Dali Theatre and Museum, photo by Asya Mkh
A couple of years ago, I asked my friend if she had a museum or gallery she considered her safe haven. A place she would walk into and immediately feel inspired and understood. She thought for a long time and gave me some answers, but nothing came to mind immediately. I asked some of my other friends and received a similar reaction. Then I asked my family, and without taking a beat, they all gave me the same answer. That same answer instantly comes to me whenever I think about the question.
In the small town of Figueres, Catalonia, located in northern Spain, stands proof of true creativity unleashed: the Dali Theatre and Museum. From the moment I entered those tall glass doors, I was transported into the chaotic mind of a surrealist pioneer, Salvador Dali. The more I wandered the halls, the more I began to disappear in the art. Walking through the narrow corridors circling the building’s courtyard and peeking into the small rooms along the way, I felt connected to the changing nature of surrealism and the multifaceted talent of the artist. The walls of each floor showed the works that were so different you would doubt they were painted at the same time, let alone by the same person. In each work, I found parts of myself; each brushstroke awoke a new inspiration. Each step made me wonder how something so public can feel so private.
I first visited the museum when I was seven or eight years old. Back then, my understanding of art amounted to drawings of animals and colouring books. That did not take away from the experience in the slightest. I walked around, following my mother like a shadow as she told me stories from the artist’s life. I had my private tour with my mother as a tour guide, sharing historical facts about Dali’s career and the different sensations she felt with each new painting. Marvelling at the optical illusion of the large painting in the central room of the museum was one of my brightest early memories. This memory always brings me back to a time my family spent together, exploring a new city, getting by without speaking a word of Spanish, and communicating with local restaurant staff using gestures and facial expressions. On our ride back home, my mother would continue telling us about the life of Salvador Dali, his wife Gala, and many other stories and anecdotes shared about the painter over the years. We would all listen and ask questions; weeks later, I would recite these details to her as if I were trying to pass a test.
Dali Theatre and Museum, photo by Asya Mkh
For most of my young life, when someone asked me about my favourite style, I would say, without hesitation, ‘surrealist’. At first, it was the only style that came to mind. But the more art I explored, the more I realised that nothing makes me feel quite like surrealism. The view of reality presented in a strange, dreamlike way reminded me of my own thoughts. Looking back now, I am unsure if my mind always saw the world this way or was simply influenced by the art I saw as a child. Either way, since that day at the museum, I was mesmerised by the beauty of the unconventional.
The second time I returned to the Dali Theatre and Museum, I was eighteen. Armed with a freshly finished art history course and a thirst for cultural experiences, I was ready to enjoy, analyse and experience every work of art the place had to offer. In my late teens, I viewed my writing as a hobby and a forgotten one at that. It had been around a year since I wrote anything, and I had no intention of starting up again. I was convinced that my path in life would take me away from my creativity, so I saw no point in entertaining the idea.
Dali Theatre and Museum, photo by Asya Mkh
The second I entered the building, it felt like a spirit took over my body. I began walking in the same halls, looking at the same art, and seeing the brushstrokes come alive, waking up parts of my heart that had been dormant for years. It almost felt like a breeze was pushing me from the back, guiding me from room to room in exactly the right order.
The museum, with its small rooms and hidden corners, felt like a maze. I wandered around, looking at the bright colours of the paintings and the complex interior and architectural designs. I walked up the small steps to look through a magnifying glass and saw a face formed from pieces of furniture. The face looked back at me, and I felt like a little girl again, amazed by the mutating nature of Dali’s work. My fresh knowledge of painting styles, colours and materials only brought me closer to the art. By the time I reached the third floor, I was no longer just me. I was united with the gallery in soul and in mind.
Dali Theatre and Museum, photo by Asya Mkh
When I began to go back down, I noticed a door leading to a small terrace. I walked out to see the stars covering the night sky and a projector on a brick wall of the building playing black and white clips of the painter. The terrace was hidden between two parts of the building, with a balcony looking out over the street. The rooftops of nearby buildings stretched as far as the eye could see. From the other side, I could see one of the building’s bright red towers and the sculptures of giant eggs that stood upon it. The sides of the terrace were filled with trees and bushes. Right under them stood a bench. I ran to the bench, sat down, and began writing for the first time in a year. The words would fill the pages before I had time to think them up. I stayed there for a while, breathing in the cool summer air and typing paragraphs on my phone until my fingers began to shake (and the museum was closing down, so I was asked to leave). From that day, I never stopped writing.
Since then, I have taken many friends to the Dali Museum, hoping to share that connection with others. Every time I brought someone with me, I would watch them walk down the rooms, often calling their attention to one piece or another and feeling a little envious that they get to uncover the art’s unique beauty for the very first time. It was an experience similar to showing your friend your favourite movie and watching them watch the movie the whole time.
Dali Theatre and Museum, photo by Asya Mkh
Perhaps another reason I enjoyed the museum so much was that it featured many different types of art. The varied depictions of surrealism captivated me from start to finish. The complex design of the building made me feel like something new was hiding behind every corner, and the changes in the art format constantly kept me on my toes.
So, to those planning to visit Figueres or any of its nearby cities, I highly recommend experiencing the crazy adventure that is the Dali Theatre and Museum. I hope that others can feel the connection I feel, and just like me, they will expand their minds and feel at home in the organised chaos of surrealism.
Also, I understand that museums are businesses that need to pay their employees and maintain the art. However, unique forms of artistic expression shouldn’t only be accessible to those who can afford the tickets. This is a problem with many galleries and museums, one that I hope we can find a way to resolve in the future.