“Peek-a-boo, I see through you. You’re running a column with my photo to get more paw prints. To get more opposable thumbs pointing upwards. You’re a chore, Mark.” Except she doesn’t call me Mark.
More than once she has given public lectures about the number of chores that occupy a cat’s day. Perhaps you have attended. She says they are very well-attended.
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Salvador Domingo Felipe Jacinto Dalí i Domènech, 1st Marqués de Dalí de Pubol, was born 111 years ago today. “A nice round number,” he is not reported to have not said to anyone about this or any other number, except round ones, today or any other day.
Salvador Dalí was the most local of artists—many street scenes in his works replicate from childhood memory the turn-of-the-century streets of his hometown of Figueres, many beach-scapes are photorealistic recreations of the rocks and outcroppings and jetties of the nearby Port Lligat beaches he loved—and his works bring viewers into a yet more local setting: his mind and his dreams.
His body is interred in a crypt in the Dalí Theatre and Museum in Figueres, across the street from the church in which he was baptized and received his first communion.
Dalí’s popularity as an artist has never really had peaks and valleys; his work started to attract notice when he was in his mid-20s and his course through life took him from attention-getting to admired to loved to beloved, and now he is thought of as one of the major visual artists of the 20th century.
His self-promoting persona sometimes outshone the creations but at times it was his chief creation.
And for $30 from various websites, you can purchase a melting wristwatch, as seen at top, a visual reference to one of Dalí’s most famous paintings: The Persistence of Memory.
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Jen and I will be at Opus 40 today, so no new post. Gil Gutierrez is performing. Photos (and video?) to follow.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/cringe-worthy/
In video in this article, saxophonist Sonny Rollins tumbles and continues playing after landing on his back in what may be one of the most heroic defeats of a “cringe-worthy” moment yet recorded.
In March I wrote a column about a fundraising campaign to help restore one of my favorite places, Opus 40, in Saugerties, NY. There has been plenty of good news since March.
Built in an abandoned bluestone quarry in upstate New York by one man, Harvey Fite, Opus 40 is a contemporary American version of Stonehenge or the collection of Easter Island moai.
An aerial view. Photo by Tom Bookhout
Fite was a sculptor and fine arts professor at nearby Bard College when he purchased the bluestone quarry in the 1930s. If you have ever walked on a sidewalk in Manhattan, you have walked on bluestone from this or a nearby location. Using the rubble that had not become NYC sidewalks, Fite filled one six-and-one-half-acre section with hand-laid circles of bluestone paths and ramps, leading nowhere and everywhere, from fifteen feet below the ground level up to the magnificent…
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