Ernst | La dame ovale, 1939 | National Gallery of Art Library, Washington | David K. E. Bruce Fund | Photo by Andrew Thomas Clifton
» Max Ernst | Histoire naturelle, 1926 | National Gallery of Art Library, Washington | David K. E. Bruce Fund | Photo by Andrew Thomas Clifton