For the lucky Melburnians and visitors in town, the National Gallery of Victoria (NGV) for today only is showing Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire for 24 hours, from 10am till 10am tomorrow morning. It’s the last day today to see it! Isn’t that brilliant? Sure, they’re probably just trying to squeeze in last minute cash, but I’m sure they’ll be successful tonight. I for one love the idea of popping by at 3 in the morning; if only I felt safe enough to do so. I visited twice on two Art After Dark Wednesdays (poor student that I am). I stayed five hours on the latter Wednesday, not really because it was that “omg awesome!”, but I was frantically jotting down hundreds of notes for my essay, which I’ve published below. The exhibition just bursts with so much detail and diversity; 300,000 people have attended already, but it begs the question—what makes Dalí so popular, given his eccentric, exuberant life and career?
“GO BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION” urges the bold slogan for Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire, the blockbuster exhibition currently showing at NGV International, as part of Melbourne’s Winter Masterpieces series. Indeed the exhibition encourages us to forsake our preconceived and perhaps misinformed notions of Salvador Dalí’s (1904–89) life and art, and look beyond his “melting clocks”, in reference to The Persistence of Memory (1931), the Surrealist painting for which he is arguably most recognised. In fact, Dalí’s contribution to Surrealism encompasses only a small part of his career. Liquid Desire invites us to explore the full scope of his illustrious and fascinating career, including not just his work in painting, but also prints, drawings, objects, film, photography, literature, design, his epic romance with his wife, Gala, and his colourful life as a celebrity. The exhibition is a pivotal achievement in Dalí’s recognition as a great 20th century artist, as it is the first and largest comprehensive retrospective to be held in Australia, conceived and developed over seven years by a team of five curators. It comprises over 200 displayed works, most of which are on loan from the two largest collections of Dalí in the world: Fundacio Gala-Salvador Dalí in Spain and the Salvador Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. The exhibition methodically charts Dalí’s career in chronological sections, with understated design but always providing entertaining insights into the curious character himself.
One of the strongest messages coming through Liquid Desire is the breakdown of preconceptions that Dalí is limited to just the small window of Surrealist works of the 1930s that is familiar to everyone. Do not expect to see The Persistence of Memory in this collection. “If you think you know Dalí’s work, think again,” boasts NGV Director Gerard Vaughn. The extensive diversity of works on display is certainly testament to that statement. It is indeed refreshing to learn about the inner workings of a Spanish artist other than Picasso or Magritte. NGV Curator Ted Gott vehemently proposed to the lenders about a “complete retrospective, as comprehensive as possible, not just privileging the famous paintings.” Dalí did not limit himself to any one medium. The layout of the exhibition highlights this notion, starting with “Teenage Dalí” which emphasises Dalí’s exceptional Impressionist work, hinting at the genius that is to come, followed by his experimentation and absorption of Cubism, Abstraction, Neo-Classicism, New Objectivity during his student years, and his contribution to the Surrealist movement in Paris in the 1930s. His work becomes ever diverse once he relocates to America during the Second World War, where he dabbled in virtually every creative medium possible. In this respect, he was very much like the Old Masters for whom he held such high regard. This fondness for the Renaissance influence is very much alive in all his works. Like Da Vinci before him, many of Dalí’s ideas were far ahead of his time, such as his elaborate set designs for renowned film directors, Fritz Lang and Walt Disney; unfortunately they often could not come to fruition due to technology constraints. 2003 saw the completion of Dalí’s and Disney’s Destino, a remarkable and exquisite feat that remains faithful to the original creators’ intentions. We can only wistfully imagine where Dalí might have taken animation or photography, given his experiments all predating digital technology. Insights like these give us a glimpse into Dalí’s immense versatility across all creative media.
While Liquid Desire marks the first Dalí retrospective in the country, there is a nostalgia for Dalí’s Australian presence in the past, as Memory of the child-woman (1932) was the first and only work by Dalí to be shown at the Herald and Weekly Times 1939 Exhibition of French and British Contemporary Art, and again briefly at the NGV in 1943. Dalí’s painting met controversy among bewildered audiences (many of whom had never seen Surrealist art before), with its blatant Freudian readings of solitary nightmares. It received scathing reviews from notable figures of the Australian art establishment who thought it overtly sexual and masochistic. They rigorously denounced both Freud and Dalí alike. Regardless, the painting’s notoriety only heightened its popularity among the public. It created a new dialogue with Australia and the Australian literary, music and art world. It is curious to note the reception of its now third viewing of the painting today to that of 70 years ago, and to recognise its power to provoke and intrigue, even in 2009. Moreover, it is a poignant moment to realise the direct relevance that Dalí had to Australian art history.
Given the enduring allure of the Dalí name worldwide, there comes a responsibility in truthful representation and preservation of the artist’s intentions. However, when it comes to Dalí, trying to deal with his character is a tenuous issue; given that his persona is so encompassing, trying to find the truth behind it is impossible. Liquid Desire does not follow the thematic approach; rather, it adheres to a strict chronology, but it works naturally. Gott’s vision of the exhibition was “not over the top and surreal with melting walls and weird things”. Overall the exhibition is laid out as a classical Old Master exhibition. The walls are sparsely coloured in neutral hues, letting the artwork speak for themselves. There is a sense of order in amongst the diverse subject matter; however, when it comes to chronicling Dalí, there is a delicious twist. We may start out with the teenage impressionist and finish with an aging Renaissance artist fascinated by atomic theory and optics. That is the strangeness of Dalí. Thematic structuring of his artwork is unnecessary, given that his chronology is itself so bizarre and fascinating. Moreover, exhibition routes cannot be defined for each individual. Newcomers to Dalí may welcome the sequential order, but “wall jumpers” may choose to explore at random, creating a discord to navigate through. They may defy the stifling procession that comes with huge crowd numbers hovering over the same artwork in the same order. Perhaps Dalí himself would have preferred it this way in the Surrealist spirit. He describes his ideal museum space as a “labyrinth, a great surrealist object”. People will leave with the sensation of having had a “theatrical dream”. Certainly we all have some sort of fantastical experience, perhaps a desire to paint our own dreams, in the gallery space.
Despite the seriousness in its representation of Dalí as an Old Master, the exhibition is not without its “weird” aspects. Just as Dalí had no shame in taking his brand of surrealism to the masses (particularly in America, Dalí’s land of opportunity), Gott has no qualms about bringing the camp side of Dalí to the surface in Liquid Desire, merging Dalí’s profound, avant-garde works of his younger years and his later intrigue over science and religion with his self-promotional dalliances in American popular culture. Television ads, interviews and fashion parades reveal Dalí as an eccentric but cultivated showman (“I am mad” he ambiguously states in one instance); his infamous and trademark moustache is boldly displayed and distorted in his collaborated works with photographer, Phillipe Halsman. He designed ads for Bryans Hosiery, an ashtray for Air India and even a shoe-hat. He could call big names like Harpo Marx, Andy Warhol, Coco Chanel, Alfred Hitchcock and Alice Cooper his friends and collaborators. Even his long passionate union with his older wife, muse and manager, Gala, provoked delight and scandal amongst contemporary audiences. Curiously, Dalí’s work often depicts her as a saint, a goddess demanding great reverence, yet Gala herself appears an elusive figure in real life, only adding to Dalí’s appeal. It shocked and outraged the American high art establishment (in an assent towards Abstract Expressionism, a movement Dalí found akin to “indigestion”), but we may read this now as a mischievous artist trying to break down the snobbery associated with all so-called high and low culture. Perhaps Dalí did trivialise his talents as an artist, but his Renaissance idealisation of craftsmanship and design marries seamlessly with the supposedly common material and subject, transcending his work into something else entirely. Dalí embodies this quintessential mix of contradiction and embellishment, making him all the more peculiar and entertaining. The exhibition is mindful of his reputation and lustre as a cultural icon by giving us a complete overview, letting us form our own bias. Today we can gleefully chortle at this romantic, bohemian life so foreign to our own.
Additionally, eccentric Dalínian motifs appear throughout the exhibition space in both subtle and explicit formations. For instance, even before entering the exhibition we first encounter Dalí’s character signature recreated as a bright neon sign—the quirky, scripted penmanship briefly hints at what we can expect from the flamboyant showman. Large sticker prints of ants periodically scour the walls and floors, acting as guides or curious diversions for the visitor. The ants clearly refer to Dalí’s obsession with their associations to decay and destruction, manifested in such featured works as Un chien andalou (1929) or Soft self-portrait with grilled bacon (1941). A silhouetted rhinoceros plaque also periodically marks works of interest, with brief descriptions that simplify the works’ complexities and questions aimed at engaging younger audiences. For example, “Do you sometimes like to be different from other people?” in reference to The Sick Child—Self Portrait (c.1921) which seems to undermine the deeper themes Dalí intended to portray, but nonetheless it creates an open dialogue with children. Curiously, one wonders how children react when bombarded by such a kaleidoscope of mature and bizarre work. The rhino motif must seem less intimidating to a child than other Surrealist imagery, and no doubt alludes to Dalí and the rhinoceros (1956) and Dalí’s fascination with the mathematical perfection of the animal’s horn.
Furthermore, certain sections of the exhibition are displayed in tactile and multimedia environments that both accentuate the themes represented, and interact with the visitor on different levels. Upon entering the exhibition we are led to a three panel video installation of Dalí’s native Catalonia in Spain. The installation makes a strong connection between Dalí’s artistic imagination and the ruggedly romantic landscapes of the vast wind-swept plains of the Ampurdán and the rocky “otherworld” of the Cap de Creus. We feel a sense of its tranquillity and lushness through the ambient surround sound, and moody lighting. One engages with the singular and focused dialogue of communion with the aboriginal terrain; this holds extra resonance to Australian audiences with our own keen sense of the importance of land and the psyche of both our indigenous peoples and our pioneering ancestors. Though there are no signs of his Surrealist vision just yet, we are teased into stripping back and discovering Dalí’s origins. Likewise the walls in the “Renaissance” section are furnished with a sumptuous pattern of alternating black stripes in a perfectly tempered mood. The featured works, predominantly of Dalí’s black and white ink illustrations of The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini (a polymath of the High Renaissance) are imbued with a glowing effect in stark contrast to the dark background. Central to this arena is a majestic flower arrangement, characterising Dalí’s reverence for the Renaissance’s renewed desire to depict the beauty of nature and symmetry. Similarly, surface textures are effectively utilised in “Jewels” in which the room is upholstered in cushioned red velvet panels, like a precious jewellery box. The jewelled objects are held in black velvet-lined glass-fronted lock safes recessed into the walls. This sensibility to rich, sensuous texture and the opulent hedonism of jewellery makes the experience a welcome change when aligned to Dalí’s darker and absurd works. Tactile texture also appears in the cinema showing Un chien andalou. The walls are lined with thick black fur, which is a Dalí reference. Gott explains: “In the early 1930s Dalí fantasised that he would create dog fur lined living rooms for his patron Edward James so that is why the cinema is fur lined.” In-jokes like these enrich visitors with prior knowledge of the artist, so even people familiar with Dalí can still be pleasantly surprised. We can never know what to expect next.
Aside from the exhibition, the visitor can enjoy a number of related activities and programs designed to enrich the Dalí experience. Free guided tours operate daily, symposiums and introductory talks are held discussing aspects of Dalí’s career and life; classes and workshops provide in-depth views into Dalí’s philosophies, interests and practice for kids, students and adults alike. Attend movie screenings, experience a taste of the Catalan medieval past beloved by Dalí with a performance by the Early Music Consort of Melbourne, or imagine yourself in Dalí’s world of decadent parties in New York, and dance to the sounds of the roaring 20s with the Cairo Club Orchestra. The multitude of lively and popular events seems to suggest the NGV’s intention to further break down the distinction between high culture and low culture, of viewing the artwork in a traditional setting, and experiencing the artist via other outlets. While they are not quite the “real thing”, these events allow us to briefly enter the world that Dalí inhabited, and we are able to appreciate him that much more.
Despite Dalí’s position at the forefront of so many of the 20th century’s artistic, political and social events and developments, there are few serious appraisals of his life and times. Liquid Desire attempts to rectify this problem by presenting a kaleidoscopic and panoramic celebration of both the extraordinary works and life of an extraordinary character. The exhibition proudly affords him a place in shaping the assent of contemporary art. Notwithstanding his crazy antics and his commercial work, Dalí’s work reveals intelligent engagement with contemporary science and art movements. As we read more about Dalí, the mask of the jokester and the typecasting of him dissolve and we realise the incredible breadth of the man. Just as Dalí constantly disturbed the equilibrium of social and cultural norms, the exhibition alters our initial opinions about his character and work. Multiple viewings of Dalí’s sheer abundance may unveil just why he remains such an intriguing and multi-faceted enigma. Perhaps we cannot see further into Dalí’s character than what is on the surface, but as Gott argues, “What’s wrong with the enjoyment of the artifice itself? He devoted his whole life to it. Let’s enjoy it and thank him for it.”
Selected Bibliography
Frey, Bertron Schwartz. Designing Exhibitions – A Compendium for Architects, Designers and Museum Professionals. Basel: Birkhauser – Publishers for Architecture, 2006.
Gott, Ted, Montse Aguer Teixidor, Joan Kropf, Laurie Benson and Sophie Matthiesson. Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire. Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria, 2009. Published in conjunction with the exhibition: “Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire” shown at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, Victoria 13 June to 4 October, 2009.
Henning, Michelle. Museums, Media and Cultural Theory. Maidenhead: Open University Press, 2006.
Hooper-Greenhill, Eilean. Museums and their Visitors. London: Routledge, 1994.
Kachur, Lewis. Displaying the Marvelous – Marcel Duchamp, Salvador Dali, and Surrealist Exhibition Installations. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2001.
Newhouse, Victoria. Art and the Power of Placement. New York: Monacelli Press, Inc., 2005.
Putnam, James. Art and Artifact – The Museum as Medium. London: Thames & Hudson, 2001
Weisberg, Shelley K. Museum Movement Techniques – How to Craft a Moving Museum Experience. New York: AltaMira Press, 2006.
Electronic Sources
Featured Dali paintings from The Age
Anderson, Gary. ‘Dr Ted Gott and Salvador Dali,’ ArtsHub: http://www.artshub.com.au.ezproxy.lib.monash.edu.au/au/newsPrint.asp?sId=178962 [accessed: 26/8/09]
Anderson, Gary. ‘Dr Ted Gott and Salvador Dali Part II,’ ArtsHub: http://www.artshub.com.au.ezproxy.lib.monash.edu.au/au/newsPrint.asp?sId=179022 [accessed: 26/8/09]
Bunyan, Marcus. ‘Exhibition photographs: ‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire’ Melbourne Winter Masterpieces at the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne « Art Blart’: http://artblart.wordpress.com/2009/06/11/exhibition-salvador-dali-liquid-desire-melbourne-winter-masterpieces-at-the-national-gallery-of-victoria-melbourne [accessed: 21/8/09]
Edwards, David. ‘Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire – art preview from The Blurb’: http://www.theblurb.com.au/Issue102/Dali.htm [accessed: 19/8/09]
McLaren, Rebecca. ‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire – ABC Melbourne (Australian Broadcasting Corporation)’: http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2009/06/12/2597037.htm [accessed: 19/8/09]
National Gallery of Victoria. “Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire.” http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/dali [accessed: 19/8/09]
Nelson, Robert. ‘Salvador Dali exhibition Liquid Desire opens at NGV Melbourne’: http://www.theage.com.au/executive-style/culture/salvador-dali-rolls-into-town-20090612-c5ly.html?page=-1 [accessed: 21/8/09]
Thompson, Karen. ‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire’ @ NGV « Melbourne Jeweller’: http://melbournejeweller.wordpress.com/2009/06/22/salvador-dali-liquid-desire-ngv?[accessed: 21/8/09]
‘The Age – Salvador Dali – Liquid Desire’: http://www.theage.com.au/interactive/2009/national/dali [accessed: 21/8/09]
‘The Design Files: Salvador Dali : Liquid Desire exhibition at the NGV’: http://www.thedesignfiles.net/2009/07/salvador-dali-liquid-desire-exhibition.html [accessed: 21/8/09]
‘Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire’: http://www.theage.com.au/photogallery/entertainment/salvador-dali-liquid-desire/20090611-c4nt.html [accessed: 21/8/09]
“GO BEYOND YOUR IMAGINATION” urges the bold slogan for Salvador Dalí: Liquid Desire, the blockbuster exhibition currently showing at NGV International, as part of Melbourne’s Winter Masterpieces series. Indeed the exhibition encourages us to forsake our preconceived and perhaps misinformed notions of Salvador Dalí’s (1904–89) life and art, and look beyond his “melting clocks”, in reference to The Persistence of Memory (1931), the Surrealist painting for which he is arguably most recognised. In fact, Dalí’s contribution to Surrealism encompasses only a small part of his career. Liquid Desire invites us to explore the full scope of his illustrious and fascinating career, including not just his work in painting, but also prints, drawings, objects, film, photography, literature, design, his epic romance with his wife, Gala, and his colourful life as a celebrity. The exhibition is a pivotal achievement in Dalí’s recognition as a great 20th century artist, as it is the first and largest comprehensive retrospective to be held in Australia, conceived and developed over seven years by a team of five curators. It comprises over 200 displayed works, most of which are on loan from the two largest collections of Dalí in the world: Fundacio Gala-Salvador Dalí in Spain and the Salvador Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. The exhibition methodically charts Dalí’s career in chronological sections, with understated design but always providing entertaining insights into the curious character himself.
One of the strongest messages coming through Liquid Desire is the breakdown of preconceptions that Dalí is limited to just the small window of Surrealist works of the 1930s that is familiar to everyone. Do not expect to see The Persistence of Memory in this collection. “If you think you know Dalí’s work, think again,” boasts NGV Director Gerard Vaughn. The extensive diversity of works on display is certainly testament to that statement. It is indeed refreshing to learn about the inner workings of a Spanish artist other than Picasso or Magritte. NGV Curator Ted Gott vehemently proposed to the lenders about a “complete retrospective, as comprehensive as possible, not just privileging the famous paintings.” Dalí did not limit himself to any one medium. The layout of the exhibition highlights this notion, starting with “Teenage Dalí” which emphasises Dalí’s exceptional Impressionist work, hinting at the genius that is to come, followed by his experimentation and absorption of Cubism, Abstraction, Neo-Classicism, New Objectivity during his student years, and his contribution to the Surrealist movement in Paris in the 1930s. His work becomes ever diverse once he relocates to America during the Second World War, where he dabbled in virtually every creative medium possible. In this respect, he was very much like the Old Masters for whom he held such high regard. This fondness for the Renaissance influence is very much alive in all his works. Like Da Vinci before him, many of Dalí’s ideas were far ahead of his time, such as his elaborate set designs for renowned film directors, Fritz Lang and Walt Disney; unfortunately they often could not come to fruition due to technology constraints. 2003 saw the completion of Dalí’s and Disney’s Destino, a remarkable and exquisite feat that remains faithful to the original creators’ intentions. We can only wistfully imagine where Dalí might have taken animation or photography, given his experiments all predating digital technology. Insights like these give us a glimpse into Dalí’s immense versatility across all creative media.
While Liquid Desire marks the first Dalí retrospective in the country, there is a nostalgia for Dalí’s Australian presence in the past, as Memory of the child-woman (1932) was the first and only work by Dalí to be shown at the Herald and Weekly Times 1939 Exhibition of French and British Contemporary Art, and again briefly at the NGV in 1943. Dalí’s painting met controversy among bewildered audiences (many of whom had never seen Surrealist art before), with its blatant Freudian readings of solitary nightmares. It received scathing reviews from notable figures of the Australian art establishment who thought it overtly sexual and masochistic. They rigorously denounced both Freud and Dalí alike. Regardless, the painting’s notoriety only heightened its popularity among the public. It created a new dialogue with Australia and the Australian literary, music and art world. It is curious to note the reception of its now third viewing of the painting today to that of 70 years ago, and to recognise its power to provoke and intrigue, even in 2009. Moreover, it is a poignant moment to realise the direct relevance that Dalí had to Australian art history.
Given the enduring allure of the Dalí name worldwide, there comes a responsibility in truthful representation and preservation of the artist’s intentions. However, when it comes to Dalí, trying to deal with his character is a tenuous issue; given that his persona is so encompassing, trying to find the truth behind it is impossible. Liquid Desire does not follow the thematic approach; rather, it adheres to a strict chronology, but it works naturally. Gott’s vision of the exhibition was “not over the top and surreal with melting walls and weird things”. Overall the exhibition is laid out as a classical Old Master exhibition. The walls are sparsely coloured in neutral hues, letting the artwork speak for themselves. There is a sense of order in amongst the diverse subject matter; however, when it comes to chronicling Dalí, there is a delicious twist. We may start out with the teenage impressionist and finish with an aging Renaissance artist fascinated by atomic theory and optics. That is the strangeness of Dalí. Thematic structuring of his artwork is unnecessary, given that his chronology is itself so bizarre and fascinating. Moreover, exhibition routes cannot be defined for each individual. Newcomers to Dalí may welcome the sequential order, but “wall jumpers” may choose to explore at random, creating a discord to navigate through. They may defy the stifling procession that comes with huge crowd numbers hovering over the same artwork in the same order. Perhaps Dalí himself would have preferred it this way in the Surrealist spirit. He describes his ideal museum space as a “labyrinth, a great surrealist object”. People will leave with the sensation of having had a “theatrical dream”. Certainly we all have some sort of fantastical experience, perhaps a desire to paint our own dreams, in the gallery space.
Despite the seriousness in its representation of Dalí as an Old Master, the exhibition is not without its “weird” aspects. Just as Dalí had no shame in taking his brand of surrealism to the masses (particularly in America, Dalí’s land of opportunity), Gott has no qualms about bringing the camp side of Dalí to the surface in Liquid Desire, merging Dalí’s profound, avant-garde works of his younger years and his later intrigue over science and religion with his self-promotional dalliances in American popular culture. Television ads, interviews and fashion parades reveal Dalí as an eccentric but cultivated showman (“I am mad” he ambiguously states in one instance); his infamous and trademark moustache is boldly displayed and distorted in his collaborated works with photographer, Phillipe Halsman. He designed ads for Bryans Hosiery, an ashtray for Air India and even a shoe-hat. He could call big names like Harpo Marx, Andy Warhol, Coco Chanel, Alfred Hitchcock and Alice Cooper his friends and collaborators. Even his long passionate union with his older wife, muse and manager, Gala, provoked delight and scandal amongst contemporary audiences. Curiously, Dalí’s work often depicts her as a saint, a goddess demanding great reverence, yet Gala herself appears an elusive figure in real life, only adding to Dalí’s appeal. It shocked and outraged the American high art establishment (in an assent towards Abstract Expressionism, a movement Dalí found akin to “indigestion”), but we may read this now as a mischievous artist trying to break down the snobbery associated with all so-called high and low culture. Perhaps Dalí did trivialise his talents as an artist, but his Renaissance idealisation of craftsmanship and design marries seamlessly with the supposedly common material and subject, transcending his work into something else entirely. Dalí embodies this quintessential mix of contradiction and embellishment, making him all the more peculiar and entertaining. The exhibition is mindful of his reputation and lustre as a cultural icon by giving us a complete overview, letting us form our own bias. Today we can gleefully chortle at this romantic, bohemian life so foreign to our own.
Additionally, eccentric Dalínian motifs appear throughout the exhibition space in both subtle and explicit formations. For instance, even before entering the exhibition we first encounter Dalí’s character signature recreated as a bright neon sign—the quirky, scripted penmanship briefly hints at what we can expect from the flamboyant showman. Large sticker prints of ants periodically scour the walls and floors, acting as guides or curious diversions for the visitor. The ants clearly refer to Dalí’s obsession with their associations to decay and destruction, manifested in such featured works as Un chien andalou (1929) or Soft self-portrait with grilled bacon (1941). A silhouetted rhinoceros plaque also periodically marks works of interest, with brief descriptions that simplify the works’ complexities and questions aimed at engaging younger audiences. For example, “Do you sometimes like to be different from other people?” in reference to The Sick Child—Self Portrait (c.1921) which seems to undermine the deeper themes Dalí intended to portray, but nonetheless it creates an open dialogue with children. Curiously, one wonders how children react when bombarded by such a kaleidoscope of mature and bizarre work. The rhino motif must seem less intimidating to a child than other Surrealist imagery, and no doubt alludes to Dalí and the rhinoceros (1956) and Dalí’s fascination with the mathematical perfection of the animal’s horn.
Furthermore, certain sections of the exhibition are displayed in tactile and multimedia environments that both accentuate the themes represented, and interact with the visitor on different levels. Upon entering the exhibition we are led to a three panel video installation of Dalí’s native Catalonia in Spain. The installation makes a strong connection between Dalí’s artistic imagination and the ruggedly romantic landscapes of the vast wind-swept plains of the Ampurdán and the rocky “otherworld” of the Cap de Creus. We feel a sense of its tranquillity and lushness through the ambient surround sound, and moody lighting. One engages with the singular and focused dialogue of communion with the aboriginal terrain; this holds extra resonance to Australian audiences with our own keen sense of the importance of land and the psyche of both our indigenous peoples and our pioneering ancestors. Though there are no signs of his Surrealist vision just yet, we are teased into stripping back and discovering Dalí’s origins. Likewise the walls in the “Renaissance” section are furnished with a sumptuous pattern of alternating black stripes in a perfectly tempered mood. The featured works, predominantly of Dalí’s black and white ink illustrations of The Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini (a polymath of the High Renaissance) are imbued with a glowing effect in stark contrast to the dark background. Central to this arena is a majestic flower arrangement, characterising Dalí’s reverence for the Renaissance’s renewed desire to depict the beauty of nature and symmetry. Similarly, surface textures are effectively utilised in “Jewels” in which the room is upholstered in cushioned red velvet panels, like a precious jewellery box. The jewelled objects are held in black velvet-lined glass-fronted lock safes recessed into the walls. This sensibility to rich, sensuous texture and the opulent hedonism of jewellery makes the experience a welcome change when aligned to Dalí’s darker and absurd works. Tactile texture also appears in the cinema showing Un chien andalou. The walls are lined with thick black fur, which is a Dalí reference. Gott explains: “In the early 1930s Dalí fantasised that he would create dog fur lined living rooms for his patron Edward James so that is why the cinema is fur lined.” In-jokes like these enrich visitors with prior knowledge of the artist, so even people familiar with Dalí can still be pleasantly surprised. We can never know what to expect next.
Aside from the exhibition, the visitor can enjoy a number of related activities and programs designed to enrich the Dalí experience. Free guided tours operate daily, symposiums and introductory talks are held discussing aspects of Dalí’s career and life; classes and workshops provide in-depth views into Dalí’s philosophies, interests and practice for kids, students and adults alike. Attend movie screenings, experience a taste of the Catalan medieval past beloved by Dalí with a performance by the Early Music Consort of Melbourne, or imagine yourself in Dalí’s world of decadent parties in New York, and dance to the sounds of the roaring 20s with the Cairo Club Orchestra. The multitude of lively and popular events seems to suggest the NGV’s intention to further break down the distinction between high culture and low culture, of viewing the artwork in a traditional setting, and experiencing the artist via other outlets. While they are not quite the “real thing”, these events allow us to briefly enter the world that Dalí inhabited, and we are able to appreciate him that much more.
Despite Dalí’s position at the forefront of so many of the 20th century’s artistic, political and social events and developments, there are few serious appraisals of his life and times. Liquid Desire attempts to rectify this problem by presenting a kaleidoscopic and panoramic celebration of both the extraordinary works and life of an extraordinary character. The exhibition proudly affords him a place in shaping the assent of contemporary art. Notwithstanding his crazy antics and his commercial work, Dalí’s work reveals intelligent engagement with contemporary science and art movements. As we read more about Dalí, the mask of the jokester and the typecasting of him dissolve and we realise the incredible breadth of the man. Just as Dalí constantly disturbed the equilibrium of social and cultural norms, the exhibition alters our initial opinions about his character and work. Multiple viewings of Dalí’s sheer abundance may unveil just why he remains such an intriguing and multi-faceted enigma. Perhaps we cannot see further into Dalí’s character than what is on the surface, but as Gott argues, “What’s wrong with the enjoyment of the artifice itself? He devoted his whole life to it. Let’s enjoy it and thank him for it.”
Selected Bibliography
Frey, Bertron Schwartz. Designing Exhibitions – A Compendium for Architects, Designers and Museum Professionals. Basel: Birkhauser – Publishers for Architecture, 2006.
Gott, Ted, Montse Aguer Teixidor, Joan Kropf, Laurie Benson and Sophie Matthiesson. Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire. Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria, 2009. Published in conjunction with the exhibition: “Salvador Dali: Liquid Desire” shown at the National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, Victoria 13 June to 4 October, 2009.
Henning, Michelle. Museums, Media and Cultural Theory. Maidenhead: Open University Press, 2006.
Hooper-Greenhill, Eilean. Museums and their Visitors. London: Routledge, 1994.
Kachur, Lewis. Displaying the Marvelous – Marcel Duchamp, Salvador Dali, and Surrealist Exhibition Installations. Cambridge: MIT Press, 2001.
Newhouse, Victoria. Art and the Power of Placement. New York: Monacelli Press, Inc., 2005.
Putnam, James. Art and Artifact – The Museum as Medium. London: Thames & Hudson, 2001
Weisberg, Shelley K. Museum Movement Techniques – How to Craft a Moving Museum Experience. New York: AltaMira Press, 2006.
Electronic Sources
Featured Dali paintings from The Age
Anderson, Gary. ‘Dr Ted Gott and Salvador Dali,’ ArtsHub: http://www.artshub.com.au.ezproxy.lib.monash.edu.au/au/newsPrint.asp?sId=178962 [accessed: 26/8/09]
Anderson, Gary. ‘Dr Ted Gott and Salvador Dali Part II,’ ArtsHub: http://www.artshub.com.au.ezproxy.lib.monash.edu.au/au/newsPrint.asp?sId=179022 [accessed: 26/8/09]
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