When I was 6 years old or so, my pediatrician was arrested on child molestation charges. Lucky for me, my mother never left me alone in the room with him as I had issues with seizures and fevers and if I was at the doctor something was not cool.
My next physician was my doctor until I moved away at 24 yrs old, Dr. Ruth. (No, really.) Whenever I went into the doctor’s office I would sit on one side of the waiting area and stare at the craziest mother fucking poster ever. I was obsessed, and this was it:
Persistency of Memory. Salvador Dali.
I am sure I had plenty of nightmares thanks to this melting clock scene (and the phenobarbital). Yet time and time again (year after year) I went into the waiting room and stared, totally entranced. When I started college, I took my first Art History class. (I know, yawn yawn.) But after my intro class my first semester in college, along with some prodding by my professor, I knew Art was going to be my major. I was obsessed, and finally learned about this eccentric painting and its creator.
Dali was the first artist to inspire me. Obviously I would be attracted to someone this peculiar and completely whacked.
The train ride was 2 hours from Barcelona to the Theatre-Museum Dali in Figueres.
What I did not know? I was going to meet him for real.
I expected all kinds of Dali’esque madness seeing as he was the director of this shrine.
The town is tiny and cute. You walk up roads that look more like paths, a giant open air shopping market (not a grocery store, a REAL market). The signs suck and they’re very confusing. I was starting to get pissed off until I passed a building with cows and horses built onto the balconies like it’s normal:
We had to be close. And then this:
Our hostess, the voluptuous boob lady standing on a car with a Buddha head greets you in the courtyard. I have a ton of pictures of this place as well, it’s not easy to pick one crazy piece over another.
See this mural? Look at the people standing underneath. That’s how big it is.
I had to climb a wooden camel to take this picture, no joke. And because I was nervous, I totally jacked up the fact it’s Mae West if you take the picture correctly. Google it.
Dali sculpture. Because it’s good to be well rounded- you can regenerate body parts or make furniture out of it.
The hands of God are nothing compared to those giant feet.
He was a total perv. I’ll let you find all of the ways yourself.
Last but not least, his self portrait with bacon. My favorite ever.
Thank you, Salvador Dali.
You inspired me with art, make me feel less crazy and that makes me happy.