Feb. 29th, 2008

Dali, Salvador
DALI, SALVADOR (DOMENECH FELIPE JACINTO) (March 11, 1904- ), Spanish painter, has been one of the most famous and controversial of 20th-century artists. Although synonymous in the public mind with surrealism, Dali was excommunicated from the movement by Andre Breton, the "pope" of surrealism, in the late 1930s. Moreover, in the last four-and-a-half decades his work, though technically as accomplished as ever and containing various surrealist devices, has had none of the hallucinatory impact, obsessive fantasy, and power to shock of his early paintings. Over the years, showmanship, commercialism, and a genius for public relations have replaced imagination in Dali's art.
Salvador Felipe Jacinto Dali was born in Figueras, in the Gerona province of Upper Catalonia in northeastern Spain, the son of Salvador and Felipa Dome (Domenech) Dali. His talent for drawing, apparent at an early age, was encouraged by his father, a notary, who gave him reproductions of classical art. Dali claims in his autobiography, The Secret Life of Salvador Dali (1942), that from earliest childhood his behavior was marked by fits of violent hysteria.
Before he was ten, Salvador had completed two ambitious oil paintings, Joseph Greeting his Brothers and Portrait of Helen of Troy. After receiving his elementary education at the Colegio de los Hermanos de la Doctrina Cristiana, Figueras, he attended the Colegio de los Hermanos Maristas, and completed his six years of baccalaureate studies at the Instituto in Figueras.
In adolescence Dali received instruction from Juan Nunez at the Figueras municipal school of drawing. He admired the 19th-century Spanish painters of genre scenes for their precise and detailed realism, and later was impressed by Ernest Meissonnier, the leading French practitioner of this type of painting. "Dali had the courage," Dali wrote, "to paint like Meissonnier in the midst of the 'modern' epoch and his success at painting like Dali has not suffered because of it."
The young Dali was also interested in the English Pre-Raphaelites, and he greatly admired Vermeer and Velazquez. About 1918 he experimented with impressionism and pointillism. Several small, brightly colored pictures in this style were painted in the Spanish fishing village of Cadaques. A Self-Portrait of the Artist at his Easel, Cadaques (ca. 1918-19) is owned by A. Reynolds Morse, a Cleveland industrialist whose collection of Dali's work of all periods is extensive.
By 1920 Dali had been influenced by Italian futurism, and he painted for a time in that manner. Assured of his son's artistic promise, Dali's father finally agreed to his making a career of painting. In 1921 Dali entered the Escuela Nacional de Bellas Artes de San Fernando, Madrid, where he rapidly absorbed the academic instruction of his teacher, Moreno Carbonero, and won several prizes. Among his fellow students were Federico Garcia Lorca and Luis Bunuel. At this time he abandoned bright colors and, influenced by the Cubist Juan Gris, began to paint in subdued tones. A more important influence, however, was that of the Italian metaphysical painters, Giorgio de Chirico and Carlo Carra, whom he discovered in 1923, their work being well known in avant-garde circles in Spain.
The poetic and philosophical vision of de Chirico, combined with his reading of Freud, was crucial to Dali's development. These new inspirations led him far from the teachings of the academy and he began to paint mysterious still lifes after the manner of de Chirico and Carra. His relations with school authorities grew increasingly stormy, and in 1924, charged with inciting the students to insurrection, he was suspended for a year. In May 1924 Dali was briefly imprisoned in Figueras and in the town of Gerona for alleged subversive political activities. He returned to the Madrid school in 1925 but was permanently expelled "for extravagant personal behavior" a year later. According to Dali, the expulsion stemmed from his refusal to submit to an art history examination administered by teachers he regarded as intellectual inferiors.
Meanwhile, Dali had taken part in group exhibitions in Madrid and Barcelona, and in November 1925 his first solo show was held at the Galeria Dalmau, Barcelona. His paintings of 1925-27 were in a variety of styles--meticulous realism, as in Basket of Bread (1926), Picassoesque cubism in several "Harlequin" pictures, and neoclassicism (Venus and Cupid and Neo-Cubist Academy). In 1926 he exhibited in a group show with the Sociedad de Artistas Ibericos (Society of Iberian Artists) in Madrid. The same year, having seen reproductions of early works by Yves Tanguy in the magazine Revolution Surrealiste, he began to practice automatistic drawing methods and to build up his store of forms and images. One of his 1927 canvases, Blood is Sweeter than Honey, is considered a forerunner of his hallucinatory art of psychological obsessions.
In 1928, traveling by taxi, Dali visited Paris for the first time. His aim was to see Picasso, Versailles, and the Musee Grevin, Paris's famous wax museum. On this trip he met Picasso and on a second visit that year met Joan Miro, who introduced him to the Surrealists. (In his autobiography Dali said that, after meeting Breton, he began referring to him as "my new father, Andre Breton.") Returning to Barcelona, Dali published a manifesto, Groc, and invited the Surrealist group to Cadaques, where he had been living since 1925. Back in Paris in 1929, he signed a contract for an exhibition at the Galerie Goemans and returned home to prepare for it.
For several months the influence of Miro prevailed, but by the summer of 1929 Dali had abandoned abstraction and was painting in his mature style. He set out to depict, in the meticulous technique of a miniaturist, exact, Meissonnier-like transcriptions of the images of his dreams and hallucinations; he later called this method, derived from the surrealist principle of automatism, "paranoiac-critical." Dali's "critical paranoia" was the process by which he claimed to loosen the moorings of rationality and unleash the visions of his subconscious--while remaining aware that reason had been deliberately suspended. In The Shock of the New Robert Hughes defined Dali's "paranoiac-critical" method as simply "looking at one thing and seeing another." The method's results can be seen in such Dali paintings of 1929 as The Lugubrious Game, with his allusions to the "shame" of onanism; Accommodations of Desire, with its multiple lion heads in various stages of incompletion; Profanation of Host; and Illumined Pleasures.
Dali moved to Paris in the fall of 1929, and his paintings caused a sensation. "Dali had a brilliant sense of provocation," Hughes noted, "and if his images are to be rightly seen they must be set, in retrospect, into the context of a less sexually frank time. Today, the art world is less easily alarmed by images of sex, blood, excrement, and putrefaction, but fifty years ago it was still quite shockable. . . ." He was at once designated an official Surrealist by Breton, who wrote the catalog introduction to Dali's first Parisian solo show, which was held at the Galerie Goemans in November.
As James Thrall Soby pointed out in Salvador Dali (1946), the young Spaniard brought "a new objectivity" to surrealist painting by depicting "the unreal world with such extreme realism that its truth and validity could no longer be questioned." Dali called his technique the "handmade photography of concrete irrationality." In 1930 Dali, whose verbal gifts were to prove almost as useful in constructing the "Dali myth" as his striking visual imagery, expounded his ideas in the book La Femme visible. He wrote that his aim was "to systematize confusion and assist in discrediting completely the world of reality."
In 1928 Dali collaborated with the director Luis Bunuel on Un Chien andalou and in 1930 on L'Age d'or; both films have become classics of surrealist cinema. About 1930 Dali became involved with Gala (born Elena Diaranoff), the ex-wife of Surrealist poet Paul Eluard. They were married in 1942 in a civil ceremony in New York City. She modeled for many Dali paintings.
Dali applied his "paranoiac-critical" method in a group of paintings dealing with the legend of William Tell (1930-34), and in 1932-35 with the figures from the French painter Jean Francois Millet's Angelus. Dali's Freudian interpretation of these themes prompted critics to wonder if they were out of admiration or derision--or in a spirit of derision masking an underlying admiration. In his typically provocative manner of overstatement, Dali praised "the genius of Francois Millet [noted for his realistic depiction of 19th-century French peasantry] whose erotic cannibalism shows through the tragic myth of 'The Angelus.'"
In 1931 Dali painted The Persistence of Memory (Museum of Modern Art, New York City), which is thought to be his masterpiece and has been called "the most widely celebrated surrealist canvas ever painted." (The melting watches are Dali trademarks and Philippe Halsman, in his 1954 photograph of the painting, substituted Dali's face for the flaccid timepiece in the foreground.) In Persistence of Memory, time itself, here represented by the limp metal watches, seems to have passed away, as has the mustachioed biomorphic blob in the foreground. Only the landscape, based, as many of Dali's backgrounds are, on the rocky coast of his native Catalonia, is immune to the ravages of time; yet even the cliffs seem suspended in space, defying the laws of gravity and the solidity of matter.
In his paintings of the 1930s, Dali frequently made use of the disturbing double or multiple image, as in The Invisible Man, Diurnal Fantasies, and Memory of the Child-Woman, all of 1932, and Apparition of Face and Fruit Dish on a Beach (1938). The first New York City solo show of Dali's paintings was in November 1933 at the Julien Levy Gallery; a year later he traveled to America for the first time. A number of paintings of 1933-34 evince Dali's obsession with cephalic deformations, as in Myself at the age of ten when I was the Grasshopper Child (1933), and Atmospheric Skull Sodomizing a Grand Piano (1934). In 1933 Dali illustrated Lautreamont's Les Chants de Maldoror, the advanced 19th-century prose poem which influenced the Surrealists.
On vacation in Rosas on the Catalan coast in 1934-36, Dali painted a comparatively lyrical series of beach scenes and became interested in the paintings of Arnold Bocklin and the music of Wagner. From 1934 to '37 Dali helped to popularize surrealism in the United States. Dali's essay, "The Conquest of the Irrational," appeared in 1935 and from 1936 to '38 he participated in the major Surrealist group shows held in London, Paris, New York City, Mexico City, Tokyo, and other world capitals.
Dali's notoriety and growing commercial success earned Breton's stern disapproval. Breton felt that surrealism had liberated Dali from the extreme academic realism of Meissonier, and he deeply admired the artist's ability to reveal the nonrationality of objects and "to implement all the possibilities of the innately savage mind and eye," as Anna Balakian wrote in Andre Breton (1971). To Breton, however, exploitation of surrealism for personal gain was a cardinal sin, and in 1938 he concluded that Dali's art had become commercialized, that the flamboyant artist had "sold out." Expelling Dali from the Surrealist ranks, he branded him "Avida Dollars," an anagram of the artist's name. (The incident became a part of surrealist lore, and in later years Dali humorously embraced the derogatory appellation.)
When the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936, Dali avoided taking a stand. Nevertheless, it became obvious over the years that his sympathies, quite unlike Picasso's, were unreservedly with the totalitarian Franco regime. Just six months before the Civil War commenced, Dali completed what was possibly his last truly powerful picture: Soft Construction with Boiled Beans; Premonition of Civil War (1936). Its imagery, recalling the nightmarish visions of Hieronymous Bosch, was intended to portray a people torn apart. Dali wrote, with characteristic bombast, "I showed a vast human body breaking out into monstrous excrescences of arms and legs tearing at one another in a delirium of auto-strangulation." He explained the boiled beans in the title by reference to his obsession with the imagery of edible objects, his need to introduce "some mealy and melancholy vegetable" into the painting.
From 1937 to '39 Dali traveled extensively in Europe. In London, in 1938, he visited Sigmund Freud, who remarked, "What interests me is not your unconscious but your conscious." In The Unspeakable Confessions of Salvador Dali (1981), the artist modestly described the encounter: "Two geniuses had met without making sparks. His ideas spoke for him. To me, they were useful crutches that reinforced my confidence in my genius and the authenticity of my freedom, and I had more to teach him than I could get from him." Several trips to Italy deepened Dali's appreciation of the Renaissance masters, especially the mannerist and baroque painters of the 16th and 17th centuries, whose influence is reflected in the attenuated figures and exaggerated perspective of such works as Palladio's Corridor of Dramatic Surprises (1938). The Surrealists, however, regarded Dali's apparent return to academism as a further "betrayal" of the movement. In 1939 he briefly visited New York City to execute The Dream of Venus for the World's Fair.
With the start of World War II in September 1939, Dali moved from Paris to the region of Bordeaux and Arcachon in southwest France, and when Germany invaded he fled via Spain and Portugal to the US, arriving in August 1940. He lived for a time at his friend Caresse Crosby's home in Virginia, where he wrote his autobiography, and later settled in Pebble Beach, California. The "Dali legend" had already been fostered by such exhibitionist antics as delivering a lecture in London in a deep-sea diving suit and by crashing through Bonwit Teller's Fifth Avenue window after one of his displays had been altered, and in the US Dali's outrageous self-promotion continued. His American success was confirmed by the retrospective MOMA gave him in 1941; the show toured the US for two years. In 1942 The Secret Life of Salvador Dali was described by New York Times reviewers as "shocking, too intimate, sadistic," and "a wild jungle of fantasy." Dali also designed the sets and costumes and composed the libretti for the ballets Bacchanale (1939), Labyrinth (1941), and Mad Tristan (1944). His novel Hidden Faces (1944) was, according to Edmund Wilson, "a potpourri of the properties, the figures and the attitudes of the later and gamier phases of French romantic writing."
Dali's return to academism in 1937-39 led in the late 1940s to an interest in religious subject matter. About this time he introduced what he called his "atomic," or "nuclear mystic," technique, meaning the explosion of forms so as to dramatize their impact. In 1948, after the publication of his Fifty Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship, Dali returned to Spain, thus making no secret of his support of the dictator Francisco Franco. "Our invincible Caudillo Generalissimo Francisco Franco," he said, as quoted in The New York Times Magazine, "is the genius of our people, without a doubt. Bueno, there are two: Velazquez and the Generalissimo." He settled in Port Lligat, which was declared a national scenic preserve by the government, and with great fanfare proclaimed his allegiance to the Roman Catholic Church. Of Dali's large religious paintings Jacques Busse wrote in the Dictionnaire de peintres, sculpteurs, et graveurs (1976): "Their forced originality does not compensate for the stiffness of a technique which aims at being classical." These paintings include The Madonna of Port Lligat (1950), for which Gala modeled and which Dali gave to the Pope; Christ of St. John of the Cross (1951); and the large, ambitious Sacrament of the Last Supper (1955; National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.). In A Concise History of Modern Painting Herbert Read savaged this phase of Dali's career: "Salvador Dali's work has sunk lower still, cynically exploiting a sentimental and sensational religiosity. . . .The theatricality, which was always a characteristic of his behavior, is now at the service of those reactionary forces in Spain whose triumph has been the greatest affront to the humanism which, in spite of its extravagance, has been the consistent concern of the Surrealist movement."
In 1952 Dali completed a series of illustrations for Dante's Divine Comedy. Two years later he visited Pope John XXIII in Rome, and in 1961 he designed scenery and costumes for the Ballet de Gala. By this time Dali had had retrospectives in Tokyo (1964) and New York City (1966). In the 1960s and '70s he experimented with holography and introduced stereoscopic images into his paintings. A Salvador Dali museum, the Teatro Museo Dali, was established in Figueras in 1970, and on March 7 1971 a Dali Museum in Cleveland was inaugurated, putting the A. Reynolds Morse Collection on permanent exhibition.
Reviewing a 1980 Dali retrospective at the Centre Georges Pompidou (Beaubourg), Paris, Hilton Kramer of The New York Times (January 20, 1980) commented on the artist's later work: "His loss of artistic power, the absence in his work of any real imagery, coincided with the intensified effort on Dali's part to make himself into a Dali creation. . . .[But] in his best paintings of the '30s Dali was a magician." The consensus among critics is that "almost all the works of art on which Dali's fame as a serious artist rest were painted before his thirty-fifth birthday, between 1929 and 1939," to quote Robert Hughes.
According to Peter Conrad of the New Statesman (June 25, 1976), "Dali's career has depended on his public flagrancy." Conrad added that Dali derived from the romantic dandyism of Baudelaire and Oscar Wilde "his horror of nature, and his desire to exterminate it by making himself over into art, armoring himself with affectation. . . .Dali's loathsome gastronomic tastes and the morphological comedy of his art both derive from this vengeful attitude to nature."
Dali continues to live in the mansion he built near Cadaques, in Port Lligat. On his regular visits to New York City, Dali installs himself in the plush St. Regis Hotel. With his dark hair and the handlebar moustache waxed to rapier sharpness that has become his trademark, his flowing cape and silver-headed cane, Dali flamboyantly attends art and theater openings and other high-profile social events. In 1981 he was awarded Spain's highest decoration, the Gran Cruz de la Orden de Carlos III. Gala, Dali's Russian-born wife and muse, died in June 1982. The following year the Museum of Contemporary Art, Madrid, mounted a major Dali retrospective which featured many of the paintings he executed before embracing surrealism in 1929.
"The only difference between myself and a madman is that I am not mad," the witty Dali said in a much-quoted remark that could stand as a definition of his concept of "critical paranoia."
Dali's work is in museums throughout the world. A comprehensive guide to public collections of his work was published by the Cleveland Art Museum in 1974.

Suggested Reading: Current Biography, 1951; Dali, S. La Femme visible, 1930, L'Amour et la memoire, 1931, The Conquest of the Irrational, 1935, Declaration of the Independence of the Imagination and Rights to His Own Madness, 1938, The Secret Life of Salvador Dali, 1942, Hidden Faces, 1944, Fifty Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship, 1948, Mystical Manifesto, 1951, The Cuckolds of Old Modern Art, 1956, The Tragic Myth of Millet's Angelus, 1963, Diary of a Genius, 1964, Dali by Dali, 1970; Gerard, M. Dali, 1968; Hughes, R. The Shock of the New, 1981; Lassaigne, J. La Peinture espagnola, 1952; Levy, J. Surrealism, 1936; Morse, A. R. A New Introduction to Salvador Dali, 1960; Nadeau, M. A History of Surrealism, 1973; Oriol, A. A. Mentira y Verdad de Salvador Dali, 1948; Orwell, G. Dickens, Dali and Others: Studies in Popular Culture, 1946; Parinaud, A. The Unspeakable Confessions of Salvador Dali, 1981; Raynal, M. (ed.) Histoire de la peinture moderne: De Picasso au Surrealisme, 1953; Read, H. A Concise History of Modern Painting, 1959; Soby, J. T. Salvador Dali, 1946; Tapie, M. Dali, 1957; Walton, P. Dali: Miro, 1967. Periodicals: Life February 19, 1945, April 23, 1951; New Statesman June 25, 1976; New York Times March 22, 1970, January 20, 1980, April 19, 1983; New York Times Magazine November 22, 1981; Time February 26, 1940.

Selected exhibitions: Gal. Dalmau, Barcelona, Spain 1922; Gal. Goemans, Paris 1929; Gal. Pierre Colle, Paris 1931, '33; Gal. d'Arte Catalonia, Barcelona, Spain 1933, '34; Julien Levy Gal., NYC 1933-41; Zwemmer Gal., London 1934; MOMA, NYC 1941-42; M. Knoedler and Co., NYC from 1943; Bignou Gal., NYC 1945, '47, '48; Carstairs Gal., NYC 1950-'60; Santa Barbara Mus. of Art, Calif. 1953; Philadelphia Mus. of Art 1955; Casino Communal, Knokke-le-Zoute, Belgium 1956; Prince Hotel Gal., Tokyo 1964; Gal. of Modern Art, NYC 1965-66; Boymans-Van Beuningen Mus., Rotterdam 1970-71; Mus. de l'Athenee, Geneva 1970; Whitechapel Art Gal., London 1971; Boymans-Van Beuningen Mus., Rotterdam 1972; Stadtisches Gal., Frankfurt, W. Ger. 1974; Tate Gal., London 1980; Mus. of Contemporary Art, Madrid 1983. GROUP EXHIBITIONS: Dalmau Gal., Barcelona, Spain 1921, '22; Pittsburgh International, Carnegie Inst. 1928; "New Super-Realism," Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Conn. 1931; "Exposition Surrealiste," Gal. Pierre Colle, Paris 1933; "International Exhibition of Cubism and Surrealism," Copenhagen 1935; "Fantastic Art, Dada and Surrealism," MOMA, NYC 1936; "Exposition Internationale du Surrealisme," Gal. des Beaux-Arts, Paris 1938; "Exposicion Internacional del Surrealismo," Gal. de Arte Mexicano, Mexico City 1940; "Four Spaniards," Modern Inst. of Art, Boston 1946; "Exposition Internationale du Surrealisme," Gal. Maeght, Paris 1947; "Surrealisme en Abstractie," Stedelijk Mus., Amsterdam 1951; "Exposition Internationale du Surrealisme," Mus. Nat. d'Art Moderne, Paris 1959; "Masters of Surrealism from Ernst to Matta," Obelisk Gal., London 1961; "Six peintres surrealistes," Gal. Andre Francois Petit, Paris 1963; Sao Paulo Bienal 1965; "Dada, Surrealism and Their Heritage," MOMA, NYC 1968; "Surrealism," Moderna Mus., Stockholm 1970.
Selected collections: Salvador Dali Mus. Figueras, Spain; MOMA, and Guggenheim Mus., NYC; Nat. Gal. of Art, and Hirshhorn Mus. and Sculpture Garden, Washington, D.C.; Philadelphia Mus. Art: Cleveland Mus. of Art, and Dali Mus., Cleveland; Denver Art Museum; Santa Barbara Mus. of Art, Calif.; Tate Gal., London; Glasgow Art Gal., Scotland; Mus. Nat. d'Art Moderne, Paris; Stedelijk Mus., Amsterdam; Boymans-Van Beuningen Mus., Rotterdam; Kunsthaus, Zurich; Neue Natl. Gal., Berlin.

Biography from Biography Reference Bank (1984)
Reprinted by the permission of Russell & Volkening as agents for the author.
The Paranoid Critical Transformation Method

Of all the Surrealists and their achievements, there is one that stands out above all the others. The Paranoiac Critical method was a sensibility, or way of perceiving reality that was developed by Salvador Dalí. It was defined by Dalí himself as "irrational knowledge" based on a "delirium of interpretation". More simply put, it was a process by which the artist found new and unique ways to view the world around him. It is the ability of the artist or the viewer to perceive multiple images within the same configuration. The concept can be compared to Max Ernst's frottage or Leonardo da Vinci's scribbling and drawings. As a matter of fact, all of us have practiced the Paranoid Critical Method when gazing at stucco on a wall, or clouds in the sky, and seeing different shapes and visages therein. Dalí elevated this uniquely human characteristic into his own art form.

Dalí, though not a true paranoid, was able to simulate a paranoid state, without the use of drugs, and upon his return to 'normal perspective' he would paint what he saw and envisioned therein.

Dalí was able to create what he called "hand painted dream photographs" which were physical, painted representations of the hallucinations and images he would see while in his paranoid state. Although he certainly had his own load of mental problems to bear, it can be said that Dalí's delusions and paranoid hallucinations did not totally dominate his mind, as he was able to convey them to canvas.

Being a painter of miraculous skill, he was capable of reproducing his myriad fantasies and hallucinations as visual illusions on canvas.

It is in this context that one of Dalí's most famous statements takes on a whole new meaning and understanding.
"The only difference between myself and a madman, is that I am not mad!"
In Dalí's own words, taken from his Conquest of the Irrational:
"My whole ambition in the pictorial domain is to materialize the images of my concrete irrationality with the most imperialist fury of precision...
He then goes on to say:
"Paranoiac-critical activity organizes and objectivizes in an exclusivist manner the limitless and unknown possibilities of the systematic association of subjective and objective 'significance' in the irrational..."
"..it makes the world of delirium pass onto the plane of reality"

http://www.surrealismcentre.ac.uk/papersofsurrealism/journal4/acrobat%20files/ruffapdf.pdf
Dali’s childhood urge was to be a cook, but he started painting at the age of six. Soon he showed signs of aggression and was sent away by his parents to live with a family friend, Pitchot, also an artist. Dali’s earliest influences were indeed Pitchot’s work and many of his paintings furnished the washroom he spent so much time in. Dali’s childhood was full of perverse and sadistic elements that were to become a major part of his symbolist paintings. The washhouse, where Dali used to hideaway, became the source of many of these image-inducing experiences. He used to fantasise there, as a boy, about the local blossom-picker. He fuelled his fantasies by using two large melons supported upon crutches, to simulate the buxom young lady.
His desire to do the exact opposite of his friends and stamp his uniqueness upon the world sought to precipitate itself in violence. In one such incident, Dali, while walking with a friend, pushed him off of a fifteen foot high bridge onto the rocks below. Further, Dali almost numbed the situation by watching the companions mother take bowls of his blood out of the room and calmly ate a bowl of cherries. Dali’s acts of sadism and masochism didn’t cease with time. One of his sources of enjoyment was throwing himself down stairs. ’The pain’ he said, ‘was insignificant, the pleasure was immense’. Pleasure and pain seemed intimately entwined. Dali wanted both. One other childhood incident of note included a wounded bat. It was kept in Dali’s washhouse hideaway and stayed there overnight. When Dali returned to it was being devoured by a mass of ants. He impulsively bit into the seething mass delirious with pleasure. Much of the aforementioned is present in Dali’s symbolism, for example the crutches, the ants and the cherries. However, Dali’s imagery had another culprit - his very own blood. By this I mean his natural circulation – Dali used to stand on his head for substantial periods of time to induce hallucinatory images.
Amongst Dali’s most famous friends were Picasso and Freud. Indeed much of the surrealist movement can be paralleled with the work of Freud at that time. Psychoanalytic theory purported to explain and interpret dreams, hidden unconscious desires and the tapestry of symbolism thereof. This is the foundation of the surrealist movement. Picasso’s influence can be seen in Dali’s experimentation with impressionism and cubism before joining the surrealist movement in 1929. Dali soon went into film and produced "Un chien d'andalou" with Luis Bunuel , famous for its slitting of the eye image and the symbolic ants crawling out of the man's arm. Dali developed his paranoiac critical method soon after this in 1933.Some of the symbols used in Dali’s paintings and sculptures and where they arose:
Ants, Flesh - from the aforementioned encounter with the wounded bat.
Food - This comes from Dali’s childhood urge to be a cook. “Cooking is very close to painting” he once said, “When you are making a dish you add a little of this and a little of that…. It’s like mixing paints”.
Cherries - this is from the eating of a bowl of cherries at his friend’s bedside.
Fried eggs- from his intra-uterine images.
Phalicism – Freudian influence
Teeth– Also Freudian, supposed to symbolise sexuality
Crutches and melons - from the fantasising in the shed.
Instruments of mutilation – a reflection of Dali’s sado-masochistic nature
Impotence – Dali’s preoccupation with and fear of sex, impotence and association with Freud.
Anti-Automaton/Mass production – a theme of surreal artwork
Double images– from his ‘paranoic critical’ method (see later)
“The desire to survive and the fear of death are artistic sentiments”
“One day it will have to be officially admitted that what we have christened reality is an even greater illusion that the world of dreams”
“You have to systematically create confusion – it sets creativity free. Everything that is contradictory creates life.” – 1980
“People love mystery, and that is why they love my paintings”
Dali’s paranoiac critical method involved a kind of self induced psychosis. It was essentially the wilful distortion of reality until one could see wild visions jumping out of ordinary objects. The idea was the use of double imagery in order to ”… systematize confusion and contribute to the total discrediting of the world of reality”. Dali would stand on his head to induce hallucinations as inspiration. One example is that of the following picture ,Le surrealisme au service de la revolution, 1931, which, when viewed on it’s side resembles a face. There were many more like this in Dali’s work.Breton saw his paranoiac critical technique as isolated levels of delirium: “ Dali’s first rate intelligence excels at reconnecting these levels to each other immediately after the event, and at gradually rationalising the distance travelled. The primary material of his work is furnished by the visionary experiences, the meaningful falsifications of memory, the illicit ultra-subjective interpretations which compose the clinical picture of paranoia, but which to him present a precious lode to be mined”

Dalí, by associating surrealist activities and science, places himself in an ambiguous
territory midway between the serious and the playful. He is out of step both with the scientific
world (since his experiences are not very scientific due to the overestimation of what is
anecdotal and subjective), and with the artistic world (since the imaginative Dalinian world is
destined to be misunderstood by those unaware of the scientific issues involved). Dalí’s work
is thus at all times met with a partial or complete lack of understanding. In any case, it invites
us to reflect on the multiple models for a representation of the world. Reality is a matter of
‘construction’: it cannot be faithfully represented by science and considered as a point of
reference on the basis of which literature and the arts execute imaginative variations. By
denouncing an a priori knowledge of the world, Dalí draws our attention to the fact that there
is no ontological difference between the scientific and artistic spheres, and nor is one superior
to the other in terms of their approach to reality. He thereby draws us into an imaginary world
of relative possibilities and truths.

"The melting watch is the most famous of all Dalínian symbols. Originally created in watercolour in 1979 the iconic watch is used here in triplicate, floating in sequence above the ground, to depict the fluidity of time, and to reinforce the inevitability of its passing. The figure represents Man, resigned never to control time, as it flees inexorably from our grasp."

"In this piece Dalí recreates one of his favourite literary characters, Alice, in his inimitable Surrealistic style. Originally created in watercolour in 1979, he portrays the eternal girl-child, who responds to the confusion of the world behind the looking glass with the naivety of childhood. After her encounters with the inhabitants of the surrealist world, she returns to reality not only unharmed, but unchanged."
Chapter Seven
Through the Looking Glass:
Virtual Reality in Victorian England
A "screen’s frame separates two spaces, the physical and the virtual, which have different scales. Although this condition does not necessarily lead to the immobilization of the spectator, it does discourage any movement on her or his part: Why move when s/he can’t enter the represented virtual space anyway? This was well dramatized in Alice in Wonderland when Alice struggles to become just the right size in order to enter the other world." (Lev Manovich)
"As you read Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, consider the complex relations of these pre-electronic multimedia works and the questions they raise. For example, since the author of the verbal text (Dodgson/Carroll) so influenced the images that accompany it, can one interpret that verbal text without paying attention to the visual?" (George P. Landow) Steven Johnson insists, that "the most compelling cultural analogy for the hypertext webs of today’s interfaces turns out to be not the splintered universe of channel surfing, but rather the damp, fog-shrouded streets of Victorian London, and the mysterious resemblances of Charles Dickens."
Ball State Students and Faculty Enjoy Seeing Salvador Dali’s Illustrations for Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland in the Archives and Special Collections

The University Libraries’ Archives and Special Collections contains many treasures for research and learning. One of them is a limited edition of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland with drawings signed by artist Salvador Dali.

This work contains 12 illustrations with original woodcuts and an original etching by Spanish artist Salvador Felipe Jacinto Dali Domènech (1904-1989), recognized as one of the most important painters of the 20th century for his striking, unusual, and beautiful images in his surrealistic work.

The Special Collections has number 615 of the 2,500 numbered portfolios printed on Mandeure paper and published by Maecenas Press, Random House in 1969. The portfolio is signed on the frontispiece by Dali. The original colored etching signed in the plate is opposite the frontispiece.

The etching and remarques were printed by Ateliers Rital, and the 12 illustrations were printed by M. Nourisson. The portfolios were created by Cartonnages Adine. This rare and valuable item is a favorite of students who visit the Archives and Special Collections for classroom instruction. The illustration shown here is the last one in the portfolio, and it is entitled Alice’s Evidence.

From Dalí, lusciously harrowing images of Surrealism

By Roberta Smith
Published: SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2005

PHILADELPHIA: The Philadelphia Museum of Art's retrospective of the work of Salvador Dalí, the megalomaniacal Surrealist painter and every teenager's favorite artist, is a visual and psychic marathon. It fills 20 galleries, many quite large, with nearly 200 works of art, many quite small and so stupefyingly detailed that they require close study. At times, as one gallery follows another, the show begins to feel like a Surrealist labyrinth. Be prepared to catch a good case of Dalí delirium.
Dalí's achievement can be hard to grasp. It is all but de rigeur to say that it has been obscured by his flamboyant temperament and indefatigable self-promotion, and further trivialized by his pervasive influence - unequaled even by Picasso - that is not restricted to just legions of subsequent artists. There are entire genres of popular culture and kitsch that seem almost unimaginable without Dalí, including horror movies, science-fiction book covers and cartoons.
The mixture of radical and conservative forces in his art is also confusing. The Renaissance perspective and jewel-like rendering, combined with an aggressive sexual polymorphism, has sometimes seemed reactionary, literary and, well, sick. That is less the case these days, however, when artists recycle dead styles with aplomb, narrative and form are not seen as mutually exclusive and sexuality is no longer considered an either/or proposition.
Dalí, who was born in 1904 in Figueres, a Catalonian town near the French border in Spain, is a hardcore excavator of the self. De Chirico may have been the founding painter of Surrealism and an indispensable inspiration to Dalí, as were Miró, Tanguy and Picasso, to name but a few. But de Chirico's haunting scenes of deserted plazas and arcades are, relatively speaking, as benign as bedtime stories.
Dalí's paintings from the late 1920s and early '30s are among the most memorably, lusciously harrowing images of Surrealism.
His
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serene yet nightmarish combinations of pristine planes and sudden eruptions of deformed bodies and tortured flesh are famously fraught with sexual anxiety and obsessions: onanism, scatology and fear of impotence. They affirm most explicitly Surrealism's first article of faith: that the uncontrollable forces of the unconscious discovered by Freud were the true governors of reality.
It is always amazing to see, as this exhibition once more demonstrates, the extent to which Dalí absorbed Surrealism's tenets while still in Spain, reading Freud word for word, devouring special magazines and catalogues from Paris and also studying firsthand the work of the original Surrealist, Hieronymus Bosch, which he saw at the Prado while studying art in Madrid.
By the time he got to Paris, for a visit with his mother and sister in 1926, he was like a powder keg in search of a match.
"Little Cinders," executed in 1927 and '28, is a fabulous lexicon of sexual references, painting and drawing techniques and avant-garde styles overseen by a blimplike torso of uncertain sexuality. A painting that Dalí kept with him until his death in 1989, it juxtaposes a self-portrait with a head of his close friend, the poet Federico García Lorca. "Accommodations of Desire," completed after his second sojourn in Paris, fleshes out this fraught vision with an astounding Renaissance verisimilitude. Set on the stage of a barren desert landscape, a series of white pebbles are plastered with variations on an image of a lion's head that invoke both frightening parental authority and female sexuality.
It has long been held in the art world that this explosion of talent didn't last long and that by the late 1930s, when Dalí was still a young man, his best years were behind him and his feckless nature was in ascendance. In the years after the war, friends and colleagues were put off by his energetic embrace of the Roman Catholic faith (he had been raised as an atheist), which resulted in the brittle, levitating Hollywood-style images of crucifixes on view at the close of this exhibition. (He called this phase of his art "nuclear mysticism.")
Even worse for his reputation was his eventual support of Franco's Spain, seen as an infuriating betrayal from the creator of "Soft Construction With Boiled Beans (Premonition of Civil War)" of 1936.
And there were sundry misdemeanors against his own work: It is said that toward the end of his life, he signed thousands of sheets of blank paper, guaranteeing the world a steady stream of fake, factory-made Dalí lithographs.
The years since Dalí's death have also brought balanced, extensively researched biographies by Meredith Etherington-Smith and Ian Gibson, which sort through his often fabulist autobiographical writings and align his personality traits with his tortured upbringing.
In

From Dalí, lusciously harrowing images of Surrealism

By Roberta Smith
Published: SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2005

(Page 2 of 2)
some ways Dalí was doomed from the start. Named for an older brother who died at 2, several months before the artist's birth, Dalí was scarred by the idea that he was a poor substitute, yet also spoiled by parents fearful that he, too, might die. He was pathologically shy, which he learned to disguise with tantrums and outrageous behavior. He remained a fearful, sexually ambivalent man.
He was also essentially apolitical; his acceptance of Franco reflected most of all his deep-seated need to be in Spain. The flat, barren landscapes in Dalí's paintings replicate the Empurdan plain around Figueres. The haunting, melting profile head of the "Great Masturbator," which is a precursor of the famous melted watches and a recurring image throughout his work, was based on a stone that Dalí found on the beach near Cadaqués, the coastal town not far from Figueres where he and Gala lived half of each year from 1948 on.
This exhibition originated at the Palazzo Grassi in Venice last summer. It proceeds on the premise that all of Dalí, like all of Picasso, deserves attention. It moves relentlessly across about 65 years of paintings and drawings, sculpture and set designs, beginning with a small Post-Impressionist nocturne of the harbor at Cadaqués painted in 1918, when he was 14, and concluding with his last canvas, "The Swallow's Tail," a delicate trompe-l'œil work done in 1983.
The exhibition includes a couch in the form of Mae West's lips; two of Dalí's famous, kitschy lobster telephones; and a monitor playing the dream sequence he designed for Alfred Hitchock's "Spellbound." In the museum's video gallery, the film "Un Chien Andalou," Dalí's famous collaboration with Luis Buñuel, alternates with "Destino," a charming six-minute animated film that he and Walt Disney worked on in 1948, but that was not completed until 2003, long after both men were dead.
The circus of the artist's life is played down. The show presents almost nothing in the way of ephemera: exhibition catalogs, book illustrations, the many magazines to which Dalí, a tireless and often eloquent essayist and poet, contributed. There are only a few photographs of the famously photographed artist.
This arrangement encourages almost total immersion in his imagery and suggests that Dalí did both weak and wonderful paintings throughout much of his life.
The show is sustained by Dalí's virtuosity and by his abilities as what might be called a high-concept painter, as well as by his involvement with that modernist taboo, spatial illusionism. Dalí did not simply resurrect Renaissance perspective. He used it as it had never quite been used before, to delineate an immense emptiness that was both terrifying and seductive, infinite and exact.
But the exhibition's most interesting lesson, from an artist whose images adapt so well to reproduction and are so often criticized as being illustrational, is how physical, and physically different, his paintings are. From the beginning to the end of his career, this consummate master of trompe l'œil illusion never stopped experimenting with the physical properties of his art, frequently foretelling important developments elsewhere.
A small, furious ink drawing from 1926 could easily have been made by Jackson Pollock 15 years later. From the late 1930s onward Dalí's paintings present indications of the dry, brushy surfaces of Color Field painting; the precision of Photo Realism; and the layered, levitating forms of Neo-Expressionism.
It shares this space with two other exceptional paintings: "Portrait of My Dead Brother" (1963) and "The Sistine Madonna" (1958), which is owned by the Metropolitan. Their dotted surfaces and ghostly images, so prescient of the work of the highly regarded German artist Sigmar Polke, could easily have been made yesterday. For better and for worse, Dalí is more than ever an artist of our time.

Synopsis


Illustration by Arthur Rackham


cover of the 1898 edition


Chapter 1: Down the Rabbit-Hole
Alice is sitting by her sister lazily, and she sees a White Rabbit in a waist-coat carrying a pocket-watch. She follows it down a rabbit hole, and falls down a very long chamber full of strange things on shelves. After landing safely on the ground, she goes into a long hallway with a glass table with a gold key. Alice opens up a curtain and finds a small door, which the key fits in perfectly, and behind it is a beautiful garden, but she can't fit in. Alice then finds a small bottle labelled DRINK ME, and drinks it, causing her to shrink. Alice accidentally left the key on the table, so she can't reach it. She then discovers a cake that says EAT ME, and eats it.
Chapter 2: The Pool of Tears
Due to the effect of the cake, Alice grows 9 feet tall. She cries, creating a pool of tears. The White Rabbit comes into the hallway, and is so frightened he drops his fan and kid-gloves. Alice then fans herself with his fan and kid-gloves, causing her to shrink very small again, but she stops before she goes out altogether. She swims through the pool of tears, and finds a mouse who is awfully scared of cats. They wash up onto a bank, where they meet many birds and animals, also wet.
Chapter 3: A Caucus-Race and a Long Tale
A Dodo decides that the birds and animals should dry off with a Caucus Race, which has no rules but to run in a circle. After a half an hour or so, the race ends and everyone wins, which means they all get prizes. Alice gives out her comfits as the prizes, and the Mouse tells Alice his long and sad tale why he hates cats, which Alice misinterprets as "tail." The chapter ends with Alice alienating the participants of the Race, resulting in her being left alone once again.
Chapter 4: The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill
The White Rabbit mistakes Alice for his house maid, Mary Ann, so he tells her to fetch a pair of gloves and a fan. Alice goes in to his house, and she finds a bottle. Though not labeled DRINK ME, she drinks it anyways, and as a result, she grows so big that the White Rabbit can't get into the house. The White Rabbit tells a lizard named Bill to get her out of there. Bill climbs into the chimney, but is kicked out. The White Rabbit then pours pebbles down the chimney, which turn into cakes. Alice eats the cakes, causing her to shrink again. She goes outside, seeing a crowd of animals.
Alice then confronts a giant puppy, so she uses a stick to tire it out. She then stumbles upon a Caterpillar, who is on a mushroom smoking a hookah.
Chapter 5: Advice from a Caterpillar
Alice asks how she can get bigger, but the Caterpillar asks her to recite "Old Father William" instead. After doing so (with a few errors,) the Caterpillar tells her that one side of the mushroom will make her bigger, and another side will maker her smaller. The Caterpillar disappears, leaving Alice all alone. Alice first tries the right side, which makes her chin get stuck to her foot. Then she tries the left side, which makes her neck grow very long. A pigeon flies into her face, believing she is a serpent, but Alice tells her that she is a little girl. She then eats different sides of the mushroom until she is at her usual height.
Chapter 6: Pig and Pepper
Now at her right size, Alice comes upon a house with a Frog-Footman and a Fish-Footman in front. The Fish-Footman has an invitation for the Duchess, which he delivers to the Frog-Footman. Alice observes this transaction and after a perplexing conversation with the frog, she goes into the house and meets The Duchess, The Cook, The Baby, and The Duchess's Cheshire-Cat. The Cook is making a soup and throwing dishes, which has too much pepper, for it causes Alice, the Duchess, and the baby to sneeze, though not the cook or the Cheshire-Cat. The Duchess tosses her baby up and down, while reciting the poem "Speak roughly to your little boy." When the poem is over, The Duchess gives Alice the baby while she leaves to play croquet with the Queen. To Alice's surprise, the baby later turns into a pig, so she lets it go off into the woods. The Cheshire-Cat then appears in a tree, telling her about the Mad Hatter and the March Hare. He then disappears, with only a grin left.
Chapter 7: A Mad Tea Party
Alice becomes a guest at a mad tea party, along with the Mad Hatter, March Hare, and the Dormouse. They all give Alice many riddles and stories, until she becomes so insulted that she leaves, claiming that it was the stupidest tea party that she had ever been to. Alice comes upon a door in a tree, and enters it, finding herself back into the long hallway. She opens the door, eats part of her mushroom, and shrinks so she can get into the beautiful garden.
Chapter 8: The Queen's Croquet Ground
Now in the beautiful garden, she comes upon 3 cards painting the roses on a rose tree red, for they accidentally planted a white-rose tree (which the Queen of Hearts hates). A procession of more cards, kings and queens, and even the White Rabbit come into the garden. She meets the violent Queen of Hearts, and the less violent King of Hearts. The Queen tells the executioner to chop off the three card gardener's heads off. A game of croquet begins, with flamingos as the mallets and hedgehogs as the balls. The Queen condemns more people to death, and Alice once again meets the Cheshire Cat, who asks her how the queen is. The Queen of Hearts then tries to find out how they can chop off the Cheshire Cat's head, even though he is only a floating head. Alice asks her about the Duchess, so the Queen asks the executioner to get the Duchess out of prison.
Chapter 9: The Mock Turtle's story
The Duchess is brought to the croquet ground. She is now less angry and is always trying to find morals in things (she claims the pepper made her angry.) The Queen of Hearts then shows Alice the Gryphon, who takes her to the Mock Turtle. The Mock Turtle is very sad, even though he has no sorrow. He tries to tell his story about how he used to be a turtle, which The Gryphon interrupts so they can play a game.
Chapter 10: The Lobster Quadrille
The Mock Turtle and the Gryphon start dancing to the Lobster Quadrille, singing "Tis the Voice of the Lobster." After that, The Mock Turtle sings "Beautiful Soup", but Alice and The Gryphon have to leave for a trial while The Mock Turtle is singing.
Chapter 11: Who Stole the Tarts?
At the trial, the Knave of Hearts is accused of stealing the tarts. The jury box is full of twelve animals, including Bill the Lizard, and the judge is the King of Hearts. The first witness is the Mad Hatter, who doesn't help the case at all. The next witness though, is Alice.
Chapter 12: Alice's Evidence
Alice eats part of the mushroom, causing her to grow and accidentally knock over the Jury Box. The Queen of Hearts is about to sentence them to death, but Alice calls them all just a pack of cards, causing them to swirl around her and turn into dead leaves. Alice's sister wakes her up, since it was all a dream. Alice returns to her house, and her sister has a dream about her lost childhood, very similar to Alice's.

Alice in Wonderland syndrome


Limbo

Effervescent essence of youth
Bronze sculpture of alice 1977-1984
36.0 x 17.5 inches
Symbol crutch





Alice in Wonderland 1969
Etching
Heliogravure on Rives of original gouches
22” x 16”
Both travelled in the land of dream


Dali’s The Persistence of Memory
“The ‘soft watch” acts as metaphor for the ephemeral nature of mankind, our inevitable decay and our subsequent obsession with the nature of time set against us” (Bradburry 70)
Super-softness inspired by Camembert cheese
Gala credited to protect from Dali from harsh reality
Dali’s work self portraiture
Rocks contrast softness
Ants - childhood fear
Landscape –

Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory
(1952-54)
Oil on canvas
10 x 13 inches
The ochre colored plain of the ground, has been divided up into cubic shaped blocks, and the addition of the rhinocerous horns in the upper lefthand portion of the painting also refer to Dali's fascination with the molecular world. The melting watch es and landscape of Cadaques make another appearance herein, and the addition of the fish serves as a witness to the event.
The persistence of Dali

The Persistence of Memory, among the most recognizable works in 20th century art, has rarely left its home at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.
By LENNIE BENNETT
© St. Petersburg Times
published March 7, 2002
________________________________________
When The Persistence of Memory is unveiled next to The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory, the first-ever pairing of the paintings will create another unforgettable Salvador Dali image.
The melting watches, set in a landscape both real and dreamlike, are compelling, disturbing and unforgettable. The Persistence of Memory, painted by Spanish surrealist artist Salvador Dali in 1931, is probably his most famous work and among the most recognizable in 20th century art. It is also considered by many scholars to be among his finest, a definitive example of the surrealist movement, a technical tour de force and the embodiment of Dali's own preoccupations.
It has rarely left its home at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City since its accession in 1934. But in a coup for St. Petersburg's Salvador Dali Museum, MoMA has agreed to send it here for three months. It arrived by courier before dawn and will be unveiled on Friday, displayed next to the Dali Museum's The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory, painted between 1952 and 1954, in which Dali revisited the themes and symbols of the earlier work.
The two works have never been exhibited together. Seeing them side by side should be a rich and probably never-to-be-repeated experience.
"Dali was the rising star of surrealism when he painted it," said William Jeffett, curator of exhibitions at the Salvador Dali Museum. "It was in the first exhibition of surrealism in the United States, in Hartford (at the Wadsworth Atheneum), and it captured the imagination of people in America."
Moving a masterpiece
A Salvador Dali painting is brought from New York City to St. Petersburg, revealing the complicated -- and secretive -- process of moving priceless art.
Time, space and form are distorted in Dali's dreamscape. In the background are the craggy cliffs of Port Lligat, a town in Catalonia, a province of northeast Spain, where Dali spent much of his life. In the foreground, along a broad sweep of sand, three pocket watches are draped over a bare olive tree, a step and a distorted profile that seems to have washed ashore. Ants swarm over a fourth closed watch.
"The painting is full of contradictions," said Jeffett, "hard and soft, mechanical and organic, realistic and dreamlike."
Dali was only 27 when he painted it, but his obsession with decay and death -- the ants and the fly alighting on one of the watches -- already was informing his work. The watches, too, are powerful symbols of time and its passage, and the mind's ability both to preserve and mutate memory over time.

The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory, which belongs to the Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, revisits the themes of Dali’s earlier work.
________________________________________
Dali twists the traditional use of the olive in Western art as a symbol of peace, hope and healing. In this painting, the tree is barren. The bizarre head is a self-portrait, which he repeated in other paintings. Whether the artist here is dead or just asleep is unclear.
Dali, who was familiar with Freudian symbols, may have used the steps to add a reference to sexual intercourse, which Freud associated with steps and ladders. It could be yet another contradiction -- a man-made construction in unlikely natural surroundings. Or, as one scholar suggested, he could have added the horizontal planes more for form than theme.
In the later The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory, the symbols and landscape are similar but changed in important ways. The watches are falling apart, the tree is truncated, the head has morphed into an almost unrecognizable blob. The steps have exploded into a grid of blocks.
"The biggest thing in the interim years was the atomic bomb," said Jeffett, "and he was fascinated by physics and quantum theory, though I'm not sure how well he really understood them. The elements of the first painting are reintroduced in light of what was happening in those areas. Things are not as solid as they look."
The sea is peeled back to reveal a fish, perhaps signifying there are two realities -- that which is visible, and that known only to the intellect. The fish, a symbol of Christianity, could also reflect Dali's interest in religion and mysticism.
People who have only seen the works in books are astonished by their small size. At about 10 inches by 13 inches, they are "gemlike and meticulously painted," said Jeffett. "But they have the scale of large landscapes. That is another of the contradictions."
It's hard to imagine, in today's art market, that a dealer purchased The Persistence of Memory for $250 in 1931. The Wadsworth Atheneum could have bought it for $300 but passed. A private collector bought it a few years later for an unrecorded sum, probably less than $500, and gave it to the Museum of Modern Art. Today, it is beyond price.
"It's rare to loan a work as important as this one, said Glenn Lowry, director of the Museum of Modern Art. "There is an expectation that our iconic works will always be on view to visitors to New York."
The Dali museum had hoped for years to borrow it but had no luck until MoMA began a $650-million building project that will close the museum for several years. Many masterworks are being put into storage, making MoMA more inclined to let go of the painting temporarily.
Dali, aided by his ambitious wife Gala, knew how mystery and myth could enhance his celebrity. In his 1942 autobiography, The Secret Life of Salvador Dali, he explained how he created The Persistence of Memory. He pondered a softening wheel of Camembert they had had for dinner, then looked at a landscape he was painting of Port Lligat. In a moment of epiphany, he wrote that he "saw" what the painting should be. Two hours later, when Gala returned, the picture, watches and all, was complete.
"You have to take everything he said with some doubt," said Jeffett. "That story sounds too good to be true, to be able to paint it in two hours. Still, Dali was a virtuoso painter."
Dali wrote that he asked Gala, "Do you think that in three years you will have forgotten this work?"
He claimed she replied, "No one can forget it once he has seen it."
The story may be apocryphal, but that line has proven true.

Salvador Dali
At the age of ten, Dalí was already learning to paint under prestigious teachers in renowned art schools. Much of Dalí's work and life was affected by his personality which was regarded as paranoid on one hand, but arrogant and greedy on the other. This was clearly evident upon his second expulsion from the Royal Academy of Art in Madrid, caused by his own assertion that he held greater knowledge of his subject than those who taught him. As a result, he never took his final examinations, yet his achievements show that this was hardly a hindrance to his career in art.
Amongst Dalí's most famous friends were Pablo Picasso and Sigmund Freud. In the early stages of his career he was greatly inspired by the theories of Freud on the subconscious and the meaning of dreams. Indeed much of the surrealist movement can be paralleled with the work of Freud at that time. The foundation of the surrealist movement was based upon the explanation and interpretation of dreams and the hidden unconscious desires. To bring up images from his subconscious mind, Dalí began to induce hallucinatory states upon himself by a process he described as 'paranoiac critical'. Once Dalí perfected this method, his painting style matured very quickly and he began to produce the paintings that made him the world's best known surrealist artist.
In 1929 Dalí joined the surrealist movement which consisted of a group of writers and artists led by André Breton. Through this group he met famous poet Paul Eluard and his wife Gala; the woman with whom Dali eventually had an affair and later married. Arguably Dalí's greatest inspiration and influence came from Gala. She became not only his life partner but also his muse, the focus of much of his work, and his business manager. It has also been said that Gala provided Dalí with stability, which due to his eccentric personality; he was in much need of.
After numerous successful years in America Dalí opened his own museum (Teatro Museo Dalí) in 1974 in his home town of Figueres, Spain. This was followed by retrospectives in Paris and London at the end of the decade.
Dalí's beloved wife Gala died in 1982 which made him severely depressed and after being burned in a fire in his home in Pubol in 1984 his health began to deteriorate even further. Much of his life at this point was spent in seclusion, first in Pubol and later in the Torre Galatea, a castle in Figueres adjacent to the Teatro Museo. Dalí was nursed twenty-four hours a day here until his death on 23rd January 1989 from heart failure. He left his hefty estate to the Catalan government, the Spanish state, and the Dalí Museum. Dalí was laid to rest in a crypt he had specially built in the basement of the Teatro Museo and his remains, entombed under a glass dome, were embalmed to last 300 years.
Dalí expressed surrealism in everything he said and did. He was not just unconventional and dramatic; he was fantastic, shocking and outrageous! He was an artist who loved to stir up controversy and instigate scandal and upheaval. Like Picasso, Matisse, Miro and Chagall, his place at the pinnacle of modern art history is assured.

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