While Dali devotes himself to the supposedly recognizable, naturalistic representation, ARP presses ahead with abstract surrealism. At the same time, an enigmatic symbolism connects ARP’s lyrical texts with Dali’s paintings, as the exhibition reveals.
As an early multimedia artist, Dali translates the spatial illusions of his pictures into the medium of film. Both in the exhibition and in a concert series, Beethoven’s compositions bring to life the works of Salvador Dali.
This is a large, powerful, rugged dog, having both great agility and endurance. The Anatolian has good bone and a large head, plus a powerful, smooth, and fluid gait.
The Anatolian Shepherd is an ancient guardian breed with a long working history. Here they proved invaluable as staunch defenders of livestock against formidable predators, including wolves and bears.
They accompanied the nomadic shepherds and became widespread over a large geographical region, accounting for the Anatolian’s great variation in size, coat type, and color. Several traits that remained constant throughout all the breed, however, are loyalty, independence, and hardiness.
This breed’s Turkish name, Koran kopeck, means shepherd’s dog. There is disagreement over whether the Anatolian is a separate breed from the Kan gal (or Kara bash) dog.
The first of the breed did not come to America until the 1950s, where although they proved themselves as effective livestock guards against coyotes and other predators, they remained relatively unknown. Only in the late 1970s and 1980s did the Anatolian Shepherd begins to be more widely appreciated, still valued for its utilitarian, rather than cosmetic, attributes.
Pet owners desiring a loyal and effective guardian began to acquire the breed. The Anatolian Shepherd needs a chance to exercise every day, either with a long walk or brisk run, and needs to socialize with his family.
Note: While the characteristics mentioned here may frequently represent this breed, dogs are individuals whose personalities and appearances will vary. It was directed by Jermaine Du lac, from an original scenario by Antonin Arnaud, and premiered in Paris on 9 February 1928.
The film was overshadowed by An Andalusian (1929), written and directed by Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali. To this day, An Andalusian is considered the first surrealist film, and its foundations in The Seashell and Clergyman have been all but overlooked.
Dali's film, An Andalusian, produced with Bunuel, marked his official entry into the tightly-knit group of Parisian Surrealists, where he met Gala, the woman who became his lifelong companion and his source of inspiration. Nevertheless, Dali's art remained surrealist in its philosophy and expression and a prime example of his freshness, humor and exploration of the subconscious mind.
Create an account with SongMeanings to post comments, submit lyrics, and more. For thirty years, I’ve had a special affection for the paintings of Robert Williams.
It started when I saw his “Patrick Has a Glue Dream” and found myself laughing happily. An all-American freckle-faced kid nodding out with a tube of airplane glue stuck up his nose.
A hallucinatory vision of Adolf Hitler’s head in a glowing yellow bell jar, attached to a giant red flying octopus. Scarlet tentacles crushing a Lockheed P-38 Lightning above a placid European countryside.
How could anyone not laugh at the glorious incongruity, the perverse collision between 1950s suburban childhood and the Third Reich? I have a framed print of it hanging on the wall opposite my desk, and it still makes me smile.
“The Mirage of Daughterly Fears” depicts a sleeping teenage girl clutching her teddy bear, dreaming of a naked skeletal mutant doctor using forceps and an electric drill to torture a dream-copy of her bear, which has been clamped in a framework of steel rods. The doctor has multiple yellow eyeballs, a nose like a beak, decaying teeth, and hairy green buttocks, with tan lines.
One foot is necrotic while the other has a big toe that looks like a giant hairy testicle. The doctor is being attacked by eyeless four-legged purple blobs with claws and hideous fangs, racing out from the girl’s subconscious to defend her bear.
In the background is a serene desert landscape out of Salvador Dali. The sight of a Williams painting generates a flood of endorphins in my brain, as if I am being welcomed to a refuge from reality where, in the words of William Burroughs, writing about the Inter zone: “Nothing is forbidden.
Everything is permitted.” Yet over the years I have learned that not everyone shares my delight when viewing paintings such as these. More often than not, when I receive a visitor, there will be a Bad Williams Moment.
This was a primary question in my mind when I visited Robert Williams at his home in the greater Los Angeles area. The exterior of the house allows no clue regarding the singular nature of its resident.
In a windowless room, behind protective glass, is an amazing collection of German military helmets from 1842 to 1918. Williams welcomes me into a small library, the shelves densely stocked with art books.
“Although at this point, extending my legend is like trying to stretch a prophylactic over the mouth of a mason jar.” By mixing 1950s vocabulary, a quasi-sexual metaphor, and self-deprecating humor (which I think is usually a cover for humorless ambition), this casual remark actually serves as a good preface to Williams’ work.
Said ‘We feel that you have ill-represented our savior Jesus Christ.’ I said, I’m not a person necessarily of a religious persuasion. But I’ll tell you, if Christ was heard today, he would not want to be represented as a naked man nailed to lumber.
“If women didn’t have certain sexual attributes, they would have been eaten long ago. Now, I don’t want to be sexist, and I’ve got an intelligent wife, and I really respect women.
I’ve got the greatest joys of all my life from women. I have known dirty fucking’ whores who have taken me to the cleaners and worked me over and tried to pull me into their web.
I had to talk my way out of fighting a golden gloves champion one time because his blonde girlfriend got after me. I’m attracted to really beautiful women, I know it’s a weakness, and I’m very careful of it.
You look on the side of a cop car, and there’s fucking’ Caliph, this figure that looks like a Greek goddess. “It’s interesting as a statement in paintings, and it is in my work, but my opinion is, I have been arrested and manacled enough to know there is no way I could get a sexual charge out of being handcuffed or tied up.
I’ve been under some rough cops that have thrown me in jail. “For the last 150 years cigarettes have been a sign of dissipation and indulgence, especially with women.
“I’ve got little cousins who I try to be nice to, but I don’t want to touch ’em. They’ve got germs, they’re human beings in larva stage.
I know intelligent people in literature and the arts who fuck their children. Though I wear a tie and a sport jacket, I hated ties and I hated men in suits because they were very oppressive to me as a young person.
And the salesmen and executives, these masculine people had all this pride and anger and anxiety and jealousy. He had an imagination that was ready to explode, but he couldn’t let it, because he believed in the scriptures and whatnot.
They dressed like farmers, but some of them picked up some style from Mexican vaqueros. “After World War 1, into the forties, the cowboy suits got baroque and rococo.
So ridiculous, Salvador Dali would wear a cowboy shirt. Bikers back in the forties were just slovenly guys who rode motorcycles.
“Monsters are the fantasy anthropomorphic creatures that you make up in your head, that you’re attracted to. I love cheap B movies with goofy guys in costumes.
It’s widely shared, goes back to Minotaur and centaurs and cyclops. I think we’ve run dry on zombies, vampires, and werewolves.
And when we had underground comics, we could make them do the nasty things we presumed they would do but had never been revealed.” Eyeballs are almost as powerful, visually, as sexual organs.
But I consider graphic art should be on a par with literature. But you can’t open those books up and show their contents as pictures on a wall, because people would shit their pants.
So art will always be shoved down way below literature, as a language. I have a range as a painter, from innocuous flower painting to scenes on a battlefield, infantry spilling their guts over no man’s land.
“A dead dog is a euphemism for gruesome garbage. However, I have a philosophy that if you want to sell a painting, put a dog in it.
You see an old house, you think, this place could talk, man. I’m left-handed, I’ve got the wrong side of my head, everything’s a mushy emotional experience for me.
Most people are objective and real fucking’ linear. We function in a very linear world that keeps us in wars all the time.
“I’ve always been a hot-rodder, and when I was young, in the fifties, we had primer-painted beat-up hot rods that were junk. As hot-rodding evolved, it got more sophisticated, and no one had primary cars anymore.
So I got a ’32 Ford roadster, I just wanted a beat-up hot rod like back in the fifties. “Same thing in the art movement, with my fucking’ sacrifice.
Like the guys who started surrealism, at big cost to themselves, and here comes Salvador Dali dancing along, and now when you think about surrealism you think of Salvador Dali. He was great up till the late thirties, and then he started making an enormous amount of money and realized how he could keep making that money, and his work, as slick as it was, started becoming calculated, for his audience.
He must have had a crew working on those big paintings at the end of his life, seeing that he was spending half of each year at the St. Aegis Hotel in New York.” Dominating the space is one large painting crammed with an amazing density of detail.
He says it has taken him eight or ten months to complete, working seven days a week. Soon it will be on its way to the Tony Safari gallery in New York.
I do many sketches before it’s transferred onto the canvas.” He begins painting in red, emulating the sketched outlines.
I was turning out an art show of 30 paintings every 18 months, like a machine, working 100 hours a week. And Suzanne said, ‘You ain’t doing this to yourself, this is over.’ This crazy work thing that I’d done for decades.
I try to make up for the loss of production by how wild the ideas are.” I had a hand go Gama on me one time, but usually it’s been just flu or cold, kidney stones.
I ask him about his technique, using black outlines to differentiate figures from background. They were rare in western art, but van Gogh used them, and they are fundamental in Japanese wood-block prints.
“But you also find outlines used by manuscript illuminators in the Middle Ages. And look at the fucking’ Lascaux cave paintings, 35,000 years ago.
Those guys were struggling, making visual medicine. You know that Michelangelo couldn’t do that whole fucking’ Sistine Chapel.
This is intended as a compliment, but it triggers a prickly response. “If you line up all of my work, you won’t find any repetition.
Look, I’ve got the Picasso book up there, and there’s so fucking’ much repetition in there, you can’t stand it. On page 170 of Malicious Resplendence we find “In Praise of a Psychoactive Hormonal Imbalance,” where two steroid-enhanced wrestlers struggle against a background of an axe-wielding figure being chopped in half with a chain saw.
He was living in an apartment behind a storefront on Fairfax Avenue. He had a gun with him, but he diverted their attention, ran into his apartment, and threw it under the couch.
I note that I see fear as a recurring emotion in his work. I was always intrigued by pulp magazine covers, because they had so much fear in them.
Like late Renaissance paintings that were always over-dramatic, done in dark colors, and show violence, impending doom. I’m always trying to open myself up, drive hot-rods, fraternize with people that were in some respects quite dangerous, trying to enjoy life at a much larger scale than someone who would go on vacation bible school.
“Remember, in the fifties, if you smoked dope, you got it from a guy who was in some burglary heist two nights before. I hated criminals, but the only time I could find some imagination was in a guy who just robbed a fucking’ liquor store.
A big herd going whichever way they think the group’s going to go. “The arts of antiquity excited me a lot, but remember, my developing period was after the second world war, when abstract impressionism had completely taken over.
I had a real interest in hot-rod art, all this stimulating lurid stuff. Comics in the 1950s had been an enormous influence on me, showing me that there were people out there with overt imaginations and the talent to express themselves, and they dared to do it.
At the same time, there was a serious subtext to his love for commercial art. “Realism in art, except surrealism, had burned itself out completely.
Surrealism was the only banner of realism still standing, and Madison Avenue quickly defiled that, using it up, taking the superficial elements. “Art academies in Europe 110 years ago were enormously strict, and you had to pass entrance requirements, and a lot of people just couldn’t make it.
But after the second world war, people discovered that if you get really sloppy with art, then everyone can be an artist. Open the doorway big, and let all those sensitive liberal people see themselves as expressing themselves, the audience is ten or twenty times bigger than it would be academically.
“After a couple of generations of students getting Bachelors of Fine Arts out of this philosophy, they become teachers. So we’re going on four or five generations now of people who took a great deal of pride in being fucking’ helpless.
But that was treated like someone trying to win a blue ribbon at a fair, for an egg recipe or something. I worshiped Wallace Wood, and that was the antithesis of art at the time.
This was when I really faced up to the fact that what I am interested in, what I aspire to, the talents I look for, the disciplines I look for, are absolutely against the code of ethics of modern art.” The steps in Williams’ career after art school have been well documented, beginning with his hot-rod drawings for Big Daddy Roth.
Robert Crumb, all the people in Zap, they were out-and-out leftists and communists, so we were in a very precarious situation. But fortunately the whole country swung to the left and got us out of the war.
It had been looking, there, for a time, as if they were going to start rounding up people and maybe reconditioning the Japanese internment camps for us.” Among the Zap Comic artists, Williams finally found a feeling of community.
Later there would be some mild resentments among the Zap Comic artists, which were unfortunate. One of the artists Williams felt especially close to was S. Clay Wilson.
Robert Crumb once described Wilson as an unpleasant person, but having hung out with criminals, Williams had a tolerance for that kind of thing. If not for S. Clay Wilson, Crumb would still be doing happy-animal shit.
Although Williams used to hang out with the artists in San Francisco when he could, he was still living in Los Angeles. “Rick Griffin was down here too, some time, and he would go off on these mystic soul journeys.
Drawing for comics encouraged a new kind of narrative thinking. “Underground comics brought out the desire in me to talk, to narrate.
It was such a wonderful movement, because it liberated visuals and stories in every direction.” “The comic-book artists didn’t want to be painters.
I found a peer group of young, new, up-and-coming artists. I was getting record album covers and write ups in music magazines.
It was a wonderful experience, there, in the late seventies and early eighties.” “Like on one side, I’m under the confines of formal anatomy, but over here I can just make it abstract.
He also experimented with cryptic, verbose text serving as commentary for the art. “A lot of the things I wrote about my paintings were defense.
Why didn’t the other Zap artists want to go into painting? Gilbert Shelton had been so deeply into comic books, he could not come out.
I ask Williams if, initially, he was finishing paintings without knowing who would buy them. Indeed, the Safari gallery represents famous names such as Keith Haring and Francis Bacon.
Its website retreats into semantic contortions as it explains why riffraff such as Williams has invaded the pristine gallery space. It references “a formidable faction of new painted realism.
When Williams first started achieving some success with his paintings, he naturally wanted to collect them into a book. “I went to different publishers around, and you just couldn’t have an art book unless you were like Matisse or Picasso.
But the underground comics had created a giant network, a sales vine all over the United States and Europe. Gilbert Shelton at Rip Off Press said, ‘We’ll do a book on you, but it’s got to be half underground comics, so we sell it through the network.’ So my first book was half underground comics.
One could argue that Williams’ paintings often show empowered women, which could appeal to feminists. Really the feminists need someone to attack, and I make a good target.
And that is the continual inflow of nouveau-riche young people who have made a lot of money and want to be a part of high culture. “I am way in the fucking’ margins, but still, I have created a school of art, with thousands of young people in it.
I’ve created Juxtapose magazine so that I have a world to function in, and it’s caused hundreds of thousands of young people all across the nation to become artists.” I want a response, but to stimulate energy in people and raise a curiosity in them, to encourage them to look deeper into what I do.
“I met William Burroughs a couple of times. “Timothy lived like a child, he didn’t lock his front door, he had total idiots come in, and he was doing heroin and all this other fucking’ stuff.
“I am very proud and happy with the art and my lifestyle, because it’s work that I have gotten away with in the face of enormous vicissitudes. When the art world collapsed in 1989 and 1990 I still had a sold-out show in New York that blew their minds.
Being a knucklehead kid, hot-rodder, always in trouble, thrown out of school, put in jail, I didn’t think I had a chance. I’ve been a short-order cook, a truck driver, fork-lift operator, washed dishes.
Although he talks repeatedly about the challenge of making money in the art world, he’s dismissive about people motivated by greed. They have a belief system that there’s a magic god or goddess out there who’s going to issue them a favor.
Finally, having brought up all the other attributes of his art that I am aware of, I go back to Malicious Resplendence and open it where I have book-marked it for “Patrick Has a Glue Dream.” I mention to Williams that the first time I saw it, I had to laugh. “I see sarcasm, and abstract thinking.” He pauses, considering the issue.
“The Old Testament must go way back, some parts may be 10,000 years old. When I went to school in New Mexico in the mid-fifties I got to know a lot of American Indians.