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The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí
This early autobiography, which takes Dalí through his late thirties, is as startling and unpredictable as his art. On its first publication, the reviewer of Books observed: "It is impossible not to admire this painter as writer ... (Dalí) succeeds in doing exactly what he sets out to do ... communicates the snobbishness, self-adoration, comedy, seriousness, fanaticism, in short the concept of life and the total picture of himself he sets out to portray." Superbly illustrated with over eighty photographs of Dalí and his works, and scores of Dalí drawings and sketches.
432 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1942
About the author
Salvador Dalí
345 books693 followersSalvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dalí i Domènech, 1st Marquis of Púbol, was a Spanish surrealist painter born in Figueres, Catalonia.
Dalí was a skilled draftsman, best known for the striking and bizarre images in his surrealist work. His painterly skills are often attributed to the influence of Renaissance masters. His best known work, The Persistence of Memory, was completed in 1931.
Salvador Dalí's artistic repertoire also included film, sculpture, and photography. He collaborated with Walt Disney on the Academy Award-nominated short cartoon Destino, which was released posthumously in 2003. He also collaborated with Alfred Hitchcock on Hitchcock's film Spellbound.
Dalí insisted on his "Arab lineage", claiming that his ancestors were descended from the Moors who occupied Southern Spain for nearly 800 years (711-1492), and attributed to these origins, "my love of everything that is gilded and excessive, my passion for luxury and my love of oriental clothes."
Widely considered to be greatly imaginative, Dalí had an affinity for doing unusual things to draw attention to himself. This sometimes irked those who loved his art as much as it annoyed his critics, since his eccentric manner sometimes drew more public attention than his artwork. The purposefully-sought notoriety led to broad public recognition and many purchases of his works by people from all walks of life.
Dalí was a skilled draftsman, best known for the striking and bizarre images in his surrealist work. His painterly skills are often attributed to the influence of Renaissance masters. His best known work, The Persistence of Memory, was completed in 1931.
Salvador Dalí's artistic repertoire also included film, sculpture, and photography. He collaborated with Walt Disney on the Academy Award-nominated short cartoon Destino, which was released posthumously in 2003. He also collaborated with Alfred Hitchcock on Hitchcock's film Spellbound.
Dalí insisted on his "Arab lineage", claiming that his ancestors were descended from the Moors who occupied Southern Spain for nearly 800 years (711-1492), and attributed to these origins, "my love of everything that is gilded and excessive, my passion for luxury and my love of oriental clothes."
Widely considered to be greatly imaginative, Dalí had an affinity for doing unusual things to draw attention to himself. This sometimes irked those who loved his art as much as it annoyed his critics, since his eccentric manner sometimes drew more public attention than his artwork. The purposefully-sought notoriety led to broad public recognition and many purchases of his works by people from all walks of life.
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January 19, 2009Yet another Dali book I am unable to rate.
It took me almost a year to read this book off-and-on. It was damn near impossible. For two reasons I almost did the unthinkable and gave up:
1) It is written by a man with a tongue of genius. He has a way with words that throws you off from your pure amazement of their exquisiteness, and hell, all that genius makes for a complicated read. It's hard not to get tripped up. (Exquisiteness? Now that word is certainly not worthy of being called exquisite ...)
2) The book is comprised of 30 page stories about the wonder and majesty that is Salvador Dali doing a seemingly boring everyday activity during one of his "false" memories. The first half of the book was toughest due mostly to the idea of having to sit through a telling of childhood memories that Dali in fact never had. It is hard to mentally stomach this concept, though I was as good a sport as I could be.
So, I cannot begin to explain my respect for how intelligent Dali was in his written word - a talent he often was not properly recognized for. However, there is only so much I can personally take of the abstract, of the demented, of the intentionally complicated - the maze built with no exit; the maze built with no exit when the maze in fact was really never built at all. Am I even writing this review right now? ...
I have enjoyed reading Dali's words on many other subjects, the deep and the shallow, but I believe when the spotlight is turned upon himself, Dali relishes far too much in the opportunity to take the audience on a wild goose chase. I jumped into this book knowing full well that Dali speaks in his own language - one that it is not very often the truth, not that that really matters because he also is fully aware that the truth is not even something the public can corroborate. So might as well throw us a textual illusion, right?
Ironically enough, a passage I found which described a specific period in his life made me giggle at how appropriate it was concerning the book as a whole:
Chapter 10; Pg. 257
"At this time I had not yet become a 'talker,' and I uttered only the strictly necessary words, words intended solely to annoy everyone."
Unfortunately for us, his third statement is quite true, yet his second statement was not once noticed throughout my treacherous glimpse into his "Secret" life.
It took me almost a year to read this book off-and-on. It was damn near impossible. For two reasons I almost did the unthinkable and gave up:
1) It is written by a man with a tongue of genius. He has a way with words that throws you off from your pure amazement of their exquisiteness, and hell, all that genius makes for a complicated read. It's hard not to get tripped up. (Exquisiteness? Now that word is certainly not worthy of being called exquisite ...)
2) The book is comprised of 30 page stories about the wonder and majesty that is Salvador Dali doing a seemingly boring everyday activity during one of his "false" memories. The first half of the book was toughest due mostly to the idea of having to sit through a telling of childhood memories that Dali in fact never had. It is hard to mentally stomach this concept, though I was as good a sport as I could be.
So, I cannot begin to explain my respect for how intelligent Dali was in his written word - a talent he often was not properly recognized for. However, there is only so much I can personally take of the abstract, of the demented, of the intentionally complicated - the maze built with no exit; the maze built with no exit when the maze in fact was really never built at all. Am I even writing this review right now? ...
I have enjoyed reading Dali's words on many other subjects, the deep and the shallow, but I believe when the spotlight is turned upon himself, Dali relishes far too much in the opportunity to take the audience on a wild goose chase. I jumped into this book knowing full well that Dali speaks in his own language - one that it is not very often the truth, not that that really matters because he also is fully aware that the truth is not even something the public can corroborate. So might as well throw us a textual illusion, right?
Ironically enough, a passage I found which described a specific period in his life made me giggle at how appropriate it was concerning the book as a whole:
Chapter 10; Pg. 257
"At this time I had not yet become a 'talker,' and I uttered only the strictly necessary words, words intended solely to annoy everyone."
Unfortunately for us, his third statement is quite true, yet his second statement was not once noticed throughout my treacherous glimpse into his "Secret" life.
April 29, 2014
The most striking aspect of Dali is his essential conservatism. Beneath the exhibitionism, the surrealism, the extravagance is a 19th century, perhaps Spanish, clinging to rules, rigor, discipline, hierarchy, and finally religion. He found freedom within tradition, and criticized Picasso for struggling (‘reduced to slavery’) endlessly in the complete freedom of revolution. Here is his frustration at the art school faculty:
I was already in full reaction against cubism. They, in order to reach cubism, would have had to live several lives! I would ask anxious, desperate questions of my professor of painting: how to mix my oil and with what, how to obtain a continuous and compact matter, what method to follow to obtain a given effect. My professor would look at me, stupefied by my questions, and answer me with evasive phrases, empty of all meaning.
“My friend,” he would say, “everyone must find his own manner; there are no laws in painting. Interpret—interpret everything, and paint exactly what you see, and above all put your soul into it; it’s temperament, temperament that counts!”
“Temperament,” I thought to myself, sadly, “I could spare you some, my dear professor; but how, in what proportion, should I mix my oil with varnish?”
“Courage, courage,” the professor would repeat. No details—go to the core of the thing—simplify, simplify—no rules, no constraints. In my class each pupil must work according to his own temperament!”
Professor of painting—professor! Fool that you were. How much time, how many revolutions, how many wars would be needed to bring people back to the supreme reactionary truth that “rigor” is the prime condition of every hierarchy, and that constraint is the very mold of form. Professor of painting—Professor! Fool that you were! Always in life my position has been objectively paradoxical—I, who at this time was the only painter in Madrid to understand and execute cubist painting, was asking the professors for rigor, knowledge, and the most exact science of draughtsmanship, of perspective, of color.
It’s hard to know whether to review this as memoirs, fiction, or art, since it is all three.
I didn’t realize at first that Dali added to, and amended, the facts considerably, so I found the first quarter of the book rather horrible since the portrayal of his childhood is laced with sadistic tricks and violent lashing out at innocent peers. But as I reflect it seems that, in the powerlessness of one’s early years, fantasizing about extravagant acts and violent revenge, about trying dangerous things just to see what will happen, is normal.
For Dali, this extravagance is combined with constructing an artistic event out of a momentary impulse. Of course it is impossible to know how much of the imagining actually occurred at the time, and how much he is creating retrospectively with an adult’s artistic skills. But one imagines that he was quite precocious, and he certainly was suspended and expelled for something out of the ordinary.
Dali’s youth is equally extreme—a lengthy description of his conversion from romantic to dandyism and an accompanying bender is of uncertain accuracy, but hilarious. In the midst of this period, a visit to a brothel brings out a typical observation: ‘So it is true for me eroticism must always be ugly, the esthetic always divine, and death beautiful.’
Then Dali moves on to Paris, and his first collaboration with Bunuel on the film Le Chien Andalou. His description of how he prepared the scene of the rotten donkeys and the pianos is not for weak stomachs, but it is a compact example of his focus on detail and the meaning of his images. He knew that Paris would make or break him, and he relied on his Spanish colleagues to pave his way.
The Chien Andalou distracted me from my society career to which Juan Miro would have liked to initiate me.
“I prefer to begin with rotten donkeys,” I told him. ‘This is the most urgent; the other things will come by themselves.”
I was not mistaken.
Back in Spain later with his wife Gala (who left her husband Eluard for Dali) Dali painted in his spiritual home on the barren Spanish coast, Cadaques. He had a falling out with his family, and associated mostly with fishermen, in between trips to Paris to sell paintings and promote himself (about which he is quite open here). He describes his return to Catholicism, but it seems to be based on the outward forms: tradition, baroque exoticism, and hierarchy, not faith itself. The outrageous stunts seem a little more desperate, self-promotion necessary to sell his work, not intrinsic surreal acts. Still a late quote embodies his devotion to tradition and the original Renaissance, and his post-war aesthetic:
My metamorphosis is tradition, for tradition is precisely this—change of skin, reinvention of a new original skin which is precisely the inevitable consequence of the biological mold of that which is preceded it. It is neither surgery nor mutilation, nor is it revolution—it is renaissance. I renounce nothing; I continue. And I continue by beginning, since I had begun by finishing, in order that my end may be again a beginning, a renaissance.
The most remarkable thing about the Secret Life is Dali’s superb writing. He is a true author, creating both spectacular scenes and introspective commentary. He has an exacting analytic mind, able to describe his thoughts and motivations in shockingly honest completeness. This is not a quick read; one needs to bite off chunks and then come back because it is challenging and unsettling, but also very very funny.
I was already in full reaction against cubism. They, in order to reach cubism, would have had to live several lives! I would ask anxious, desperate questions of my professor of painting: how to mix my oil and with what, how to obtain a continuous and compact matter, what method to follow to obtain a given effect. My professor would look at me, stupefied by my questions, and answer me with evasive phrases, empty of all meaning.
“My friend,” he would say, “everyone must find his own manner; there are no laws in painting. Interpret—interpret everything, and paint exactly what you see, and above all put your soul into it; it’s temperament, temperament that counts!”
“Temperament,” I thought to myself, sadly, “I could spare you some, my dear professor; but how, in what proportion, should I mix my oil with varnish?”
“Courage, courage,” the professor would repeat. No details—go to the core of the thing—simplify, simplify—no rules, no constraints. In my class each pupil must work according to his own temperament!”
Professor of painting—professor! Fool that you were. How much time, how many revolutions, how many wars would be needed to bring people back to the supreme reactionary truth that “rigor” is the prime condition of every hierarchy, and that constraint is the very mold of form. Professor of painting—Professor! Fool that you were! Always in life my position has been objectively paradoxical—I, who at this time was the only painter in Madrid to understand and execute cubist painting, was asking the professors for rigor, knowledge, and the most exact science of draughtsmanship, of perspective, of color.
It’s hard to know whether to review this as memoirs, fiction, or art, since it is all three.
I didn’t realize at first that Dali added to, and amended, the facts considerably, so I found the first quarter of the book rather horrible since the portrayal of his childhood is laced with sadistic tricks and violent lashing out at innocent peers. But as I reflect it seems that, in the powerlessness of one’s early years, fantasizing about extravagant acts and violent revenge, about trying dangerous things just to see what will happen, is normal.
For Dali, this extravagance is combined with constructing an artistic event out of a momentary impulse. Of course it is impossible to know how much of the imagining actually occurred at the time, and how much he is creating retrospectively with an adult’s artistic skills. But one imagines that he was quite precocious, and he certainly was suspended and expelled for something out of the ordinary.
Dali’s youth is equally extreme—a lengthy description of his conversion from romantic to dandyism and an accompanying bender is of uncertain accuracy, but hilarious. In the midst of this period, a visit to a brothel brings out a typical observation: ‘So it is true for me eroticism must always be ugly, the esthetic always divine, and death beautiful.’
Then Dali moves on to Paris, and his first collaboration with Bunuel on the film Le Chien Andalou. His description of how he prepared the scene of the rotten donkeys and the pianos is not for weak stomachs, but it is a compact example of his focus on detail and the meaning of his images. He knew that Paris would make or break him, and he relied on his Spanish colleagues to pave his way.
The Chien Andalou distracted me from my society career to which Juan Miro would have liked to initiate me.
“I prefer to begin with rotten donkeys,” I told him. ‘This is the most urgent; the other things will come by themselves.”
I was not mistaken.
Back in Spain later with his wife Gala (who left her husband Eluard for Dali) Dali painted in his spiritual home on the barren Spanish coast, Cadaques. He had a falling out with his family, and associated mostly with fishermen, in between trips to Paris to sell paintings and promote himself (about which he is quite open here). He describes his return to Catholicism, but it seems to be based on the outward forms: tradition, baroque exoticism, and hierarchy, not faith itself. The outrageous stunts seem a little more desperate, self-promotion necessary to sell his work, not intrinsic surreal acts. Still a late quote embodies his devotion to tradition and the original Renaissance, and his post-war aesthetic:
My metamorphosis is tradition, for tradition is precisely this—change of skin, reinvention of a new original skin which is precisely the inevitable consequence of the biological mold of that which is preceded it. It is neither surgery nor mutilation, nor is it revolution—it is renaissance. I renounce nothing; I continue. And I continue by beginning, since I had begun by finishing, in order that my end may be again a beginning, a renaissance.
The most remarkable thing about the Secret Life is Dali’s superb writing. He is a true author, creating both spectacular scenes and introspective commentary. He has an exacting analytic mind, able to describe his thoughts and motivations in shockingly honest completeness. This is not a quick read; one needs to bite off chunks and then come back because it is challenging and unsettling, but also very very funny.
August 31, 2018
شخصيه استثنائيه....لا اروم انهاء ما اقرا....مبهر سريالي بعمق لا تسبر اغواره....بئر بلا قرار....رحله فريده الى عالمه... منحرف بعده اشكال...يقول لم اكن في تلك اللحظه لاستبدل مكاني حتى مع الاله...انطلاق تفسيراتي الخياليه المشابهه لانطلاق الخيول العربيه المستعده دوما و الممسكه نفسها بنفاذ صبر محموم و منتظره لسعه من المهماز الفضي...يفعل دوما عكس ما يفعله الاخرون...كنت اتابع حقل هلوستي...دعني اتعلم كل شيء لا يستطيع شخص اخر ان يعلمني اياه...دعنى اتعلم ما تستطيع الحياه وحدها ان تنقشه بعمق في جلدي...بفضل سحري الخاص اكتسبت القدره على احياء ما هو ليس حيا...لا شيء يرضي نفاذ صبري المجنون... اردت ان اقوم بمغامراتي المسعوره بوقت واحد...ان اكون في كل مكان في اللحظه ذاتها...كلما جعلت نفسي اكثر غموضا اصبحت ملحوظا اكثر...كنت اريدها ان تموت...كانت عالقه باعجابها بي كامراه تغرق...ما كان قريبا من قاعده البرج و يعتبر حياه مفهومه وواضحه لاي شخص كان بالنسبه لي موتا و فوضى اما ما كان على ذروته و كان يثير تشويشا و فوضى بالنسبه للاخرين كان بالنسبه لي مجرد لوغوس و بعث جديد...ادركت اني العوبه في يد حلم...لا بد انني كنت ساحب العيش في السجن...غروري الهائل كان يحصنني دوما من التأثر بأي شيء...دالي المجنون مثل عنزه...سأحتاج الى عين حاده ترى كل شيء دفعه واحده...تمالك نفسك...المهم في الحياه هو ان تكون عنيدا...احببت بشكل منحرف...لم اكن قميئا بالمطلق...اضرب بقوه و ابق وحدك...تحيط شخصيات المجتمع انفسهم بالعاده بحشد من المعوقين ليتكئوا عليهم...الحر هنا ملك...لقد كان لي وعى راسخ دوما للاستفاده من عيوبي...لقد اعتبروني الاكثر جنونا و تخريبا و عنفا و الاكثر سرياليه و ثوريه من الجميع...من هم اعدائي انهم الجميع و الجميع تقريبا باستثناء غالا...(غاليته)...غالا اعطيني يدك ان الظلام دامس و انا اخشى السقوط و متعب تماما من المشي...كنت السرياليه ذاتها شئت ام ابيت...وحدها غالا مكنتني من الحياه...كنت و لا ازال ابحث عن السماء..ما هي السماء اين توجد ...السماء لا توجد في الاعالي و لا في الاسفل و لكنها توجد بالضبط في مركز صدر انسان...لديه ايمان.. ...
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November 10, 2019Iskreno ne znam kako oceniti ovako nešto, tako da neka ostane bez ocene.
February 14, 2021
Salvadoras Dalis – vienas pirmųjų dailininkų mano gyvenime, palikęs tikrai neišdildomą įspūdį. Mano vaikystės namuose buvo Dali reprodukcijų albumas, kurį nuolat vartydavau ir tiesiog gerte gėriau į save visus paveikslus, galėjau juos studijuoti valandų valandas. Tad ši knyga – tikrai ne pirma mano perskaityta šio dailininko biografija. Nors, vargu, ar tikslu šią knygą laikyti biografija ar autobiografija.
Taip, Salvadoras joje pasakoja savo gyvenimo istoriją, bet ji ne reali, o siurreali kaip ir jo paveikslai; tikri įvykiai pinasi su įsivaizduojamais, tikri prisiminimai tokie pat svarbūs kaip ir prasimanyti. Nevadinu šios knygos autobiografija, nes Dali nėra su mumis visiškai atviras – kai ką nuslepia (pvz., konflikto su tėvu priežastis, kt.), kai ką pagražina, išsigalvoja. Tai taip pat yra ir meilės laiškas Galai, Galutshkai. Ji visada šalia jo: vaikystėje įsipina į (ne)tikrus prisiminimus, gyvenime juo tiki, jį palaiko, išlieka įamžinta jo paveiksluose, jo mūza, jo vizija, jo moteris.
Knygos stilius iš pradžių erzino: egocentriškas, ekscentriškas, fantasmagoriškas, nuolatinis noras pabrėžti savo išskirtinumą, didybės manija, lengva perversija. Kartais skaitant sudėtinga atskirti, kas yra tikra, o kas - tik vaizduotės vaisius. Bet prie jo tiesiog reikia įprasti, prisitaikyti. O jau tuomet – pasakojimas tiesiog nuneša, nuplukdo. Suskaičiau jį kaip puikų romaną.
Šis pasakojimas – dalis Dali mito. Nes kas gi yra menininkas be savojo mito? Ko vertas talentas, jei jo neparodai, neatskleidi, neišskiri iš kitų? Dali rašo mums ir leidžia paklaidžioti savo minčių labirintais, praverti savo vidinio pasaulio duris ir pro kraštelį akimirkai žvilgtelti vidun.
Taip, Salvadoras joje pasakoja savo gyvenimo istoriją, bet ji ne reali, o siurreali kaip ir jo paveikslai; tikri įvykiai pinasi su įsivaizduojamais, tikri prisiminimai tokie pat svarbūs kaip ir prasimanyti. Nevadinu šios knygos autobiografija, nes Dali nėra su mumis visiškai atviras – kai ką nuslepia (pvz., konflikto su tėvu priežastis, kt.), kai ką pagražina, išsigalvoja. Tai taip pat yra ir meilės laiškas Galai, Galutshkai. Ji visada šalia jo: vaikystėje įsipina į (ne)tikrus prisiminimus, gyvenime juo tiki, jį palaiko, išlieka įamžinta jo paveiksluose, jo mūza, jo vizija, jo moteris.
Knygos stilius iš pradžių erzino: egocentriškas, ekscentriškas, fantasmagoriškas, nuolatinis noras pabrėžti savo išskirtinumą, didybės manija, lengva perversija. Kartais skaitant sudėtinga atskirti, kas yra tikra, o kas - tik vaizduotės vaisius. Bet prie jo tiesiog reikia įprasti, prisitaikyti. O jau tuomet – pasakojimas tiesiog nuneša, nuplukdo. Suskaičiau jį kaip puikų romaną.
Šis pasakojimas – dalis Dali mito. Nes kas gi yra menininkas be savojo mito? Ko vertas talentas, jei jo neparodai, neatskleidi, neišskiri iš kitų? Dali rašo mums ir leidžia paklaidžioti savo minčių labirintais, praverti savo vidinio pasaulio duris ir pro kraštelį akimirkai žvilgtelti vidun.
April 27, 2020
"Gana neigti! Reikia teigti."🖤
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Ši knyga iš serijos tų, kurias skaitau ir aprašau būdama šališka. Labai myliu Salvadorą Dalį. Visada žavėjausi jo darbais, asmenybe ir viena didžiausių meilių istorijoje - savo žmonai ir mūzai Galai (Elena Ivanovna Diakonova).
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Jau nuo pirmųjų puslapių su niekuo nesupainiosi Dali braižo. Ir nors knygose aš nemėgstu ilgų bei vaizdingų aprašymų (norisi greičiau prie esmės🤦♀️), Dali galėtų bet ką sužavėti savo gebėjimu "tapyti" žodžiais. Visgi dėkui dievams, kad tai nėra tik vaizdingų, beletristinių aprašymų knyga - Dali skaitytoją gan arti įsileidžia į savo vidinį pasaulį 🖤
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Dar prieš kelis metus skaitydama Fridos biografiją supratau, kad kiekvienai garsaus žmogaus citatai būtina turėti kontekstą (aš apskritai esu konteksto turėjimo fanė 😋). Pavyzdžiui Fridos citata „Kojos, kam man jūsų reikia, kai skrydžiui aš turiu sparnus?“ Atrodo romantiškai, tiesa? Galima cituoti įvairiomis progomis, bet tiesa ta, kad Frida šiuos žodžius ištarė sužinojusi apie savo kojos amputaciją.
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Prie ko aš vedu? Ogi prie to, kad ir Dali čia leidžia suprasti savo poelgių ar ištartų žodžių esmę. Skaitydama pajaučiau, kad jo ekscentriška išorė slėpė labai gerą psichologą (jei jis būtų gimęs šiais laikais, tikrai galėtų rinktis psichologo kelią). Jo išsišokimai buvo gerai apgalvoti ir dažnai skirti manipuliuoti kitų patiklumu. Jo kasdienybė buvo aiškiai suplanuota, o rezultatai gimė beveik juodo darbo dėka. Štai ir dingsta stereotipinis lėbaujančio, chaotiško, viską lengvai gaunančio menininko - bepročio paveikslas. //
Nors Dali pasakoja savo prisiminimus nuo pat vaikystės, tai nėra nuosekli, per visus jo gyvenimo įvykius vilnijanti knyga. Tai įspūdžių, jausmų, esminių prisiminimų knyga, kuri tarsi kompasas leis bent kažkiek tiksliau keliauti po Dali pasaulį 🖤
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"Gyventi! Reikia sugebėti nubraukti pusę savo gyvenimo, kad įgijęs patirties tęstum kitą jo pusę."🖤
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Ši knyga iš serijos tų, kurias skaitau ir aprašau būdama šališka. Labai myliu Salvadorą Dalį. Visada žavėjausi jo darbais, asmenybe ir viena didžiausių meilių istorijoje - savo žmonai ir mūzai Galai (Elena Ivanovna Diakonova).
//
Jau nuo pirmųjų puslapių su niekuo nesupainiosi Dali braižo. Ir nors knygose aš nemėgstu ilgų bei vaizdingų aprašymų (norisi greičiau prie esmės🤦♀️), Dali galėtų bet ką sužavėti savo gebėjimu "tapyti" žodžiais. Visgi dėkui dievams, kad tai nėra tik vaizdingų, beletristinių aprašymų knyga - Dali skaitytoją gan arti įsileidžia į savo vidinį pasaulį 🖤
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Dar prieš kelis metus skaitydama Fridos biografiją supratau, kad kiekvienai garsaus žmogaus citatai būtina turėti kontekstą (aš apskritai esu konteksto turėjimo fanė 😋). Pavyzdžiui Fridos citata „Kojos, kam man jūsų reikia, kai skrydžiui aš turiu sparnus?“ Atrodo romantiškai, tiesa? Galima cituoti įvairiomis progomis, bet tiesa ta, kad Frida šiuos žodžius ištarė sužinojusi apie savo kojos amputaciją.
//
Prie ko aš vedu? Ogi prie to, kad ir Dali čia leidžia suprasti savo poelgių ar ištartų žodžių esmę. Skaitydama pajaučiau, kad jo ekscentriška išorė slėpė labai gerą psichologą (jei jis būtų gimęs šiais laikais, tikrai galėtų rinktis psichologo kelią). Jo išsišokimai buvo gerai apgalvoti ir dažnai skirti manipuliuoti kitų patiklumu. Jo kasdienybė buvo aiškiai suplanuota, o rezultatai gimė beveik juodo darbo dėka. Štai ir dingsta stereotipinis lėbaujančio, chaotiško, viską lengvai gaunančio menininko - bepročio paveikslas. //
Nors Dali pasakoja savo prisiminimus nuo pat vaikystės, tai nėra nuosekli, per visus jo gyvenimo įvykius vilnijanti knyga. Tai įspūdžių, jausmų, esminių prisiminimų knyga, kuri tarsi kompasas leis bent kažkiek tiksliau keliauti po Dali pasaulį 🖤
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"Gyventi! Reikia sugebėti nubraukti pusę savo gyvenimo, kad įgijęs patirties tęstum kitą jo pusę."🖤
January 28, 2011
When reading this book one must take into account that Dali was a genius. It is an accompaniment to his work and thus surreal not formulaic. He reveals all his passions, fetishes and obsessions - and he worked on them constantly throughout his life. In the summer every year while staying at his summer retreat in Cadaques, he sent Picasso a postcard with the same message: In July neither women nor snails. What does it mean? What does it matter. Read this book
August 19, 2013
Salvador Dalí was thirty-seven years old when he completed this autobiography, his book of secrets, he says. He had become at this more mature age a serious Christian, a Catholic to be exact, and his quest for heaven was really all that mattered to him by then besides the love of his life, Gala, his personal fame and glory, his home and possessions, and the faith in God that has eluded him all his life. The god part was all a surprise to me and I was not expecting to learn of these extraordinary godly beliefs given the audacious mendacity of his previous behavior.
Dalí was a genius and a very good writer. There really isn't any argument from me on those points at all. Actually there isn't a good argument I can come up with for not reading this book and learning something about the life of Dalí even if all he said was all made-up. I am sure some of it wasn't. But for the most part it is Dalí glorifying Dalí through every advent of his life. He did keep out of politics and the social issues of his time. But his fervor for controversy and upheaval in the art and fashion world is unmatched by any other artist I have ever studied.
This large coffee-table size book is also full of photographs and copies of paintings Dalí deemed important enough to have included here. His stories of visiting New York City were interesting and I am not at all surprised he was well-received there. I did believe there would be more eroticism in his writing and his life. I am not sure why I believed this to be, but I was disappointed to find little of his sex life included here for my hungry appetite.
I read this book in order to learn something I did not know, something that I could use in my own art perhaps. I do not think that happened for me. But sometimes the unconscious at work gives us what we least expect, so time will tell. But the book is definitely worth reading, if only to learn that even geniuses can believe in a Catholic god, or any god for that matter, which is something I doubt I will ever understand. There are desperate times that call for desperate measures and I too have sought comfort in a belief that would get me through my days. I have professed from time to time my own faith in God, been born-again a time or two, but in reality the stuff just doesn't take for me long-term. Yes, my ass has been on fire and the hope of redemption has been satisfying. But the truth is I don't believe a word of it. Yes I believe I live in a remarkable world and nature is itself glorious and quite spiritual in many ways for me. This amazing nature is the power greater than myself that I must believe in, not some anthropomorphic version of a deity.
But I will confess to you that Jesus did visit my bedside many years ago once when I was very ill with the disease of alcoholism. I was desperate and prayed daily for relief of my pain of living without my daily beer. For almost five years I suffered without taking a drink, and a good half of that time I prayed to a god I did not understand, tithed to churches that insisted on taking my money because the bible said to, and attended regular AA meetings where the message was continually to get off my pity pot, keep it simple stupid, and quit complicating a steel ball. I prayed to accept the things I could not change, to change the things I could, and somehow learn to know the difference. I became engaged in my life again and slowly but surely left the Lord and his hungry pocketbook by the wayside. I realized that the Jesus I witnessed at my bedside was only my mind giving me what I needed at the time. Everybody has to have something to believe in, especially when the chips are down. Dalí had just been through a time of very terrible upheavals in Spain, France, and Italy during the Great Wars of the Forties and he, I suppose, had to cling to whatever belief would give him peace and a sanctuary in which to work and live in. The atomic bomb had to have been a devastating reality. But I was surprised, totally, and never saw his reconversion coming at all.
In a Mike Wallace interview of 1958 Dalí said, "Just one month ago-- is one tremendous operation of appendix - a broken appendix. After this operation becoming three times more religious than before."
On a curious side note, when this 1958 interview was over Wallace said, "Tonight's interview ends my series which started a year ago for the Philip Morris Company, the makers of Philip Morris, Parliament, and Marlboro cigarettes and I want to thank the Philip Morris Company, sincerely, for helping me to bring you these programs." Perhaps you remember the maverick insider, Jeffrey Wigand, who in 1995 blew the whistle on big tobacco. In an interview with the same Mike Wallace, Wigand became the first major tobacco insider to reveal that the cigarette companies were consciously trying to get us hooked on nicotine. I guess the circle can remain unbroken, even for Salvador Dalí.
Dalí was a genius and a very good writer. There really isn't any argument from me on those points at all. Actually there isn't a good argument I can come up with for not reading this book and learning something about the life of Dalí even if all he said was all made-up. I am sure some of it wasn't. But for the most part it is Dalí glorifying Dalí through every advent of his life. He did keep out of politics and the social issues of his time. But his fervor for controversy and upheaval in the art and fashion world is unmatched by any other artist I have ever studied.
This large coffee-table size book is also full of photographs and copies of paintings Dalí deemed important enough to have included here. His stories of visiting New York City were interesting and I am not at all surprised he was well-received there. I did believe there would be more eroticism in his writing and his life. I am not sure why I believed this to be, but I was disappointed to find little of his sex life included here for my hungry appetite.
I read this book in order to learn something I did not know, something that I could use in my own art perhaps. I do not think that happened for me. But sometimes the unconscious at work gives us what we least expect, so time will tell. But the book is definitely worth reading, if only to learn that even geniuses can believe in a Catholic god, or any god for that matter, which is something I doubt I will ever understand. There are desperate times that call for desperate measures and I too have sought comfort in a belief that would get me through my days. I have professed from time to time my own faith in God, been born-again a time or two, but in reality the stuff just doesn't take for me long-term. Yes, my ass has been on fire and the hope of redemption has been satisfying. But the truth is I don't believe a word of it. Yes I believe I live in a remarkable world and nature is itself glorious and quite spiritual in many ways for me. This amazing nature is the power greater than myself that I must believe in, not some anthropomorphic version of a deity.
But I will confess to you that Jesus did visit my bedside many years ago once when I was very ill with the disease of alcoholism. I was desperate and prayed daily for relief of my pain of living without my daily beer. For almost five years I suffered without taking a drink, and a good half of that time I prayed to a god I did not understand, tithed to churches that insisted on taking my money because the bible said to, and attended regular AA meetings where the message was continually to get off my pity pot, keep it simple stupid, and quit complicating a steel ball. I prayed to accept the things I could not change, to change the things I could, and somehow learn to know the difference. I became engaged in my life again and slowly but surely left the Lord and his hungry pocketbook by the wayside. I realized that the Jesus I witnessed at my bedside was only my mind giving me what I needed at the time. Everybody has to have something to believe in, especially when the chips are down. Dalí had just been through a time of very terrible upheavals in Spain, France, and Italy during the Great Wars of the Forties and he, I suppose, had to cling to whatever belief would give him peace and a sanctuary in which to work and live in. The atomic bomb had to have been a devastating reality. But I was surprised, totally, and never saw his reconversion coming at all.
In a Mike Wallace interview of 1958 Dalí said, "Just one month ago-- is one tremendous operation of appendix - a broken appendix. After this operation becoming three times more religious than before."
On a curious side note, when this 1958 interview was over Wallace said, "Tonight's interview ends my series which started a year ago for the Philip Morris Company, the makers of Philip Morris, Parliament, and Marlboro cigarettes and I want to thank the Philip Morris Company, sincerely, for helping me to bring you these programs." Perhaps you remember the maverick insider, Jeffrey Wigand, who in 1995 blew the whistle on big tobacco. In an interview with the same Mike Wallace, Wigand became the first major tobacco insider to reveal that the cigarette companies were consciously trying to get us hooked on nicotine. I guess the circle can remain unbroken, even for Salvador Dalí.
October 27, 2023
Dalí on Dalí...and other topics...and "...Of shoes - and ships - and sealing-wax - Of cabbages - and kings -". Just the sort of book you would think he would write; like talking to a favorite uncle that everyone kind of knows is a little strange. I would so have loved to see his take on Dr. Strange; all the realmshe would have come up with - and I think he could have been talked into it!
March 15, 2017
This is a fascinating book with brilliant illustrations (as you´d expect) but it´s not a great read. It´s a one-off, like the man himself, and while it swirls and dances and leads you all over the place, it shines but also obstuficates at will, making sense and willingly not, giving you brilliant insights and throwing you miles off course.
Useful, now, as a historical artefact and interesting, illuminating companion to Dali´s work, it´s also overlong, verbose and frequently boring.
My favourite (printable) story was about Dali meeting Picasso:
When I arrived at Picasso´s on the Rue de la Boétie I was as deeply moved and as full of respect as though I were having an audience with the Pope.
“I have come to see you,” I said, “Before visiting the Louvre.”
“You´re quite right,” he answered.
I brought a small painting, carefully packed, which was called The Girl of Figueras. He looked at it for at least 15 minutes and made no comment whatsoever. After which we went up to the next story, where for 2 hours Picasso showed me quantities of paintings. He kept going back and forth, dragging out great canvasses which he placed on the easel. Then he went to fetch others among an infinity of canvasses stacked in rows against the wall. I could see that he was going to enormous trouble. At each new canvass he cast me a glance filled with a vivacity and an intelligence so violent it made me tremble. I left without in turn having made the slightest comment.
At the end, on a landing of the stairs, just as I was about to leave, we exchanged a glance which meant exactly,
“You get the idea?”
“I get it!”
Useful, now, as a historical artefact and interesting, illuminating companion to Dali´s work, it´s also overlong, verbose and frequently boring.
My favourite (printable) story was about Dali meeting Picasso:
When I arrived at Picasso´s on the Rue de la Boétie I was as deeply moved and as full of respect as though I were having an audience with the Pope.
“I have come to see you,” I said, “Before visiting the Louvre.”
“You´re quite right,” he answered.
I brought a small painting, carefully packed, which was called The Girl of Figueras. He looked at it for at least 15 minutes and made no comment whatsoever. After which we went up to the next story, where for 2 hours Picasso showed me quantities of paintings. He kept going back and forth, dragging out great canvasses which he placed on the easel. Then he went to fetch others among an infinity of canvasses stacked in rows against the wall. I could see that he was going to enormous trouble. At each new canvass he cast me a glance filled with a vivacity and an intelligence so violent it made me tremble. I left without in turn having made the slightest comment.
At the end, on a landing of the stairs, just as I was about to leave, we exchanged a glance which meant exactly,
“You get the idea?”
“I get it!”
February 28, 2009
This book is the polar opposite of a quick read... this book is a project that may take you months or years of on again, off again, reading. it is worth the struggle, but it should be read in small doses. Much like his art work, it is a bit overwhelming.
January 10, 2023
<...reikia sugebėti nubraukti pusę savo gyvenimo, kad įgijęs patirties tęstum kitą jo pusę...>
March 11, 2017
Tai ankstyvoji Dali autobiografija, pateikiamas laikotarpis nuo vaikystės iki apytiksliai 30-ties metų. Dali domėjausi jau seniai, noras perskaityti šią knygą itin sustiprėjo apsilankius jo muziejuje, gimtajame Figueres miestelyje, Katalonijoje (beje šis muziejus tikrai vertas dėmesio, prie jo kūrimo prisidėjo pats autorius). Pirmą kartą paėmus knygą į rankas teko ją padėti jau po kelių skyrių, supratus koks bus rašymo stilius ir minčių dėstymas supratau, kad tai ne ta knyga, kurią noriu tuo metu skaityti. Iki antro jos paėmimo į rankas praėjo geri pusę metų, ja mėgautis pradėjau tik tada, kai supratau, kad tai ne ta knygą, kurią skaitysiu ir rysiu per naktis. Šia knygą reikia skaityti po skyrelį, kitaip galvoje viskas susisuks patiems. Buvo momentų, kai atrodė, kad skaičiau kažkieno pasamonės srautą, niekas čia nepagražinta, labai tikra "raw" . Ar perskaičius šią knygą turiu geresnį įsivaizdavimą apie Dali? Taip. Bet tai buvo knygą, kur turėjau kartais save prisiversti paimti ją į rankas ir skaityti, tačiau vistiek ja mėgavausi.
September 23, 2012
This book changed my life and the way I used to perceive the inner lives of visual artists. It flows like a painting, it's packed with surreal images and symbols that only Dali could relate to. it's a real memoir, nothing fake, nothing hidden, just insane, strange and beautiful like Dali was.
It's number one on my list of favorite books.
However, I do understand why some people might not enjoy it so much, it's not for everyone.
one has to know a little about the artist and surrealism in order to grasp it.
December 31, 2015
I learned from the first couple of chapters that the less I know about Dali, the better. I couldn't stomach the rampant narcissism and psychopathic behavior. I usually like learning more about an artist and contextualizing it with their work, but I'll pass on Dali, thanks.
November 28, 2020
Ja, pa ja. Hvalospev o samom sebi, velikom Daliju. Iz svega pročitanog mogu da zaključim da je svoju psihičku bolest kanalisao kroz umetnost i da nije bilo toga, verovatno bi ubijao prostitutke ispod nekog mosta. Visoke tri zvezdice su zbog stila jer, iako su mu misli, na momente, bile ribe i rakovi - nije to rđavo.
March 22, 2020
“Čovek koji, kao Kant, piše tako važne i tako nekorisne knjige mogao je samo da bude anđeo”
Knjiga je napisana u skladu sa ličnošću njenog pisca. Iako su događaji napisani u hronološkom redosledu, primećuje se da se se��anja javljaju impulsivno, bez ikakvog reda ili pravila – ona o kojima je najviše pisano, za ta je pisac siguran da su se desila:
“Od sedme do osme godine živeo sam u vlasti snova i mita. Kasnije mi je bilo nemogućno da odvojim stvarnost od mašte. Moje pamćenje pretopilo je istinu i laž u jedan blok, i samo objektivna kritika nekih i suviše apsurdnih događaja omogućavala je da se jedno razluči od drugog.”
Očigledno je (i razumljivo) da su sećanja koja imaju veze sa njegovim slikanjem i stvaranjem umetničke karijere živopisno predstavljena, detaljno i sa bogatim, liričnim stilom.
Ne bih želela izvlačiti zaključke o samoj ličnosti Salvadora Dalija, mogu samo reći da je izvanredno koliku introspekciju je posedovao. Jedan primer toga je sledeći citat:
“Moja ličnost, koja se sve snažnije potvrđivala, više se nije zadovoljavala primitivnim narcisoizmom, već se ubrzo pročistila antisocijalnim i anarhičnim tendencijama”
Kroz knjigu su provučena njegova ispitivanja o prošlosti, pre svega o njegovim prošlim akcijama i šta su one tada za njega značile, kao i to šta one trenutno za njega znače. Iako je njegova samosvest na odličnom nivou, to ne znači da je iznenađujuća, pogotovo uzimajući u obzir da je pomno studirao Frojdove misli, kao i činjenicu da je celog života pokušavao da svoje stanje uma, svoje nesvesno prenese na hartiju. Bez takve introspekcije ne bi se uspeo probiti u umetnosti, a kamoli je radikalno promeniti. Njegova dela i njegovo mentalno stanje su blisko povezani aspekti njegovog života i u svakom trenu utiču jedan na drugog.
Iako o događajima ne mozemo suditi objekivno, mi čitaoci kao pratioci jednog nepouzdanog pripovedača, ipak možemo donositi zaključke o njegovom mentalnom procesu obrađivanja informacija iz okoline. Za ovo postoji jedan lep primer iz knjige - određeni incident sa dečakom i violinom. On nam prikazuje kako se Dali celog svog života, bukvalno, vodio instinkom. Možda je kasnije u životu stekao više kontrole nad njim kako je više proučavao sebe, ali on je uvek bio tu kao srž njegovog delanja. Ovaj incident, kao i mnogi drugi iz njegovog mladog života su se desili po istom šablonu - Dali je nešto impulsivno uradio i posle je svom delu davao opravdanja, odnosno, dodelio im nameru kako bi se prikazali kao činovi ludog genija. Nijedna akcija nije imala svoju nameru dok nije bilo završena. Smatram da je umetnost imala važnu ulogu u ophođenju prema spoljašnjem svetu. Što je više slikao, imao je više kontrolu nad svojim impulsima. Ona je eventualno postala most između akcije i namere. Umetnost je bila instrument njegovog unutrašnjeg života u borbi sa spoljašnjim svetom. Bila je krucijalna za njegovo preživljavanje.
Svakako preporučujem ovu knjigu zato što je čudno književno delo, puno iznenađenja i fascinantnih dogodovština koje će sigurno uspeti da održi čitaočevu pažnju.
Knjiga je napisana u skladu sa ličnošću njenog pisca. Iako su događaji napisani u hronološkom redosledu, primećuje se da se se��anja javljaju impulsivno, bez ikakvog reda ili pravila – ona o kojima je najviše pisano, za ta je pisac siguran da su se desila:
“Od sedme do osme godine živeo sam u vlasti snova i mita. Kasnije mi je bilo nemogućno da odvojim stvarnost od mašte. Moje pamćenje pretopilo je istinu i laž u jedan blok, i samo objektivna kritika nekih i suviše apsurdnih događaja omogućavala je da se jedno razluči od drugog.”
Očigledno je (i razumljivo) da su sećanja koja imaju veze sa njegovim slikanjem i stvaranjem umetničke karijere živopisno predstavljena, detaljno i sa bogatim, liričnim stilom.
Ne bih želela izvlačiti zaključke o samoj ličnosti Salvadora Dalija, mogu samo reći da je izvanredno koliku introspekciju je posedovao. Jedan primer toga je sledeći citat:
“Moja ličnost, koja se sve snažnije potvrđivala, više se nije zadovoljavala primitivnim narcisoizmom, već se ubrzo pročistila antisocijalnim i anarhičnim tendencijama”
Kroz knjigu su provučena njegova ispitivanja o prošlosti, pre svega o njegovim prošlim akcijama i šta su one tada za njega značile, kao i to šta one trenutno za njega znače. Iako je njegova samosvest na odličnom nivou, to ne znači da je iznenađujuća, pogotovo uzimajući u obzir da je pomno studirao Frojdove misli, kao i činjenicu da je celog života pokušavao da svoje stanje uma, svoje nesvesno prenese na hartiju. Bez takve introspekcije ne bi se uspeo probiti u umetnosti, a kamoli je radikalno promeniti. Njegova dela i njegovo mentalno stanje su blisko povezani aspekti njegovog života i u svakom trenu utiču jedan na drugog.
Iako o događajima ne mozemo suditi objekivno, mi čitaoci kao pratioci jednog nepouzdanog pripovedača, ipak možemo donositi zaključke o njegovom mentalnom procesu obrađivanja informacija iz okoline. Za ovo postoji jedan lep primer iz knjige - određeni incident sa dečakom i violinom. On nam prikazuje kako se Dali celog svog života, bukvalno, vodio instinkom. Možda je kasnije u životu stekao više kontrole nad njim kako je više proučavao sebe, ali on je uvek bio tu kao srž njegovog delanja. Ovaj incident, kao i mnogi drugi iz njegovog mladog života su se desili po istom šablonu - Dali je nešto impulsivno uradio i posle je svom delu davao opravdanja, odnosno, dodelio im nameru kako bi se prikazali kao činovi ludog genija. Nijedna akcija nije imala svoju nameru dok nije bilo završena. Smatram da je umetnost imala važnu ulogu u ophođenju prema spoljašnjem svetu. Što je više slikao, imao je više kontrolu nad svojim impulsima. Ona je eventualno postala most između akcije i namere. Umetnost je bila instrument njegovog unutrašnjeg života u borbi sa spoljašnjim svetom. Bila je krucijalna za njegovo preživljavanje.
Svakako preporučujem ovu knjigu zato što je čudno književno delo, puno iznenađenja i fascinantnih dogodovština koje će sigurno uspeti da održi čitaočevu pažnju.
August 7, 2015
Like his painted images, Dali's style is bizarre in complex ways. His life is very like his paintings. In his book, he provides sketches that illustrate events and his perspectives on the episodes of his life, along with photographs. He has a brilliant analytical mind and a style to do it justice. He is truly myriad-minded. He was a friend of the avant garde director Bunuel and of the tragic poet Lorca. Page by page, he fills the reader's head full of images and ideas. His book makes the reader a convert or a more devoted convert to his art, which includes masterful color and ink illustrations of books, such as DON QUIXOTE, MONTAIGNE'S ESSAYS,and THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF BENVENUTO CELLINI, a masterpiece itself.
July 13, 2019
So, I even don't know what to say. I'm just unable to read it. This is true. Dali is either a genius or mad. The book can be a crazy diary or just a hard trolling. Nobody knows. But, definitely, it isn't for me.
February 4, 2019
Ocjena 1,5. Ovo pola samo zbog stila.
December 11, 2023
This man was a massive troll. All the pages were out of order and half the content was fabricated it was great
January 22, 2021
Menininkų nereikia stengtis suprasti. Nes tai mano nuomone, paprastam žmogui tiesiog neįmanoma. Tai absoliučiai kitokie žmonės gyvenantys savo susikurtame pasaulyje ir matantys juos supantį pasaulį visiškai kitaip. Ir tikriausiai tuo labiausiai mums ir žavi arba šokiruoja. Bent šiek tiek praverti tą juos gaubiantį šydą ir pamatyti koks visgi tas jų gyvenimas.
Apie Salvadorą Dali kaip menininką tikrai mažai žinojau, tik tiek, kiek lietė meno istorijos pamokos mokykloje. Bet kažkodėl tuo metu man jis neįstrigo. Tad labai norėjau perskaityti šią knygą ir praplėsti žinias.
Kas knygoje iš karto išsiskyrė, tai pats rašymo stilius. Nenudailintas ir nepagražintas. Nesistengiant pasirodyt geriau ir priimtiniau skaitytojui. Kas tikrai geriau atskleidė autoriaus asmenybę. Knyga nėra pasakojama nuosekliai. Istorijos ir prisiminimai išmėtyti laike ir pats pasakojimas liečia tik autoriaus gyvenimą iki 36 metų. Tačiau istorijos pateiktos tikrai nenuobodžiai. Nors ir suvokti jas kartais sunku ir gali tikrai pakraupinti ekstravagantiški pasirinkimai. Bet reikėtų viską filtruoti per kitokią prizmę nei tai, kas mums įprasta.
Salvadoras Dali labai įdomi asmenybė ir tikrai nepagražinant galima vadinti multi-talentu.
Apie knygą reikėtų paminėti, kad tai nėra lengvas ir greitai perskaitomas kūrinys. Nors įtraukia, bet skaitosi tikrai nelengvai. Aš skaitau palyginus ne lėtai, bet su šia knyga užtrukau.
Nėra joje ir pateikta jokių nuotraukų ar autoriaus darbų, tad šito taipogi reikės, norint pasmalsauti, pasiieškoti patiems.
➡️ Ar žinojote?
Visame pasaulyje žinomas „Chupa Chups“ ledinukas Ispanijoje pasirodė dar 1958 metais. O saldumyno logotipą 1969 metais sugalvojo ne kas kitas, o… Salvadoras Dali. Jis šio darbo ėmėsi po to, kai menininko draugas, „Chupa Chups“ įkūrėjas, pasiskundė dailininkui apie produkto įvaizdžio problemas. Nieko nelaukdamas, Dali nupiešė logotipą, kuris naudojamas iki šių dienų, beveik nepakitęs.
Apie Salvadorą Dali kaip menininką tikrai mažai žinojau, tik tiek, kiek lietė meno istorijos pamokos mokykloje. Bet kažkodėl tuo metu man jis neįstrigo. Tad labai norėjau perskaityti šią knygą ir praplėsti žinias.
Kas knygoje iš karto išsiskyrė, tai pats rašymo stilius. Nenudailintas ir nepagražintas. Nesistengiant pasirodyt geriau ir priimtiniau skaitytojui. Kas tikrai geriau atskleidė autoriaus asmenybę. Knyga nėra pasakojama nuosekliai. Istorijos ir prisiminimai išmėtyti laike ir pats pasakojimas liečia tik autoriaus gyvenimą iki 36 metų. Tačiau istorijos pateiktos tikrai nenuobodžiai. Nors ir suvokti jas kartais sunku ir gali tikrai pakraupinti ekstravagantiški pasirinkimai. Bet reikėtų viską filtruoti per kitokią prizmę nei tai, kas mums įprasta.
Salvadoras Dali labai įdomi asmenybė ir tikrai nepagražinant galima vadinti multi-talentu.
Apie knygą reikėtų paminėti, kad tai nėra lengvas ir greitai perskaitomas kūrinys. Nors įtraukia, bet skaitosi tikrai nelengvai. Aš skaitau palyginus ne lėtai, bet su šia knyga užtrukau.
Nėra joje ir pateikta jokių nuotraukų ar autoriaus darbų, tad šito taipogi reikės, norint pasmalsauti, pasiieškoti patiems.
➡️ Ar žinojote?
Visame pasaulyje žinomas „Chupa Chups“ ledinukas Ispanijoje pasirodė dar 1958 metais. O saldumyno logotipą 1969 metais sugalvojo ne kas kitas, o… Salvadoras Dali. Jis šio darbo ėmėsi po to, kai menininko draugas, „Chupa Chups“ įkūrėjas, pasiskundė dailininkui apie produkto įvaizdžio problemas. Nieko nelaukdamas, Dali nupiešė logotipą, kuris naudojamas iki šių dienų, beveik nepakitęs.
September 25, 2019
абажаю!
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дали: я столкнулся [у сюрреалистов] здесь с теми же самыми запретами, что и у себя в семье. кровь мне была дозволена. я мог даже добавить к ней немножко дерьмеца. но на одно только дерьмо права уже не имел. мне позволялось изображать половые органы, а вот всякие анальные образы – ни в коем случае. на задний проход тут смотрели крайне недоброжелательно. они терпеть не могли анусы! я же хитроумно преподносил им массы старательно замаскированных анусов, по преимуществу анусов коварно макиавеллиевских.
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<3 !
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дали: я столкнулся [у сюрреалистов] здесь с теми же самыми запретами, что и у себя в семье. кровь мне была дозволена. я мог даже добавить к ней немножко дерьмеца. но на одно только дерьмо права уже не имел. мне позволялось изображать половые органы, а вот всякие анальные образы – ни в коем случае. на задний проход тут смотрели крайне недоброжелательно. они терпеть не могли анусы! я же хитроумно преподносил им массы старательно замаскированных анусов, по преимуществу анусов коварно макиавеллиевских.
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.
<3 !
December 2, 2011
One of the best books I've ever read, although I admit I read it believing it to be mostly real later to realize that it wasn't. But So entertaining.
Salvador Dali should have been a writer, his writing is so well written, even for a translation!
I gave this away awhile back to someone, and I angerly realize that they probably didn't READ IT!!!! Why do I keep doing this? I need to buy another copy.
Salvador Dali should have been a writer, his writing is so well written, even for a translation!
I gave this away awhile back to someone, and I angerly realize that they probably didn't READ IT!!!! Why do I keep doing this? I need to buy another copy.
January 13, 2015
Its what you want when you set out to read
about a human
its a self writ bio
I couldn't believe it when i was reading
he cuts himself on a small glass shot bottle he thinks that one of his hairs is at the bottom but it turns out to be a tiny crack
he breaks a another kids violin and runs away as fast as he can
anyway it was the best bio i've read ever
He taps into the greater
Cggggg
he finishes his project and sses his examination sb
about a human
its a self writ bio
I couldn't believe it when i was reading
he cuts himself on a small glass shot bottle he thinks that one of his hairs is at the bottom but it turns out to be a tiny crack
he breaks a another kids violin and runs away as fast as he can
anyway it was the best bio i've read ever
He taps into the greater
Cggggg
he finishes his project and sses his examination sb
January 21, 2009
This book was very unique, brilliant and beautiful as his paintings. Dali's bio leads to his childhood thru his age 37. This interesting and bizzare tale of how his captivated surrealism thru his art.
So I would recommend this book to anyone who is interested in getting into the artistic minds of the masters. =)~
So I would recommend this book to anyone who is interested in getting into the artistic minds of the masters. =)~
January 21, 2013
عجيب و مثير للجدل ..
سريالي .. او هو السريالية زي ما قال على نفسة ..
مغرور أو أكتر من كده شوية .. بس في وسط كلامة حسيت انه بيكافح بالغرور حاجة تانية .. بيحارب الهجوم على غموضه بالغرور .. حاجة كده زي النكوص عند الأطفال ..
حاجة زي العنصرية المضادة ..
المهم ان الكتاب عجبني .. و شخصية الراجل هاتفضل مثيرة
سريالي .. او هو السريالية زي ما قال على نفسة ..
مغرور أو أكتر من كده شوية .. بس في وسط كلامة حسيت انه بيكافح بالغرور حاجة تانية .. بيحارب الهجوم على غموضه بالغرور .. حاجة كده زي النكوص عند الأطفال ..
حاجة زي العنصرية المضادة ..
المهم ان الكتاب عجبني .. و شخصية الراجل هاتفضل مثيرة
July 30, 2022
È davvero difficile recensire questo libro che chiudo con tanta confusione.
E non per i miei pensieri al riguardo ma proprio perché la vita di Dalí è stata un’esistenza ben al di sopra delle righe, fortemente destabilizzante per chi ne viene a conoscenza.
Fin dalla sua infanzia, dalle parole con cui l’artista si racconta, si comprende che non si tratta solo di un ragazzino viziato come lui dice, ma di veri e propri problemi mentali che lo accompagnano per tutta la vita e che, se da un lato si esprime attraverso la sua arte, dall’altro comincia a diventare, da un certo punto della sua vita, un tormento.
Solo la moglie Gala riesce a placare un po’ i suoi tormenti coi quali dovrà però imparare a convivere.
Le sue visioni però sono l’ elemento che rende difficile la lettura di questa biografia che diventa una sorta di viaggio onirico, dove diventa davvero molto difficile capire cosa sia reale o cosa no, anche perché lui stesso se ne accorge solo in seguito.
Lo spettro incombente del fratello morto poco prima della sua nascita, i problemi di salute che lo colpiscono fin da bambino, il trattamento da parte del primo amore omosessuale, sono tutti elementi che sicuramente hanno influito sulla sua salute psichica, che si manifesta con il suo mimetismo, le allucinazioni, la costruzione di falsi ricordi, il desiderio di violenza contro “Dullita” (episodio della torre), le tendenze violentemente antisocialj in adolescenza.
Il carattere era comunque già di per sè un tantino eccentrico: per niente modesto, molto ambizioso fin da piccolo, la sua iperoralità, i comportamenti narcisistici anche autodistruttivi attuati senza conseguenze (serva, medico buchi orecchie, bambino ponte, salto dalla scala, l’amore per la vecchiaia (nonna e tata Llucia), episodio gruccia e meloni), le varie stravaganze messe in atto quando studiava all’Accademia di Madrid, la decisione di fallire nei risultati scolastici fin dall’ingresso a scuola nonostante la sua capacità, la sua ostinazione, le manie di solitudine, insieme a quella di saltare nel vuoto, non hanno per nulla facilitato la sua evoluzione, anzi diventa complicato distinguere quale parte sia riconducibile ai disturbi e quale invece lo avrebbe caratterizzato comunque.
La sua vita mostra comunque degli elementi fissi che non cambiano nelle varie fasi: l’amore per la sua Spagna dove desidera tornare anche dopo l’intervallo parigino e dove con Gala costruiscono la casa a Cadaques, l’ammirazione per alcuni classici in particolare per Raffaello, la venerazione per la moglie, purtroppo bene o male la povertà, accanto al desiderio di partecipare al lusso ma contemporaneamente il disprezzo per certi salotti eleganti a cui però finirà per partecipare, il suo conservatorismo che gli costerà anche la breve detenzione a Gerona per gli scontri con Garcia Lorca e la parte repubblicana dell’Accademia.
La sua voglia di provocazione e di conoscere nuove cose lo spingerà ad alcuni dei viaggi in Italia, a New York, a Vienna per conoscere Freud, che però poi incontrerà in Inghilterra, il contatto con Zweig e Edward James, e il sodalizio con Coco Chanel, ma anche al litigio con il padre e conseguente allontanamento dalla famiglia per molti anni.
Come capita spesso di leggere in tante biografie di artisti, la sua arte verrà bistrattata, incompresa, rifiutata, e poi tanti tenteranno di sfruttarla per trarne guadagno senza dover corrispondere nulla al creatore, fino a che poi diventerà famoso e desiderato per le sue astrusità e invenzioni di oggetti singolari, tanto desiderate dall’aristocrazia.
Sarà lui il padre del surrealismo, con un gruppo di artisti composito, che si spegnerà da solo per separazioni interne e per diversi suicidi.
Le sue opere più celebri, come gli orologi molli, e quelle meno conosciute ma sensazionali, come la creazione dell’opera di pane lunga 15 metri, le seguiamo nel loro divenire e scopriamo come sia arrivato a crearle senza un grande progetto ma semplicemente con l’intento di stupire e anche grazie alle immagini create dalle sue visioni.
“Una notte storica è per me stupidamente simile a tutte le altre, con moltissimo Danubio blu, un pochino di ping pong, ed un certo rischio di venir uccisi.”
E non per i miei pensieri al riguardo ma proprio perché la vita di Dalí è stata un’esistenza ben al di sopra delle righe, fortemente destabilizzante per chi ne viene a conoscenza.
Fin dalla sua infanzia, dalle parole con cui l’artista si racconta, si comprende che non si tratta solo di un ragazzino viziato come lui dice, ma di veri e propri problemi mentali che lo accompagnano per tutta la vita e che, se da un lato si esprime attraverso la sua arte, dall’altro comincia a diventare, da un certo punto della sua vita, un tormento.
Solo la moglie Gala riesce a placare un po’ i suoi tormenti coi quali dovrà però imparare a convivere.
Le sue visioni però sono l’ elemento che rende difficile la lettura di questa biografia che diventa una sorta di viaggio onirico, dove diventa davvero molto difficile capire cosa sia reale o cosa no, anche perché lui stesso se ne accorge solo in seguito.
Lo spettro incombente del fratello morto poco prima della sua nascita, i problemi di salute che lo colpiscono fin da bambino, il trattamento da parte del primo amore omosessuale, sono tutti elementi che sicuramente hanno influito sulla sua salute psichica, che si manifesta con il suo mimetismo, le allucinazioni, la costruzione di falsi ricordi, il desiderio di violenza contro “Dullita” (episodio della torre), le tendenze violentemente antisocialj in adolescenza.
Il carattere era comunque già di per sè un tantino eccentrico: per niente modesto, molto ambizioso fin da piccolo, la sua iperoralità, i comportamenti narcisistici anche autodistruttivi attuati senza conseguenze (serva, medico buchi orecchie, bambino ponte, salto dalla scala, l’amore per la vecchiaia (nonna e tata Llucia), episodio gruccia e meloni), le varie stravaganze messe in atto quando studiava all’Accademia di Madrid, la decisione di fallire nei risultati scolastici fin dall’ingresso a scuola nonostante la sua capacità, la sua ostinazione, le manie di solitudine, insieme a quella di saltare nel vuoto, non hanno per nulla facilitato la sua evoluzione, anzi diventa complicato distinguere quale parte sia riconducibile ai disturbi e quale invece lo avrebbe caratterizzato comunque.
La sua vita mostra comunque degli elementi fissi che non cambiano nelle varie fasi: l’amore per la sua Spagna dove desidera tornare anche dopo l’intervallo parigino e dove con Gala costruiscono la casa a Cadaques, l’ammirazione per alcuni classici in particolare per Raffaello, la venerazione per la moglie, purtroppo bene o male la povertà, accanto al desiderio di partecipare al lusso ma contemporaneamente il disprezzo per certi salotti eleganti a cui però finirà per partecipare, il suo conservatorismo che gli costerà anche la breve detenzione a Gerona per gli scontri con Garcia Lorca e la parte repubblicana dell’Accademia.
La sua voglia di provocazione e di conoscere nuove cose lo spingerà ad alcuni dei viaggi in Italia, a New York, a Vienna per conoscere Freud, che però poi incontrerà in Inghilterra, il contatto con Zweig e Edward James, e il sodalizio con Coco Chanel, ma anche al litigio con il padre e conseguente allontanamento dalla famiglia per molti anni.
Come capita spesso di leggere in tante biografie di artisti, la sua arte verrà bistrattata, incompresa, rifiutata, e poi tanti tenteranno di sfruttarla per trarne guadagno senza dover corrispondere nulla al creatore, fino a che poi diventerà famoso e desiderato per le sue astrusità e invenzioni di oggetti singolari, tanto desiderate dall’aristocrazia.
Sarà lui il padre del surrealismo, con un gruppo di artisti composito, che si spegnerà da solo per separazioni interne e per diversi suicidi.
Le sue opere più celebri, come gli orologi molli, e quelle meno conosciute ma sensazionali, come la creazione dell’opera di pane lunga 15 metri, le seguiamo nel loro divenire e scopriamo come sia arrivato a crearle senza un grande progetto ma semplicemente con l’intento di stupire e anche grazie alle immagini create dalle sue visioni.
“Una notte storica è per me stupidamente simile a tutte le altre, con moltissimo Danubio blu, un pochino di ping pong, ed un certo rischio di venir uccisi.”
July 22, 2018
I learned more than I wanted to know in some ways and was utterly fascinated in other ways!
Warning there are moments where there's def an argument for Dali being a rapist/molester/pedophile/incestuous instigator.
But. . .he spent his life being and living in odd, messing with people's minds, making watchers question what they were seeing.
It was good, but great for the odd. . .not a good recc for the normal.
Warning there are moments where there's def an argument for Dali being a rapist/molester/pedophile/incestuous instigator.
But. . .he spent his life being and living in odd, messing with people's minds, making watchers question what they were seeing.
It was good, but great for the odd. . .not a good recc for the normal.
May 2, 2022
„Slaptas Salvadoro Dali gyvenimas“: koks kvailys norėtų pažinti savo herojų?
https://m.delfi.lt/moterys/is-pirmu-l...
https://m.delfi.lt/moterys/is-pirmu-l...
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