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Disavowals: Or Cancelled Confessions
Memories? Choice morsels. My soul is fragmentary.--from Disavowals
Claude Cahun (1894-1954), born Lucy Schwob, was a poet, performer, resistance fighter, prisoner, Surrealist, "constructor and explorer of objects," photographer, and "queer freak" who invented her life by flaunting the interchangability of roles and playing with the ambivalence of identity. Whether feigning vulnerability on the arm of her lover and stepsister Suzanne Malherbe aka Marcel Moore ("the other me"), making theatrical public appearances in disguise (sailor, gymnast, gypsy), or making herself up (vampire, Buddha, mannequin, angel) for self-portraits and installations, she rendered opposites inoperative and exposed the thinness of gender and power constructs by reducing them to mere surface costumes. In May 1930 Editions Carrefour of Paris published 500 copies of a book called Aveux non avenues, in which Cahun explored these same dialectics in book form. It is the nearest thing to a memoir Cahun wrote, but in fact the book is an anti-memoir, a critique of autobiography, where she uses subversive photomontages and statements to present herself as a force of genius possessed of the need to resist identification and to maintain within herself "the mania of the exception." Disavowals is the first appearance of that work, widely considered to be her most important text, in English. Reproductions of the original photomontages introduce the various sections, which in turn explore Cahun's distinctive ideas and obsessions--self-interrogation, narcissism, metamorphosis, love, gender-switching, humor, fear. An extensive introduction by Tate curator Jennifer Mundy sets the text in the context of Cahun's life and art. Also included is a translation of the original preface by Cahun's friend Pierre Mac Orlan, a comment by her biographer, Francois Leperlier, a note on the translation by Susan de Muth, and a postscript by Agnes Lhermitte.
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Claude Cahun (1894-1954), born Lucy Schwob, was a poet, performer, resistance fighter, prisoner, Surrealist, "constructor and explorer of objects," photographer, and "queer freak" who invented her life by flaunting the interchangability of roles and playing with the ambivalence of identity. Whether feigning vulnerability on the arm of her lover and stepsister Suzanne Malherbe aka Marcel Moore ("the other me"), making theatrical public appearances in disguise (sailor, gymnast, gypsy), or making herself up (vampire, Buddha, mannequin, angel) for self-portraits and installations, she rendered opposites inoperative and exposed the thinness of gender and power constructs by reducing them to mere surface costumes. In May 1930 Editions Carrefour of Paris published 500 copies of a book called Aveux non avenues, in which Cahun explored these same dialectics in book form. It is the nearest thing to a memoir Cahun wrote, but in fact the book is an anti-memoir, a critique of autobiography, where she uses subversive photomontages and statements to present herself as a force of genius possessed of the need to resist identification and to maintain within herself "the mania of the exception." Disavowals is the first appearance of that work, widely considered to be her most important text, in English. Reproductions of the original photomontages introduce the various sections, which in turn explore Cahun's distinctive ideas and obsessions--self-interrogation, narcissism, metamorphosis, love, gender-switching, humor, fear. An extensive introduction by Tate curator Jennifer Mundy sets the text in the context of Cahun's life and art. Also included is a translation of the original preface by Cahun's friend Pierre Mac Orlan, a comment by her biographer, Francois Leperlier, a note on the translation by Susan de Muth, and a postscript by Agnes Lhermitte.
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226 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1930
26 people are currently reading
1168 people want to read
About the author
Claude Cahun
20 books52 followersClaude Cahun was a French artist, photographer and writer. Her work was both political and personal, and often played with the concepts of gender and sexuality. She began making photographic self-portraits as early as 1912, when she was 18 years old, and she continued taking images of herself through the 1930s.
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Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
December 27, 2011
Claude Cahun (1894-1954) is an artist whose posthumous cult reputation overshadows her earlier obscurity. In the English-speaking world she initially emerged into the public eye during the 80s when she became a figure of fascination for queer theorists. Cahun's art world profile has risen steadily in recent years and her photographic work is now perceived as a precursor to Cindy Sherman and others. Although there are arguments over whether Cahun's 'self-portraits' were made by her alone, or were produced in collaboration with her lover Suzanne Malherbe, the actual images nonetheless retain their power as extraordinary examples of gender bending. To date Cahun's writing has not been readily accessible to English readers, something that will change with the publication of this translation of her book Aveux non Avenus, which interlaces text and collaged images into an integral whole.
Read the full review here: http://www.stewarthomesociety.org/sex...
Read the full review here: http://www.stewarthomesociety.org/sex...
February 2, 2017
Simply one of the greatest "unknown" works of the 20th century, this unclassifiable volume was published in 1930 and contains within it pretty much all the ideas to surface in French intellectual life over the next 80 years. Here we have musings about consciousness, sexuality, identity, the pressures of society, the meaning and value of psychoanalysis, the function of myth and religion... This edition is the English translation from 2007, which does a good job of tracking the allusions and idiomatic games played here, but seems to miss one obvious influence running through the text: Nietzsche. Many of his ideas and phrasings are inserted here (going beyond good and evil, the eternal recurrence, the superman), but in the detached mode of Catholic reading, which senses and is uncommitted to the particular Germanic religion that informed his outlook, and allows for Christianity to be more than a solitary ego questing for a God it can't recognise.
December 22, 2009
Cahun purposefully made this book extremely difficult to penetrate. However, she creates a masterpieces of stream of consciousness that provide readers a unique look inside her mind and the nature of relationships, bisexuality, assexuality, God, atheism, Christianity, and many of topics too numerous to name. The photos are intriguing and on the level of many modern photographers, without a doubt. It certainly is reminiscent of Gertrude Stein, but I prefer Cahun's style. I cannot wait to read it again. I certainly will continue reading it for the rest of my life. If you hate modernist writing, do not read this book!
January 18, 2021
Enfin j’ai mis la main sur ce livre que je convoitais tant pour en apprendre plus sur Claude Cahun... mais malheureusement en version numérique, qui n’a pas rendu je pense la complexité de la typographie du livre papier et également des quelques photos présentes, réduites à quelques pixels...
J’ai toutefois beaucoup apprécié ses textes même si elle m’a quelques fois perdue en route. L’intertextualité de ses aveux est magique.
J’ai toutefois beaucoup apprécié ses textes même si elle m’a quelques fois perdue en route. L’intertextualité de ses aveux est magique.
September 7, 2021
¿Me ha gustado? No. ¿Se adelanta y/o ha influenciado Claude Cahun a otros autores que, a diferencia de ella, sí se consagraron? Sí. ¿Me sigo quedando con su fotografía? Totalmente. ¿He leído la edición en español que no encuentro en GoodReads? Efectivamente.
November 15, 2011
Esoteric Narcissism or Narcissistic Esoterism? I can't quite decide, but this experimental autobiography read like a pre-Tumblr ride through beauty and torment. It's very inspirational at times, at times like an adolescent cacophony of pretty words. If you read to be immersed in the experience of Others, this is a good ride.
January 14, 2019
D'une étrangeté non feinte, profondément ancrée dans la personnalité de l'auteur(trice). À lire, d'une part, pour plonger dans l'incompréhensible et l'indéterminé; d'autre part, pour continuer à déconstruire le canon littéraire occidental et les stéréotypes de genre.
"[Je veux] ne voyager qu'à la proue de moi-même."
"[Je veux] ne voyager qu'à la proue de moi-même."
September 1, 2025
“La aventura invisible.
El objetivo persigue los ojos, la boca, las arrugas a flor de piel... La expresión del rostro es violenta, a veces trágica. La calma, finalmente: una calma consciente, elaborada, de acróbatas. Una sonrisa profesional y itachán!
Reaparecen el espejo de mano, el colorete y el trampantojo. Un momento. Un punto. Sangría.
Vuelvo a empezar.
Pero qué ridículo ardid para quienes no han visto (y no he mostrado yo nada) los obstáculos, los abismos y niveles franquea-dos.
He de enredarme con todo el aparataje de hechos, de pie-dras, de cuerdas tiernamente cortadas, de precipicios... No resulta interesante. Adivine usted, restablezca usted. El vértigo está sobreen-tendido; ascensión o caída.
¿Hará falta, a fin de complacerles, seguir paso a paso lo des-conocido, levantarle las calzas? Los talones ajados, el fango, la hemorragia del pie -humildes y precisos testimonios- sabrán conmover a más de uno. Mientras que...
No. Perseguiré la estela por el aire, el rastro sobre las aguas, el espejismo en las pupilas.
Por mucho que sepa desenvolverme... Lo abstracto y el sueño se presentan tan limitados para mí como lo concreto y lo real. ¿Qué podría hacer? ¿Mostrar la parte por el todo en un azogue estrecho? ¿Confundir una aureola con los chorretones? ¿Tropezar con el vidrio por no tropezar con la misma piedra? En la noche oscura.
Mientras aguardo la claridad, aspiro a acorralarme, a for-cejearme. ¿Quién, sintiéndose armado contra sí, ya fuese con las más vanas palabras, quién no se esforzaría en sumirse plenamente en el vacío?
Es falso. Es poco. Pero se entrena el ojo.
No quisiera coser, pinchar, matar sino con la extrema punta. ¡Qué pérdida de tiempo el resto del cuerpo, su continuación! No viajar sino a la proa de mí misma”.
El objetivo persigue los ojos, la boca, las arrugas a flor de piel... La expresión del rostro es violenta, a veces trágica. La calma, finalmente: una calma consciente, elaborada, de acróbatas. Una sonrisa profesional y itachán!
Reaparecen el espejo de mano, el colorete y el trampantojo. Un momento. Un punto. Sangría.
Vuelvo a empezar.
Pero qué ridículo ardid para quienes no han visto (y no he mostrado yo nada) los obstáculos, los abismos y niveles franquea-dos.
He de enredarme con todo el aparataje de hechos, de pie-dras, de cuerdas tiernamente cortadas, de precipicios... No resulta interesante. Adivine usted, restablezca usted. El vértigo está sobreen-tendido; ascensión o caída.
¿Hará falta, a fin de complacerles, seguir paso a paso lo des-conocido, levantarle las calzas? Los talones ajados, el fango, la hemorragia del pie -humildes y precisos testimonios- sabrán conmover a más de uno. Mientras que...
No. Perseguiré la estela por el aire, el rastro sobre las aguas, el espejismo en las pupilas.
Por mucho que sepa desenvolverme... Lo abstracto y el sueño se presentan tan limitados para mí como lo concreto y lo real. ¿Qué podría hacer? ¿Mostrar la parte por el todo en un azogue estrecho? ¿Confundir una aureola con los chorretones? ¿Tropezar con el vidrio por no tropezar con la misma piedra? En la noche oscura.
Mientras aguardo la claridad, aspiro a acorralarme, a for-cejearme. ¿Quién, sintiéndose armado contra sí, ya fuese con las más vanas palabras, quién no se esforzaría en sumirse plenamente en el vacío?
Es falso. Es poco. Pero se entrena el ojo.
No quisiera coser, pinchar, matar sino con la extrema punta. ¡Qué pérdida de tiempo el resto del cuerpo, su continuación! No viajar sino a la proa de mí misma”.
March 17, 2025
3,5/5 ojalá haber entendido más cosas. me gusta que sea tan abstracto y no me gusta que sea tan abstracto. impresionada con los temas tratados y la forma de expresarse en los años 20, literalmente Claude Cahun podría estar creando en este siglo.
de nuevo me quedo con algunas citas (uso esto como si fuera mi diario), de las más sencillitas pero claro, lo que yo podía entender.
«Únicamente creo en lo que quiero. Puedo creer en lo imposible, por ejemplo: que Dios, usted y yo somos un solo y mismo lugar, que el infierno, el paraíso y mis sábanas coinciden, que el instante, lo eterno, mis idas y mis venidas son (para quién supiera decirla) una sola y misma palabra»
♡
«¡La vida cotidiana, qué abominación! Existo, y eso implica todo. Perdóname que exista»
♡
«Aparte de lo inhumano, lo monstruoso, lo imposible, ¿con qué sueña un niño sensato? Con lo ordinario. La vida más ordinaria tiene sus aventuras, sus hitos, sus maravillas»
♡
«El equilibro es nuestra ley. Circo de amor. Confort moderno. [...] Nervio en carne viva contra nervio, cumple domar todos los deseos accesorios que entorpecen lo esencial: mantenerse en pie. Vértigo... Pero allí abajo la red está preparada para recibir al torpe. Red de la amistad; red también, cuando es necesario, del odio...»
♡
de nuevo me quedo con algunas citas (uso esto como si fuera mi diario), de las más sencillitas pero claro, lo que yo podía entender.
«Únicamente creo en lo que quiero. Puedo creer en lo imposible, por ejemplo: que Dios, usted y yo somos un solo y mismo lugar, que el infierno, el paraíso y mis sábanas coinciden, que el instante, lo eterno, mis idas y mis venidas son (para quién supiera decirla) una sola y misma palabra»
♡
«¡La vida cotidiana, qué abominación! Existo, y eso implica todo. Perdóname que exista»
♡
«Aparte de lo inhumano, lo monstruoso, lo imposible, ¿con qué sueña un niño sensato? Con lo ordinario. La vida más ordinaria tiene sus aventuras, sus hitos, sus maravillas»
♡
«El equilibro es nuestra ley. Circo de amor. Confort moderno. [...] Nervio en carne viva contra nervio, cumple domar todos los deseos accesorios que entorpecen lo esencial: mantenerse en pie. Vértigo... Pero allí abajo la red está preparada para recibir al torpe. Red de la amistad; red también, cuando es necesario, del odio...»
♡
Read
April 30, 2024Claude Cahun was a queer, gender bending, Jewish artist, who used her/their artistry to resist the Nazi occupation of France. Cajun’s gender expression feels so akin to non-binary identities today, and in Disavowals it was the sections that played with gender that were the most compelling. The photography and the book itself is gorgeous.
That being said, the book is very abstract, almost like a long form poem, however, there is rarely an anchor to the word play, which made it difficult to connect to or even follow. I didn’t get much out of the actual text.
Shout out to my library’s inter-library loan for helping me get this out of print book!
That being said, the book is very abstract, almost like a long form poem, however, there is rarely an anchor to the word play, which made it difficult to connect to or even follow. I didn’t get much out of the actual text.
Shout out to my library’s inter-library loan for helping me get this out of print book!
July 6, 2018
Bright/stormy.
May 3, 2023
wow. I'm in love with Claude Cahun <3
August 19, 2024
Je t’aime. Cela devrait suffire à tout le système solaire.
June 16, 2025
What a wonderful person. It’s a shame I have an English copy instead of the original French. Now to pore through Claude Cahun’s Wikipedia page
July 30, 2025
''Doce, sem dúvida, debaixo de uma vela presa numa garrafa velha de Bass, o momento em que as nossas duas cabeças (ah, como se emaranhavam os nossos cabelos inextrincavelmente) inclinaram-se sobre uma fotografia. Retrato de um ou de outro, os nossos narcisismos a afogarem-se nele, o impossível cumprido num espelho mágico. O intercâmbio, a sobreposição, a fusão dos desejos. A unidade da imagem obtida pela estreita amizade de ambos os corpos - em caso de necessidade que mandem as suas almas para o diabo! Não as suas almas, mas aquilo que servem: não as suas almas solenes, mas esta consciência quotidiana; espírito, gozo, estabilidade, amor legítimo, memórias, hábitos, porvir, devir.'' p. 15
''Ó amável menina, deposita a tua graça de flor seca entre as folhas dos meus livros e dos meus actos preferidos, que me habituei ao teu perfume cuja brandura ainda me deixa um pouco doente, e cuja embriaguez amarga - que amo! - me afoga, apesar de mim...'' p. 15
''E a morte acudiu atraída pela essência da papoila. Tocou o corpo, sem cuidado, e sem o despertar fez dele um cadáver'' p. 21
''Fecho os olhos e aguardo a avó visual. Imagem hipnagógica. A interpretação que dela faço atraiçoa-me.'' p. 34
''Diz-se que não nos devemos apegar ao corpo porque a beleza não é mais que uma ilusão de óptica. Efémera. Ilusão. Que dizer então da alma? Concebo o próximo em corpo e alma. Em corpo e alma, há que nos apegarmos a essa unidade. Equilíbrio. Cada um, muda-se ao mesmo tempo.'' p. 36
''Circunscrever e surpreender o milagre'' p. 38
- O Mito de Narciso
''Self Love
A morte de Narciso pareceu-me sempre a mais incompreensível. Só uma explicação faz sentido: Narciso não se queria bem. Não soube ultrapassar as aparências. Se tivesse amado o rosto de uma ninfa em vez do seu, a sua mortal impotência tinha sido a mesma. Mas se tivesse sabido desejar-se do outro lado do espelho, o seu feliz destino tinha sido (digno da inveja de todos os signos) o símbolo do paraíso vital, o mito do homem privilegiado.'' p. 39
''Em definitivo, o que mais aborrece o voyeur de Narciso é a insuficiência, a descontinuidade do seu próprio olhar'' p. 41
'' Um olhar o atrai, uma boca o nega.'' p. 43
''Uma nova postura para me amar, para me odiar: por fim, um novo contacto foi colocado à minha disposição, à minha mercê: uma linguagem do mundo formada por verdades muito óbvias: uma psicologia e uma moral pintadas em «trompe-l'âme»'' p. 248
''Ó amável menina, deposita a tua graça de flor seca entre as folhas dos meus livros e dos meus actos preferidos, que me habituei ao teu perfume cuja brandura ainda me deixa um pouco doente, e cuja embriaguez amarga - que amo! - me afoga, apesar de mim...'' p. 15
''E a morte acudiu atraída pela essência da papoila. Tocou o corpo, sem cuidado, e sem o despertar fez dele um cadáver'' p. 21
''Fecho os olhos e aguardo a avó visual. Imagem hipnagógica. A interpretação que dela faço atraiçoa-me.'' p. 34
''Diz-se que não nos devemos apegar ao corpo porque a beleza não é mais que uma ilusão de óptica. Efémera. Ilusão. Que dizer então da alma? Concebo o próximo em corpo e alma. Em corpo e alma, há que nos apegarmos a essa unidade. Equilíbrio. Cada um, muda-se ao mesmo tempo.'' p. 36
''Circunscrever e surpreender o milagre'' p. 38
- O Mito de Narciso
''Self Love
A morte de Narciso pareceu-me sempre a mais incompreensível. Só uma explicação faz sentido: Narciso não se queria bem. Não soube ultrapassar as aparências. Se tivesse amado o rosto de uma ninfa em vez do seu, a sua mortal impotência tinha sido a mesma. Mas se tivesse sabido desejar-se do outro lado do espelho, o seu feliz destino tinha sido (digno da inveja de todos os signos) o símbolo do paraíso vital, o mito do homem privilegiado.'' p. 39
''Em definitivo, o que mais aborrece o voyeur de Narciso é a insuficiência, a descontinuidade do seu próprio olhar'' p. 41
'' Um olhar o atrai, uma boca o nega.'' p. 43
''Uma nova postura para me amar, para me odiar: por fim, um novo contacto foi colocado à minha disposição, à minha mercê: uma linguagem do mundo formada por verdades muito óbvias: uma psicologia e uma moral pintadas em «trompe-l'âme»'' p. 248
February 2, 2015
This is a very well written book, by Marcel Schwob's niece, which mixes various genres of literature such as poetry and theatre. This piece of work takes its roots in the surrealism movement, which makes it very diverse. You cannot find any continuity as far as the "story" goes, but most of the themes appear in more than one of the various chapters. It creates a link between them in the most interesting way. I would have liked to read it for myself, though, and not for school, because it is the kind of book you need time to really enjoy.
April 16, 2009
english version of "aveux non avenus", cahun's wild and loose autobiography-- written in prose, verse, letters, surreal proverbs, a self-conducted interview, and in lovely photomontages (these images are the strongest element). her writing style irritated me at first, but soon i became somewhat mesmerized.
February 24, 2016
Personal lukewarm reception to this book and not sure what all the fuss is about. But glad I read it.
February 11, 2013
Frankly without equal. Her usual exclusion from modernist/surrealist canon is tragic.
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August 31, 2018779.092 C1329 2007
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December 22, 2018this is a hard book to rate/ categorise. i rlly liked the first couple sections but after the halfway mark or so i just felt like it was less interesting and stuff.
also the paratext for this book is badly copy edited, like there are lots of grammatical errors, typos and repeats.
also the paratext for this book is badly copy edited, like there are lots of grammatical errors, typos and repeats.
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews