Salvador Dali

Salvador Felipe Jacinto Dali’ Y Domenech

Salvador Dali is a world-renown surrealist painter and dabbled in many aspects of artmaking. Dali was born to Salvador Dali I Cusi a notary, and Felipa Domenech Ferres on May 11th, 1904. Dali was born in Figueres, Spain where he also grew up. Having a rough time as a child, he would often erupt in the fits of anger towards his friends and parents. Soon, he began to mature and convinced his father that he was a working artist, that he could make money. In 1921, Dali had moved to Madrid, Spain to learn painting. A lot of his artworks were influenced by his all-time favorite artist Giorgio de Chirico. Most of the time Dali would enjoy surrealism works though he did do a bit of cubism. Though for a time Dali was arrested for political views and activities with the government which lead to him being thrown out of art school in 1925.

One of Salvador’s most known and accomplished piece would be a surrealist painting by the name of “The Persistence of Memory”. Dali was twenty-seven when he created this magnificent piece of art. “I am the first to be surprised and often terrified by the images I see appear upon my canvas” Salvador Dali once said as he created The Persistence of Memory while hallucinating. Dali had well rounded out his “paranoiac-critical method. A method whereas they call it a hand-painted dream picture. The creation itself isn’t as big as one might think. Scaling at 9,5 inches by 13 inches most think this painting is humongous only to be humored at its small size. The first place this work was shown, was at the Julien Levy Gallery, in New York City during 1932. The artwork stayed in New York, A random person purchased the piece and offered it to the Museum of Modern Art as a donation. It has been the center of attention in the MoMA’s collection for 80 or more years. This piece is a painting, oil to be exact. Clocks melting in the setting of a desert. Some people think this piece could be a self-portrait. A self-depicted representation of himself. Though the explanation he had given for this piece of work, could be skeptically taken for sarcasm as Dali said he had used cheese that had melted under the heat of the sun. A few other surrealist artists called Dali out, saying that he didn’t create surrealistic artwork as he then responded curtly with, he is surrealism.

Another piece that was suggested to be a sequel to “The Persistence of Memory”, called “The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory”. As one of the major similarities would be the melting clocks. This piece came about Dali’s interest in Nuclear Physics.

Salvador Dali really shaped the artistic work with surrealism. Dali’s indescribably unique style and personality really pushed him to the center of attention. With that light shining on him, he took it and ran. Having many artistic talents Dali would interpret surrealism in every one of them. One of his quotes was “the difference between me and the surrealists, is that I am a surrealist. “really putting himself in the position to own what it is that he does.
Now making influences on the current daily lives of humans, Dali helped shape the world as it is today. Famous signer Lady Gaga uses fashion as a way of creating artwork, using Dali and Gala his wife as influences for her choice of fashion. Along with wearing a mustache that is a copy to that of Salvador Dali’s.

mouthing .4

Now sitting at college this grown woman had looked at her assignment. Biting her lower lip out of habit.

“ Five page paper about my relationship with reading…”

Mouthing .3

The light from her laptop would shine in her face, causing a small glow of her milky skin. The only thing that shed light was the upcoming project where she would have to write a play, gather students to act on the play based on a book. The child chose her book “Dog Called Kitty” by the author Bill Wallace. In this whole progression she couldn’t find a person to play the dog though with good luck and a compassionate principal she could bring in her dog Buddy and use him in the play. With her written script she pulled off the whole thing. Afterwards she would sit on the bench outside the classroom with her dog and classmate after classmate would give him pets for a job well done.

The horizon would burst of pinks, yellows and oranges, the leaves drifted once more from the old spring trees. Years drifted by like the leaves in the fall laying over grass and pathways. The girl would struggle to wake up drained from the energy it took to go through her day. To look at herself in the mirror and to smile at her mother and classmates. They say things will get better and everyone has depression. Her mothers’ words recited in her head everyone in awhile


“You’re a teenager. This is just a phase you’ll be fine”.
At this point she kept a journal writing all her thoughts and things that drifted through her head. Reading over it quite a few times a day seemed to help a little on most days and on others they would rip her apart. The end of senior year was coming fast maybe a bit too fast for her liking. A book in her hand she would read in the beginning of class for a half hour to forty-five minutes. Other then that time she hadn’t picked up a book by her own choice since seventh grade. It didn’t interest her as she had other things to worry of like budgeting and paying her roommate her portion of rent, getting all her homework done and enough energy to get up and go to work. All these things influenced her life in a greater value then at of the books that lingered on her dusty dresser.

“Babe, get up you’ve class”
A familiar voice filled the silenced air as she shifted in the warmth of the blankets that seemed to be hugging her and refusing to let go.

Mouthing .2

The flowers started to sprawl out from deep slumbers of hibernation. Blooming into blues, pinks and violets. The April showers would lead to a beautiful unthawing. Fifth grade was third quarters of the way finished.
“Mom its book fair today!”
The child would look up at her mother, large pleading eyes as the statement was more of a question.
“Go get my wallet” ¬¬¬
Her mother was a single mom working for everything that she got, still providing and giving her children what she could afford lucky enough book fair was included. Emerald orbs would hop from book to book her mother had given her enough to get a couple things her eyes were always glued to the books that involved dogs. A love for animals was instilled in the small child at an early age. Every time book fair came around Kaitlyn would add another book to her collections always drawn to the “Magic Puppy” books written by author Sue Bently and “Puppy Place” books written by author Ellen Miles. Along with the books she would often stop at the little Knick knacks and things looking over the cart plushies and other things like smelly pencils or erasers that were the shapes of animals. Often, she would come home with plushies and a book or two. Spending a lot of time in her room she would create a safe place her closet was very open at the bottom she would create a bed of some sort and curl up inside with her book.


The sunlight would gush through the glass panes as her finger would follow the lines of the book. Reading was on her mind less and less these days seventh grade was a bore essays and writing that she felt she would never need the knowledge for. A hatred would evolve of reading as she turned the next page, forced to read this transcript for the mere reason of drawing information out.

Mouthing

The chirping of small chestnut sparrows and crimson cardinals could be heard through the crisp air of Autumns dawning. Reds, yellows and browns would sway until landing and creating a natural blanket over the earth’s crust. A dozen small children sat on a rug, it seemed that they all were assigned to a spot on the carpet that was made up of different colored dots. Emerald orbs scanned the index card, the teacher would motion to a sound with her lips…a letter?
“A as in apple”.
The small child would motion her lips to follow that of the letter her ocular cavities pinpointed to that of the weird shape on the index card.
“A “
Her mouth motioned to the silhouette of the letter. The brain developing a remembering system.
“Okay class take home your words and practice with your parents” The class was dismissed, and the girl rose to her feet. Tucking them away into her book bag. Kaitlyn had tossed the oversize bag over her shoulders, the small body slipped through the door of her preschool class.



Snow flurried angrily from the dampened sky as it was nearing Christmas break, sun light had shone through her blinds hitting her carpeted floor if looking hard enough you could see the particles dancing about in the rays. A milky white hand dangled from the edge of the bed; her fragile body looked like a doll as it laid silent, her fingers would twitch occasionally. Third grade was a drag it was poetry slam day the only day of the week that made those emeralds pop with excitement. Taking place, she let her nerves settle peering across the classroom at all the eyes that seemed to land on her. Nimble paled fingers seemed to crinkle her paper as she then hid the nerves looking to the scattered words, she began her poem.
“Mouthing Silhouettes.
Parted lips go to speak
Though forgetting to breath
trembling they leak
Mouthing Silhouettes.”

The class would stand silent before it erupted with snaps. Taking her place in her seat she felt accomplished.