Pictures of the Mind

Surrealist Photography and Film

by Ramona Fotiade (Author)
©2018 Monographs XII, 374 Pages
Series: New Studies in European Cinema, Volume 5


Pictures of the Mind is the first integrated study of Surrealist photography and film, assessing the impact of early experimental practice and theoretical discourse on prominent post-war trends in art house cinema. Roland Barthes’s interpretation of the photographic image, alongside Jacques Derrida’s concepts of spectrality and trace, underscore an exploration of the recurrent references to the phantomatic aspect of photography and film in Surrealist theoretical writings and practice. The analysis uses Derrida’s account of the uncanny to shed light on the Surrealist conception of photographic and film images as mental constructs, or pictures of the mind, rather than mere visual representations. This leads to a consideration of the similarities between the Surrealist conception of beauty as fixed-explosive and Gilles Deleuze’s theory of the time-image as applied to Luis Buñuel’s films. Ultimately, the impact of Surrealism on post-war cinema is assessed as part of a wider consideration of the status of photographic and filmic images in the age of digital cinema. The elaboration of an aesthetics of spectrality in early Surrealism is shown to have had lasting implications for a range of post-war filmmakers such as Chris Marker, Maya Deren, Nelly Kaplan, Federico Fellini, Andrei Tarkovsky, Jan Svankmajer, Akira Kurosawa, Alejandro Jodorowsky, Guillermo del Toro, Guy Maddin, Terry Gilliam and David Lynch.

Table Of Contents

  • Cover
  • Title
  • Copyright
  • About the author
  • About the book
  • This eBook can be cited
  • Contents
  • List of Figures
  • Acknowledgements
  • Introduction
  • Chapter 1: Spectral Bodies: Visualizing the Unconscious
  • Chapter 2: Latent Images: Found Objects
  • Chapter 3: Camera Obscura: From Precision Optics to Film
  • Chapter 4: Postmodern Surrealism: Film in the Age of Virtual Reality
  • Conclusion
  • Bibliography
  • Index
  • Series Index

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Figure 1.NaLha, Rigging of a Tall Ship in Rain and Thunderstorm (St Elmo’s Fire, 2018).
Figure 2.Electrical fluid of a hand (photography c. 1895) (Jakob von Narkiewicz-Jodko).
Figure 3.Henri Matisse, La Fenêtre bleue aka La Glace sans tain (1913) © MoMA New York/SCALA Florence.
Figure 4.Man Ray, The Kiss (1922) © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris and DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 5.Man Ray, L’Etoile de mer (1928), use of gelatin filter © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, 2013.
Figure 6.Man Ray, ‘Once again, now, I see Robert Desnos …’ (Man Ray, Robert Desnos in André Breton’s Nadja © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, 2013).
Figure 7.Brassaï, ‘The house where I live, my life, the things I write …’ (1932) © Estate Brassaï/RMN – Grand-Palais/Centre Pompidou – MNAM-CCI/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 8.J. A. Boiffard, ‘The words Bois-Charbons’ (1928).
Figure 9.André Breton, ‘Her fern-like eyes …’ © ADAGP, Paris/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 10.Man Ray, ‘Iron Mask’ (‘A highly evolved descendant of the helmet …’) © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 11.Man Ray, ‘Slipper-spoon’ (‘From a little shoe that was part of it …’) © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris/DACS, London, 2013. ← vii | viii →
Figure 12.Brassaï, ‘Statue of Marshall Ney in the Fog’ (1932) © Estate Brassaï/RMN – Grand-Palais/Centre Pompidou – MNAM-CCI/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 13.Man Ray, ‘Benjamin Fondane’ (1925) © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 14.Benjamin Fondane, ‘Self-Portrait with Kodak camera’ (c. 1929) © Michel Carassou.
Figure 15.Kodak camera (produced between 1917 and 1927) with elevated viewfinder and the possibility of inscribing the date and title on the negative with a pencil or stylus.
Figure 16.Benjamin Fondane, ‘Self-Portrait with Kodak camera’ (c. 1928) © Michel Carassou.
Figure 17.Benjamin Fondane, ‘Self-Portrait with Kodak camera and mirror’, in photo album (c. 1929) © Michel Carassou.
Figure 18.Man Ray, ‘L’enregistrement d’un rêve’ (The Recording of a Dream) (1933) © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 19.Benjamin Fondane, ‘Negative self-portrait and self-portraits with Kodak camera’, in photo-album (c. 1929–1931) © Michel Carassou.
Figure 20.Benjamin Fondane, Tararira (1936), still from the closing sequence © Michel Carassou.
Figure 21.Benjamin Fondane, still shot from Tararira showing one of the actors coming out of the ‘cabin of odours’ where olfactive impressions are recorded © Michel Carassou.
Figure 22.Benjamin Fondane, Tararira (two stills from the film which allude to the bearded ballerina in Entr’acte by René Clair and Francis Picabia, 1924) © Michel Carassou.
Figure 23.Benjamin Fondane, Televiziune (1930); Fondane is the first from the left © Michel Carassou. ← viii | ix →
Figure 24.Anonymous, Loïe Fuller performing the Serpentine Dance (still from short film, 1896).
Figure 25.Marianne Visier, Des fantômes de nos actions passées (1983) © Marianne Visier.
Figure 26.Marianne Visier, Des fantômes de nos actions passées (1983), visual quotation from Man Ray’s Les Mystères du château du dé (1929) © Marianne Visier.
Figure 27.Luis Buñuel, Los Olvidados (1950).
Figure 28.Luis Buñuel, L’Age d’or (1930).
Figure 29.Luis Buñuel, Un chien andalou (1929).
Figure 30.Luis Buñuel, Un chien andalou (1929).
Figure 31.Luis Buñuel, That Obscure Object of Desire (1977).
Figure 32.Man Ray, Fixed-Explosive © Man Ray Trust/ADAGP, Paris/DACS, London, 2013.
Figure 33.Luis Buñuel, That Obscure Object of Desire (1977).
Figure 34.Chris Marker, La Jetée (1962).
Figure 35.Ridley Scott, Blade Runner (1982).

Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their permission for the use of copyright material. The publisher apologizes for any errors or omissions in the above list and would be grateful for notification of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book. ← ix | x →

← x | xi →


This book has been very long in the making, and I owe sincere thanks to the Commissioning Editor, Laurel Plapp, for her unswerving support and enthusiasm over the years. I am also indebted to the peer-review readers for their helpful suggestions on the final draft of this volume. The book has benefitted from the assistance of DACS, ADAGP, RMN and SCALA which provided the copyright for many illustrations in this volume. Special thanks must also go to Michel Carassou and Marianne Visier for granting permissions for the reproduction of images from their personal archives. The AHRC and the Carnegie Trust provided the material support for an extended period of study leave in the early stages of this project, and the funding for the acquisition of copyright for illustrations, respectively. The following people, with whom I have had the privilege to work on exhibition, conference or book projects related to Surrealist film and photography, have helped to shape and test ideas in this volume: Jane Alison, Rob Stone, Graeme Harper, Julián Daniel Gutiérrez-Albilla, Ian Aitken, Eric Robertson, Elza Adamowicz, Martine Beugnet, Marion Schmid, David Martin-Jones, Clément Chéroux, Lucien Massaert, Michel Carassou, Henri Béhar. I would like to pay homage to Jacqueline Hyde (1922–2013), art photographer, fine connoisseur of Surrealist artists and their contemporary heirs, for the generous access to her library and private collections, and for the many hours spent talking about the American and French artists and writers she had known. Finally, I would like to thank my husband, Olivier Salazar-Ferrer, whose loving presence has been a constant source of strength and inspiration, shining a light at the end of the tunnel. ← xi | xii →

← xii | 1 →


‘The cinema was for us an immense discovery at the moment when we were elaborating Surrealism’1 – Philippe Soupault recalled several decades after the publication of the First Surrealist Manifesto. The co-author, with Breton, of the first automatic text, Les Champs magnétiques (1920), Soupault pointed at the close relationship between cinematic image and the Surrealist exploration of dreams: ‘One can say that, from the birth of Surrealism, we sought to discover, thanks to the cinema, the means for expressing the immense power of the dream’.2 Similarly, in the opening paragraph of a text devoted to Max Ernst’s exhibition at Au Sans Pareil in 1921, Breton hailed the revolutionary advent of photography that put an end to what he globally designated as the ‘old forms of expression’. By this he referred, of course, not only to the demise of traditional painting, but, more significantly, to the crisis of poetic representation brought about by automatic writing, ‘une véritable photographie de la pensée’ (a true photography of thought).3 Three years later, the relationship between automatism and the ‘actual functioning of thought’ became the basis of the first programmatic definition of Surrealism.

The decisive impact of photography and film on the advent of Surrealism, from the early days of its cohabitation with the Dada movement to the formulation of its ideology and aesthetic practice, has so far ← 1 | 2 → inspired only occasional comments as part of historical and critical accounts devoted to the role played by either still or moving images in the evolution of the avant-garde visual experimentation. Although Surrealist photography and film have separately made the subject of recent debates and published volumes,4 an integrated analysis of these closely related areas of experimentation has rarely been attempted.5 The present study provides the first sustained assessment of the relationship between Surrealist photography and film, starting from the premise of their joint influence on the evolution of key Surrealist notions (such as dépaysement – estrangement, le merveilleux quotidien – the marvellous aspect of everyday experience, la beauté convulsive – convulsive beauty, l’explosante-fixe – the fixed-explosive, le hasard objectif – objective chance, and l’objet trouvé – the found object), in order to consider the conceptual and practical implications of the transition from still to moving images. The argument of the book focuses on the relevance of structuralist and post-structuralist theories in order to bring out the presence of a coherent Surrealist approach to photographic and filmic representation that led to the elaboration of what can best be described as an aesthetics of spectrality, based on the recurrent references to the spectral or phantomatic aspect of both still and moving images. Derrida’s conception of photography, cinema and techno-telecommunications, which he developed starting with the early 1980s (in response to Barthes’s untimely death and as a result of his first screen role in Ken McMullen’s Ghost Dance) provides the backbone of my argumentation on ← 2 | 3 → the primacy and pervasiveness of a concern with haunting, virtuality and doubling in Surrealist visual experimentation.6

Following on from the results of the comparative analysis of theoretical writings and experimental techniques in the work of influential authors (including Breton, Desnos, Man Ray, Duchamp, Brassaï, Boiffard, Buñuel and Dalí among others ), the final part of the volume explores the legacy of Surrealism within post-war trends in art-house and popular cinema. Despite the recent rise of interest in this area (marked by the publication of several monographs, collective volumes and exhibition catalogues, such as Robert Short’s The Age of Gold: Surrealist Cinema – 2003, Michael Richardson’s Surrealism and Cinema – 2006, Matthew Gale’s Dalí and Film – 2007, Graeme Harper and Rob Stone’s The Unsilvered Screen. Surrealism on Film – 2007, Bruce Elder’s Dada, Surrealism and the Cinematic Effect – 2013, and the Deutsches Filminstitut’s exhibition catalogue, Conscious Hallucinations. Filmic Surrealism – 2014), none of the existing volumes and book chapters or articles addresses the issue of post-war film productions and Surrealism from the point of view of an integrated analysis of photography and film that highlights the ongoing concern with an aesthetics of spectrality and the postmodern re-evaluation of the interaction between still and moving images. Building on the strength of earlier landmark studies of Surrealist ← 3 | 4 → cinema (e.g. Ado Kyrou, Le Surréalisme au cinema – 1963, Steven Kovács, From Enchantment to Rage – 1980, Linda Williams, Figures of Desire. A Theory and Analysis of Surrealist Film – 1992, Rudolf Kuenzli, Dada and Surrealist Film – 1996), as well as recent intermedial studies (such as the exhibition catalogue La Subversion des images – 2009 and Kim Knowles’ A Cinematic Artist. The Films of Man Ray – 2009), the present volume brings into view for the first time the place that Surrealist experimentation with photography and film holds within postmodernity.

What situates Surrealist commentaries of film within contemporary debates is the insistence on the ability offered by the new medium to ‘visualize dreams’, to bridge reality and imagination. In search for revolutionary new means of communicating experiences that transgress the conventional barriers between perception and imagination, virtuality and actuality, Surrealists credited ‘cinematographic art’ with a miraculously accurate ability to express the nonverbal, visual unfolding of dreams. Soupault’s retrospective account of the ‘birth of Surrealism’ does not hesitate to relate the foremost aspiration of the movement – that is, the superimposition of dreams and everyday reality – to the crucial influence of cinema, and its new visual language: ‘We considered the film as a marvellous mode of expressing dreams … we thought the film would propose extraordinary possibilities for expressing, transfiguring and realizing dreams’.7

The Surrealists’ conception of cinema, which envisaged the possibility of expressing and ‘realizing’ dreams through ‘cinematographic language’, was adopted by other film critics of the time. Paul Ramain, for example, talked about the identical nature of dreams and cinema, and referred back to Sigmund Freud’s remark that dreams remain ‘untranslatable in words, (and) can only be expressed by means of images’.8 He even went so far as to say that ‘all the expressive and visual processes of the cinema are found in dreams (…) The simultaneity of actions, soft-focus images, dissolves, superimpositions, ← 4 | 5 → distortion, the doubling of images, slow motion’.9 Similarly, Jean Goudal wrote in 1925 that the ‘cinematographic’ image represented ‘a conscious hallucination, and utilizes this fusion of dream and consciousness which Surrealism would like to see realized in the literary domain’.10 This interpretation encouraged the persistent belief that the Surrealist and the cinematic deployment of visual techniques corresponds to the dream-like ‘succession of images that is a simulacrum of the real world’.11 The explicit mention of simulacrum and artificiality in relation to the status of images in films and dreams accounts for the enduring success of Goudal’s opinion, which has been incorporated into the rationale of recent analyses of Surrealist cinema, such as Linda William’s Figures of Desire (1992). After introducing the notion of simulacrum, with reference to Goudal’s contention about film and dream images, Williams relates this early critical position to Christian Metz’s well-known theory of the ‘imaginary signifier’, and argues that ‘in dreams and the film one sees the image of something that is not really there in an illusion similar to that of a mirror’.12 This conception of the film image as specular illusion relies on a misleading understanding of the cinematic visual signifier from within a theory of representation and semblance, whose psychoanalytical foundation remains largely unquestioned. The argument of the present study which focuses on the postmodern concept of spectrality aims to bring about a long-overdue re-assessment of the account of Surrealist cinema based on the analogy with dream processes as simulacra of real visual perceptions. More recently, David Lomas’s exploration of the marvellous as the Surrealist reworking of the Freudian uncanny has firmly placed simulation at the centre of the avant-garde experimentation which moved ‘Surrealism decisively away from automatism’, under ← 5 | 6 → the influence of Dalí and the paranoiac-critical method, in order to align it with a generalized aesthetics of mimicry, doubling and delusion which deliberately effaced the distinction between imagination and reality.13 The tension between the passive, mechanical aspect of processes of compulsive repetition in automatism and the more creative stand represented by deliberate delusion in phenomena of simulated madness bears out well the rift between Breton’s insistence on the authenticity of results obtained through Surrealist experimentation and Dalí’s unrestrained adoption of simulation as part of his paranoiac-critical method.14 While drawing upon David Lomas’s scrupulous critical investigation of the psychoanalytical and Surrealist appraisals of conscious and unconscious mimicry, simulation and optical illusion in relation to visual art,15 the present study aims to extend the analysis of Freudian and Lacanian notions of subjectivity in relation to haunting so as to account for the conceptual shift in the aftermath of the polemic between Lacan and Derrida on the scopic regime and search for truth in The Purloined Letter.16 With the possibility of a non-circular itinerary of the signifier (or of the letter as symbol of the castration complex ← 6 | 7 → and of the primacy of maleness and the phallus) which ‘can always not arrive at its destination’, as Derrida argues in ‘Le facteur de la vérité’,17 comes the notion of uncontrolled dissemination and reversal of hierarchical dichotomies (such as male versus female, but also, and by the same token, being versus non-being, life versus death). The struggle for the mastery of the gaze and the possession of truth (as differently played out in Lacan’s ‘full speech’ theory and in Derrida’s hieroglyphic interpretation of Poe’s story) informs the current reappraisal of Surrealist photography and film which aligns phenomena of doubling, uncanny recurrence and mimesis with the theory of spectrality, alienation and fragmentation of self-presence as elaborated by Derrida with reference to Freud’s psychoanalytical legacy in Ghost Dance (1983) as well as in Mal d’archive (1995), ‘Aletheia’ (1996)18 and Demeure, Athènes (1996), at the same time with the series of interviews published in Ecographies de la télévision (1996), and followed by the posthumous volume, Penser à ne pas voir (2013).

Recent analyses of the Surrealist conception of cinema along the lines of Goudal’s original thesis about film images as ‘simulacrum of the real world’ have come up against the difficulty of providing a non-contradictory account of the famous debate between Artaud and Germaine Dulac, surrounding the making of The Seashell and the Clergyman (1928). Trying to argue for the basic similarity in the two authors’ understanding of film as oneiric production seems a daunting enterprise if one has in mind Artaud’s protests against Dulac’s rendition of the scenario, and his adamant rejection of any attempt to interpret The Seashell and the Clergyman as being ← 7 | 8 → ‘made of a single dream’,19 or as ‘a dream on the screen’.20 Nevertheless, this is precisely the argumentative stand taken by one of the most prolific critics and promoters of Dulac’s work in recent years, Sandy Flitterman-Lewis, who declares that Artaud’s dissatisfaction with the film has been greatly misunderstood’, and that the ‘basic similarity in the thinking of Dulac and Artaud’ can be acknowledged within the very context of the controversial press release announcing the film as ‘a dream on the screen’.21 The necessary presupposition for this acknowledgment, like in the case of Linda Williams’ previously mentioned study, concerns the possibility of describing both film and dream as ‘fantasmatic productions’. Whether Freudian or Lacanian, the resulting interpretation of ‘the confluence of film and dream’, of the ‘cinematic text’ and the discourse of dreams, places the unconscious processes in the foreground, and obliterates the incompatibility between this psychoanalytic framework and Artaud’s rejection of the supposedly oneiric mechanisms of film production and consumption.

The concept of spectrality which guides our analysis of Surrealist photography and film allows for a more nuanced critical interpretation of the tension between Freudian or Lacanian explorations of the unconscious, on the one hand, and the Surrealist theory and practice of visual representation ← 8 | 9 → on the other. The manner in which Breton and other members of the movement appropriated and adapted certain principles of psychoanalysis foregrounds their emphasis on the creative potential of mental alienation, as well as associated forms of delusion and induced trance, that illustrate the attempted blurring of the boundaries between ‘death and life, the real and the imagined, past and future’22 and therefore seek to elude the therapeutic finality of Freudian investigations. Far from privileging the postulated return to the reality principle, Surrealism endeavoured to maintain the fertile indetermination and possible fusion between apparently conflicting drives and impulses. Moreover, dreams (often invoked by critics of the movement in relation to photographic and filmic experimentation) represent only one area of mental activity that was never dealt with in isolation by Surrealist theoreticians and practitioners of the poetic image. The envisaged coincidence between automatic writing and photography or film that Breton mentioned in 1921 signals the presence of a more complex interaction of conscious and unconscious processes than the mere transcription or simulation of the visual unfolding of dreams. During the post-war period, one of the best French critics of Surrealist cinema, Alain Virmaux (1976), pointed out the obvious insufficiency of any explanatory accounts based on the analogy with dreams that Surrealists themselves came to denounce as a facile subterfuge for a range of competing experimental trends:

The idea of film conceived as a dream is after all but one stage on the way to a genuinely Surrealist cinema. People had got into the habit of presenting every film and every sequence which led to something irrational as a dream. With boredom coming into play, it was inevitable that the artifice would one day be exposed. Before long the dream started to be perceived as a temporary stage, a lazy alibi, a safe manner of getting the audience to accept the daring elements, in short, an easy option. As long as they were put down to dreaming or to the hero’s madness (cf. Caligari) –, extravagant ← 9 | 10 → features no longer bothered anyone. And this is exactly what the Surrealists could not resign themselves to.23

A closer examination of the Surrealist debates and programmatic texts concerning the role of cinematic and photographic experiments suggests indeed that the initial reference to dream imagery was quickly abandoned in favour of a more elaborate aesthetics of spectrality, that can be said to query the assumptions and aims of Freudian psychoanalysis, just as it seems to reverse the rationalist disparagement of paranormal phenomena, delusional states and optical illusions. Considerations on the phantomatic or ghostly aspect of still and moving images abound in the writing of prominent members of the movement, such as Breton, Desnos, Man Ray and Artaud, among others. Within the scope of the present argument, the concept of spectrality, mainly inspired by Derrida’s work, allows for a postmodern re-assessment of early avant-garde theories of photographic and filmic images. Neither absent nor wholly present to the senses, neither intelligible nor sensible, the spectre subverts the system of binary oppositions between presence and absence, life and death, visibility and the unseen in keeping with the aspiration of the Surrealist movement expressed by Breton in the Second Manifesto. As far as the status of photographic and cinematic images is concerned, the spectre resists the reductive analogy with dream processes, as it deconstructs the subject of Freudian investigations along with the old metaphysical presuppositions underpinning the psychoanalytical discourse. In fact, the post-deconstructive subject as spectre does not belong to some reformed ontological framework, but rather inaugurates what Derrida, in Spectres of Marx, calls ‘hauntology’. More specifically related to the constantly shifting ‘frontier between the public and the private’, that is said to remain ‘less assured than ever, as the limit that would permit one to identify the political’, the term ‘hauntology’ initially emerged within a consideration of the rapidly proliferating spectral or virtual modes of communication in the age of ‘techno-tele-discursivity’ ← 10 | 11 → and ‘techno-tele-iconicity’.24 Perfectly adapted therefore to postmodern digital production and post-production processes, the notion of the specter and the associated study of virtual forms of being (‘hauntology’) allow for a long overdue re-assessment of the legacy of Surrealist photography and film images in the twenty-first century.

The first chapter explores the implications of Derrida’s concept of spectrality for a re-assessment of the Surrealist aesthetics of visual representation aiming to provide an integrated critical interpretation of photographic and filmic experiments. The manner in which the theoreticians and practitioners of the movement appropriated the Freudian notion of the uncanny to subvert traditional approaches to reality from a mimetic standpoint, and highlight the artistic potential of phenomena of optical illusion and false recognition, is related to the postmodern deconstruction of the notion of presence (and its correlates: identity, the ‘proper’ and the subject), that similarly appropriates and redeploys basic postulates of psychoanalytical discourse. The ideology of two representatives of the Surrealist movement serves as a case in point at this stage of the argument. Man Ray’s rayographs, and Desnos’s collaboration with the American-born artist in the making of L’Etoile de mer (The Starfish – 1928) bear witness to the pervasive concern with an aesthetics of spectrality in Surrealist circles which finds further support in Breton’s articles on cinema and fictional writings.

The argumentative stand in the first chapter also seeks to highlight the close relationship between the literary avant-garde, in particular Surrealism, and early French cinema, that goes back to the mid 1910s, long before the crystallization of the movement and the publication of its first manifesto. As early as 1916, Breton’s encounter with Vaché (which left an indelible mark on the movement) was influenced by their common ‘chance encounters’ with the cinema, that can be said to have actively shaped the Surrealist ← 11 | 12 → notion of poetic dépaysement. Interesting connections can be made between the discovery of the cinematographic image, of editing, and the automatic writing that Breton and his friends proposed as a deconstructivist technique, uncovering the unconscious processes of desire in their fragmentary, illogical form, opposed to the rational propensity towards coherence and totality of conventionally accepted meaningful discourse. The emphasis on the ambiguous, ghostly appearance of photographic and filmic images in Surrealist theory and practice also signals the undeniable formative influence of cinema on the elaboration of distinctive Surrealist tenets such as le hasard objectif, la beauté convulsive, l’explosante-fixe, l’objet trouvé and le merveilleux quotidien.


XII, 374
ISBN (Softcover)
Publication date
2018 (October)
Surrealism Surrealist photography Surrealist film Art house cinema Derrida
Oxford, Bern, Berlin, Bruxelles, New York, Wien, 2018. XII, 369 pp., 8 coloured ill., 27 b/w ill.

Biographical notes

Ramona Fotiade (Author)

Ramona Fotiade is Senior Lecturer in French at the University of Glasgow. She has written extensively on Surrealist and experimental cinema and contributed to The Surreal House exhibition at the Barbican Art Gallery in 2010 with articles on film and architecture. She is the author of the Ciné-file film guide to À bout de souffle (2013).


Title: Pictures of the Mind