Salvador Dalí grew a flamboyant moustache, waxed and up-turned, influenced by seventeenth-century Spanish master painter Diego Velázquez. The moustache became Dalí's trademark look.
In 1953, Spanish-born Surrealist painter Salvador Dalí (1904-1989) wrote:
“Every morning upon awakening, I experience a supreme pleasure: that of being Salvador Dalí, and I ask myself, wonderstruck, what prodigious thing will he do today, this Salvador Dalí….”
Salvador Dalí found deep meaning in Jan Vermeer's painting, "The Lacemaker" (ca. 1669-70)
In December 1955, that “prodigious thing” meant that he was to borrow a friend’s white Rolls Royce Phantom II, fill it to the roof with 500 kg of cauliflower, and drive it to the Sorbonne in Paris. Then he would disembark and enter the school to give a lecture he’d impossibly titled, ‘Phenomenological Aspects of the Paranoiac Critical Method:’
“Some 2,000 ecstatic listeners were soon sharing Salvador’s Dalirium. Planting his elbows on a lecture table strewn with bread crumbs, Dalí blandly explained: “All emotion comes to me through the elbow.” Then he announced his latest finding in critical paranoia. The gamy meat of it: “Everything departs from the rhinoceros horn! Everything departs from [Dutch Master] Jan Vermeer’s The Lacemaker! Everything ends up in the cauliflower!” The rub, apologized Dalí, is that cauliflowers are too small to prove this theory conclusively.” (1)
As Dalí’s fame grew, his stunts and outrageous pronouncements became more frequent. He was an endless self-promoter, grandiose and pompous. He felt impelled, he admitted, to accumulate millions of dollars. He loved money. To keep the contracts coming, he was determined to keep himself in the public eye. His art and behavior were designed to provoke a response.
Salvador Dalí's most famous painting, "The Persistence of Memory," 1931. His inspiration for the drooping timepieces came to him one night when he had a headache. His wife Gala had gone to the movies with friends while Dalí, ill, had stayed behind at home. He sat at the kitchen table for a long time, staring at the melting Camembert cheese. Before going to bed, he entered his studio and looked at the landscape he had been working on - and - Voila! - decided to add three melting watches.
He delighted in playing the buffoon. While Dalí’s pranks were often funny, one was certainly dangerous. Once he donned a deep-sea diving suit before giving a lecture. The helmet was soundproof so no one could hear him. Dalí began to thrash about, flailing his arms soundlessly. The audience roared with laughter, thinking it was part of Dalí’s act. But he was suffocating inside the helmet. It was not until he almost fainted that he was rescued. Accused of going too far, Dalí would often reply, “It’s the only place I ever wanted to go.”
Sometimes his stunts were offensive, such as when he and wife Gala appeared at a New York costume party dressed as the Lindbergh baby and his kidnapper. Other spectacles bordered on the criminal, like when he discovered that his Bonwit Teller window display in Manhattan had been rearranged. He became so enraged that he hurled a bathtub through the plate glass window and crashed, with the tub, inside the store.
Dalí created The Mae West Lips Sofa (1937) in the same shocking-pink color introduced by fashion designer Elsa Schiaparelli.
Dalí was endlessly creative in many genres other than painting. He created jewelry, designed clothes (see my post: “Elsa Schiaparelli: Shocking-Pink“) and furniture, painted sets for ballets and plays, wrote fiction, created window displays for department stores, and produced the dream sequence for director Alfred Hitchcock’s “Spellbound.” He recorded a TV ad for Lanvin chocolates, designed the Chupa Chups candy labels, and was interviewed on TV in 1958 by Mike Wallace – during which Dalí imperiously referred to himself in the third person.
(1) TIME, Dec. 26, 1955
(2) “The Surreal World of Salvador Dali,” Smithsonian magazine, April 2005.
Lisa's History Room 
I will be going to Dali’s home/museum in October with my friend, Francoise, and a group from Laguna Gloria. I am very excited!
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Figueres, Spain?
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But Lisa, has anyone investigated whether or not Dali was simply off his rocker? One ice cube short of a tray? Because it seems to me that he might very well have been schizophrenic. Some of his gibberish (my Lord, about the elbow and the cauliflower!) certainly seems to support this thesis. I think Oilcan Harry was one brick short of a load.
Very sincerely,
Shirley K.
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Shirley, I agree totally with your assessment. Dali’s attempt to appear “deep” didn’t fly. The Surrealists abandoned him. So did his father. I don’t know how Gala stood him.
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she didn’t stand him, she continued having extra marital affairs and would require Dali to get written permission to come see her in the house he bought for her. his father abandoned him because he married Gala, 10yrs older than him and was then married to a friend of Dali. he was devoted to Gala.
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A great piece on Dali. Having dabbled in art history while working on a Masters, I was exposed to many of the intersting personalities of the art world. And this period in art developed many wonderful personalities.
I enjoy reading your writings.
My amazement is in the variety of your writings.
Keep them coming.
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You always bring encouragement. Thank you and keep up your own writing. Thanks for visiting.
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It looks like we are doing something similar. I am also writing researched articles about a number of different subjects, because it’s fun. I came across your blog when I was searching for Salvador Dali on Google Images.
Like the previous poster “Ron” had pointed it out, it’s good to see someone writing about a variety of subjects, especially when the content is well written.
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Hi, Greg, I read your Dali article with pleasure. I have seen the “Persistence of Memory” painting when the MOMA sent it to the Houston M. of F. Arts. I was surprised at its tininess. Thanks for visiting Lisa’s History Room and keep coming back. I appreciate your comments.
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Hi Lisa. Oh my gosh. The same! Saw it in his Florida museum. We are shown it on posters and the internet. Not realizing it is only about 9 inches wide. I always thought Dali spent like hours painting it on a large piece of space. But it’s so tiny!
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“The Persistence of Memory” at the MoMA, NYC, measures 9 1/2 x 13″ (24.1 x 33 cm). https://www.moma.org/collection/works/79018
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But I personally disagree that Dali was coo-coo. He was well trained as a draftsman in painting, he had a brilliant mind and the technical ability to express his ideas. This is very rare to see, even of very capable thinkers. So instead of trying to prove ourselves that he was insane, let’s consider appreciating the scope of his talent and imagination. He used insanity as a trademark of his persona.
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Crazy is as crazy does. Read the beginning quote – Dali wakes up wondering what Dali will do that day. Sounds rather schizophrenic! Thanks for visiting Lisa’s History Room. I appreciate your comments.
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do you know where i can find information on dalis surrealist interview where he wore around 8 jumpers when they banned him from the movement. he took them all off one-by one contesting how hot it was.
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How interesting. I’ve not heard about the jumper striptease but will look into it and get back with you. Thanks for visiting!
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Crazy is as a profesional publisist does, look at the “stars” and their “crazy” antics. The reason you see and hear about all this hulabuloo is the exact reason they do it.
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You are right on target.
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One thing Dali did was hurt his reputation by signing blank paper to be used later for lithographs. (doin’ it backwards)
When asked if these were, indeed his works he said, “Did they pay me? If they did, they are mine.”
Read “The Great Dali Art Fraud” and never buy a Dali lithograph.
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Thank you, JNee. I read something recently about this scam. Thanks for visiting Lisa’s History Room and keep coming back.
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he was just very eccentric! I think its awesome how he didn’t care what other people thought. hes cool.
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[…] Perhaps the performance that was most “out there”, however, was his trip to Paris in a car filled with cauliflower. 9. Warhol Liked to Keep Mummified Feet From Ancient Egypt in His Studio […]
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[…] There are so many incredible stories about Salvador Dali and his antics. The pet ocelot. The most famous mustache of all time. The time he almost suffocated inside a deep sea diving helmet while trying to explain surrealism. The whole interview with Merv Griffin. Perhaps the performance that was most “out there”, however, was his trip to Paris in a car filled with cauliflower. […]
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Hello! I really enjoyed reading this post as my dad attended that Dalí lecture when he was studying at the Sorbonne. He mentioned it to us on a few occasions but I’ve never seen anything corroborative information until now. Thank you!
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[…] Source: Salvador Dali – “Fill ‘er up with cauliflower” […]
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