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拍品專文
Robert and Nicolas Descharnes have confirmed the authenticity of this work.
The Dance of Time II embodies one of Dalí’s most powerful and potent motifs: the melting watch. First making its appearance in the painting Persistence of Memory, 1931, the melting clock or pocket watch, as it is known, has become emblematic of Dalí’s interplay between the imaginary and real, and in turn has become a symbol of the Surrealist movement. Conceived in 1979 and first cast in 1984, this museum scale later version of The Dance of Time II is one of the finest sculptural examples of this theme, commanding a striking presence at 59 inches high.
Throughout his career Dalí experimented with softness and malleability, exploring the possibilities of manipulating and mutating recognizable objects to distort and disrupt the conventions of reality. Dalí juggled pretense and reality so that they fell within the same realm of imagination, in the hope of provoking and stimulating societal, political and cultural norms. Through the application of photographic precision he created a world that looked palpable and touchable, despite its state of dissolution, blurring the boundaries between the unconscious and conscious. One of his most compelling means was transforming objects that were normally hard into soft, draped and often oozing counterparts, in an attempt to make what is set malleable; one of the most famed being the melting watch.
Dalí was captivated by the possibilities of actual time and remembered time and was drawn to the potential of its flexibility. Dalí’s clock has become synonymous with mankind’s fascination with the longevity of time and the mortality of life. This is particularly noted in the Persistence of Memory, where the image of ants crawling upon a closed pocket watch has become regarded as a sign of decay. When viewing the Persistence of Memory at the Julien Levy Gallery, New York, in 1932 critics were split on its meaning; some viewed the melting clocks as a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of mankind and our inevitable demise, whilst others interpreted it as Dalí’s attempt to defy time, seeing it as an enduring image of man’s triumph over the forces of deterioration. As seen in Dance of Time II Dalí freezes the clock’s hands, bending them to such a degree that they cease to operate. By doing so Dalí encourages us to contemplate the notion of time and consider its fluidity, whilst also evoking a sensation of timelessness. Dalí explained: ‘Materialisation of the flexibility of time and the indivisibility of time and space. Time is not rigid. It is one with space – fluid’ (Dalí, quoted in Dalí, exh. cat., Milton, 1990, p. 86). Dalí saw himself akin to Albert Einstein in his challenge to the concept of absolute or universal time and has claimed to have paralleled his scientific discoveries, in particular those presented in his theory of relativity, published in 1920, which upturned the old notions of a cosmic order.
Although the exact meaning of the melting clock may elude us, what remains a constant in Dalí’s work is his humorous imagination and unrelenting innovativeness. In his autobiography, the artist narrated the accidental genesis of this memorable image, which gives us an insight into his ingenious and eccentric creative mind:
‘We had topped off our meal with a very strong Camembert, and after everyone had gone I remained for a long time seated at the table meditating on the philosophic problems of the “super-soft” which the cheese presented to my mind. I got up and went into the studio, where I lit the light in order to cast a final glance, as is my habit, at the picture I was in the midst of painting. This picture represented a landscape near Port Lligat, whose rocks were lighted by a transparent and melancholy twilight; in the foreground an olive tree with its branches cut, and without leaves. I knew that the atmosphere which I had succeeded in creating with this landscape was to serve as a setting for some idea, for some surprising image, but I did not in the least know what it was going to be. I was about to turn out the light, when instantaneously I “saw” the solution, I saw two soft watches, one of them hanging lamentably on the branch of the olive tree’ (S. Dalí, The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí, New York, 1942, p. 317).
The Dance of Time II embodies one of Dalí’s most powerful and potent motifs: the melting watch. First making its appearance in the painting Persistence of Memory, 1931, the melting clock or pocket watch, as it is known, has become emblematic of Dalí’s interplay between the imaginary and real, and in turn has become a symbol of the Surrealist movement. Conceived in 1979 and first cast in 1984, this museum scale later version of The Dance of Time II is one of the finest sculptural examples of this theme, commanding a striking presence at 59 inches high.
Throughout his career Dalí experimented with softness and malleability, exploring the possibilities of manipulating and mutating recognizable objects to distort and disrupt the conventions of reality. Dalí juggled pretense and reality so that they fell within the same realm of imagination, in the hope of provoking and stimulating societal, political and cultural norms. Through the application of photographic precision he created a world that looked palpable and touchable, despite its state of dissolution, blurring the boundaries between the unconscious and conscious. One of his most compelling means was transforming objects that were normally hard into soft, draped and often oozing counterparts, in an attempt to make what is set malleable; one of the most famed being the melting watch.
Dalí was captivated by the possibilities of actual time and remembered time and was drawn to the potential of its flexibility. Dalí’s clock has become synonymous with mankind’s fascination with the longevity of time and the mortality of life. This is particularly noted in the Persistence of Memory, where the image of ants crawling upon a closed pocket watch has become regarded as a sign of decay. When viewing the Persistence of Memory at the Julien Levy Gallery, New York, in 1932 critics were split on its meaning; some viewed the melting clocks as a metaphor for the ephemeral nature of mankind and our inevitable demise, whilst others interpreted it as Dalí’s attempt to defy time, seeing it as an enduring image of man’s triumph over the forces of deterioration. As seen in Dance of Time II Dalí freezes the clock’s hands, bending them to such a degree that they cease to operate. By doing so Dalí encourages us to contemplate the notion of time and consider its fluidity, whilst also evoking a sensation of timelessness. Dalí explained: ‘Materialisation of the flexibility of time and the indivisibility of time and space. Time is not rigid. It is one with space – fluid’ (Dalí, quoted in Dalí, exh. cat., Milton, 1990, p. 86). Dalí saw himself akin to Albert Einstein in his challenge to the concept of absolute or universal time and has claimed to have paralleled his scientific discoveries, in particular those presented in his theory of relativity, published in 1920, which upturned the old notions of a cosmic order.
Although the exact meaning of the melting clock may elude us, what remains a constant in Dalí’s work is his humorous imagination and unrelenting innovativeness. In his autobiography, the artist narrated the accidental genesis of this memorable image, which gives us an insight into his ingenious and eccentric creative mind:
‘We had topped off our meal with a very strong Camembert, and after everyone had gone I remained for a long time seated at the table meditating on the philosophic problems of the “super-soft” which the cheese presented to my mind. I got up and went into the studio, where I lit the light in order to cast a final glance, as is my habit, at the picture I was in the midst of painting. This picture represented a landscape near Port Lligat, whose rocks were lighted by a transparent and melancholy twilight; in the foreground an olive tree with its branches cut, and without leaves. I knew that the atmosphere which I had succeeded in creating with this landscape was to serve as a setting for some idea, for some surprising image, but I did not in the least know what it was going to be. I was about to turn out the light, when instantaneously I “saw” the solution, I saw two soft watches, one of them hanging lamentably on the branch of the olive tree’ (S. Dalí, The Secret Life of Salvador Dalí, New York, 1942, p. 317).