Tag: surreal

Salvador Dali

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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

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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.

The Double: An overlooked film and novella

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The Double is a short novella originally written by Fyodor Dostoevsky, first published in 1846. If the name sounds familiar, you’ve probably read Crime and Punishment, arguably one of his most popular works. If it doesn’t sound familiar, you aren’t alone: his writing style is notorious for being dense and tiresome to read, meaning you won’t find his works on any coffee tables. The novella was adapted into a movie of the same name, which was released in 2011 and stars Jesse Eisenberg. I actually saw the movie first, which inspired me to read the book, so I’ll be discussing them in that order.

The first time I watched The Double, I thought it was complete nonsense. It was weird, the ending didn’t make any sense, and it was so boring that I almost fell asleep. I was disappointed, considering the concept looked interesting and it starred Jesse Eisenberg, who I’ve always loved in other movies. I wondered what I was missing; who would be pretentious enough to pretend that they liked it? Evidently it festered in my mind, because I ended up re-watching it over a year later when I saw it on Netflix. This time it was a completely different experience; I don’t know if maybe my tastes had changed, or if I was just paying more attention, but I absolutely loved it. It was entirely unique in every way; incredible acting, visually interesting scenes and filming, an absolutely gorgeous soundtrack which I highly recommend listening to, and an atmosphere that kept you on the edge of your seat. Out of these, I want to focus on the strange atmosphere that the film has, since I find that to be its most unique and defining element. Now if you’ve been reading my last few posts, you might have a feeling of where this is going: Surrealism. This movie is a prime example of Surrealism in film, and is a testament to the power of film as an art form.

I recognize this film as surreal because it has the same atmosphere as any other surreal work of art: a dense fog, a feeling of semi-nostalgia and anxiety, and an unexplainable otherworldliness. This is developed in the movie mostly through the use of its color palette, which includes yellows, browns, beiges, and other grimy colors. It’s odd to say the least, and it makes this universe seem like some parallel universe where everything is drab and lifeless. Also contributing to this surreal atmosphere is the vagueness of the whole movie. I can’t really say what time period it takes place in, what the setting is, or what the main character does all day. Every place seems so disconnected, which is so contradictory to normal life. The closest thing to experiencing this is going to North Campus after 9pm on a weeknight and walking to a bus stop. The towering brick walls, strange architecture, and the complete emptiness of life is similar to some abandoned dystopian parallel world, much like the universe of The Double. Another key element of the surreal atmosphere is obviously the story; the idea of the doppelganger, somebody who is identical to you in almost every way, induces anxiety in itself. Watching the main character Simon as he falls into madness at the hands of his doppelganger is terrifying, and it defines the universe of the movie as much stranger than ours. Finally, I think even the soundtrack contributes to this atmosphere, much more than your typical movie score. It’s mostly composed of string music and piano, with dark and heavy chords that create a tension throughout the film. Listening to the soundtrack by itself induces anxiety, and in the context of the film, it is the soundtrack of madness. Overall, this movie is a work of art in almost every way, and is fascinating to me as a lover of surrealist art. It’s just an unforgettable, personal experience that challenges what you think about traditional media.

This brings us to the novella, which I read promptly after finding out that it inspired the movie. It was the first thing I ever read by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and I can definitely understand why people say his books are a challenge. After forcing my way through it however, I was glad I did: not only is it an incredibly well written story, it is a great companion to the movie. While they aren’t exactly identical, as they aren’t meant to be, reading the book further revealed the true genius of the movie. The movie perfectly matched the atmosphere of the book, so much that it’s eerie. Maybe I was influenced by watching the movie first, but the book is a work of surrealism itself: it has the same bizarre atmosphere, which is developed through the writing and the events of the story. The way Fyodor Dostoevsky writes is so dark and heavy that it creates the same feeling of anxiety and fear, which is absolutely fascinating. I highly recommend watching the movie and reading the book, although I don’t suggest any particular order. I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on it to see if people see what I see, or if I just sound completely crazy.

(Image Credits: Google Images)

Zaba: A Surreal Concept Album

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Zaba is the debut studio album of the band Glass Animals, and was released in 2014. It is also an incredible work of art and a testament to the power of concept albums to create an entire universe inside a single musical space. This album is especially unique in how it pushes the envelope: from the samples used to create the rhythms and flows to the abstract lyricism. The “concept” of this album is fairly loose, and that’s part of what makes it so surreal. It focuses on creating a jungle setting by using rich bass backgrounds and a variety of plucky leads, along with animal samples, such as bird calls, throughout. It accomplishes this effect so well in every single song that it’s almost uncanny: listening to it you almost feel like you’ve entered a parallel dimension, where colors swirl and drums pound from all around you. The drums and pounding rhythms contribute a large part to this feeling, especially on songs such as Wyrd, JDNT, and Psylla. You can’t help but sway to the music; it has an almost hypnotic effect. However, as you’re caught up in the incredible atmosphere of the album, you’ll miss the other unforgettable aspect of it: the surreal lyrics.

Now the lyrics are probably my favorite part, and really sets them apart from other strange bands. Once you start listening, you’ll realize that most of it is well-formatted gibberish. A few sentences of coherent thought, maybe a single linking thread between them, about something vague and shapeless. The magic of this album is getting lost in its universe, and the lyrics are essential to that: they disconnect you from reality; they lull you into different state of mind. Surrealist art often focuses on the subconscious, exploring the dormant world beyond our conscious minds. Often these works use juxtaposition to startle the viewer and contradict their reality, evoking a feeling of uncertainty and creating an atmosphere that simply can’t be described. In much the same way, I think Zaba embraces the surrealist mindset and brings it to the world of music in a startling fashion. The lyrics transcend traditional music and challenge the listener’s reality; the production is hypnotic and unearthly; the singing is soft and seductive; and the jungle atmosphere is so convincing and strange that you’ll get lost and never be able to find your way out. All in all, it’s an incredibly memorable album that has endless replay value, and I highly recommend giving it a listen. It stands alone as a truly atmospheric concept album, and I think it’s a great example of how powerful concept albums are as works of art.

(Image credits: Google Images)