‘Assumpta…’ by Dali has both Beauty & Shock Value!

The impossible-to-pronounce “Assumpta Corpuscularia Lapislazulina” helps tells us where the then 48-year-old Dali’s head was at when he painted this spectacular but strange Nuclear Mystical masterpiece in 1952.

Dali was deeply invested in his new atomic period at this time, proclaiming he was “becoming classical” and moving away from Surrealism toward a new vision, a new ethos in painting: the melding of science, religion and mathematics. “Assumpta Corpuscularia Lapislazulina” is a great example of this burgeoning period in Dali’s consciousness and his art.

The large work, which I had the great pleasure of seeing at the “Dali: The Late Work” exhibition in Atlanta’s High Museum of Art in 2010, synthesizes a number of Dali’s interests, beliefs and obsessions — most supremely that of his adoration of his wife and muse, Gala. She is presented here as the Virgin Mary, rising in a greatly elongated manner that recalls the works of El Greco or perhaps some of the paintings of Bartolome Murillo.

Painting by Murillo

The sphere from which Gala rises is both suggestive of the Earth from which she departs and an atom, the latter a reference to contemporary discoveries in particle physics that fascinated Dali and account for the atomic/rhino horn-like particles that explain “corpuscularia” in the work’s jaw-breaking title.

In the middle of the picture is a magnificently painted Eucharistic table over which the same image of Jesus appears as he does in Dali’s most famous religious painting, “Christ of St. John of the Cross,” which he finished a year before the present work.

Flanking the main focus of “Assumpta” is a mass of swirling rhinoceros horns, some convoluted in a heavy treatment that leading Dali patron A. Reynolds Morse, for one, opined had compromised the beauty of this painting. But no one was going to tell Salvador Dali  how or what to paint! And, in my view, this work simply wouldn’t have the same impact, the same “shock” value — the same Dalinian dynamism — had it been devoid of this maelstrom of rhino horns.

While they nod to the artist’s obsession with the logarithmic spiral found in the natural curve of a rhino horn, they also inject the painting with that “Dali difference” I often write about. That special something that lends a kind of shock factor to the experience of viewing a Salvador Dali painting.

Speaking of painting, let’s focus for a moment on the actual technique itself here. First, the portrait of Gala: it is one of Dali’s finest. It’s superbly realistic, and that tactical quality contrasts dramatically with the far more ethereal, transparent and spiritual essence Dali achieved from Gala’s upper chest downward (save for her prayerful hands, which again reveal Dali’s tight craftsmanship).

Just below Gala’s clasped hands is the oculus of the Pantheon we saw in Dali’s work, “Raphaelesque Head Exploding,” (1951) and it draws our eye down towards Gala’s feet in a kind of crystal-like form that further exudes a transparency and spirituality Dali achieved so effectively.

‘Explosion of Mystical Faith…’ Exudes Powerful Religious Dynamism

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

Like what they say about a person’s eyes, Dali’s paintings were, in effect, windows to his soul. They reflected his interests, his passions, his fears, his endless curiosity as a creative colossus.

“Explosion of Mystical Faith in a Cathedral” is something of a mirror reflecting Dali’s focus at this time, 1957; namely an emerging affinity with the Catholic Church and what he was coming to believe was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the cosmos. “Heaven can be found exactly in the middle of the chest of the man who has faith,” Dali proclaimed.

In the middle of Rome’s St. Peter’s Cathedral, Dali depicts an ethereal, saintly vision with sinuous robes, floating high above a group of human figures. Several of them rise off the floor like souls ascending toward heaven, guided by this transparent, angelic figure.

Inspiration from those before him

Dali’s ideas came from a wide range of sources and influences. In the case of “Explosion of Mystical Faith in a Cathedral,” it appears certain he was inspired by a 19^th century painter who we generally don’t often consider when we look at Dali’s more notable precursors; that is, artists like Velasquez, Vermeer, and Raphael.

But in this case, it surely was “The Apparition” by Gustave Moreau that provided the primary inspiration behind Dali’s dynamic picture. In the 1876 painting, the head of Jesus Christ appears in mid-air, from which brilliant rays of light emerge. The backdrop is the interior of a cathedral, and given that Dali held Moreau in very high regard, it is highly unlikely that this stunning painting was not behind Dali’s motivation to depict a similar religious vision.

A kind of ‘electric’ dynamism

Three key technical approaches are represented in this Dali painting – a painting I’d wager most Dali collectors and admirers are only vaguely familiar with, if at all. Impressive realism is achieved in the architectural details of the iconic cathedral. It’s believed Dali’s talented studio assistant, Isodor Bea, lent a significant hand in this part of the composition.

Next, the handling of the saintly apparition herself – convincingly transparent to evoke a wonderful sense of spirituality and mysticism.

And then there’s the heavy, almost blinding rays of light shooting from the core of the figure, echoing closely the manner in which Moreau symbolized the life-giving light and brilliance in his figure of Christ. Dali used a heavy impasto (a build-up of paint) to highlight this aspect of the scene. There seems to be an almost electric aura to the image, doesn’t there? You can virtually feel the energy, the penetrating, dynamic explosion of faith that brings us back to the title itself. And I believe Dali literally “flicked” his brush just so to create the kind of spontaneity and sense of movement and energy this part of the painting exudes.

“Explosion of Mystical Faith in a Cathedral” is, in this blogger’s view, one of Salvador Dali’s least known paintings – but truly one of his most powerful and stunning works, combining, realism, surrealism, and mysticism.

Bread Deliciously Painted by the Master of Surrealism!

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

“That’s by Salvador Dali?!”

Such an expression of incredulity is not common among those who mistakenly believe Dali painted just melting clocks and giraffes on fire, then contemplate a painting like his 1945 “Basket of Bread” (Teatru-Museu Dali, Figueres, Spain).

I consider two main points especially important in appreciating this small but powerfully enchanting picture. One, of course, is the subject itself. Bread is a staple of most meals, and is religiously symbolic of the very body of Christ. It’s no coincidence that the outside walls of Dali’s monument to his legendary career – his museum in his birthplace of Figueres – is festooned with bread loaves.

Detail from exterior museum wall

In the book, Dali by Robert Descharnes and Giles Neret, the authors wrote, “Dali gave an explanation for this striking presence in a catalogue for Bignou’s Gallery in New York. Commenting on his 1945 Basket of Bread…he declares that his aim was to recover the lost technique of the old masters and establish the motionlessness of pre-explosive objects. Bread was one of his oldest obsessional fetishes in his works, and he had remained true to it; he had painted Basket of Bread a full nineteen years earlier, and, if the two paintings were compared (said Dali), they would reveal the entire history of painting, from the linear charm of primitivism to three-dimensional hyper-aestheticism.”

Dali himself explained that bread “is one of the oldest themes of fetishism and obsession in my work; the first, in fact, and the one to which I have been most faithful.”

What Dali was also being faithful to here – and this is the second of the two key observations I’ll make about “Basket of Bread” – was his unwavering respect and admiration for the great traditions of classical painting. Dali scrupulously studied the Renaissance masters and emulated their technique and dedication to the craft of painting as much as he could.

He certainly achieved technical mastery worthy of a Zurbaran or Ingres or Velasquez or Raphael in this remarkably precise little canvas, capturing every nook and cranny of the loaf as well as the meticulously rendered basket. I also think, incidentally, that Dali chose one of the most stunning frames I’ve seen to showcase this masterpiece.

It would be fitting in a study of this Dali painting to draw some comparisons to his earlier basket of bread of 1926 – an undeniable tour d’ force for the then 22-year-old artist. The earlier picture was entered into an art competition at the Carnegie Institute of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, U.S.A. – the first work by Dali ever publicly shown in the United States.

Basket of Bread of 1926

That work, a prized jewel in the great permanent collection of the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida, demonstrated an early mastery of technique, as well as what would be Dali’s long-standing affinity for the subject at hand. In later years, many of his bread-related images took on undeniable erotic connotations, such as, for just one example, “Average French Bread with Two Eggs on the Plate without the Plate, on Horseback, Attempting to Sodomize a Crumb of Portugese Bread” (1932).

Dali’s titles were nearly as fascinating as his paintings!

‘Imperial Monument to the Child-Woman’ is Quintessential Surrealism!

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

It may be hard to find a more quintessentially Surrealist Dali painting than the important and beautifully painted picture, “Imperial Monument to the Child-Woman” of 1930.

The 27-year-old Dali had only recently met Gala, fast becoming the love (and obsession) of his life and, for all intents and purposes, his primary reason for living! That’s how taken he was by the Russian woman, 10 years his senior, who would become his wife, muse and leading model, as well as his life-long business partner.

“Imperial Monument to the Child-Woman” is something of an altar in tribute to this woman, redolent of not only her impact on his young and impressionable life, but also of the amalgam of feelings, obsessions, preoccupations and fantasies running through that creative mind of his – a mind none other than Picasso once described as “an outboard motor continuously running.”

The large canvas features a host of images symbolic of experiences and feelings that informed Dali’s real and imagined life. His seething sexuality, aided and abetted by his burgeoning love for Gala, is represented by the phallic cypress trees – common fixtures in his Spanish countryside – and the structure in the lower right distance, whose vaginal-like orifices yield keys and ants and other details Freud proclaimed symbolically sexual in his seminal book, “Interpretation of Dreams,” which Dali read passionately.

Gala’s image appears in the work, along with a centrally positioned nude woman with a shapely behind and, below that, a woman with her left breast bared and a look on her face that suggests sexual ecstasy.

Classical images – those of Napoleon, a childhood hero of Dali’s; and Leonardo’s “Mona Lisa” – appear in this elongated, phallic rock-like formation that surely derives, as did so much of Dali’s work, from the landscape of his native Spanish countryside.

Meanwhile, the angst that Dali was experiencing at this time – a stew whose ingredients included his newfound love and his unfolding family estrangement – is symbolized by the monster-like lion figures in the upper right, and the anguished human figures at the pinnacle of the structure, suggesting shame, confusion and anxiety.

Other familiar Dalinian elements populate this remarkable masterwork of Surrealism and a kind of stream of consciousness dreamscape: the popular rock of Cape Creus in Cadaques, whose human head-like form inspired Dali’s “The Great Masturbator” and other key surrealist works; the peasant male and female figures from the iconic painting, “The Angelus” by the French painter, Millet – a work with which Dali would be obsessed all his life; architectural ruins; and an art nouveau styling on the lower right of the main structure, which would make sense given that 1930 was when Dali began traveling to Paris as he gained greater affinity with the epicenter of the surrealist movement. (I don’t usually write such long sentences!).

Phallic and phenomenal, “Imperial Monument to the Child-Woman” is arguably among the most important of Salvador Dali’s surrealist paintings of the 1930s. I saw it for the first time in the Centennial exhibition in Philadelphia in 2005 and couldn’t take my eyes off of it!

Dali’s ‘Slave Market…’ the Epitome of Double-Imagery

By Paul Chimera

Dali Historian/Writer

“Slave Market with Disappearing Bust of Voltaire” defines Salvador Dali for me: an imaginative artist with exceptional technical gifts and an extraordinary capacity for seeing what mere mortals could not!

As a Dali expert and great admirer of the artist, I’ve long considered “Slave Market” emblematic of everything that was Dali – most especially when we consider that he was one of history’s best at achieving the visual illusion of “double-imagery.”

Dali used a popular bust of the French writer, Voltaire, sculpted by the French sculptor Jean-Antoine  Houdon in 1778. As a skeptical 18^th century French philosopher, Voltaire’s writing were read with interest by Dali when he was a young man, and the historical figure’s thoughts appealed to Salvador.

But in some sense Voltaire, at least in art circles, may be best remembered for being an integral part of what was one of the most successful and remarkable examples of double-imagery – so much so that it was used by the prestigious Scientific American magazine to illustrate the perceptual switching effect, where either one image can be seen, or another, but not both simultaneously.

Focus on the central image, on which the bare-breasted turbaned woman at left is gazing: do you see two Dutch women in black and white robes, standing shoulder to shoulder? Or do you see the face of an old man — Voltaire? The space under the stone arch is Voltaire’s head/forehead; the women’s faces serve as his eyes; the white collar area of the woman on the left becomes Voltaire’s nose; and the lower portion of their attire become his chin and neck.

Do you see?

I’ve watched Dali Museum visitors literally exclaim with delight when – “Yes!” – they discovered the hidden women from the bust of Voltaire they first saw; or discovered Voltaire suddenly morphing out of the two women they’d noticed first! You cannot see both at the same time – and this visual phenomenon formed the basis of the Scientific American article of which Dali’s masterful work became an illustration.

Dali compared the perception of these double images with camouflage. In his autobiography, The Secret Life of Salvador Dali,  published a year after this painting was finished, he wrote, “The invisible image of Voltaire may be compared in every respect to the mimesis of the leaf-insect rendered invisible by the resemblance and the confusion established between the Figure and the Background.”

A Second Double-Image . . .
There’s a second double-image in this 1940 canvas, albeit less important and less dramatic. But it serves to carry on Dali’s intentional “Dalinian Continuity,” where he linked in some way many of his paintings to some of his other works. At right is a pedestal-style dish in which we see two pieces of fruit. But the round fruit is also the ample backside of the woman in the background! The pear, meanwhile, becomes part of the mountain range. This same construction was found two years earlier in Dali’s “Transparent Simulacrum of the Feigned Image” (see my earlier post about this work). And Dali’s famous double-image Voltaire appeared in the middle distance in Dali’s “Resurrection of the Flesh” (1945; see below) and as a detail on the red skirt of one of the Venus de Milo’s in “The Hallucinogenic Toreador” of 1970.

“Resurrection of the Flesh”

‘Noel’ One of Dali’s Delightful Expressions of ‘Merry Christmas!’

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

Salvador Dali was a man of great contrasts. “Noel” of 1946 is sure to surprise those who equate Dali solely with the bizarre and the madcap. Here is what simply has to be considered one of Dali’s loveliest paintings, whose obvious seasonality is appropriate to spotlight this week.

There’s more to “Noel” than meets the eye, although the obvious is delightful. The gently falling snow, and the snow that’s settled upon the archways and trees, seems almost Norman Rockwell-like in its purity and simplicity. There’s a real charm about it, don’t you think?

But Salvador Dali seldom resisted an opportunity to be different, and we find several unique details in “Noel” I’d like to briefly draw your attention to. Let’s start with the jewels. They hang from the stone archways like ornaments on a Christmas tree. Some appear on the attached columns, both of which offer up the same nose and lips found in Dali’s “Aphrodite” painting and which became popularized in a series of Dali-designed bottles of the same theme for Parfum Salvador Dali.

A wonderful detail is the marvelous shadow of a kneeling, praying angel in the lower left. I think it adds a very special touch to this work because of its clever subtlety and ethereal quality.

But there’s a far bigger surprise of sorts in this dazzling Christmas painting. The two symmetrical archways, when optically fused together, form the face of the Madonna. This fact wasn’t immediately apparent to readers of Vogue magazine, when “Noel” graced its cover in the 1940s. Vogue editors pointed it out to readers in a terse explanation of the issue’s cover – an issue that has become a leading collectible among Dali ephemera enthusiasts.

So what did Christmas mean to Dali? We know he shared with readers of a popular magazine years back some of his favorite holiday gift ideas – including a neon sign of – what else – the name “Dali” in dramatic and glowing script!

Various photos exist of Dali dressed as Santa, including when he held a book signing at Rizzoli Book Store in Manhattan on the occasion of the release of his autobiographical book, “Diary of a Genius.” And despite his attention-seeking declarations that he didn’t care much for children (“embryons,” as he referred to them), there’s a well-known photo of Dali handing out oranges to children at Christmas time.

And Dali was photographed, with Gala, riding through Central Park in New York in a horse-drawn sleigh, braving the nippy winter elements for a brisk ride – and another photo op!

“Noel” is one of those Salvador Dali works that most people – even most Dali enthusiasts – may not be familiar with, but which everyone falls instantly in love with. Little wonder why: it’s truly one of the most charming works by the kingpin of Surrealism.

‘Cannibalism of Praying Mantis…’ One of Dali’s Most Haunting Works

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

Dali’s artistic world was far from a tidy place. Yes, he painted many beautiful works – works that would not in the strict sense of the word even be considered surrealistic. Much of it was masterful realism, with a dash of mysticism and, of course, at least a hint of surrealism.

But a great deal of Salvador Dali’s work courted the disquieting, the bizarre and, at times, the downright disturbing.

Fitting neatly into this last category is a work I admittedly don’t know much about, but which I keep coming back to as the most frightening work Dali ever painted, in my personal view: “Cannibalism of the Praying Mantis of Lautreamont” (1934).

This haunting little canvas was inspired by the strange, relatively plotless poetic poem by Lautreamont, called “Les Chants de Maldoror.” An internet source notes that it’s difficult to summarize the poem of six cantos because it doesn’t have a specific plot in the traditional sense, “and the narrative style is non-linear and often surrealistic.”

The work concerns the “misanthropic character of Maldoror, a figure of absolute evil who is opposed to God and humanity, and has renounced conventional morality and decency.” The tone is macabre and violent, and it’s no huge leap to see how Dali was drawn to such a provocative and controversial theme.

In “Cannibalism,” we see two figures that take on a human-like form of the praying mantis – itself a most peculiar and, to human thinking, a wretchedly violent creature, given that the female literally devours her mate after copulation. That’s surrealism in nature if ever it existed!

The mantis-like figure at left appears to be choking the opposing figure, while a piece of bloody excrement drapes over the left figure’s thigh, such as it is. A leg of meat stands nearby, propped up by a crutch festooned with a chop and a strip of bacon. It all appears in a kind of murky washed-out palette of sickly yellows/browns/blue.

But the terror sets in, for me anyway (and I literally find this work haunting) in the form of a strange little girl in a dress, over whom all the aforementioned imagery towers. She has the look of a scary doll, yet still exudes a lifelike character. Why it is that creepy dolls – both male and female – make for some of the most terrifying images in horror movies, I don’t know. But here in this little-known Salvador Dali painting, that small figure of a child-doll just might send a shiver up some folks’ spines.

Somehow it pinches a raw nerve with me, which was surely Dali’s sinister intention!

Dali also did an impressive series of prints (engravings) inspired by Les Chants de Maldoror; the suite remains one of Dali’s finest efforts in that medium. They’re startling in their imagery and the technical proficiency with which they were executed.

‘Virgin of Guadalupe’ Exudes Stunning Photographic Quality

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

At the risk of repeating myself, let me emphasize how important Salvador Dali’s technical mastery as a draftsman was to the impact of his paintings. A truly superb example is “The Virgin of Guadalupe” of 1959.

The photographic precision with which Dali painted this large masterwork convinces us that what we’re seeing is real, not imagined. Just as the Virgin revealed herself to be real when, according to tradition, Mexican peasant Juan Diego saw a vision of a young woman on Dec. 9, 1531.

While he was on a hill in the desert near Mexico City, the woman told him to build a church on the exact spot where they were standing. When he told the local bishop, Diego was asked for proof, and the lady told him, “Bring the roses behind you.” When he turned around, he saw roses growing, which he cut and placed in his poncho. He returned to the bishop, noting he brought proof. Upon opening his poncho, instead of roses there was a picture of the young lady in the vision.

Consequently, sumptuous roses encircle the Virgin in Dali’s masterpiece. Dali continued that beauty with stunning red and green gems that form a crown upon the head of the Virgin – here modeled by Gala Dali – against a backdrop of rivulets of a sun flower – all evoking a sense of order, perfection and beauty.

Dali quoted the image of the Virgin holding the Christ child unabashedly from Raphael’s “Sistine Madonna” of 1514. Dali venerated the Renaissance masters, always nodding especially to Raphael as one of his major inspirations.

Some may question the choice of Gala in the role of the Virgin (while the child is an exact copy of Raphael’s). I say, Why not? Dali has taken Raphael’s iconic image and made it his own. He showed respect and extreme admiration for his wife by according her the honor of being the model for the Madonna figure here. What’s more, Salvador Dali was in a class by himself, in part because he moved in unexpected creative directions. His unpredictability was part of what made him great.

A great bonus of sorts in “The Virgin of Guadalupe” is his expression of what was known as “Dalinian Continuity” – an intentional linking of his paintings by carrying over certain elements from one picture to another.

For example, take a look at the two kneeling, prayerful Apostle figures. Look familiar? They’re plucked right out of Dali’s 1955 masterpiece, “The Sacrament of the Last Supper.” Now check out the jasmine flower in the vase at the bottom, to which billowing clouds serve as a backdrop. That same detail – the flower and the clouds – are seen in Dali’s monumental 1957 painting, “Santiago El Grande.”

Art professor Dr. Elliott King poses with the spectacular “Virgin of Guadalupe.”

The perfection inherent in “The Virgin of Guadalupe” leaves us appreciating the genius of Salvador Dali, who was every bit a painter of beauty as well as the standard bearer of Surrealism and its more bizarre imagery.

Dali’s ‘Metamorphosis of Narcissus’ is Magical!

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

If I were to list what I believe are the 10 best oil paintings by Salvador Dali, “Metamorphosis of Narcissus” would be near the top. This picture, which Dali took with him when he had his one and only – and legendary – meeting with Surrealism’s patron saint, Sigmund Freud, features the absolute best of Dali’s fertile imagination, unique vision, and striking technique.

Critics like to state that the 1930s was Dali’s most innovative decade; if true, this 1937 canvas certainly validates their claim.

You can take any aspect of painting in general and Surrealism in particular and see that “Metamorphosis” is a textbook example of how to perform magic with a paint brush.

That Dali was a superb colorist is exemplified in this relatively small canvas, which hangs in the Tate Modern in London, and which I finally saw in person when it was on loan for a time at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. What a gem of a work! It has that exquisite, jewel-like quality, owing to its spectacular colors, its luminescence, and the stunning detail Dali was so famous for.

The creative Catalan master had a lifelong fascination with mythology, so the story of Narcissus was a natural subject for the 33-year-old. Narcissus, of course, had so fallen in love with his own reflection that he fell into the water and drown – ultimately appearing as a flower that bears his name.

Ingeniously, Dali employed a startlingly clever example of double-imagery in depicting Narcissus’s transformation. At left we see him in a kneeling position (his head looking a bit like a walnut), his long hair flowing behind. Then, at right, the same contours of Narcissus magically morph into a hand holding an egg, from which the flower is born. The ants crawling on the hand symbolize death and decay, but new life ultimately emerges from the cracked shell. A hint of the hand holding the egg is repeated over the mountain range in the far right distance.

The Master

What makes Dali so intriguing, whether it be Dali paintings, Dali prints, Dali sculpture or other mediums, is how he always put a distinctive twist on whatever it was he was creating. And he brought an incredible capacity to see the way “mere mortals” could not! How did he manage to envision the figure of a kneeling Narcissus as simultaneously a human hand holding an egg? This was the magic and the genius of the man.

Dali created a literary echo of “Metamorphosis of Narcissus” in a poem of the same name, published in a paperback book that today is considered a scarce volume.

Salvador surely must have felt a special affinity for this dazzling work, since he toted it with him when he had his famous meeting with Sigmund Freud in London. If ever there were a Dali work to show off his talent, “Metamorphosis of Narcissus” was the one. Like most any painting, it can only truly be appreciated when seen in the flesh; that’s when it truly becomes magical.

‘Meditative Rose’ Demonstrates Dali’s Beautiful Side!

By Paul Chimera

Dali Writer/Historian

My blog posts generally run about 500 words. But I think I could get away with a single word about Dali’s 1958 painting, “Meditative Rose”: Gorgeous!

This canvas puts to rest any notion that Dali was solely about the bizarre, the narcissistic, the twisted, the way, way out there! Not at all. Not by a long shot. Fact is, Salvador Dali created some of the loveliest paintings of the 20^th century (I’ll talk about more in future posts).

“Meditative Rose” is one of them.

What would have motivated the 54-year-old artist to paint a picture like this? One explanation is that Salvador Dali the man was not merely about exploring Freudian dream symbolism and the world of the subconscious. Dali had a very human side. A caring and sensitive side. He was not afraid to tap into his “feminine” side.

Indeed, there are countless works by Dali – not just paintings, but Dali prints, Dali watercolors, Dali drawings – whose predominant message is their sheer beauty. No hidden meanings, no hidden images. Just lovely subjects, beautifully painted. One great example would be his baskets of bread, such as the one shown here from 1945.

In “Meditative Rose,” Dali chose to put the stunning flower – a classic symbol of beauty and romantic desire – at the center of his canvas, floating like an angel above two lovers dwarfed by the massive flower, and whose love is symbolized by the rose, along with the fiery passion of its deep crimson hues.

The wide-open, expansive Spanish landscape may represent the future for this loving couple – uncharted, virgin territory that’s theirs to discover as a couple in love.

I know many college professors and others who have a reproduction of “Meditative Rose” hanging in their offices. Virtually all are women, attesting to how resonantly Dali spoke to the fairer sex with moving and beautiful pictures like this one.

Meanwhile, we can perhaps further answer the question of what was going through Dali’s creative mind at the time he painted this canvas by looking at what some other artists were doing at the time. In this case, it’s been suggested that Dali could have been partly inspired by another contemporary painter – the Belgian surrealist, Rene Magritte.

The specific reference would be to Magritte’s “The Castle of the Pyrenees” of 1959.

But wait! What came first — the Magritte or the Dali?

Dali’s work was painted in ’58 – a year before the Magritte work. Sure looks like the opposite was true: Magritte’s work may have been influenced by Dali’s “Rose”!

What we know for sure is that Dali’s ultra-tight technique allowed him to depict literally any imagery with photographic believability. Look, for example, at the precisely painted water droplet on the rose petal. And the texture of the landscape has a buttery quality – dreamy, if you will.

It’s the perfect setting for two lovers, alone in their thoughts – adding a kind of ethereal and slightly mysterious detail to this gorgeous Dali painting. For those who prefer tranquility and calm to flaming giraffes and deflated pocket watches, “Meditative Rose” is hand-picked just for you.