
Aquis Submersus
A doll-like figure by a still pool under a tower with a clock face. Ernst had been looking hard at de Chirico's empty squares.

A doll-like figure by a still pool under a tower with a clock face. Ernst had been looking hard at de Chirico's empty squares.

Sleeping women tangled into a whirlpool of pattern and flowers, one of them at the center just about to wake up.

A cannon points across a room whose walls are panelled with samples of the world: sky, wood grain, fire, bells, a woman's torso.

A bride in red floats through the blue night with a goat playing a cello beside her. Many people know it from a film.

A murdered woman on a divan, a calm man listening to a gramophone, and two men with a club and a net waiting outside the door.

Small colored blocks stack up into a town like stained glass, with a red sun above. Klee taught at the Bauhaus and kept the whimsy.

A headless official takes advice from an industrialist, a blinkered donkey listens above, and a dollar sign has blotted out the sun.

A small steam locomotive comes out of a fireplace under the mantel clock, and the room around it is otherwise entirely ordinary.

Part boiler, part elephant, with a tusked hose coming out of its head. Ernst took the shape from a photograph of an African grain bin.

The words under the pipe are correct, since a painting of a pipe is not a pipe, which is the whole and entire joke.

A screaming horse, a mother with her dead child, all in grey. Picasso painted it in weeks after German bombers leveled a Basque town.