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Leisure
Hello, Dalí—Diving into Spain’s surrealist triangle
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Hello, Dali The surrealist triangle in the Catalonia region of Northwestern Spain reveals Salvador Dalí lives in the details. STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY KIMBERLEY LOVATO At the Salvador Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg, the largest collection of its kind in the world, one need only stare at the imagery for a while to unpeel layers of hidden meaning. It’s doubtful anyone can fully grasp the inner thoughts of Dalí, whose art is both curious and genius, but to procure a further understanding of his life and inspiration, it is essential to follow in his footsteps through the Catalonia region of Northeastern Spain to the places he loved and painted, and where a whimsical museum stands (bread-encrusted and topped with golden eggs) in testament to the spectacle and self-adulation that was and remains the quintessence of Dalí.
“It’s important to realize that Dalí was alive during the creation of this museum and he controlled every aspect of it.” Otero explains. “It’s unusual for any artist to build his own museum and create his own legacy.” The choice of the theater as the museum’s main entrance is significant because it is the scene of Dalí’s entrance into the art world. At 13, he held his first exhibition in the lobby. The theater also faces the Església de Sant Pere, the church where Dalí was baptized in 1904. A column of visitors has started to stretch down the narrow streets of Figueres. Close to a million visitors per year line up to enter the museum, and, Otero says, in the summer, the wait can be more than two hours. “That amused Dalí very much,” she says, smiling. “He liked looking at all these people waiting to see his work.” Otero skips the line and steps into the heart of Dalí’s world. The museum presents a survey of the works of an extraordinary artist, but the space itself is a Dalí masterpiece that reveals much about the life and loves of the man.
The car was a gift to Dalí’s wife and muse, Gala, and the couple drove it coast to coast during their stay in the United States. Dalí transformed the car into a piece called Rainy Taxi. Inside, a steady “rain” drenches three mannequins while music blares from the dashboard. Dalí also made sure to include some escargots from Burgundy, points out Otero, because they are the tastiest. “Dalí liked to incorporate other artists and objects into the museum. He loved to recycle items and everything here impacted him in some way,” explains Otero, pointing to a dress that Paco Rabanne gave him. Visitors are also reminded of Dalí’s genius when staring at a painting of the back of a nude Gala looking out at the sea. Squint, or look through a camera lens, and it becomes a picture of Abraham Lincoln. “Even those drips of blue paint are intentional,” Otero adds, aiming her finger around the perimeter of the room. Under the multifaceted cupola looming over the old stage is an unmarked rectangle that is Dalí’s crypt.
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According to Otero, everything here is significant and nothing is incidental, down to the placement of each piece and the names of the rooms, and all is connected in some way to Dalí’s life. It’s hard to know where to look first: Up at the semicircular open-air courtyard with its gilded statues reminiscent of Oscars, or at the black 1941 convertible Cadillac in the center of the space. “He was very proud of this car,” says Otero as visitors peer through the windows. “There were only six models ever made, and he had one of them.” (As did Clark Gable and Al Capone.)
