My Recent Brush With Art

Last night I read my big picture book that contains photos and a biography about Salvador Dali. I've had the book about four years but am just now discovering that Senor Dali was a fascinating, twisted, narcissistic, paranoid, idiosyncratic person (I might argue if I need to that these words aren't labels; they're mere "descriptions"). One might guess about all those things after taking in his artwork, but, prior to my purchase of said book, I had only seen the more tame pieces of work he has created and had only a superficial admiration of the artwork itself, without giving much thought at all about the artist. He lived a parallel life with two of my grandparents, having been born just two years before they were. For some reason, I assumed he lived a lot longer ago than he did; he actually only died in 1989. If I would have had to guess, I probably would have had no idea, no frame of reference to his age or date of birth or date of death. Someone asked me recently if I am able to disassociate the artist from his work; specifically, he was referring to Michael Jackson, of whose music he is a fan, and I find it challenging to do that. I then thought of Salvador Dali, about whom I knew nothing, yet have admired his artwork for a long time. I guess the answer is that it depends on who the artist is. Of all the famous paintings I've seen by artists in general, I felt more connected with the surreal, serene, mysterious and cryptic scenes of Dali's paintings than with the landscapist floweresque wildlifery standards. According to the biographer, there is much anguish and madness beyond what appears on the surface. I suppose that's partly what makes it good (I ask myself: "If a person or object has much more to it than meets the eye, does that make it worthy?"). It's also pretty.