Art: Salvador Dali

For a few Dalis more

By F. Andrew Taylor

Father Guido Sarducci used to do a bit about "The Five-Minute University," where in five minutes he'd teach you everything you would remember five years after college. "Economics," he said, "supply and demand." I don't recall him delving into art history, but it should have included, "Salvador Dali: weird moustache." Or "Dali: melting clocks." Indeed, flip open an encyclopedia to surrealism and nine times out of 10 there's one of his paintings. Usually it's "The Persistence of Memory" or "The Temptation of St. Anthony," with the crazy, long-legged elephants. The problem is, a half-dozen or so of his works are so often reprinted that they almost completely overshadow the rest of his career, which was varied and prolific. He was an inveterate self-promoter pleased to experiment and unafraid of sullying his hands with (gasp) illustration.

The Dali prints, drawings and paintings presented at the Centaur Gallery are by and large small, accessible works. Much of the work is black and white and displays a consummate control of line. The color work is more vibrant, looser and more daring than we've come to expect from tight little pieces in the encyclopedia. There he appears as a fussy painter with weird images and simplistic blending from light to shadow. This surface appraisal of Dali, disregarding the artist's thought process, has led to tens of thousands of lame art school surrealists, slapping a couple incongruent images together and trying to convince you they've made some deep, brilliant statement. "I don't need talent, I've got a gimmick."

Would that those same impressionable youth had seen more of this work. There's an immediacy and energetic flow to the work that is very appealing. I suspect that Ralph Steadman, best known in our city for his illustrations for Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, is familiar with this work. In particular, Dali's 1969 folio of "Alice in Wonderland" illustrations have that dynamic slash and stab brushwork combined with twisted, exaggerated figures.

Salvador Dali was a man of great contrasts. He was deep and philosophical in his youth while remaining young and vibrant in his dotage. Though a brilliant and innovative creator, he refused to play the archetypal starving artist. He probably had more in common with Barnum than Van Gogh. If he were alive today, he'd probably be the first to mention that these works are a great investment, because, since he's dead, he's not making any more of them. Then he'd ride off into the sunset on his stick-legged pachyderm.