Elective Affinities — Rene Magritte

rene magritte_06

Les affinités électives (Elective Affinities), 1933 by Rene Magritte (1898-1967)

One night, I woke up in a room in which a cage with a bird sleeping in it had been placed. A magnificent error caused me to see an egg in the cage, instead of the vanished bird. I then grasped a new and astonishing poetic secret, for the shock which I experienced had been provoked precisely by the affinity of two objects—the cage and the egg—to each other, whereas previously this shock had been caused by my bringing together two objects that were unrelated. [via]

From Marcel Paquet’s Magritte. Taschen, 2006.

I Wanted to Be a Bird — Leonora Carrington

Carrington_Queria-ser-pajaro_PRINTScreenshot 2017-05-28 at 12.11.50 PMScreenshot 2017-05-28 at 12.11.27 PMScreenshot 2017-05-28 at 12.10.56 PMScreenshot 2017-05-28 at 12.09.29 PMScreenshot 2017-05-28 at 12.12.01 PMScreenshot 2017-05-28 at 12.10.26 PM

Quería ser Pájaro (I Wanted to Be a Bird), 1960 by Leonora Carrington (1917–2011)

Breakfast Piece — Herbert Badham

6381##S

Breakfast Piece, 1936 by Herbert Badham (1899-1961)

Eggs à la Nabocoque

Vladimir Nabokov’s recipe for eggs (à la Nabocoque, natch)–

Boil water in a saucepan (bubbles mean it is boiling!). Take two eggs (for one person) out of the refrigerator. Hold them under the hot tap water to make them ready for what awaits them.

Place each in a pan, one after the other, and let them slip soundlessly into the (boiling) water. Consult your wristwatch. Stand over them with a spoon preventing them (they are apt to roll) from knocking against the damned side of the pan.

If, however, an egg cracks in the water (now bubbling like mad) and starts to disgorge a cloud of white stuff like a medium in an oldfashioned seance, fish it out and throw it away. Take another and be more careful.

After 200 seconds have passed, or, say, 240 (taking interruptions into account), start scooping the eggs out. Place them, round end up, in two egg cups. With a small spoon tap-tap in a circle and hen pry open the lid of the shell. Have some salt and buttered bread (white) ready. Eat.

V.N.
November 18, 1972

The Concert in the Egg — Hieronymus Bosch

Vladimir Nabokov’s Recipe for Eggs à la Nabocoque

Another literary recipe to celebrate Thanksgiving—

Vladimir Nabokov’s recipe for eggs à la Nabocoque —

Boil water in a saucepan (bubbles mean it is boiling!). Take two eggs (for one person) out of the refrigerator. Hold them under the hot tap water to make them ready for what awaits them.

Place each in a pan, one after the other, and let them slip soundlessly into the (boiling) water. Consult your wristwatch. Stand over them with a spoon preventing them (they are apt to roll) from knocking against the damned side of the pan.

If, however, an egg cracks in the water (now bubbling like mad) and starts to disgorge a cloud of white stuff like a medium in an oldfashioned seance, fish it out and throw it away. Take another and be more careful.

After 200 seconds have passed, or, say, 240 (taking interruptions into account), start scooping the eggs out. Place them, round end up, in two egg cups. With a small spoon tap-tap in a circle and hen pry open the lid of the shell. Have some salt and buttered bread (white) ready. Eat.

V.N.
November 18, 1972