Maggie, my friend and bridge partner, came down from Rochester for a visit so that we could play some bridge in a tournament in Sarasota and do some exploring. After a somewhat frustrating morning session, we decided to take the afternoon off and head up to The Dali Museum. Both of us had been to the Museum before but felt that the collection was worth a second look.
The first thing we discovered upon our arrival was a cool "Avant-Garden" area that I missed entirely on my first visit. Maggie was a cooperative visitor, posing with a sculpture of Dali's signature moustache and other displays in the garden. Then we were off into the Museum proper.
We opted for a docent-led tour and it made the experience wholly different from my first visit when Louise and I wandered through on our own. Docent wannabes study for six months and have to pass four tests before they graduate to interacting with the public, so you can imagine how extensive their knowledge is. We learned that Dali's inclusion of grasshoppers in many of his paintings is a reference to when he was bullied as a child, with grasshoppers being put down his shirt and squished. (Yuck!!! That's enough to make anyone a bit twisted!) We also learned that his wife, Gala, was a cougar both before and after their marriage, prowling for young men to provide some excitement. Gala's prey included Manolete, a young Spanish matador who is featured in "Hallucinogenic Toreador."
Frank, our docent, covered approximately 30 paintings during our one hour tour so we just got snippets of information about most of the works. He spent a good bit of time, though, on three of Dali's 17 "masterworks" that are on display. (In order to be considered a "masterwork," the painting has to measure at least five feet in each direction and have been worked on for over a year.) After hearing about Gala's dislike of bullfighting (if not the bullfighters!) and how how the colors of the painting are references to the Spanish flag, our guide pointed out the dying bull and the matador that are hidden in the painting. I could see the bull immediately, but the matador eluded me. (When Dali was creating the painting, it was on display in a gallery in New York with an illustration called "How to See the Toreador" that matted out the irrelevant areas. That would have been of great help because telling me that the green cape is his tie; the breast of the Venus de Milo is his nose; etc., etc. just wasn't getting me there.) I eventually gave up and decided to leave it for another day. We were lingering by the painting when a security guard approached us and asked if we could see the matador. I confessed that I couldn't, and he made it his mission to help me see the hidden figure. As we tried from different angles, I was getting a bit embarrassed and contemplating saying I could see it so that I could make my escape when the toreador suddenly became visible. A loud "aha!" escaped from my lips. Victory!!!
Postscript: If you're interested in reading about my first visit to the Dali, just click on the "Art" heading of this blog and scroll down to the post from February 13, 2011. As you'll see, it was like I visited a totally different museum!
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