You dream of a beautiful house up on a calm and green hill. You don’t want to wake up but there it is on the corner of the big rock beside the beautiful wooden house. Staring right at your face with its disfigured face and body, with all its surreality, with all its ugly beauty, reminding you that it’s a dream. You take a bullet to the head. You are not awake. You feel the noises. It’s real and you’re on the edge. You are falling to the other side. You pass to the other side and there is no sound and that’s the sole difference. You are dead and it’s still staring.
Max Ernst. L’Ange du foyer ou Le Triomphe du surréalisme. 1937. Oil on canvas. 114 x 146 cm. Private collection.