Current viewing_room


Un Chien Andalou, 1929/68. Lithograph poster.


During the late 1920s, the French aristocratic couple Vicomte Charles and Vicomtesse Marie-Laure de Noailles, renowned for their avant-garde tastes, purchased several works by the young Salvador Dalí. This early patronage allowed Dalí and his wife, Gala, to establish a home and studio in Port Lligat in the artist’s native Catalonia. This delicate preparatory sketch was made for an elaborate portrait of the Vicomtesse Marie-Laure, which was later meticulously rendered in oil. Dalí’s loop-like composition contains several recurring elements from his Surrealist oeuvre. These include elongated Louis XV spoons alluding to the theme of consumption, and a small clock tucked into a cut-out niche. Within the circular border sits a Swiss cheese-like boulder with cavities, while water flows from a trompe l’oeil crack in the wall, passing both figurative and floral elements to create a fountain-like effect set within a perspectival stage.


Le Cannibalisme des objets (1933) centers on one of the most charged motifs in Dalí's Surrealist vocabulary, a woman's high-heeled shoe. At the center of the present composition, it floats surrounded by two hands, while a spoon sits posed at the ready above. While overhead a dense, swirling mass coalesces into a human form, seemingly sucking matter from the interior of the shoe into its mouth. In the present work, Dalí has created an image that is simultaneously erotic, violent, absurd and unsettling. The title, inscribed by the artist in the upper left corner, describes that the act depicted is not ordinary destruction but a very particular kind of self-consumption, in which objects turn on themselves and devour their own meaning.

Dalí’s Cour centrale de l’Île des morts (obsession reconstitutive d’après Böcklin) (1934) revisits the Swiss Symbolist painter Arnold Böcklin’s (1827–1901) most celebrated subject, The Isle of the Dead. Drawing inspiration from the elder artist, Dalí restaged Böcklin’s eerily disquieting scene as a triptych—the present work comprising the central panel. On the extreme left of the canvas stands a hulking skeletal apparition in front of a crush of cypresses. Böcklin, too, had punctuated his paintings with the same trees, which have been symbols of death since antiquity. Speaking to Dalí’s fascination with the psyche, the present work is a physical manifestation of both an ever-looming fear of death and the unknowable reality of what lies behind the veil in an afterlife.
In the present work, a figure reclines across a low, wave-like base, her body arched and twisted in a sweeping line. From this organic core, a large blade-like form erupts upward and to the left—distinct from the figure yet complimentary in its composition. Reinforcing the sense of motion in the tableau, the figure’s head has been streamlined to an aerodynamic form. Dalí referred to the work as “Aerodynamic Woman” in his publication, The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí (1942), a title that foregrounds the mechanics of the body rather highlighting its eroticism.

In this powerful dreamscape Dalí depicts the beach near his native Figueres in Catalonia. Dominated by the expanse of sand and a large sky with almost anthropomorphic clouds, the composition conjures up memories of the landscape in which the artist spent many summers of his childhood. Rendered with a precision and finesse that Dalí owed to his admiration and study of European old masters, the miniature figures accentuate the vastness and melancholic atmosphere of the beach. This eerie landscape, with its craggy rocks, sea and sand haunted the artist’s subconscious mind, providing the setting for many of his most important and groundbreaking compositions.

Conceived in 1936, the present work is one of the icons of Surrealism. Recasting the famed Venus de Milo statue as a “Surrealist object,” Dalí transformed the pinnacle of classicism into a modern masterwork. Key to the sculpture’s new meaning was Dalí’s addition of drawers throughout the body of the sculpture. One of the artist’s most enduring and evocative motifs, drawers represented for Dalí access to the subconscious. An earlier, plaster example was included in the seminal Salvador Dalí exhibition at Julien Levy Gallery in New York in 1939. This present 1964 edition demonstrates Dalí’s method of painting bronze to appear as marble—furthering the dialogue between the modern and antiquity.
Paysage (Illustration pour Trois sécheresses) (1936) deploys a uniquely Dalían visual lexicon: the drawer motif, a barren coastal landscape evocative of his native Cadaqués and the isolated human figure. It was reproduced in Minotaure (June 1936), the celebrated Surrealist journal that served as one of the movement’s principal platforms during this period—accompanied by the British poet and art patron Edward James’ text “Trois sécheresses.” That Dalí chose to illustrate James’ poetry with imagery drawn from his most personal artistic vocabulary underscores the depth of their creative exchange.
In 1935, Salvador Dalí was asked by The American Weekly to make a series of drawings based on his impressions of New York. The following year, Dalí, along with his friend and patron Edward James, created his first Téléphone homard, which was exhibited in 1938 at the Exposition Internationale du Surréalisme, at the Galerie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Téléphone homard was one of several works meant to be included in James’s London home, which Dalí and James conceived as a single elaborate artwork that would transform the quotidian space into an evocative and eclectic environment. Téléphone homard furthered the Duchampian language of the readymade to what Dalí termed “the Surrealist object.” The artist believed that by combining the everyday in absurd juxtaposes, the true spectrum of human imagination could be uncovered.



In the late 1930s, Dalí was working on the production of Bacchanale with the dance troupe Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo, a successor of the original Ballets Russes after the death of its founder Serge Diaghilev. Described by Dalí as the first of “paranoiac” spectacles, it was also his first of many collaborations with the company. Ballerine en tête de mort depicts a ballerina in a lavish white dress, whose figure morphs into a skull, the positioning of her arms and costume doubling as eye sockets, nasal cavity and teeth. This type of double imagery is characteristic of Dalí’s "paranoiac-critical method," which he formulated in 1930 and which involved self-induced hallucinations that would ignite his imagination and inspire his art.
Etude à l’Architecture, Chevalier et Personnages (1939–42) is an evocative drawing that combines architectural precision with dreamlike figuration, showcasing Dalí’s mastery of line and composition. The work features a monumental arch that frames a distant horizon, crowned by a solitary knight poised atop the Neoclassical structure. Below, a mounted rider and shadowy human form animate the scene, merging classical motifs with Surrealist ambiguity. Dedicated to the French writer André Maurois, the inscription reveals Dalí’s personal connection to the intellectual and artistic circles of his time.
This website uses cookies
This site uses cookies to help make it more useful to you. Please contact us to find out more about our Cookie Policy.
* denotes required fields
We will process the personal data you have supplied to communicate with you in accordance with our Privacy Policy. You can unsubscribe or change your preferences at any time by clicking the link in our emails.