Within the context of literature and performance art, dada was way beyond its time. The theories of chance, anti-art, and the role of the artist are explored in these mediums in some of the same ways that they were in the visual arts. The performance aspect of dada is also highly political as mentioned in the Politik section of the page. Included with this link are a few pieces of dada poetry, along with a dada play or two and on top of that a picture of Hugo Ball in costume for one of his poetry readings.
Poetry And Writing
These two pieces are dada poems that were created by the authors of
this page using the instructions provided by Tristan Tzara in his piece
to make a dada poem”.
|A Dada Ransom
Collaged by Nick Ragan
That race- quick/doomed,
Collaged by Jacob Beck
Longer days, facades, years, Neva River,
We pull ourselves toward Death with the cord of hope.
Ravens are envious of the prison yards.
Our never-kissed lips quiver.
Powerless solitude, you are magnificent.
The world lies outside there, life roars there.
There men are permitted to go where they like.
Once we also belonged to them.
And now we are forgotten and presumed dead.
At night, we dream of miracles on our plank-beds.
During the days, we move along like frightened animals.
We mournfully look out through the iron railing
And have nothing more to lose
Than the life God gave us.
Only Death lies in our hand.
The freedom no one can take from us:
To go into the unknown land.
(Translated by Mel Gordon)
Exerted from a play by Roger Vitrac
Mr. Patrice, what do you bring in your shoes?
Elephants under the palm trees.
And what about that lion looking at us?
That, my child, is liberty.
And what about the automobile, is it for us?
It is unbreakable and deep.
Are you giving us some new perfume?
Take these birds.
The first child is the son of the bakery horse, while the second is
the offspring of his mother's sewing machine.
The third, father of a colonel in the Zouaves, shoots the other two, then remarks to Patrice,
"What do you expect, Papa, I was the father of a colonel of Zouaves by accident,
but I will always be the son of love."
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