Diary of a Genius - Softcover

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My next film will be exactly the opposite of an experimental avant-garde film, and especially of what is nowadays called â??creativeâ??, which means nothing but a servile subordination to all the commonplaces of our wretched modern art. I shall tell the true story of a paranoid woman in love with a wheelbarrow which successively takes on all the attributes of the beloved whose dead body has served as a means of transport. In the end, the wheelbarrow is reincarnated and becomes flesh. That is why my film will be called The Flesh Wheelbarrow. Sophisticated or ordinary, all the audience will be forced to participate in my fetishist delirium, because it is something that is strictly true and that will be told in a way no documentary could have managed. In spite of its categorical realism, my work will contain some really extraordinary scenes, and I cannot resist communicating some of them to my readers in advance, for the sole purpose of making their mouths water. They will see five white swans explode one after the other in a series of minutely slow images that develop according to the most rigorous archangelic eurythmics. The swans will be stuffed with real pomegranates that have been filled in advance with explosives, so that it will be possible to observe with all due precision the explosion of the birdsâ?? entrails and the fan-shaped burst of pomegranate seeds which will hit the cloud of feathers as one might imagine the corpuscles of light bump into each other, so that, in my experiment, the seeds will have the same realism as in the paintings of Mantegna, and the feathers the flowing vagueness which made the painter Eugène Carrière famous2. In my film there will also be a scene representing the Trevi fountain in Rome. The windows of the houses round the square will open, and six rhinoceroses will fall into the water one after the other. After each rhinoceros falls, a black umbrella will rise open, from the bottom of the fountain.In another scene, the Place de la Concorde will be shown at daybreak, slowly being traversed in all directions by two thousand priests on bicycles carrying placards with the very vague but still recognisable effigy of Malenkov. And then, at the right moment, I shall show one hundred Spanish gypsies killing and cutting up an elephant in a Madrid street. They will leave only its fleshless skeleton, in this way transposing an African scene that I once read about in a book...