The only difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad. This phrase of Salvador Felipe Jacinto Dali y Domenech defines the main thing in his character and lifestyle.
His insanity turns out to be a divine gift that, under the right circumstances, turns into genius. (And aren’t those who think his madness a lucrative pose right?)
Because there is no dispute that Dali is not an ordinary person, but the most exotic person in art. He is the famous surrealist – the author of 1500 paintings, countless graphics, illustrations, sculptures, jewelry, theater and cinema sets, books and what not from the wide fields of the arts.
He was blessed with fortunate circumstances: he was born into a family of a prosperous notary, grew up as “father’s ankle”, learned to draw – that was what fascinated him, nothing else, despite his father’s opposition.
His gift won suitable friends, who introduced him to artistic circles, first in Spain, then in Paris; they also introduced him to celebrities, he also got a role model – Picasso; in short, it worked like clockwork for him – a rare thing for great artists.
Well, not quite…
Having lost his mother as a teenager, his father almost immediately married his brother’s widow (a stunning gesture!), left alone with his quirks and the book on women’s diseases recommended by his guardian, which he often opened, and subsequently developed a painful feeling to the opposite sex. (And overwhelming guilt for taking the place and name of his dead brother.)
He grew up with an unconscious fear of those “bewitching” contacts with women that turn every adolescent into a normal man, writes chetilishte.com.
Is it normal? Providence decided that Salvador would be far from all norms. What’s more: to destroy them himself. The alphabet of love for him turned out to be incredibly difficult to learn. Here’s why: one day — during a lecture — he noticed a beautiful girl watching him. He narrowed his devilish eyes at her and most unceremoniously took the hand of the stranger. It turned out: this is what she expected.
Without saying a word, he led her outside the city, to the hill with the exotic bushes. It wasn’t close and Salvador was in a hurry, they even ran. Sweat was running down their faces, but he was having fun racing with her. He laughed infectiously, making the girl laugh too. And not only did he make her laugh…
At the top, among the bushes, he hugged her and she kissed him. But, Lord, her tears, mixed with water from her nose, were running down his face! Her heated body gave off the smell of a sweaty animal. Long race horses smell like that. True, her maiden breasts resembled two white doves to him, ready to fly to his palms, but this did not happen – disgust possessed the young Dalí, and he could not help but show it.
“Of course,” sighed the girl, “we won’t see each other again.” “On the contrary,” answered Salvador. “We will see each other often… For five whole years.” Then it’s over.”
And he kept his word. They met, talked, sometimes she showed him the white pigeons, he played with them, but only that much, because he did not feel pleasure. His fate decided to keep him a virgin until he was fully matured.
Other girls shamelessly attacked the young artist, but he did not respond because he had no feelings for them. No attraction…
But as soon as he returned home, in his imagination he showered them with his own sweat… He felt satisfaction in his ingenuity: to express the usual attitude towards a woman with the means of expression of a man, without anyone knowing it.
He painted not only what he lacked, but also what he had in excess. In that early period he would be called “the great masturbator” not only because of the paintings of this subject. But the great masturbator met a woman who introduced him to the mystery of love, and then spread his fame as a great artist and noble lover. Here is their first meeting.
In August 1929, in the resort of Cadaques, where Dali’s family had a house and where he spent a lot of time, quite a few foreign artists were resting. Among them was the German artist Max Ernst, the famous representative of Dadaism in art, and the French poet Paul Eluard with his wife Gala Eluard.
They already knew something about the eccentric Dalí and were glad to have fun in his company. The most happy was Gala, who at that moment was experiencing a crisis of her feelings for her husband and lover – these two did not develop according to her ideas about true talents. In front of Dalí, she played the sketch “I have hidden ambitions”, bared her slim legs and promised him that they would discuss the impact of his famous painting “Dark Game” in private. He fell into ecstasy because he liked this woman, but his usual hysteria overcame him – he almost drove her away with his mad laughter.
Instead of feeling stunned, this time Dali felt liberated and pulled the wife of the French poet to him, so quickly everything happened between the two that even the walls of his home in the fishing part of the village were surprised.
Paul didn’t get angry with his partner, he didn’t even get sad – he knew that Salvador couldn’t love – he was asexual, he could only entertain. But this time he seems to have lied. The Catalan must have performed well on that first intimate evening, because Madame Eluard showed a lasting interest in the virgin.
It is known (there are many sources – both his autobiographies and the memories of his contemporaries) that Dali fell in love with Gala, which – in full accordance with its name – turned out to be a real holiday for him.
He wrote to his friend Federico García Lorca literally the following:
I love her more than my father, more than my mother, more than Picasso. And even from the money.
And everyone knew how much he loved money.
Dali fell in love with this French daughter-in-law, who was actually the Russian Elena Dyakonova. She was born and raised in Kazan. She treated her cough for several years in Switzerland, where she met the young poet Paul Eluard.
He wasn’t Paul Eluard yet, but his birth name was Eugene Grindel—a name that made no impression on anyone, least of all Gala, that is. rechristened Lena, and once—as you were chatting—it occurred to her to rechristen him as well.
If you’re French, she said, you should be called Paul, and for Paul the surname Eluard is appropriate. The poet Eugene Grindel instantly remembered that Eluar was a hereditary name on his mother’s side – she also turned out to be a clairvoyant! — and realized how out of place his nickname sounds.
He gifted his godmother with his gentlest caresses. She answered him appropriately. From Russia, she then wrote him hot love letters with openly erotic wishes.
We can imagine what kind of storm they caused in the head of the young poet, who in the meantime was sent to the front (the First World War was being fought), and he responded to it with gunpowder fervor and fiery thirst.
After his demobilization, Gala (or Elena, still in her homeland) under the pretext that she will study at the Sorbonne collected money, enough for the trip, and – right at Paul’s house.
Madame Grindel seemed to expect to meet Vasilisa the Beautiful herself, and when she saw her, she exclaimed: “My God, she looks like a mouse!”. But this did not dampen the mood of the fiancée at all – she fulfilled the well-prepared script and won the consent of the Grindel family.
Then she drove in her own style — boldly forward and mostly to the side. As soon as you liked a man, you immediately conquered him. However, she preferred the talented – they had money and fame.
For a while she thought that her Paul was one of them, willingly gave birth to a child for him, sweet Cecile, who was left to be raised by her grandparents – she did not care about children, then she decided that an artist like Max Ernst was not to be missed, nothing that he was married was no obstacle to her, but his calculatingness seemed to outweigh his gift, and her feelings faltered on this issue.
And that’s when she met Salvador Dali.
Gala had the ability to recognize the degree of talent in men, as a virtuoso geologist can detect in the deep layers of the earth rivers of oil. In this case it was much easier: his paintings spoke to her in their own language.
That thing about him that had repelled her when she first met him—his apparent madness—later attracted her more and more.
For example: without any fear, Gala provoked his desire to destroy her already on their first walk along the rocky seaside ridges, convinced that she would be able to replace his destructive passion with a lasting love attraction.
Unlike his other friends, she understood his psyche. And she began to manage it.
Gala also proved to be a useful judge for him – sometimes she suggested to him how appropriate it would be to deprive his next picture of those details that reveal certain authorial vices and repulse the more sophisticated audience. She had the gift of speech, she also possessed extraordinary insight – a true medium! — and she succeeded.
He already trusted her implicitly after that night when she revealed to him through the deck of cards his brilliant future, decorated with incredible successes, with fame unattainable by anyone else, with adoration from connoisseurs of art…
Gala knew how to recognize a real gift from a fake one. Paul knew that too. (It was she who turned the inconspicuous “poet” Eugène into the poet conqueror of France, Paul Eluard.) And in Dalí, she did not lie.
She never for a moment doubted his gift. She handed it to him right after they met, made him draw (one by one) everything they talked about. She was full of ideas, and so was he. And their ideas were related in a wonderful way. His — winged, hers with roots.
The two loved each other through rain and wind, but with real passion they sought his creative successes and big money. They knew their general weakness for Phoenician characters and showed ingenuity to win them over.
To satiate her drive, Gala found young talents – Dali did not pick on her. (Later, on the occasion of the intimate relationship of the aging Gala with the young opera singer Jeff Fenhold, Daly would declare to journalists that he did not mind Gala choosing her lovers, as long as she showed her refined taste… And he would add: “I even encourage—it turns me on.”)
Gala had her own principles, one of which was: satisfy your desires so as not to enslave them!
Gala strictly followed all her principles.
Thus, the years with her turned out to be the most fruitful for the artist Dali. Gala was still Paul’s wife, but she took full care of Salvador.
She encouraged him, admiring everything that came under his brush. Thus she nurtured his self-confidence as a great artist. She became his real manager.
When his father kicked him out of the house because of his relationship with this “Russian-French whore”, she convinced Viscount Charles de Noël to “support them” in the name of great art, and he presented them with a check for 29 thousand francs to achieve ” your little dream’ — a house on the seashore. (They rebuilt the fisherman’s shack where the sons of the “charming mad” innkeeper Lydia lived, against the right of ownership of one room, kitchenette and toilet.)
Salvador painted many of his significant works there, including the masterpiece Persistence of Memory. (Once the camembert left on the table by Gala melted and this gave Dali the idea of the “melting” watch.)
