In the Dark About Dali: Confessions of a Dali Illiterate

Although my father was an artist who traveled in Bohemian circles and introduced me to art museums before I could walk, I've never claimed to be knowledgeable about art. I grew up amid sculptors, painters and socialists, and at the impressionable age of 8 these people became my role models. But I never took an art history class. Never visited the museums of Paris or Florence. Never did the things that supposedly give one a well-rounded view of the art world.

So when it came time to educate myself about Dali for my new position as editor of this missive, the task seemed daunting. Certainly I knew of him. I grew up the 60s after all, and Dali was an icon in my psychedelic peer group. I knew he painted pictures of melting clocks and that he'd spent some time hanging out with the Beatles, so I easily accepted him as a member of the counterculture. And I was aware of surrealism too. Jean Cocteau's Beauty and the Beast made a huge impression me in my early 20s, as did a Man Ray exhibit I saw with my father when I was 10. So I didn't grow up ignorant. Just opinionated.

Fast forward nearly 40 years and I'm on a first date with the love of my mid-life. We're in the impressionist wing at the L.A. County Art Museum, and I comment that pictures of soft, overfed white people and fluffy little girls in ballet costumes don't do much for me. He is amused and delighted that I'd so boldly bash Monet, Degas and Renoir without the slightest concern that he'd think me culturally deprived, uneducated, or worse, politically incorrect. I can't help it.

My taste runs more toward primitive art and natural themes with natural characters. I love Gauguin. I love drawings of dancing African stick figures, mythical images and water colors that look like they were done by pre-schoolers. So I was amazed when I discovered Dali pieces like "The Earth Goddess" and "The Three Graces of Hawaii." Who knew that the master of melting clocks had a head full of fairy tales and a working knowledge of mythology and theosophic anthropology?

It all started one day when I found myself alone with the Albert Field catalog and enough time on my hands to truly absorb its contents. The first thing that caught my attention was the Mythology Suite. No melting clocks or warped realities there, just Saturn eating his children, which for some reason was a lot less disturbing to me than Les Diners de Gala. I went on to discover the Currier and Ives interpretations… the American dream seen through a child's eyes, disassembled and reconstructed without rigidity. An anarchist's dream come true!

But what really hooked me were the Tarot cards, which are both an expertise and a passion of mine. I first saw Dali's "Trilogy of Love" and immediately noticed its similarity to the Three of Cups in the Tarot. I thought to myself, "wouldn't it have been great if Dali had illustrated a Tarot deck?" There was that pesky Dali illiteracy again. Of course he did Tarot cards! And they're all in the catalog. Not only that, but the Dali decks can be readily purchased from several metaphysical supply sources.

I am very grateful for my accidental discovery of Dali. And hence, I introduce myself as the new editor of the Salvador Dali Collectors Quarterly. Compared to many of you who are astute aficionados, I'm still among the uninitiated. So I apologize for my naiveté, and hope you will bear with me as I discover Dali along with you.