1931. Oil on canvas, 9 1/2 x 13" (24.1 x 33
cm). Given anonymously. © 2010 Salvador Dalí, Gala-Salvador Dalí
Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York
Time is the theme here, from the melting watches to the decay
implied by the swarming ants. The monstrous fleshy creature draped
across the paintings center is an approximation of Dalís own face in
profile. Mastering what he called "the usual paralyzing tricks of
eye-fooling," Dalí painted this work with "the most imperialist fury of
precision," but only, he said, "to systematize confusion and thus to
help discredit completely the world of reality." There is, however, a
nod to the real: The distant golden cliffs are those on the coast of
Catalonia, Dalís home.
Publication Excerpt: The Museum of Modern Art,
MoMA Highlights,
New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999
The Persistence of Memory is aptly named, for the scene is
indelibly memorable. Hard objects become inexplicably limp in this bleak
and infinite dreamscape, while metal attracts ants like rotting flesh.
Mastering what he called "the usual paralyzing tricks of eye-fooling,"
Dali painted with what he called "the most imperialist fury of
precision," but only, he said, "to systematize confusion and thus to
help discredit completely the world of reality." It is the classical
Surrealist ambition, yet some literal reality is included too: the
distant golden cliffs are the coast of Catalonia, Dali's home.
Those
limp watches are as soft as overripe cheese—indeed "the camembert of
time," in Dali's phrase. Here time must lose all meaning. Permanence
goes with it: ants, a common theme in Dali's work, represent decay,
particularly when they attack a gold watch, and become grotesquely
organic. The monstrous fleshy creature draped across the painting's
center is at once alien and familiar: an approximation of Dali's own
face in profile, its long eyelashes seem disturbingly insectlike or even
sexual, as does what may or may not be a tongue oozing from its nose
like a fat snail.
The year before this picture was painted, Dali
formulated his "paranoiac-critical method," cultivating self-induced
psychotic hallucinations in order to create art. "The difference between
a madman and me," he said, "is that I am not mad."
<h3>Gallery Text:</h3>
2006
Dalí rendered his fantastic visions with meticulous verisimilitude,
giving the representations of dreams a tangible and credible
appearance. In what he called "hand painted dream photographs," hard
objects become inexplicably limp, time bends, and metal attracts ants
like rotting flesh. The monstrous creature draped across the painting's
center resembles the artist's own face in profile; its long eyelashes
seem insectlike or even sexual, as does what may or may not be a tongue
oozing from its nose like a fat snail.