1946: A SIGNIFICANT YEAR FOR THE CIA and the ICA both. If ever I find the extra hour or two, per day, for several days in a row, I’m going to flesh out, in virtual print, my theory that the bafflingly-famous (in Puritanical mid-20th century America) Man Ray, Marcel Duchamp and Max Ernst often appeared in photographs with beautiful nude younger women because “DADA” was used as an Intelligence “Honeytrap” to attract powerful people to that “wild and crazy Bohemian” S&M scene, leaving the targets vulnerable to blackmail and control. The cast of characters of such an article would include Roland Penrose (who married Lee Miller in 1947; “During his lectures, he used to startle his audiences by inserting a colour photograph of his partner Lee Miller, lying on a lawn naked but for a camouflage net; when challenged, he argued “if camouflage can hide Lee’s charms, it can hide anything”);  William Seabrook, a sadist and purported cannibal who started the modern “Zombie” craze; Man Ray’s chum George Hodel (and, by extension, the Black Dahlia); Mr.  Sal Dali (used as unwitting cover for the project, as were Picasso, Breton, Cocteau and even Henry Miller, to some extent) and, as mentioned above, the tragic Lee Miller, rape and incest survivor (before she became Man Ray’s nude model of choice, she was her father’s) and flagship “bottom” in the Dada Harem (which included Leonora Carrington, Meret Oppenheim,  Nusch Eluard and Ady Fidelin ), shown here with the repulsive Seabrook:

Miller managed to go from being a model (in what would have been, in those days, “shocking” Porn pix) to an award-winning War Correspondent in WW2.As Professor Chris Andrew, the official historian of MI5, puts it, regarding Lee Miller’s weird (and weirdly famous) arc:

“What is not sufficiently realised is that her career was absolutely unique in British history. There had never been anybody like her before, there’s no reason to think there will be anyone like her again. She was extremely talented, she was extremely beautiful.”

“Writing for a 1992 collection of Miller’s war photographs, her friend and travel companion Scherman wrote: “It is almost impossible today, 50 years later, to conceive how difficult it was for a woman correspondent to get beyond a rear-echelon military position, in other words to the front, where the action was.”

Was Man Ray the connection to the OSS or was it Lee Miller? Did Miller infiltrate DADA or was she handling it? Did DADA start off as an Intelligence Project or was it hijacked to that end? How extensive was the list of the guest stars in Man Ray’s porn? How prominent? Was Penrose connected to British Intelligence? As that generation has pretty much died off, we may get a few more books (like Frances Stonor Saunders’) to answer such questions. Never expect the whole picture to come clear, of course, but some of it… some fuzzy bits…

And if you don’t believe that the CIA/WESTERN INTELLIGENCE uses Sex for Political Blackmail, read this Slate Article about KOMPROMAT and KGB/THE KREMLIN and perform the necessary translation (and conversion, upwards, to scale). And if you don’t believe that THE ARTS were  (are) often used as a Front for Intelligence Goals/Projects, read THIS about the Saunders book.

But those aren’t the crucial take-aways from this section of the post; the crucial take-away should be: WHO THE FUCK WAS EMMANUEL RADNITZKY?


PS If you ever do extensive reading on the connections between The Black Dahlia case + Man Ray + (director) John Huston + Michelle Phillips (of the Mamas and the Papas)… your view of “The World” will probably never return to “normal”, with or without the overlay of the role that Intelligence may have played in the sculpting of the Lies we’ve all been sold.

PPS Or how about this, about the star (presented to us as yet another “hero”), in yet another constellation, of psychopathic secrets; a remembrance from his former assistant… notice the eerily-underplayed item, in the following litany, that sort of jumps out at you:

“Other times I witnessed his atavistic side. Despite the rumors that followed me home when I left, he never held a gun to my head or laid a finger on me, but that’s not to say he didn’t throw a tantrum or two. Paranoid, he would lock everyone out of his cabin for hours at a time, intermittently setting off his alarm and firing guns into the air. One time I watched him beat his car because his cigarettes were locked inside, and another time he threw me out of the house for refusing to watch a snuff film. And he was hell on his new kitten, Hugo, especially when he felt I was paying it too much attention. “

Oh dear. Mean to his kitten. Boys will be boys…


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