Quote:
Hi Miguel,
After viewing some of the newer paintings, I believe that Dali was a man that did not want anyone to know who he really was. In some portraits he showed shadows while in others there was no changing of texture of the body. The one with the naked female and floating head, there were two distinct figures, one male, the other female, however the females head was not shown and the males body was not shown. I believe that was the Honey and Blood painting. Also in that painting there were what appeared to be giant needles sticking upwards. These looked to be some sort of moorings, perhaps for lobster pots as this was clearly a water domain. On his painting on tin, one of those needles showed up on display. I'm thinking that the unfinished paintings were unfinished on purpose. You can definetely tell by his paintings that Dali was not a sociable person, and with or without the drugs, he seamed to be a person that was constantly travelling between two or more different worlds. I am also curious as to whether he and his wife ever had children, and if so, did any of them ever follow in his footsteps?
GOD BLESS YOU
~Mike~
http://www.countryvalues65.com
Hi Mike,
Those sticks, often like crutches.
I found this online.
Not my quote
The crutch, that quintessentially Dalinian symbol, was defined by the artist in his Dictionnaire abrege du Surrealisme (1938) as a "wooden support derived from Cartesian philosophy. Generally used for the support of soft, tender parts." In one of the tales interpolated in the Secret Life, "The Story of the Linden Blossom Picking and the Crutch", Dali wrote: "The second object, which struck me as being terribly personal and overshadowing everything else, was a crutch! It was the first time in my life that I saw a crutch, or at least I thought it was. Its aspect appeared to me at once as something extremely untoward and prodigiously striking. I immediately took possession of the crutch, and I felt that I should never again in my life be able to separate myself from it, such was the fetishistic fanaticism which seized me at the very first without my being able to explain it. The superb crutch! Already it appeared to me as the object possessing the height of authority and solemnity. [...] The upper bifurcated part of the crutch intended for the armpit was covered by a kind of felt cloth, extremely fine, worn, brown-stained, in whose suave curve I would by turns pleasurably place my caressing cheek and drop my pensive brow. Then I victoriously descended into the garden, hobbling solemnly with my crutch in one hand. This object communicated to me an assurance, an arrogance even, which I had never been capable of until then. [...] since then that anonymous crutch was and will remain for me, till the end of my days, the 'symbol of death' and the 'symbol of resurrection'!" In this, the crutch clearly has a sexual function. Dali's crutches, like the soft and hard outgrowths, were to be found repeatedly in his work of the 30s, as in The Enigma of William Tell, Average Atmospherocephalic Bureaucrat in the Act of Milking a Cranial Harp, The Invisible Harp, The Javanese Mannequin, The Spectre of Sex Appeal and other paintings.
ROGER