Dalí Atomicus

My best friend, Paul, and I were reminiscing the other night about life in our hometown of Redlands, CA, and what it was like being kids in the 70s and 80s. There weren't many days back then when you wouldn't find Paul and I hanging out, playing pretend, riding our bikes, climbing around on his treehouse, and coming up with silly adventures to feed our passions for imagination and fantasy. Some days, we'd get on our bikes, ride a few miles into town, go to the mall, play at the Flipper Flapper arcade, get Hot Dog on a Stick, and then bike all the way back to his house where we'd play games on his Apple IIe, order pizza, and watch our favorite movies his family had recorded on their old Betamax machine.

We fancied ourselves as living in a perpetual adventure not unlike the kids in Stand By Me. Even when we'd travel on our bikes, we'd still play pretend, shoot imaginary guns at each other, act like we were eluding bad guys, or just jump off ramped driveway edges acting like BMX pros. And our passion for this life-within-a-life never stopped. In the late 80s and on into the 90s, we continued and we were wonderfully equipped by technology. When we weren't playing games on Nintendo or Atari, we were running around in Castle Wolfenstein, unceasingly clicking on peons in Orcs & Humans, or going back through Goldeneye to see who could complete the first level the fastest. In our late teens, we weren't as inclined to play pretend, but we were just as energetic to immerse ourselves in something that wasn't real because it tickled our stomachs, made us smile, and took us away from homework, school bullies, and other real world nonsense. We didn't have time to waste or worry because dreaming and adventuring were far more important.

That still carries on to this day. Last night, Paul got a chance to learn more about my life since he and his family moved to Washington State about 25 years ago. While we've regularly stayed in touch and played games together, he hasn't had the same involvement in my day-to-day life so he had no idea how rough it has been. Yet, despite the sobering reality, we both still want that life in a life. We might be in our mid-40s, but our sense of adventure and fun hasn't dwindled. We can look back on the things we did with great delight, and we can still picture things we want to do with the same giddiness we had as children. If I could teleport myself to his living room right now, we'd likely go right back to ordering pizza, watching movies, and playing video games until the wee hours of the morning.

Dalí Atomicus is a black and white photograph taken by Philippe Halsman (1906 - 1979) in 1948. It depicts Salvador Dalí (1904 - 1989) in, frankly, a silly situation where he's painting Leda Atomica while cats fly in, water is strewn about, and everything else is floating. According to a documentary about the making of this picture, this was the 28th take. Today, it is considered one of the most famous photographs ever taken, and rightfully so. Nothing in all of history has been this deliberately over-the-top that this humble art lover can think of. And it's even more impressive because it was done in a time where Photoshop didn't exist, but that hasn't taken anything away from the visual pleasure.

I like to think of Dalí as someone who embraced silliness, adventure, and pretend. In his day, technology wasn't where it is today so I see his passion for fantasy and creativity in his artwork. Who else thinks to paint melting clocks on a table and a broken face and a tree branch? And while he may have taken his art seriously, I don't think he took life too seriously. Therein lies the issue we face today.

Society seems to think being silly and embracing fantasy aren't necessary or proper anymore. For those who do, they tend to keep that stuff hidden away from prying eyes thanks to feeling inadequate about it on some level. Too many are worried about this and that, complain about things they cannot control, and waste energy trying to "figure it all out". Too many want to scream about stuff they don't like or agree with, and when they do, they're only stealing fun and fantasy from themselves. The time and energy being wasted on life's crap that cannot be controlled is time and energy that could have been spent nurturing passion, finding entertainment, and escaping the grip of stress and worry.

Video games are a great example of a wonderful form of entertainment here in the 21st Century. I'm not ashamed to say, I still enjoy them because in the end, they can take my mind off life and away from stress just as easily as a movie or TV show, if not more so. Why? Because instead of me being told where the story goes, I get to be in control and do whatever I want while only being limited by the game's design. When I watch a movie, I have to take what's already been created as it is. I can't stop a film mid-way and say, nope, I don't like that that character was just killed off so let's change it. From beginning to end, it is what it is whether I like it or not. In a video game, however, my story is whatever I want it to be, whenever I want it to be. But regardless of entertainment, I get to still embrace that life in a life I had as a kid.

I'm no longer a fan of playing pretend because I've matured. While I can still feel that passion deep down in my heart, I just wouldn't do it today. What hasn't left me, though, is the thrill of having my mind taken away from work, stress, bills, loneliness, and other real world situations and circumstances. Some people use drugs to achieve this. Not me. I choose to write, play games, watch entertaining shows and movies . . . and dream. I dream! I've never stopped dreaming! And I never will. This is what seems to be missing in so many these days. Dalí dreamed and he was able to magnificently present those dreams in this photograph and in his amazing works of art. Dreaming is a gift and while I'm no expert on animals, I think humans are the only species able to enjoy dreaming at will. Why anyone would forsake dreaming is beyond me, and man, they sure are missing out on life.

Apparatus and Hand

When I was a child, I used to have a vivid recurring dream. I grew up in a nice home in Redlands, California, which was on the corner Franklin Ave. and Garden St.. We had a half-circle driveway which entered and exited on the two different streets. Across Franklin was an orange grove where we, as kids, would run around and play pretend. It was the middle-America life for us back then, even though we were on the West Coast.

This dream happened a few times when I was very young, if I recall correctly. It would begin with me standing in the front yard of our house, and I would hear pounding footsteps. (I would later discover the footsteps were from me hearing my own heartbeat as I slept.) My chest would compound and fear would rise as I would turn to gaze up Franklin Ave. I somehow knew something was coming from that direction and so its pace quickened. Sure enough, cresting the hill and streaming down the street was a creature about 4 feet tall. The best way for me to describe this creature would be to say it looked like a small Snuffleupagus draped in a white bed sheet, and covered with old, antique plastic play telephones. Dozens of telephones. This thing would zoom to the front of our house, and for some strange reason, I'd get on its back and go for a ride around the corner. That's pretty much when the nightmarish feelings would awaken me.

I can't say what spawned this dream so many times. Even now, some 40 or so years later, I can still picture it, but am at a loss as to why I had it. The only odd revelation was that it seemed to be directly linked to my heartbeat. And as enigmatic as it was, I now find myself wanting to examine it's meaning. Bear with me as this is completely spontaneous and purposefully not thought out.

My suspicion is that this dream was manifest from a combination of deep seeded desires. A) I loved adventure as a kid and getting on something as strange as the telephone monster seems fitting. Bear in mind, this was during a time when mothers and school teachers would iterate how important it was not to get into (or onto, in this case) a strange vehicle. B) My mother used to tell friends that when I was about 3 years old, I'd point to the TV screen as we watched I Love Lucy and say that that was what I wanted to do when I grew up. So, perhaps my desire for immediate and constant attention is represented by the phones covering the telephone monster's body.

Enter Apparatus and Hand . . .

Apparatus and Hand, by Salvador Dalí, is a pre-Surrealism painting which was completed in 1927. It's oil on panel, and it was Dalí's first work after returning from military service when he was 23 years old. According to experts, it was during this period that Freud's publications about psychopathology and dream interpretation were popular with Dalí, and so this piece was inspired by Freud's writings. Seemingly, the "apparatus" figure is representative of Dalí, while the grotesque hand is representative of his mind. Around him are visions of what truly beleaguers his thoughts, and thus implies what influences him to some degree.

This artwork was one of the first paintings to strike me when I was much younger and in college. At the time, I was busy being an actor when I wasn't bogged down by being a student. Art in this form wasn't really a passion for me then, but I suspect this piece is what triggered it for me. Since then, I've spent quite a lot of time studying the details, contemplating their meaning, and almost finding something unseen in previous viewings each time I looked at it. I knew the history of this piece was available online, but I never really wanted to know about it. Art, for me, is something I allow to speak to me as is and without context. If I don't know the historical context, then I don't want to know it because I'd rather art have its own uninfluenced voice. (You can see this effect quite well in my previous post, L'Ange du Foyer.)

I strategically used the term "enigmatic" above because that's what this painting has been for me for a very long time. It wasn't until about a month ago that I discussed it with a co-worker. You see, I had received a very heart-warming comment in my L'Ange du Foyer post which started the conversation. When we dove into picking this piece apart and analyzed its details, we both came pretty close to what experts have since determined with regard to its meaning. Yet, for over 20 years, it's been an enigma and a source of incredible imagination. Apparatus and Hand has been a very slow metronome where each beat reminded me to stop thinking about the here and now, to stop thinking about tomorrow and the next day, and to take a moment to contemplate the surreal. To stop and let my imagination run around and have some fun.

And so, I've returned to writing. Not just because this piece has been an intimate part of my life for two decades, but also because of that comment. If what I type here can make someone see their life in a new, encouraging light, then why should I deprive them of that? I have a gift, and so I've chosen to continue to use it.