Barcelona: Dalí Museum
Continued from Wednesday morning ...
As I write now, mid-morning, we are on a train headed north to Figueras, near the French border, to take in the Salvador Dalí Museum. The city was important in Dalí's childhood and he designed the museum himself. Dalí has long been perhaps my favourite artist. Reproductions of some of the works we will see today were on my college walls.
Afternoon. I'm writing on the return train trip.
We arrived at Figueras without a map - just an agreement to follow signs and other tourists, as the Museum is the biggest attraction. I was wary as some beggars had gathered at a choke point in a garden in front of the train station, and the shabbiness of some streets and buildings had me on my guard.
After about a ten minute walk we arrived at the Teatro Museu Dalí. The museum is a former theatre. It is build around an open courtyard. Galleries span five storeys. As far as I know, it's the largest collection of his works.
You've heard the phrase "You can never get a cab when it's raining"? Below is a cab; inside is Dalí's wife Gala; and it periodically rains - inside the cab. It's the centrepiece of the theatre courtyard.
Two of the works below hung on my walls in Madison, Wisconsin about 20 years ago ...
Hmmm, where to begin? Dalí was very accomplished, proficient in many media, so on display were paintings, drawings, jewelry, sculpture, and even holograms and laser art. His work is finely detailed, and as a result no wall was empty, no stairway unadorned. And his works have a playfulness, so there were secrets and practical jokes.
This is part of the ceiling in one of the galleries.
We split up for a while, joined at an agreed-upon time and place, and continued together.
Then we split up again, Margo and Sarah resting while I finished my touring.
In one room was a boxy robotic figure composed of circuitry boards, lying prone on a glass case. On its front panel was a coin slot. I put in one Euro. The lights did not change. I saw no movement. Two French women looked confused with me. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps it was meant to be a joke?
Only minutes later did I notice the collapsing tiles of an art work near the ceiling. From a steel crucifix, a geometric mesh backing the tiles was slowly folding upon itself along the axes of the crucifix, its motor slow and silent. I smiled in appreciation.
I also love the dreamlike quality of some of his paintings. And I remembered why I chose those posters for my college walls: I could look at them over and over, and still sometimes notice some detail I hadn't before.
We left the main building and continued around the corner to take in another gallery, this containing examples of his jewelry. I didn't know he'd made any, and wondered what Daliesque jewelry might look like. Well, like his other art.
Some motifs familiar in his paintings reappeared, like elephants wiht stiltlike legs, and misshapen limbs. Some had little motors driving clever movements: a large jewel opening and closing as a door; and a heart made of small red jewels, with an aperture that would open and close in a subtly lifelike fashion.
We had a quick and cheap lunch at a café.
I asked Sarah to take this picture of me as we sat opposite the giant "Dalí" signature in the wall of the museum. The lips are a gift shop item Margo bought for Sarah. I cropped the photo afterwards.
We also walked around the building; on its other side, the decoration is different. The spots on the walls are triangular, globby formations that resemble dog poo.
We walked back to the station, Margo leading the way with her superior memory.
Wednesday evening. We've just returned from dinner, and what a dinner! Our happiest so far. During Margo and Sarah's siesta, I researched nearby eateries in Margo's guidebooks. I came up with a paltry three nearby recommendations.
The first was too pricy. The second we couldn't find - perhaps it's changed hands and names. We browsed some more. Another was too smoky. Then we chanced upon a tapas place Michael had recommended - Cervezerida Catalana - and took it.
I was wanting sangria, Margo was wanting seafood, and we saw we could both be satisfied. We got our name on the waiting list and ten minutes later, a table. We ordered a handful of tapas plates, with a pitcher of sangria and the lemon soda for Sarah:
On to dessert ... Sarah got a slice of lemon cake, and Margo and I got a cake sampler - four slices - lemon cake, custard pie, blueberry pie, and a soaked rum cake.
The service was prompt, the bill was reasonable, and we left with very happy tummies. We shall definitely return.
As I write now, mid-morning, we are on a train headed north to Figueras, near the French border, to take in the Salvador Dalí Museum. The city was important in Dalí's childhood and he designed the museum himself. Dalí has long been perhaps my favourite artist. Reproductions of some of the works we will see today were on my college walls.
Afternoon. I'm writing on the return train trip.
We arrived at Figueras without a map - just an agreement to follow signs and other tourists, as the Museum is the biggest attraction. I was wary as some beggars had gathered at a choke point in a garden in front of the train station, and the shabbiness of some streets and buildings had me on my guard.
After about a ten minute walk we arrived at the Teatro Museu Dalí. The museum is a former theatre. It is build around an open courtyard. Galleries span five storeys. As far as I know, it's the largest collection of his works.
You've heard the phrase "You can never get a cab when it's raining"? Below is a cab; inside is Dalí's wife Gala; and it periodically rains - inside the cab. It's the centrepiece of the theatre courtyard.
Two of the works below hung on my walls in Madison, Wisconsin about 20 years ago ...
Hmmm, where to begin? Dalí was very accomplished, proficient in many media, so on display were paintings, drawings, jewelry, sculpture, and even holograms and laser art. His work is finely detailed, and as a result no wall was empty, no stairway unadorned. And his works have a playfulness, so there were secrets and practical jokes.
This is part of the ceiling in one of the galleries.
We split up for a while, joined at an agreed-upon time and place, and continued together.
Then we split up again, Margo and Sarah resting while I finished my touring.
In one room was a boxy robotic figure composed of circuitry boards, lying prone on a glass case. On its front panel was a coin slot. I put in one Euro. The lights did not change. I saw no movement. Two French women looked confused with me. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps it was meant to be a joke?
Only minutes later did I notice the collapsing tiles of an art work near the ceiling. From a steel crucifix, a geometric mesh backing the tiles was slowly folding upon itself along the axes of the crucifix, its motor slow and silent. I smiled in appreciation.
I also love the dreamlike quality of some of his paintings. And I remembered why I chose those posters for my college walls: I could look at them over and over, and still sometimes notice some detail I hadn't before.
We left the main building and continued around the corner to take in another gallery, this containing examples of his jewelry. I didn't know he'd made any, and wondered what Daliesque jewelry might look like. Well, like his other art.
Some motifs familiar in his paintings reappeared, like elephants wiht stiltlike legs, and misshapen limbs. Some had little motors driving clever movements: a large jewel opening and closing as a door; and a heart made of small red jewels, with an aperture that would open and close in a subtly lifelike fashion.
We had a quick and cheap lunch at a café.
I asked Sarah to take this picture of me as we sat opposite the giant "Dalí" signature in the wall of the museum. The lips are a gift shop item Margo bought for Sarah. I cropped the photo afterwards.
We also walked around the building; on its other side, the decoration is different. The spots on the walls are triangular, globby formations that resemble dog poo.
We walked back to the station, Margo leading the way with her superior memory.
Wednesday evening. We've just returned from dinner, and what a dinner! Our happiest so far. During Margo and Sarah's siesta, I researched nearby eateries in Margo's guidebooks. I came up with a paltry three nearby recommendations.
The first was too pricy. The second we couldn't find - perhaps it's changed hands and names. We browsed some more. Another was too smoky. Then we chanced upon a tapas place Michael had recommended - Cervezerida Catalana - and took it.
I was wanting sangria, Margo was wanting seafood, and we saw we could both be satisfied. We got our name on the waiting list and ten minutes later, a table. We ordered a handful of tapas plates, with a pitcher of sangria and the lemon soda for Sarah:
- baguettes with olive oil and crushed tomatoes;
- patatas bravas (fried potato chunks with aoli and spicy tomato sauce);
- pescadito frito (little fried fish);
- tortilla patatas (omelette with potatoes);
- 2 brochettes langustin (seared prawn skewers);
- esparragos plancha (asparagus friend with salt and olive oil);
- flauta remona (baguettes with chopped letuce, mayo, ham for Sarah)
On to dessert ... Sarah got a slice of lemon cake, and Margo and I got a cake sampler - four slices - lemon cake, custard pie, blueberry pie, and a soaked rum cake.
The service was prompt, the bill was reasonable, and we left with very happy tummies. We shall definitely return.
posted by Michael Nelson at 9:34 am
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