In
A Book of Surrealist Games, readers are invited into the captivating realm of Surrealism, where creativity knows no bounds. This comprehensive collection of the methods used by the artists and poets of the Surrealist school explores the movement’s radical approach to art and thought, offering a collection of games and techniques that serve as both historical document and practical manual for unlocking the unconscious mind.
Discover how the Surrealists used play and chance to subvert established norms and liberate words and images from rational constraints. From automatic writing to the exquisite corpse, Alastair Brotchie and Mel Gooding help illuminate the collaborative nature of Surrealist practices, revealing how these playful activities fostered unexpected connections among artists. This collection also examines the philosophical underpinnings of the movement, exploring its critique of societal norms and bourgeois values.
A Book of Surrealist Games challenges readers to reclaim their imaginative faculties and engage with the world in a more playful way, where everyday objects transform into symbols of deeper meaning and dreams manifest in tangible forms.
This delightful collection allows everyone to enjoy firsthand the provocative methods used by the artists and poets of the Surrealist school to break through conventional thought and behavior to a deeper truth. Invented and played by such artists as André Breton, Rene Magritte, and Max Ernst, these gems still produce results ranging from the hilarious to the mysterious and profound.
"Of great value to teachers, comedy writers and other problem-solvers, this is an illustrated compendium of ways to be inventive, humorous or absurd through irresponsibility or 'planned incongruity.'"—
Ballast Quarterly Review "This extraordinary collection of word games, visual tricks and intellectual assaults on the conventional is a treasure trove of the artistic and socio-linguistic conundrums which the Surrealists—Andre Breton, Tristan Tzara and their associates—cultivated from the 1920s onwards. Its compiler, Alastair Brotchie, is to be congratulated for salvaging such fascinating if recondite material from the various obscure journals in which it first appeared."—
The Spectator 
