Salvador Dali

I recently finished Dali the Paintings, an amazing collection of Salvador Dali’s works accompanied by commentary and an interesting account of his life by Robert Descharnes and Gilles Neret. I’ve written about my particular interest in surreal art before, and Salvador Dali was one of the most influential leaders of the movement; as he said himself, “the only difference between me and the Surrealists is that I am a surrealist”. He was well known in popular culture for being eccentric and arrogant, and many of his works are iconic today. In reading through his biography, I was surprised by how much depth there was to him as a person, and how much his personality and art style changed throughout his life. I definitely recommend reading Dali the Paintings if you have the time, even if you aren’t typically interested in art history; the story itself is stranger than fiction. However, instead of reviewing his life, I thought I would highlight some of the most interesting paintings, provide some context, and explain why I find them so fascinating.

Atavistic Ruins after the Rain, 1934 by Salvador Dali
Atavistic Ruins after the Rain, 1934

One of the first paintings I ever saw by Salvador Dali was Atavistic Ruins after the Rain, and it is easily one of the most memorable. I was struck by how different it was from the fine art that I was used to; it was strange and other-wordly, with a feeling of gravity and oppression that was completely unusual. After learning more about surrealism and Dali, I realized that I enjoyed the ominous and unexplainable atmosphere of surrealism just as much as the amazing technical mastery. Most of my favorite works by Dali were made around this time, when he was 30 and leaving his group of surrealists for popularity in America. I find these paintings to be the most haunting, with similar landscapes based on the Catalonian cliffs of Spain where Dali grew up. Many of his motifs were first introduced during this period, such as the crutch, the standing figures, and the soft, melting architecture. In general, this painting represents to me what makes Dali great, not only as a painter, but as an artist of atmosphere.

The Elephants, 1948 by Salvador Dali
The Elephants, 1948

Another iconic painting by Dali is The Elephants, painted in 1948. There is a lot of important context needed in order to understand this painting relative to Dali’s life. Firstly, Dali was greatly affected by the bombings of Japan in 1945; he turned to mysticism, and adopted a unique belief in the atom and nuclear physics as the closest representations of God. These new beliefs led to prominent religious imagery in his paintings and a new form of atomic surrealism. This painting in particular has a nuclear feeling, with its red sky and barren landscape, and the elephants carry giant religious obelisks. Dali was also affected by the death of his older brother who died before Dali was born. His brother’s name was also Salvador and they bore a strong resemblance; as a result, Dali often said that he felt as if he was already dead. This feeling comes across in paintings such as this; even the decay and fragility of the elephants induces anxiety.

This is an incredibly brief introduction to Dali and it’s only the tip of the iceberg as to why I find his work so fascinating. I will definitely be writing more about surrealism in the future, but in the meantime I encourage you to explore the movement yourself. I recommend learning more about Dali and his works as well; he was prolific and each painting is an entire artistic universe.

Meditative Rose: A Hidden Work of Art

The annual poster sale was going on these last two weeks, and I went, as many do, searching for a worthy poster to fill the barren spot on that one eggshell wall of my room. I flipped through the multitudes of posters, not really knowing what I was looking for, but keeping my eye out for something that would perfectly define the new academic year. There were a few notable works of art in the running, some Vincent van Gogh and Rene Magritte in particular, but one particular artist stood out, and if you know me then you won’t be surprised that it was Salvador Dali. I don’t love all of his art, but I can’t deny how unique his aesthetic is and how much it resonates with me. His interpretation of surrealism is so convincing and otherworldly, I just seem to get lost in the art and all of the tiny details he sneaks in. Anyways, I ended up with a 24″ x 36″ poster of Meditative Rose, and if you’ve never heard of this painting before, I’m honored to introduce it to you:

At first glance, it’s pretty straightforward: a solitary red rose, without a stem, front and center, with a pretty generic landscape background. The rose is beautifully done, intricate and detailed, giving it an almost hypnotic quality which draws the viewer’s focus. As a result, it can be easy to miss the bigger picture (quite literally), and upon closer inspection, a completely different work of art reveals itself. First, notice the two vague figures, standing underneath the rose, casting long shadows over a hard and barren desert. Then inspect the small town in the distance, which recalls images of vineyards in Italy, all under the orange glow of sunset. The sky is mostly blue with one, large white cloud, slowly floating across in the background. There is a single drop of water on the rose, closest to the foreground. The rose is glowing from the sunset. All of these little details turn a simple rose into a surrealist masterpiece.

Suddenly there is something foreboding about the rose, as it looms over the small figures and town, similar to how a U.F.O. might appear, and also glowing as if otherworldly. The palette of muted tones, complemented by the bright red of the rose, make the rose feel as if it doesn’t even belong to the same color spectrum of the universe it inhabits. The single drop of water raises many questions as to the origin of the rose, and creates endless little mysteries. The entire aesthetic bleeds surrealism, a haunting and desolate place of mystery. In this way, I think the name is apt: Meditative Rose, a rose that is so unexpected, out of place, and otherworldly, that it requires deep meditation and contemplation. As such, I found it perfect for my college dorm; now, in-between EECS projects and reading for Latin, I can take a break to study this strange rose, and slowly unravel its mysteries while appreciating the aesthetic that I love so much.