The main reason for my stop in Zurich on my recent trip to Europe was, aside from the ridiculous-delicious chocolate and macarons, a visit to the Cabaret Voltaire, the birth place of the Dada.
Do the people of Zurich not know what an important and super-funky landmark they posses? Do they just not care? Am I just some giant art nerd? (likely, yes, as my husband kept referring to Hugo Ball as Hugo Boss just to annoy me) I'm not really sure. This free experience - yes a FREE experience in Zurich, one of the most expensive places on the planet - is the best kept secret in that city. I want everybody to know what they're missing...and yet, I don't. Maybe this can just be our little secret.
Later,
Beth
Dadaism was both an artistic and cultural movement ranging from WWI through the early 1920s. In light of the atrocities of WWI, Dadaists promoted anti-war politics through the creation of art which flew in the face of established artist practices of the time. Collage employing pop-culture imagery, cardboard and construction paper - "base materials" which were not considered the media of "fine art"- were some of the tools the Dadaists used in their subversive coup of art and bourgeois culture. Not limited to the visual arts, Dadaists were performance artists, writers, poets and musicians. Their work and ethos would influence Surrealism, Pop, Fluxus and even the punk movement (it blows my mind to think men in spats were the original punks). "Dada" is, essentially, a nonsense word which is fitting for the international reach of the movement. Zurich, a cosmopolitan city at the confluence of several European cultures in a neutral country, was the perfect place for artists of many nationalities to come together to exchange radical ideas and to make equally ground-breaking art.
The Cabaret Voltaire is still standing, still showing art and still functioning as a club/performance/meeting place. The installation we saw included a fantastical cardboard city-scape reminiscent of Kurt Shwitters' Merzbau with an ominous voice telling us, wryly, not to trust architects. The husband and I had a great time sipping a surprisingly inexpensive cocktail, soaking in the images of Marcel Duchamp and Hugo Ball in his Karawane guise, browsing the gift shop and just reveling in the rich history. Yet, we were basically alone. I was shocked!
Later,
Beth
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