Salvador Dalí Museum
3.75 That's how much the Kahwa Macchiato costs at Café Gala in the Dalí Museum. It's bitter, white foam floating atop the strong coffee. They don't mix together. It's supposed to taste better, it's too bitter, but I appreciate it.
"You're supposed to be enjoying the art, not sleeping" I imagine him quietly chortle to himself knowing himself not pretentious but informed and respectable as a member of society should be as a human should be. I am not: a respectable member of society or more accurate a true appreciator of art if I do not stop being tired and slouching my head down in my hands ruffling my hair and staring into a meaningless picture
At this time I am looking at the painting because I am tired and it was nearest to the most comfortable seat on the bench I was sitting upon. Two bowls, one chaos and one order, the wife order the husband chaos, the wife the book reader the husband the painter, the husband Dalí and the wife Gala, Chaos is capitalized order is not capitalized, perhaps the bed sheet is the wall and we're looking at it perfectly, perhaps the bedsheets is the sky and the bowl is taller and the other bowl is shorter, I am hungry, am I looking at this because it is a picture of food? I don't ponder or ask myself, I allow the thoughts to breeze by me. I look at the picture for 3 seconds before giving up or another thought or another distraction. People come and go, blocking me for 10 to 50 seconds and I stare downwards or just through them. The bedsheet is in front of the bowls now and we're really looking at a Magritte painting. I look down at my hands. I look down through my hands. Mind you that I'm reminding myself that I'm looking at my hands how dramatic. The light balance is making order seem heavenly and the chaos has no light besides the crescent shape. Now I think the crescent shape is a moon. While I'm typing this. My coffee gets cold. What would I say to someone who told me I'm supposed to enjoy the art? I could offer a fun retort about surrealism. I know so much more. Brag. I could stare them down. Intimidation and confusion. I could do many things. I chose not to, I am thinking after the event. The photograph was made in 1960. Before the moon landing. They are just numbers. Somewhere it is the code to a lock or house or a cabinet. This picture is intriguing me. ; why am I even trying to type this? I ask so many times to myself why. The world is so fake and our perspectives like our words are watered down.ive had half my coffee whatever it is called. Salvador Dalí would've appreciated me. I'm not sorry that I didn't look at his paintings. I got and get frustrated whenever people undermine my ability to think about paintings. I think of the School of Life therapeutic value. I got up and walked out of the room 20 minutes after staring at the photograph of the two bowls of food. I walked to the triaged shaped windows overlooking the concrete boardwalk. There are 3 attractive women dressing classy and I hardly notice them. A child sits on the floor. I forgot him. I look out at the clouds and they're surreal. I understand I am upside down. I understand I am behind the clouds and they are behind me. I walk the spiral downstairs and smile and get myself a piece of bread and order coffee. How now? I have enjoyed the artwork of Salvador Dalí without looking at many of his paintings.
Sometimes we are unable to appreciate art because it doesn't just listen to us. It frustrates us and becomes superficial. It becomes old paint on a canvas sold for a million dollars instead of a sunset. The best art is the art that listens to us.
When we stare deeper into the art, we're able to prolong a fleeting moment of clairvoyance.
My mind has been spinning since I left the Dalí Museum. I've been irritated by a lot of things, and I've managed to get people irritated at me. Spinning is, it is, the best word for the feeling. I feel like I spin a lot, my mind blurs things and the colors both mix together and separate further into lines. Surrealism often has lines separating two colors to make it surreal or whatever. The diagram below this demonstrates the physics behind how farther away things seem to pass by slower than things closer to us. It's the thing I alluded to by saying "when we stare deeper into art it pauses for us".
I'll most likely be editing this after publishing. My method of writing has gone from organized thought to typing down ideas as fast as possible and editing in post.