Well, Hello, Dali

In 2019 we took a few day trips out of town.  To Montserret, to Girona, and to Priorat for wine-tasting.  We decided a train to Figueres to see the Salvador Dali museum would be a good option.

I’m not sure why, but the train website never let me pre-book the tickets, so we had to metro early to the train station and hope the best.  Carol was able to get us return-trip tickets.  They weren’t the times I wanted, but it all worked out.

We were told the trains we wanted were sold out, but the trains we took were LESS THAN 10% FULL!  So we don’t believe them.  I think it was the old “oh, you four people are Americans, we will use you to keep our empty trains from being totally empty” play.  And there was nothing we could do.

The conductor came through, barked at us to put on masks.  Don and Jennifer had brought their masks, but Carol and I had totally blanked.  It’s not like masks were required on the flight into Spain (we were told they are required) or on the Metro (we were told they are required).  Carol told him in Spanish that we didn’t bring masks.  I meanwhile sat there looking as stupid as Ed the hyena from Lion King, so at least I wasn’t acting.

He never came back.  Obviously it was his job to tell us, but not to force us.  It was a pleasant 55 minute trip from Barcelona to Figueres.  We disembarked and walked the mile from the station to the Dali museum.

The big question was whether we would be allowed to use our tickets if we were later than the 15 minute grace period they give you.  Well, on a Wednesday in mid-November, the grace period turns out to be at least 18 minutes, as they waved us in.

Salvador Dali was a flamboyant, talented, unusual, weird man.  Born in Figueres, he lived for a time in the United States.  His wife Gala played an important role in his art and his life.  He took surrealism to the next level.  Some of his art is just plain weird, and some is just plain great.  His upturned mustache is still famous, and he had a haughty attitude.  I do wonder if some of his eccentricity was an act to both get attention and sell more art.

Dali had a pet ocelot, appeared on Johnny Carson, and even draw art on his checks so the restaurants would not cash the checks.  He is buried at the museum, which he designed.  

Carol noted that he had to be on LSD or something similar, but apparently not.  From this website:

Dali once said:”I don’t do drugs. I am drugs.”. Looking at his paintings, you might suspect he used a loooot of psychotropic drug use, including LSD. But well, he had a couple of tricks that was making him more creative. For example, Dali would sit in a chair holding the spoon above the plate and doze off. As he fell asleep, the spoon would drop onto the plate, making a noise that woke him in time to jot down the surreal images he saw in his dreams. Other times, Dali would stand on his head until he almost passed out, allowing him to become semi-lucid.

For a brief time, I entertained also going to Dali’s interesting seaside house in Port Lligat near Cadaques, but thought that would be too much for one day. 

Faithful readers of the blog know I am not a fan of modern art.

However, now I’m worried I’m turning into one, maybe?

Oh, I still hate the baloney pieces where the canvas is larger than a huge TV, painted white, with a little black circle on it.  A bunch of monkeys could come up with that (yeah, I’m looking at you Joan Miro!).  But I liked a bunch of the Picasso art on Sunday morning, and I found myself oddly drawn to a goodly number of Dali works.

Not all of his works resonated with me, but more did than I expected.  Again, some was junk, but plenty was interesting.  The museum itself is an interesting building as well.  Partly because Dali did NOT just dab a bit of paint on a canvas and call it art – he actually worked at each piece to communicate what he saw in his surrealism style.

I’m going to let my photos of his work tell, in the words of Paul Harvey, “the rest of the story.”

I'm pretty sure this is art Dali

collected instead of created

Part of the inner courtyard.

Dali's Cadillac, which is part

of his piece, Rainy Taxi.

The two story art piece from the courtyard.

"I don't do drugs. . .

I am drugs!"

Everyone needs more

Gator gear in their life.

Carol, giving a tour.  This work is called

"The Very Happy Horse."  I do not think

that word, happy, means what Dali

thinks it means!

Not sure what it is, but it is interesting.

This painting is from the dark days of 1938

and symbolizes the unwillingness of

diplomats/countries to pick up the

phone and talk.

He had a number of these cool

dragon pieces.  I don't think he

made them, but maybe he did.

The Hallucinogenic Toreador.

Which is exactly what I would

name it if I had painted it.

Another painting done just before

World War II.  Not sure what this

symbolizes, but at least is is

visually interesting.

Abraham Lincoln.

His three-faced self portrait.

There were multiple school groups through

that day.  There's a chance at least two

kids are scarred for life.

Mae West.

The rain part of Rainy Taxi.

The ceiling fresco of the giant

dancing feet.  Dali and his wife.

Note Dali's upturned mustache.

Don has the thousand yard stare of

person spending too long in an

art museum.  Jennifer is either

conveying bemusement or a willingness

to stab me in the neck.  I'm not sure, but

I am still alive, so maybe it's the former.

After the museum, we walked down to a restaurant named Sentits (the senses).  It’s not affiliated with the Michelin star restaurant of the same name in Barcelona (ate there in 2019).  It was a pleasant place to eat outside on a cool day.