#dali — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #dali, aggregated by home.social.
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How and why does the Salvador Dalí Theatre Museum crop up in my memoir?
Find out in chapter 13. :)
https://stevewetherill.substack.com/p/chapter-13-the-computer-the-costa-brava-the-contract
My photo, captured in 1988.
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Spinetta y Dalí juntos en una obra
🎨 ¿Por qué La persistencia de la memoria sigue fascinándonos casi un siglo después?
Una reflexión sobre Dalí y Spinetta, el tiempo, la memoria y las reinterpretaciones de una de las obras más influyentes del arte contemporáneo.
http://www.matiasrotulo.com/2020/01/una-nueva-persistencia-de-la-memoria.html
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Entrain de cancel une partie de mon adolescence à l'occasion de mon déménagement :')
& It feels good
#dali #warhol #gainsbourg #indochineJ'ai aussi Bukowski et Marylin Manson, vraiment all stars de vieux gars qui m'ont pourtant aussi forgæ en temps qu'artiste mais que je peux plus voir
#SeparerLhommeDeLartiste :badabing:
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The Places in My Dreams
The world within, the world of my dreams, is similar to the one I walk through every day. But it is different.
The streets bend strangely. The rooms open where they should not. The people and places are often indifferent to me, and sometimes, they are even antagonistic.
They are not merely people and places. They are representations of emotions I have not yet worked through from the previous day. Sixteen waking hours are not enough to fully grasp all that I have experienced, endured, feared, desired, regretted, or misunderstood.
And so, in the night, these things come alive.
They take on faces. They become houses, roads, crowds, locked doors, ruined landscapes, familiar rooms made unfamiliar. They guide me through the shadow lands—not always kindly, but truthfully. They show me what I could not see while awake.
My dreams are not escapes from the day.
They are the day returning in another form, asking to be understood.Some nights I find myself back in places I have never been, and yet they feel older than memory. A school that was never my school. A church with hallways that keep multiplying. A childhood home rearranged by grief. A city I know by instinct, though no map has ever held it.
#ContemplativeWriting #creativeNonfiction #daVinci #dali #dreamCity #dreamJournal #dreams #dreamscape #emotionalGeography #Escher #Fear #gothicReflection #grief #Healing #Imagination #impossibleArchitecture #innerLandscape #innerWorld #KeithLyndaker #labyrinth #longing #MentalHealth #nightVisions #ProsePoem #regret #sacredImagination #selfReflection #shadowLands #shame #SpiritualReflection #subconscious #surrealArt #surrealism #symbolicLandscape #visionaryArt
In these places, I am often trying to get somewhere.
I am late. I am lost. I am looking for someone. I am trying to explain myself to people who will not listen. I am searching for a room, a door, a vehicle, a path, a way home. Sometimes I am carrying something fragile. Sometimes I have forgotten what I was supposed to carry. Sometimes I am responsible for a task I do not understand, surrounded by people who seem to know the rules but refuse to tell me.
This is the cruelty of the dream world: everyone else seems initiated.
They move through the strange landscape as if it is ordinary. They know which hallway leads out, which road is safe, which bus to board, which door not to open. I am the stranger in a world that somehow belongs to me. I am the dreamer, and yet I am not in control.
Perhaps this is why the places feel antagonistic. They do not hate me. They are simply unwilling to flatter me. They will not pretend I am finished with what I have not faced. They will not comfort me with easy explanations. They turn my emotions into architecture and ask me to walk through them.
Fear becomes a narrow bridge.
Regret becomes a house with too many locked rooms.
Anger becomes a storm on the edge of town.
Shame becomes a crowd that sees me before I am ready to be seen.
Grief becomes a road that always returns to the same place.
And longing—longing becomes a light in a window I can never quite reach.
I wake from these dreams with the feeling that I have traveled farther than my body could have gone. I have crossed cities, fields, stairways, basements, sanctuaries, ruins, and train stations. I have spoken with the dead and avoided the living. I have been judged by strangers and ignored by friends. I have wandered through the unfinished weather of my own soul.
Then morning comes, and the ordinary world returns.
The walls are where I left them. The floor is solid. The dog needs to go out. The coffee waits. The phone glows with its small demands. The day begins again, pretending to be separate from the night.
But I know better.
The dream has left its residue. A feeling follows me, sometimes faint, sometimes heavy. A hallway from the dream lingers inside the hallway of the house. A face from the night appears behind the face of someone I know. A mood clings to the morning like fog.
The shadow lands do not vanish when I wake.
They retreat.
They wait beneath the visible world, beneath errands and conversations, beneath sermons and chores, beneath the version of myself that knows how to answer when someone asks, “How are you?”
I say, “I’m fine.”
But somewhere beneath that answer, an entire city is still burning, or flooding, or rebuilding itself in the dark. -
Dali's dream made real
Persistence of Memory
Melting the landscape
#Haiku #OneHaikuADay #WritersCollective #writingcommunity #BackToHaiku #Summer #July #Morning #Dawn #Sol #Sun #Solar #Heat #HeatWarning #Dome #HeatDome #TripleDigit #Akron #Ohio #USA #MOMA #DALI #Photography #2026Image credit: Salvador Dalí, The Persistence of Memory, 1931, Oil on canvas, On view, MoMA, Floor 5, 517 The Alfred H. Barr, Jr. Galleries - https://www.moma.org/collection/works/79018
July 3, 2026
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3. The Dalí "Crutch" Motif
Dalí frequently used crutches in his paintings (most famously in The Enigma of William Tell or Sleep). For Dalí, a crutch wasn't just a medical device; it was a profound symbol of psychological support, human vulnerability, and the rigid structures we use to prop up our fragile reality, our institutions, or our sanity in a collapsing world. -
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2. The Figure of "Time" or "Chronos"
Because the painting is a meditation on cycles—represented by the autumn leaves transforming into a butterfly (metamorphosis) and the contrast of ancient vs. modern decay—the figure holding a staff or scepter often doubles as an allegory for Time or a guardian of history, witnessing the rise and fall of human empires. -
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1. The Traveler / The Exile
The figure represents a classic Dalí archetype: the wandering exile or solitary traveler traversing an empty, infinite dreamscape. Placed between the ancient classical world on the right and the devastated, modern bombed-out ruins on the left, the figure stands at a civilizational crossroads, looking out over a scarred earth. -
Re the small figure with a staff:
In Salvador Dalí’s work, figures like this—highly elongated, solitary, robed, and carrying a staff or crutch—are deeply symbolic, recurring motifs rather than a representation of a specific historical or mythological person.
Given that Venus Butterfly was painted in 1947, right in the shadow of World War II, art historians generally interpret this specific figure through a few distinct lenses:
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Summoning the Venus Butterfly (1947)
A surrealist painting by Salvador Dalí features a massive, centrally positioned butterfly with wings resembling decaying autumn leaves in warm shades of orange, yellow, and brown. At the center of the butterfly, a slender female figure emerges, adorned with green foliage and flowers.
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Dalí
“Atavistic Vestiges After The Rain”, originally an oil painting from 1934, and here's my vector version of it. -
⭕ #PARIS | Manifestation pour la libération #d’Ali, réfugié #Palestinien ! Manifestation à l'appel de 120 organisations en soutien à #Ali qui est enfermé dans les geôles #Françaises depuis deux ans sur la base d’accusations transmises par les autorités #Israéliennes.
