Dalí/Duchamp review

4 out of 5 stars
4 out of 5 stars
(1user review)
Dalí/Duchamp review
Salvador Dalí with the collaboration of Edward James, Lobster Telephone, 1938. © Salvador Dalí, Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí, DACS 2017

Time Out says

4 out of 5 stars

You probably know the clichés: Marcel Duchamp (French, born 1887) was a painter who fell foul of cubism, stopped painting, put a urinal in a gallery, stopped making art, and was heralded as the genius inventor of conceptualism. His stock has never fallen since: his work is what a lot of contemporary art has looked like for decades. Salvador Dalí (Spanish, born 1904) was a painter who fell foul of the surrealists for having a silly moustache and mucking about, who then went on to help invent the artist as rock showman and paper a million teenage bedrooms. He’s been out of critical (if not popular) favour for a while. The biggest cliché of all, though, is that Dalí and Duchamp represent two opposing strands of art, and that conceptualism won.

What’s news to me is that Dudu and Dada were mates. Not till the 1930s, mind you, when Duchamp had already created his ‘readymades’ – everyday objects (shovels, bottle-dryers, typewriter covers) that he invested with the status of artworks – before giving it all up to play chess. Dalí, meanwhile, was well on the way to stardom, with his neurotically detailed, super-slick paintings of cocks and clocks. Seen side-by-side, these works change. For all Dalí’s skill and overweening ambition, his paintings struggle against an off-the-shelf snow-shovel, once you’re prepared to accept the idea that the latter belongs in a gallery. But this makes you return to them: ‘Still Life – Fast Moving’ (1956) is one of Dalí’s most amazing, accomplished paintings. You can almost feel him willing his skill to transcend the physical canvas and blast into the realm of pure ideas. His iconic freefalling crucifixion of 1951 remains a startling take on Western art’s dominant motif. Equally, I’ve seen Duchamp’s major works so many times, but never in this light: against Dalí’s pyrotechnics, even his most cursory throwdown idea seems brimming with unrealised possibilities, and his shrine-like ‘Large Glass’ (1915-23) is the altar at which the twentieth century worshipped.    

Predictably, this show rehabilitates Dalí. Beside his clever older brother, the foppish upstart seems needier and deeper, his work less about shocking and awing than his own grinding obsessions (okay, Dalí’s major obsession was himself, but you know what I mean). But while Dalí fetishised the artist, Duchamp let art fetishise itself. And until I saw this show, I don’t think I properly understood what that meant.


Users say (1)

4 out of 5 stars
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When I was a student I was a big fan of Dali's work, with funky post-cards of his surreal images adorned across my walls with blue-tac. Almost a perfect example of the commercialisation of his work, which ended up side-lining him amongst his peer groups who turned their nose up at mass production of art. Yet little did I know how closely he worked with his equally famous artists of his time, in particular Duchamp, with whom he seemed to have an almost supportive and collaborative relationship. 

This exhibition, wonderfully organised by the Royal Academy of Arts and The Dalí Museum, Florida, tell the story of the rise of both artists, side by side. Taking us a journey from their very first portraits created in their teen and before they had even met, the exhibitions shows the development of each artist and how they formed an unlikely friendship and collaborated on many ideas.

For me the exhibition was not only fascinating from a historical and biographical angle, learning about Dali and Duchamp, but as a visual spectacle as well. With grand paintings, obscure objects d'art, including wonderful spinning colourful records and even vintage films, this exhibition was never going to be 'quiet' and subtle. Some of the most famous pieces, such as Dali's lobster telephone and Duchamp's fountain are on display, as expected, but it's not really these that make the show; it's the lesser known pieces and the way that, when you view everything through a timeline, the artwork gives you a real insight into the historical and political happenings of the time...