Death Sentences by Kawamata Chiaki

gimmick."
    With a sigh, Hare neatly put the thirteen pages of manuscript on the table, casually placing them somewhat closer to Breton.
    Then all at once he began again.
    "These pages undoubtedly succeed in portraying a world entirely unknown to us. But, quite frankly, I am not convinced that it is all that worthwhile an accomplishment. I mean, I just don't have the impression that the vision presented here is particularly well grounded as a whole in psychic imagery or in the activity of the unconscious. So-what is this `Another World'? I felt it to be nothing more than a fake, a sham, through and through. It is a world produced by relying merely on a sense of language or, if you will, on the magic of words. Or, to put it an other way, how can a world produced with fake words amount to anything but a fake world? And if that is the case-"

    Hare shook his head from side to side, slowly but with an aura of resolution.
    "While this `Another World' may work as science fiction or as fantasy, it is far from the spirit of surrealism. I don't see how we can look at it otherwise. This is my opinion, as a surrealist."
    Hare had said his peace.
    Empty glass still in hand, Breton was at a loss to reply.
    An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
    (Dogma!) Breton cursed him inwardly.
    Feeling himself in the grip of Hare's dogmatic pronouncements twisted something deep within Breton.
    Dogma has the power to foreclose discussion and dissent. And the dogma brandished by Hare was that drafted by none other than the high authority, Andre Breton himself.
    It was truly a farce. Breton frowned.
    But now he was more astonished than angry.
    Hare was calm. He had analyzed the work in all tranquility, offering his critique.
    But then he had been speaking with Andre Breton.
    Once again Breton felt the need to assure himself that he was in fact Andre Breton.
    His astonishment then became greater still.
    Hare had ended up lecturing Andre Breton himself about the nature of surrealism.
    What could be more astonishing than that?
    Breton finally came up with his own conclusions. There weren't many people who would go to such lengths to argue against Breton that a certain work ran counter to the spirit of surrealism. If they were intent on breaking with him, that was another matter. But what kind of person would argue down Breton without any such thing in mind? Hare didn't seem to be that sort of person.
    Nevertheless, Hare had tossed precisely that kind of speech at Breton, quite coolly.
    (Coolly ...)

    But had he really been so cool? Or had it been an act?
    Had he been seized by some deep-down sense of anxiety or instinctive terror that had spurred him to such desperate denial? Was that why he could not help but cling to dogma?
    (That's it.)
    At last Breton found a reply.
    He preferred to think that the deep red flush on his face was due to too much wine.
    "Your analysis was on the mark. Probably ... it's true ... I agree with your very telling remarks about this work, that it is a fake world constructed with fake words. From the surrealist point of view, we should be exceedingly cautious in our evaluation of it. Thank you. Your comments were very informative."
    The two stood up at the same time.
    They then shook hands.
    At that moment Breton noticed an expression of profound relief appear on Hare's face.
    What had Hare gone to such great lengths to deny? Perhaps he had keener insight into the genuine character of "Another World"? What in fact was "Another World"?
    After Hare had left, Breton picked up the manuscript pages, taking care not to look at the letters so finely written on them. He returned to his study and tucked it away in a desk drawer.
    6
    It was two days later that Marcel Duchamp arrived.
    Breton had invited him to lunch.
    That was merely an excuse.
    Breton had once provided the following assessment of Duchamp, nine years his elder, in the catalog for a surrealist exhibition: "Our friend Marcel Duchamp is undoubtedly the greatest artist of