America recognized me as its prodigal son and threw dollars at my head like handfuls of confetti.
– Salvador Dalí, The Unspeakable Confessions of Salvador Dalí, 1973.
Salvador Dalí, it seems, was everywhere in the 1960s and early 1970s, and had a finger in every pie, from fashion, to music, to experimental film, and product promotion. In the early 1960s Dalí’s reputation as a "master" painter had begun to diminish, and in this arena, his reputation rested largely upon his more academic- and realist-style painting from his Surrealist, “classic,” and Nuclear Mystical phases. Conversely, he thoroughly embraced the beginnings of postmodernism, and the colourful artistic and social experiments of the epoch. As he states in a 1966 documentary about him entitled A Soft Self Portrait, the artist viewed himself as the originator of both Op Art and Pop Art.[1] Much of his painting certainly reflected these trends, resulting in Pop-inspired canvases such as his gigantic and colourful Benday dot-inflected Tuna Fishing of 1967, and the illusionistic The Hallucinogenic Toreador of 1968-69.
Dalí continued to be intrigued by science and became fascinated with DNA and cryonics, the practice of deep-freezing the dead for future resuscitation. He was also an early adopter of computer-generated art and art-based holography, and enthusiastically tinkered with new technologies. Dalí has in fact been credited as the first artist to work with video, in his absurdist performance piece Chaos and Creation, of 1960. His painting had grown freer, looser, and often larger, and he worked increasingly with prints, series, and reproductions. This was in keeping with mass culture trends and the spirit of the times, but also because –- as was so avidly encouraged by his handlers and dealers of the period – it allowed him to easily manufacture an increasingly faster flow of work, which commanded ever-mounting prices.
Surprisingly, despite Dalí’s fervent experimentation with different artistic styles and media, his portraits of the 1960s remained remarkably conservative and his approach changed little from that of the previous decades. He very much clung to his original style and the formula of the Cadaqués-inspired background; the sitter depicted as a bust or in three-quarter length; botanical symbolism; and the requisite angels, horses and riders populating the landscape. The portraits did, however, become less cluttered, which may have had as much to do with Dalí’s waning interest in portraiture as it did his desire to expedite production. This conventional approach could be disappointing to clients who, like São Schlumberger, complained that they had hoped for something quirkier and more daringly “Dalínian” than what was delivered. Perhaps the only exception to this was Dalí’s Portrait of Abel Fagen of 1965, which looks to have begun as a traditional portrait, until the periphery was coated with spray-paint that had been misted over cutlery, reflecting the artist’s interest in stencil work that same year.
Generally speaking, the quality of Dalí’s society portraits declined considerably during this period, and by 1967, the artist had more or less ceased production. He could, it is true, still produce a masterfully-painted, if characteristically stilted likeness if he was interested in, or genuinely liked, the subject. This was demonstrated with works such as his “classic”-style Portrait of Countess Ghislaine d’Oultremont (Ghil Lewis) of 1960 or his dainty jewel-toned Portrait of Mon Ling Landegger of 1964. That said, the sluggish brush and sloppy rendering in the background of such works as Portrait of Sara María Larrabure of 1963 or his chalky and awkward 1965 Portrait of Lammot du Pont Copeland clearly map Dalí’s increasing lack of interest in his portrait sideline in America.
It should also be remembered that, beginning in the 1950s, Dalí worked with assistants who would perform tasks like mapping out the perspective for his very large works, or execute the base drawings for smaller canvases, and render minor details. As with a few in the 1950s, it is suspected that for a number of portraits of the 1960s, Dalí handed over a number of minor details to an assistant, likely the Canadian artist Tim Phillips. Judging from the disparate styles and palettes that can appear on a single canvas, the artist still seems to have insisted on painting the faces, but in several works the hand is so different from Dalí’s in the rendering of clouds, background details, flourishes and clothing, it seems likely another artist was at work here.
Dalí continued to be intrigued by science and became fascinated with DNA and cryonics, the practice of deep-freezing the dead for future resuscitation. He was also an early adopter of computer-generated art and art-based holography, and enthusiastically tinkered with new technologies. Dalí has in fact been credited as the first artist to work with video, in his absurdist performance piece Chaos and Creation, of 1960. His painting had grown freer, looser, and often larger, and he worked increasingly with prints, series, and reproductions. This was in keeping with mass culture trends and the spirit of the times, but also because –- as was so avidly encouraged by his handlers and dealers of the period – it allowed him to easily manufacture an increasingly faster flow of work, which commanded ever-mounting prices.
Surprisingly, despite Dalí’s fervent experimentation with different artistic styles and media, his portraits of the 1960s remained remarkably conservative and his approach changed little from that of the previous decades. He very much clung to his original style and the formula of the Cadaqués-inspired background; the sitter depicted as a bust or in three-quarter length; botanical symbolism; and the requisite angels, horses and riders populating the landscape. The portraits did, however, become less cluttered, which may have had as much to do with Dalí’s waning interest in portraiture as it did his desire to expedite production. This conventional approach could be disappointing to clients who, like São Schlumberger, complained that they had hoped for something quirkier and more daringly “Dalínian” than what was delivered. Perhaps the only exception to this was Dalí’s Portrait of Abel Fagen of 1965, which looks to have begun as a traditional portrait, until the periphery was coated with spray-paint that had been misted over cutlery, reflecting the artist’s interest in stencil work that same year.
Generally speaking, the quality of Dalí’s society portraits declined considerably during this period, and by 1967, the artist had more or less ceased production. He could, it is true, still produce a masterfully-painted, if characteristically stilted likeness if he was interested in, or genuinely liked, the subject. This was demonstrated with works such as his “classic”-style Portrait of Countess Ghislaine d’Oultremont (Ghil Lewis) of 1960 or his dainty jewel-toned Portrait of Mon Ling Landegger of 1964. That said, the sluggish brush and sloppy rendering in the background of such works as Portrait of Sara María Larrabure of 1963 or his chalky and awkward 1965 Portrait of Lammot du Pont Copeland clearly map Dalí’s increasing lack of interest in his portrait sideline in America.
It should also be remembered that, beginning in the 1950s, Dalí worked with assistants who would perform tasks like mapping out the perspective for his very large works, or execute the base drawings for smaller canvases, and render minor details. As with a few in the 1950s, it is suspected that for a number of portraits of the 1960s, Dalí handed over a number of minor details to an assistant, likely the Canadian artist Tim Phillips. Judging from the disparate styles and palettes that can appear on a single canvas, the artist still seems to have insisted on painting the faces, but in several works the hand is so different from Dalí’s in the rendering of clouds, background details, flourishes and clothing, it seems likely another artist was at work here.
Portrait of Bobo Rockefeller (unfinished), c. 1960.
Oil on canvas, 60 x 56 cm (23.62” x 22.05”).
Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí, Figueres. Dalí bequest.
Oil on canvas, 60 x 56 cm (23.62” x 22.05”).
Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí, Figueres. Dalí bequest.
1960 began with plans for a portrait of one Barbara “Bobo” Rockefeller (1916-2008), former wife of Standard Oil heir, multi-millionaire, and one-time governor of Arkansas, Winthrop Rockefeller. Born Jievute Paulekiute, in Noblestown, Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh, the girl who would be known as “Bobo” was the daughter of Lithuanian immigrants, and her father worked as a coal miner. As a young girl Bobo moved to Chicago and lived in a poor neighborhood near the stockyards. An attractive blonde, in 1933 she was crowned Miss Lithuania at the Century of Progress International Exposition world’s fair held in Chicago in 1933-34. Using the name Eva Paul (her Lithuanian name Anglicized), she went on to become a model, appearing in magazines such as Vogue and Vanity Fair.[2]
In 1936, Bobo began working as a stage actress, and performed bit parts in Hollywood films such as That Night with You (1945) and Code of the Lawless (1945). While working in Boston she met blue-blood socialite John Sears Jr., whom she married in 1940. Sears was stationed overseas for much of World War II, and the couple divorced after his return. Later working in New York, the actress attracted the attention of the handsome multimillionaire known at that time as America’s most eligible bachelor, Winthrop Rockefeller. The two wed on Valentine’s Day, 1948, at the Palm Beach estate of Winston and C.Z. Guest (the latter of whom Dalí painted in 1958), and the reception was attended by the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. As might be imagined, the Prince and the Pauper-style union was dubbed the “Cinderella wedding of the century” and garnered massive publicity. The papers delighted in playing this up, as did Time magazine, reporting that Bobo’s mother and stepfather were unable to join the top drawer attendees at the wedding as they were busy on their Indiana farm making Lithuanian cheese. It also did not slip the press’s notice months later that the newlywed Rockefeller’s son, Winthrop Paul, was born a slim seven months after the wedding.[3]
Despite their early passion, by the fall of 1950, the marriage had fallen apart and the couple separated acrimoniously. Lurid details emerged about Winthrop’s drinking, womanizing and an allegedly extensive collection of pornography. Bobo, it turned out, was a decidedly feisty character and, not afraid to “take on” a Rockefeller, launched an extremely contentious custody and settlement battle. This too was highly publicized, in part due to Bobo’s staged antics, including a sit-in protest at her husband’s Park Avenue penthouse. She spoke frequently to the press, insisting her son deserved better, and that “a Rockefeller wasn’t born to be raised on a farm.” After going through numerous lawyers, and relocations (Winthrop Sr. even temporarily moved to Alabama, where the divorce laws were more lax), a settlement was reached for the then-unheard of sum of close to six million dollars (about sixty million in today’s currency).[4]
In 1936, Bobo began working as a stage actress, and performed bit parts in Hollywood films such as That Night with You (1945) and Code of the Lawless (1945). While working in Boston she met blue-blood socialite John Sears Jr., whom she married in 1940. Sears was stationed overseas for much of World War II, and the couple divorced after his return. Later working in New York, the actress attracted the attention of the handsome multimillionaire known at that time as America’s most eligible bachelor, Winthrop Rockefeller. The two wed on Valentine’s Day, 1948, at the Palm Beach estate of Winston and C.Z. Guest (the latter of whom Dalí painted in 1958), and the reception was attended by the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. As might be imagined, the Prince and the Pauper-style union was dubbed the “Cinderella wedding of the century” and garnered massive publicity. The papers delighted in playing this up, as did Time magazine, reporting that Bobo’s mother and stepfather were unable to join the top drawer attendees at the wedding as they were busy on their Indiana farm making Lithuanian cheese. It also did not slip the press’s notice months later that the newlywed Rockefeller’s son, Winthrop Paul, was born a slim seven months after the wedding.[3]
Despite their early passion, by the fall of 1950, the marriage had fallen apart and the couple separated acrimoniously. Lurid details emerged about Winthrop’s drinking, womanizing and an allegedly extensive collection of pornography. Bobo, it turned out, was a decidedly feisty character and, not afraid to “take on” a Rockefeller, launched an extremely contentious custody and settlement battle. This too was highly publicized, in part due to Bobo’s staged antics, including a sit-in protest at her husband’s Park Avenue penthouse. She spoke frequently to the press, insisting her son deserved better, and that “a Rockefeller wasn’t born to be raised on a farm.” After going through numerous lawyers, and relocations (Winthrop Sr. even temporarily moved to Alabama, where the divorce laws were more lax), a settlement was reached for the then-unheard of sum of close to six million dollars (about sixty million in today’s currency).[4]
Bobo Rockefeller on the cover of LIFE magazine, March 15, 1954.
Bobo’s efforts payed off, and by all accounts, she thoroughly enjoyed herself post-settlement. Moving to an East 67th Street townhouse fitted out with squash court, pool, grand tapestries and lavish murals, she became Manhattan’s most celebrated hostess. Endlessly fascinating to the public, in 1954, she appeared on the cover of LIFE magazine to advertise her featured rags to riches story inside. Years later, at the age of eighty-one, Bobo announced she was moving to Paris where she was going to “whip around and have some fun!” Eventually she moved to Little Rock to spend time with her son who, while running for Arkansas governor, was diagnosed, and eventually died of leukemia in 2006.[5]
Carlos Alemany, Bobo Rockefeller and Dalí 1955 in NYC
Image rights of Salvador Dalí reserved. Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí, Figueres, 2023.
Image rights of Salvador Dalí reserved. Fundació Gala-Salvador Dalí, Figueres, 2023.
A “tough cookie” with a flair for the dramatic, despite her immense wealth, Bobo apparently never lost her taste for a bargain. While attempting to lower prices during negotiations, she was known to quip, “Who do you think I am, a Rockefeller?”[6] Such frugality included her dealings with Dalí regarding her portrait. According to the New York Mirror of May 23, 1960, Dalí and Bobo had discussed his painting her portrait in the mid-1940s,[7] and Art Magazine reports that when she was initially quoted the commission price of $15,000, she cried “Impossible! . . . Ask Dalí for a miniature, ten by fourteen inches, that I can place on my piano.” Dalí’s reply apparently came back very quickly, to the tune of “The smaller the painting, the more it costs.”[8] Bobo evidently came around, it seems, and the contract for the portrait, signed March 14, 1960, survives in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives. It stipulates a canvas of 25 x 36 inches, at a price of $15,000, with 5,000 in advance.[9] This was, it should be noted, five thousand dollars higher than the artist’s going rate at that time.
The Mirror further reported that Bobo had made Dalí promise that there would be no Surrealist caprices, such as “bleeding hearts or wounded butterflies in the background.” She was to travel to Port Lligat in July of 1960 to see the artist, who had already made preliminary sketches in New York. The sittings appear to have been carefully planned down to the fine details, as the paper also notes that “The Dalí-designed white chiffon Grecian dress in which Bobo will be painted will be made by Jean Dessès in Paris.”[10]
Bobo’s voyage to Spain did take place, and the Post-Standard reported on October 28, 1960, that the subject “spent several weeks last summer in Cadaqués, Spain, near the home of Salvador Dalí, posing for a portrait by him.” A 1960 photograph shows Dalí painting her in a white dress as described, in his Port Lligat studio, although the front of the work is not visible in the photograph. Not unusual for Dalí’s portrait practice, the Post-Standard relays that “She still hasn’t seen the portrait because Dalí refused to let her glance at his canvas.” One has to wonder if tensions had arisen between them, as apparently Mrs. Rockefeller told Dalí to “Put an eye in the back of my head, because that’s what I'm paying you for.”[11]
The Mirror further reported that Bobo had made Dalí promise that there would be no Surrealist caprices, such as “bleeding hearts or wounded butterflies in the background.” She was to travel to Port Lligat in July of 1960 to see the artist, who had already made preliminary sketches in New York. The sittings appear to have been carefully planned down to the fine details, as the paper also notes that “The Dalí-designed white chiffon Grecian dress in which Bobo will be painted will be made by Jean Dessès in Paris.”[10]
Bobo’s voyage to Spain did take place, and the Post-Standard reported on October 28, 1960, that the subject “spent several weeks last summer in Cadaqués, Spain, near the home of Salvador Dalí, posing for a portrait by him.” A 1960 photograph shows Dalí painting her in a white dress as described, in his Port Lligat studio, although the front of the work is not visible in the photograph. Not unusual for Dalí’s portrait practice, the Post-Standard relays that “She still hasn’t seen the portrait because Dalí refused to let her glance at his canvas.” One has to wonder if tensions had arisen between them, as apparently Mrs. Rockefeller told Dalí to “Put an eye in the back of my head, because that’s what I'm paying you for.”[11]
Barbara “Bobo” Rockefeller posing for Dalí in Port Lligat, July 1960.
By January of the following year, the Lawrence Journal-World reported that Bobo was still posing for “that portrait by Salvador Dalí started long ago,” and hints at further tensions between the two, quoting Bobo’s quip that “I’m getting older, but Dalí gets smarter – so it all evens itself up in the end.”[12] Finally, by April of 1961, the Toledo Blade reported that the work was complete, but that “Bobo Rockefeller’s new portrait by Salvador Dalí is rumoured to have cost her $25,000.” If this was the case, Dalí evidently managed to push the price up another $10,000 before completion. The paper notes that it is a “‘straight’ portrait (no snakes coming out of her head, or any of the usual Dalí whimsies) so Bobo thinks it’s marvellous and well worth the price. . .[13]
If, as the Toledo Blade reports, there was indeed a finished portrait of Bobo, this work has yet to come to light. The only documented portrait of the subject in Dalí’s oeuvre is the unfinished Portrait of Bobo Rockefeller, assumed to have been executed during the patron’s time in Port Lligat. As it is significantly smaller than stipulated in the contract (roughly 24” x 23” as opposed to the required 25” x 36”) this incomplete canvas may be a preliminary oil sketch, made in preparation for the proposed final work. This becomes more likely when one considers that this sketch was not retained by Bobo, and remained in Dalí’s possession until it was bequeathed to the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation.
While unfinished, Dalí’s sketchy likeness of Bobo nevertheless has a distinct charm of its own, and shows a softer side of the artist’s style and technique. Comprised of the sitter’s loosely-sketched head and torso against a grey and gold background, only a portion of the subject’s face appears close to complete. Bobo’s truncated arms recall classical statuary, and the softness the artist has given her hair and dress, through smudging and loose brushwork, add to this classicizing effect.
If, as the Toledo Blade reports, there was indeed a finished portrait of Bobo, this work has yet to come to light. The only documented portrait of the subject in Dalí’s oeuvre is the unfinished Portrait of Bobo Rockefeller, assumed to have been executed during the patron’s time in Port Lligat. As it is significantly smaller than stipulated in the contract (roughly 24” x 23” as opposed to the required 25” x 36”) this incomplete canvas may be a preliminary oil sketch, made in preparation for the proposed final work. This becomes more likely when one considers that this sketch was not retained by Bobo, and remained in Dalí’s possession until it was bequeathed to the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation.
While unfinished, Dalí’s sketchy likeness of Bobo nevertheless has a distinct charm of its own, and shows a softer side of the artist’s style and technique. Comprised of the sitter’s loosely-sketched head and torso against a grey and gold background, only a portion of the subject’s face appears close to complete. Bobo’s truncated arms recall classical statuary, and the softness the artist has given her hair and dress, through smudging and loose brushwork, add to this classicizing effect.
Portrait of Ghislaine Lewis / Mrs. J. Norman Lewis / Countess Ghislaine d’Oultremont, 1960.
Oil on canvas, 74.3 x 61.6 cm (29.25” x 24.25”).
Signed and dated 1960, middle right.
Current location unknown, although last traced to the Centaur Galleries in Las Vegas.
Oil on canvas, 74.3 x 61.6 cm (29.25” x 24.25”).
Signed and dated 1960, middle right.
Current location unknown, although last traced to the Centaur Galleries in Las Vegas.
Dalí was very busy with portrait work in 1960, and another piece he signed in this year was his Portrait of Ghislaine Lewis, sometimes published as Portrait of Mrs. J. Norman Lewis or Portrait of Countess Ghislaine d’Oultremont. The subject was Countess Ghislaine Marguerite Marie Jeanne Gabrielle d’Oultremont (1912 - 1979), who was born in Brussels. Ghil, as she was known, came from one of the oldest noble Belgian families, with descendants tracing back to 1276. Her father, Count Guy d’Oultremont, was highly decorated, including Belgian honours such as the Croix de Guerre, the Ordre de Léopold, the Croix Militaire, as well as the French Légion d'honneur, the Prussian Ordre de l’Aigle Rouge, and the British Victorian Order. His Constantinople-born wife, Ghil’s mother, was Countess Raymonde dei Conti Vitali.[14]
Ghil married twice. In 1934 she wed her first husband, the Belgian Robert Lon Adrien Hallet, who died in 1947. When Ghil came to America as a war exile in 1940, it is not known if her husband followed. What is recorded is that she and her maternal grandmother Marguerite Vitali sailed from Lisbon to New York on the Excambion in October of 1940,[15] as did the Dalís, on the same vessel, two months earlier. Ghil’s second husband was attorney Jonas Norman Lewis, who specialized in sports and retail law. The couple lived in New York in a prewar high rise on Fifth Ave that overlooked Central Park, although Ghislaine died in Miami, Florida in 1979.
The portrait of Ghislaine follows Dalí’s habitual formula, with the subject against a backdrop of a sandy expanse, with a rocky horizon in the distance. The existing photograph of the portrait from the foundation appears to be the only one available, and it is not clear whether or not the photo has been cropped. Certainly, the span of the background uncharacteristically closely around the figure, so as viewers, we many not be getting the full picture. Above Ghil is a cloudy blue sky, and below, a branch that hints at a woody perch similar to the one Reinaldo Herrera sits upon in his portrait painted the previous year. To the left is the ubiquitous rider on horseback, this time holding a swath of red fabric, and to the right, a grand edifice typical of historic Belgian architecture. This is a rendering of Ham-sur-Heure Castle, in the province of Hainaut. Considered one of the most beautiful chateaux in the country, from the fifteenth century until 1941, it belonged to the Mérode family, who were closely aligned with the d’Oultremonts. In 1941 ownership was then transferred to the d’Oultremonts outright, until it was sold to municipal authorities and became the town hall.[16]
Ghil married twice. In 1934 she wed her first husband, the Belgian Robert Lon Adrien Hallet, who died in 1947. When Ghil came to America as a war exile in 1940, it is not known if her husband followed. What is recorded is that she and her maternal grandmother Marguerite Vitali sailed from Lisbon to New York on the Excambion in October of 1940,[15] as did the Dalís, on the same vessel, two months earlier. Ghil’s second husband was attorney Jonas Norman Lewis, who specialized in sports and retail law. The couple lived in New York in a prewar high rise on Fifth Ave that overlooked Central Park, although Ghislaine died in Miami, Florida in 1979.
The portrait of Ghislaine follows Dalí’s habitual formula, with the subject against a backdrop of a sandy expanse, with a rocky horizon in the distance. The existing photograph of the portrait from the foundation appears to be the only one available, and it is not clear whether or not the photo has been cropped. Certainly, the span of the background uncharacteristically closely around the figure, so as viewers, we many not be getting the full picture. Above Ghil is a cloudy blue sky, and below, a branch that hints at a woody perch similar to the one Reinaldo Herrera sits upon in his portrait painted the previous year. To the left is the ubiquitous rider on horseback, this time holding a swath of red fabric, and to the right, a grand edifice typical of historic Belgian architecture. This is a rendering of Ham-sur-Heure Castle, in the province of Hainaut. Considered one of the most beautiful chateaux in the country, from the fifteenth century until 1941, it belonged to the Mérode family, who were closely aligned with the d’Oultremonts. In 1941 ownership was then transferred to the d’Oultremonts outright, until it was sold to municipal authorities and became the town hall.[16]
Postcard from the 1920s depicting the Ham-sur-Heure Castle, Belgium.
While directly facing the viewer, Ghil’s head is turned to the left, looking out beyond the picture plane. Dalí has captured the likeness of an attractive woman in her late forties, with fashionably arranged blonde hair. While her face shows signs of her middle years, her skin seems luminous and youthful. The countess wears a blue, yellow, brown and white dress with a floral pattern, with the sleeves brushed off her shoulders in accordance with Dali’s preference for painting his female subjects décolleté. She wears pearls in her ears and around her neck, bracelets on both wrists, and a monogrammed diamond brooch. All these elements work well together, and Dalí has employed an immaculate, near-photographic technique for the rendering, yet there remains an uncomfortable stiffness to the piece. Ghil’s expression appears only marginally wooden, but her pose, with the arm crooked and positioned no doubt to show off her elegant hand, seems unnatural and awkwardly arranged. Instead of showcasing the mature beauty and grace of the sitter, which one might assume such a portrait was intended to accomplish, the effect is rather to underscore the self-consciousness of her demeanor.
The Lewises evidently had high hopes for the work, and on Sunday March 20th of the year the portrait was completed, they sent out invitations to their friends and acquaintances for an event at their 1050 Fifth Avenue Apartment. “Mr. Salvador Dalí will unveil his newest portrait,” it reads, and on a copy of one of these invitations held in the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation archives, Ghil has hand-written to the artist in French, “I hope the portrait is finished!”[17] Whether Portrait of Ghislaine Lewis arrived finished and on time for the unveiling, and what the Lewises and their guests’ reaction to the work was, is not known. After that, little is known about the history of the portrait, except that it was last recorded for sale in 2001 at the Centaur Galleries in Las Vegas, with an asking price of $1.2 million.[18]
The Lewises evidently had high hopes for the work, and on Sunday March 20th of the year the portrait was completed, they sent out invitations to their friends and acquaintances for an event at their 1050 Fifth Avenue Apartment. “Mr. Salvador Dalí will unveil his newest portrait,” it reads, and on a copy of one of these invitations held in the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation archives, Ghil has hand-written to the artist in French, “I hope the portrait is finished!”[17] Whether Portrait of Ghislaine Lewis arrived finished and on time for the unveiling, and what the Lewises and their guests’ reaction to the work was, is not known. After that, little is known about the history of the portrait, except that it was last recorded for sale in 2001 at the Centaur Galleries in Las Vegas, with an asking price of $1.2 million.[18]
Portrait of Mildred Fagen, 1960.
Oil on canvas, 104.5 x 79.5 cm (40.94” x 31.50”).
Artium, Centro-Museo Vasco de Arte Contemporáneo in Vitoria, Spain.
Oil on canvas, 104.5 x 79.5 cm (40.94” x 31.50”).
Artium, Centro-Museo Vasco de Arte Contemporáneo in Vitoria, Spain.
In 1960 Dalí also painted the portrait of Chicago native Mildred Rees Fagen (1906-1971), a highly active and much-respected patron of the arts. Among her many interests and accomplishments, Mildred was a trustee of Roosevelt University, where her grass-roots patronage of arts education is still commemorated in the Mildred Fagen Theatre of Art History, which houses a slide library. A sculptor herself, she is perhaps best remembered as the founder and long-time director of the art exhibit at the Ravinia Festival, America’s oldest outdoor music festival held every summer in Highland Park, Illinois. She was married to the textile broker Abel Edward Fagen, whose portrait Dalí also painted a few years later.
The Fagens lived with their three sons in fashionable Lake Forest in the affluent North Shore of the metropolitan Chicago region bordering Lake Michigan. Their home was frequently abuzz with celebrities of the ballet and theatre, musicians and artists, and therefore a showpiece for the local art scene.[19] Interested in avant-garde and modern art and design, the Fagens lived in a sprawling Frank-Lloyd Wright- and Bauhaus-inspired house designed by the Chicago architectural firm Keck and Keck, set amid eighty acres of partially wooded land of their “dream farm.” By mid-twentieth century American standards, their vanguard house was so starkly modern they claimed their more conservative friends were “pained” by it. The interior was equally daring, decorated by modernist Chicago designer Marianne Willisch.
In addition to the chicest of furnishings, the Fagen house was filled with numerous works by Chicago artists, and modern masters such as Diego Rivera, Picasso, and of course, Dalí. [20] Mrs. Fagen had known the artist since the 1940s, and was a great admirer of his work. She accumulated what was described as a “wealth of Dalíana,” including catalogues, illustrated books, news sheets and other ephemera, much of which was inscribed to her by him.[21] Mrs. Fagen occasionally gave lectures to women’s groups about the Spanish Surrealist, and in addition to their portraits, the couple also owned Dalí’s 1963 painting Arabs: The Death of Raimundus Lullus. A copy of the contract for the portrait commission, dated March 13, 1959 and set for $10,000, is retained in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives.[22]
The Fagens lived with their three sons in fashionable Lake Forest in the affluent North Shore of the metropolitan Chicago region bordering Lake Michigan. Their home was frequently abuzz with celebrities of the ballet and theatre, musicians and artists, and therefore a showpiece for the local art scene.[19] Interested in avant-garde and modern art and design, the Fagens lived in a sprawling Frank-Lloyd Wright- and Bauhaus-inspired house designed by the Chicago architectural firm Keck and Keck, set amid eighty acres of partially wooded land of their “dream farm.” By mid-twentieth century American standards, their vanguard house was so starkly modern they claimed their more conservative friends were “pained” by it. The interior was equally daring, decorated by modernist Chicago designer Marianne Willisch.
In addition to the chicest of furnishings, the Fagen house was filled with numerous works by Chicago artists, and modern masters such as Diego Rivera, Picasso, and of course, Dalí. [20] Mrs. Fagen had known the artist since the 1940s, and was a great admirer of his work. She accumulated what was described as a “wealth of Dalíana,” including catalogues, illustrated books, news sheets and other ephemera, much of which was inscribed to her by him.[21] Mrs. Fagen occasionally gave lectures to women’s groups about the Spanish Surrealist, and in addition to their portraits, the couple also owned Dalí’s 1963 painting Arabs: The Death of Raimundus Lullus. A copy of the contract for the portrait commission, dated March 13, 1959 and set for $10,000, is retained in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives.[22]
Mrs. Fagen (far right) presents the program "An Afternoon with Salvador Dalí,"
sponsored by the Brandeis University Women's Committee.
sponsored by the Brandeis University Women's Committee.
Thanks to several interviews in local magazines and newspapers, a good deal of first-hand information about the portrait was recorded for posterity. Mrs. Fagen evidently found having her likeness captured by Dalí “a fascinating and highly enjoyable experience.” She recounted that the artist could “converse brilliantly on almost any subject” while he worked, although, typically, she was not allowed to catch so much as a glimpse of the work until it was complete. Sittings took place in the artist’s studio at the St. Regis, which required her to commute between Lake Forest and New York several times.[23]
In an interview in the Milwaukee Sentinel, Mrs. Fagen discussed what the reporter described as “the remarkably true likeness of the portrait.” Speaking of herself in the third person, she then points out some of what other patrons might find unflattering. “See,” she observes, “how Dalí has painted her as the plump, middle-aged woman she is, a mother type, although he showed no interest at all in her three sons.” She also notes how “he has made the large hands even larger than they are, oversized, in fact, and put more jewelry on her than she would ever wear at one time.” As for her costume, she explains that the Cuban ballerina Alicia Alonso gave her the embroidered red pillbox hat she sported “when it is windy or when I am travelling, I wear it over a transparent snood such as you see in the portrait.” The reporter further reveals that the navy blue moiré silk taffeta dress which Mrs. Fagen wore for the sittings Dalí had altered to an earthy brown.[24]
As Mrs. Fagen points out, the portrait is not particularly flattering, a fact not aided by Dalí’s placement of the figure toward the bottom of the canvas, giving the work an unbalanced feel. The background includes Dalí’s formula golden landscape marked with a few rocky hills, an angel figure in the middle ground, and a deep blue sky, with a white cloud to the left, and a dark one to the right. The chair of gnarled wood, similar to the one in Portrait of Reinaldo Herrera, returns here, as does the yin-yang emblem last seen in Portrait of Arthur Clarke Herrington. In an interview conducted by the Chicago Sun Tribune, Mrs. Fagen narrated an interesting story about Dalí’s inclusion of this ancient Chinese symbol. It seems that during one of the final sittings Mrs. Fagen informed the artist she would like him to make a piece of jewellery for her. She “told him of her interest in the ancient oriental symbol of yang and yin – two joined forms representing the diametric opposites that make up the world; night and day, good and evil, hot and cold, action and passivity.” As such, she suggested that perhaps Dalí might base his design around this ancient sign. Suddenly, he allegedly ran over to her shouting “At the very moment you spoke I was just painting this symbol in the background of your portrait!”[25]
In an interview in the Milwaukee Sentinel, Mrs. Fagen discussed what the reporter described as “the remarkably true likeness of the portrait.” Speaking of herself in the third person, she then points out some of what other patrons might find unflattering. “See,” she observes, “how Dalí has painted her as the plump, middle-aged woman she is, a mother type, although he showed no interest at all in her three sons.” She also notes how “he has made the large hands even larger than they are, oversized, in fact, and put more jewelry on her than she would ever wear at one time.” As for her costume, she explains that the Cuban ballerina Alicia Alonso gave her the embroidered red pillbox hat she sported “when it is windy or when I am travelling, I wear it over a transparent snood such as you see in the portrait.” The reporter further reveals that the navy blue moiré silk taffeta dress which Mrs. Fagen wore for the sittings Dalí had altered to an earthy brown.[24]
As Mrs. Fagen points out, the portrait is not particularly flattering, a fact not aided by Dalí’s placement of the figure toward the bottom of the canvas, giving the work an unbalanced feel. The background includes Dalí’s formula golden landscape marked with a few rocky hills, an angel figure in the middle ground, and a deep blue sky, with a white cloud to the left, and a dark one to the right. The chair of gnarled wood, similar to the one in Portrait of Reinaldo Herrera, returns here, as does the yin-yang emblem last seen in Portrait of Arthur Clarke Herrington. In an interview conducted by the Chicago Sun Tribune, Mrs. Fagen narrated an interesting story about Dalí’s inclusion of this ancient Chinese symbol. It seems that during one of the final sittings Mrs. Fagen informed the artist she would like him to make a piece of jewellery for her. She “told him of her interest in the ancient oriental symbol of yang and yin – two joined forms representing the diametric opposites that make up the world; night and day, good and evil, hot and cold, action and passivity.” As such, she suggested that perhaps Dalí might base his design around this ancient sign. Suddenly, he allegedly ran over to her shouting “At the very moment you spoke I was just painting this symbol in the background of your portrait!”[25]
Portrait of a Man (They Were Three), n.d.
Oil on canvas 61 x 51 cm. (24” x 20”).
Colour image from Paul Dorsey’s Dalí Planet.
Oil on canvas 61 x 51 cm. (24” x 20”).
Colour image from Paul Dorsey’s Dalí Planet.
While most of the subjects of Dalí’s portraits are known, the identity of the sitter in his little-known Portrait of a Man remains a mystery. The work is cited in what is considered to be the definitive catalogue of the artist’s work, Robert Descharnes’ Dalí: The Paintings, with the sub-title “There Were Three,” together with the dimensions and medium of the piece. It is listed as being in a private collection, and although the date is cited as 1960, it appears illegible in the existing photograph, and therefore may have been an estimate on the author’s behalf. What else is known about Portrait of a Man is simply what visual evidence provides: that the subject was a Caucasian male in early middle age, with receding brown hair and brown eyes, who smoked cigarettes and wore boxy, light-coloured suits. Behind him is the habitual Dalínian landscape, comprised of a sandy, desert-like expanse, where a few low mountains dotted with trees are visible. To the right of the subject is an unclothed man on a white horse, and along the front, a ledge upon which rests some spindly foliage, and a single Dalínian ant. Also evident is that while Portrait of a Man is one of Dalí’s more compositionally accomplished portraits in terms of style and technique, the canvas appears unfinished. The gentleman’s jacket lacks detail, the right arm appears to merge with his suit, and the right hand lacks definition.
Speculation as to the identity of the sitter based on visual evidence suggests that the subject may be Don Pedro de Maturana, a diplomat from Chile, who married one Elizabeth Correll Lowenstein, a resident of Scarsdale, New York. Maturana’s family was well known in his home country, and his name also appears on the guest list of several events in New York and Spain. Dalí met Maturana several times in New York City in the 1950s, and photographs of the two socializing reveals there is a distinct resemblance between Don Maturana and the man in the portrait.
Speculation as to the identity of the sitter based on visual evidence suggests that the subject may be Don Pedro de Maturana, a diplomat from Chile, who married one Elizabeth Correll Lowenstein, a resident of Scarsdale, New York. Maturana’s family was well known in his home country, and his name also appears on the guest list of several events in New York and Spain. Dalí met Maturana several times in New York City in the 1950s, and photographs of the two socializing reveals there is a distinct resemblance between Don Maturana and the man in the portrait.
Chilean diplomat Don Pedro de Maturana with Salvador Dalí at the Carstairs Gallery, December 1956.
Further conjecture based on visual evidence about the subject in Portrait of a Man suggests he might possibly be Roy Titus (1909 – 1989), the eldest son of Helena Rubinstein (a.k.a. Princess Gourielli), from her first marriage. Born in London, Titus moved with his family to the United States in 1914. After earning degrees from Oxford and the Harvard School of Business Administration, he later became chairman of his mother’s cosmetics empire, and later of the Helena Rubinstein Foundation and other charitable enterprises.[26]
Roy Titus with his mother Helena Rubinstein/Princess Gourielli, 1950.
A resemblance is evident between Titus and the man in the painting, and as Rubinstein was an avid patron of Dalí’s work, it is conceivable that in addition to commissioning Dalí to paint herself and her husband, she requested a likeness of her son. If this were the case, it might explain the stated subtitle of the work, “There Were Three” – referring perhaps to the three family portraits. While Dalí was well acquainted with Rubinstein and her second husband, it is not known if he met Roy Titus. The artist was, however, acquainted with her second son, Horace Titus, whom he described as “somber as a character out of a Racine tragedy.”[27]
Unless further documentation arises as to the identity of the subject of Portrait of a Man, the work will remain a mystery. One possible clue, however, may be in the spiny foliage that appears on the counter-like barrier in front of the man, to the right of the picture plane. As has been demonstrated, Dalí so often employed the language of flowers in his portraits, sometimes playing upon the subject’s name, or in references to his or her character or profession.
Whomever Portrait of a Man was meant to depict, it is likely the work was rejected, or that the commission fell through, which might explain its unfinished and unidentified state in existing photographs. This seems more likely when the work is compared to one Dalí signed in 1978, which appears to be the same picture, with the subject painted out, and a few more details painted in. Indeed, close examination of Dalí’s 1978 Landscape near Ampurdan shows a background identical to Portrait of a Man. The measurements of Landscape near Ampurdan are also listed as the same size as the portrait (roughly 61 x 51 cm) in Descharnes’ Dalí: The Paintings, and the placement of the horseman and horse, as well as two tiny angels to the left of the canvas, seem to neatly sideline the empty space in the middle of the work – highly unusual in the artist’s oeuvre.
Whomever Portrait of a Man was meant to depict, it is likely the work was rejected, or that the commission fell through, which might explain its unfinished and unidentified state in existing photographs. This seems more likely when the work is compared to one Dalí signed in 1978, which appears to be the same picture, with the subject painted out, and a few more details painted in. Indeed, close examination of Dalí’s 1978 Landscape near Ampurdan shows a background identical to Portrait of a Man. The measurements of Landscape near Ampurdan are also listed as the same size as the portrait (roughly 61 x 51 cm) in Descharnes’ Dalí: The Paintings, and the placement of the horseman and horse, as well as two tiny angels to the left of the canvas, seem to neatly sideline the empty space in the middle of the work – highly unusual in the artist’s oeuvre.
Landscape near Ampurdan, 1978.
Oil on canvas, 61 x 50.8 cm.
Listed in Descharnes’ Dalí: The Paintings as private collection.
Oil on canvas, 61 x 50.8 cm.
Listed in Descharnes’ Dalí: The Paintings as private collection.
This comparison strongly suggests that the portrait was painted over and renamed. Further corroboration includes the retention of the original signature and date, in addition to where Dalí has signed and dated the work twice more: once, under the horseman, and again under the presumed newly-painted angel. As we have seen from the 1946 Portrait of Luli Kollsman, which was altered at the owner’s request, it was not unusual for Dalí to retain earlier dates on portrait he had altered, as well as adding the date of the modification. With so many unanswered question about Portrait of a Man, research continues, and while the identity of the subject may never come to light, an X-ray of the work could easily determine if Landscape near Ampurdan conceals the portrait beneath.
Salvador Dalí standing next to Landscape near Ampurdan, NYC, 1978
Author's collection
Author's collection
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Left: Portrait of a Man; right: Landscape near Ampurdan.
Portrait of Rosemary Chisholm, 1961.
Oil on canvas, 90 x 73 cm (35.43” x 28.74”).
Private collection, Cincinnati.
Oil on canvas, 90 x 73 cm (35.43” x 28.74”).
Private collection, Cincinnati.
One of the three portraits Dalí’s was to complete in 1961 was of Rosemary Warburton Gaynor Chisholm (1921 - 1974), a Philadelphia native who grew up among the top drawer social set considered America’s aristocracy. Rosemary’s father was Barclay Harding Warburton Jr., whose own father-in-law was John Wanamaker, founder of Wanamaker’s “Grand Depot” department store in Philadelphia, one of the first stores of its kind in the U.S. In 1927, Rosemary’s mother, born Rosamund Lancaster, remarried to William Kissam Vanderbilt II, of the famous American Vanderbilts. He was an accomplished sailor, yachtsman and motorcar racer.[28]
At a young age Rosemary married William C. T. Gaynor, a young, talented doctor, and they had one son, Vere. [29] Rosemary married a second time in 1958, to “Coast Poet” Hugh J. Chisholm Jr., a New York Native who came from a family of wealthy industrialists in the paper industry in Portland, Maine. [30] Of note, Hugh’s first wife was the Surrealist painter Bridget Arkwright Bate, a cousin of Dalí’s close friend and patron Edward James.[31]
A blonde beauty, Rosemary occasionally modeled for Condé Nast magazines in the 1940s, and was known throughout her life as a chic dresser. Her son also remembers that although his mother never attended college, she was extremely intelligent. One of her best friends was C.Z. Guest, whom Dalí painted in 1958, and both went to school with the ill-starred actress Diana Barrymore of the famous acting family, whose life of addictions and bad relationships ended in suicide. Like the Guests, the Chisholms were closely acquainted with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, and Rosemary socialized and undertook charity events with other members of the international set.[32]
The Chisholms lived an extraordinary and opulent life, and had homes in many parts of the world at various times, including a bungalow in Barbados, the chateau Domaine de Courbois near Biarritz, the Montrose Long Island resort, and the twenty-one room La Dolphine mansion in Hillsborough California. The latter was the famously cursed “hoo doo mansion” that once belonged to the sugar heiress Dorothy Spreckels Munn, another of Dalí’s portrait subjects.
At a young age Rosemary married William C. T. Gaynor, a young, talented doctor, and they had one son, Vere. [29] Rosemary married a second time in 1958, to “Coast Poet” Hugh J. Chisholm Jr., a New York Native who came from a family of wealthy industrialists in the paper industry in Portland, Maine. [30] Of note, Hugh’s first wife was the Surrealist painter Bridget Arkwright Bate, a cousin of Dalí’s close friend and patron Edward James.[31]
A blonde beauty, Rosemary occasionally modeled for Condé Nast magazines in the 1940s, and was known throughout her life as a chic dresser. Her son also remembers that although his mother never attended college, she was extremely intelligent. One of her best friends was C.Z. Guest, whom Dalí painted in 1958, and both went to school with the ill-starred actress Diana Barrymore of the famous acting family, whose life of addictions and bad relationships ended in suicide. Like the Guests, the Chisholms were closely acquainted with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, and Rosemary socialized and undertook charity events with other members of the international set.[32]
The Chisholms lived an extraordinary and opulent life, and had homes in many parts of the world at various times, including a bungalow in Barbados, the chateau Domaine de Courbois near Biarritz, the Montrose Long Island resort, and the twenty-one room La Dolphine mansion in Hillsborough California. The latter was the famously cursed “hoo doo mansion” that once belonged to the sugar heiress Dorothy Spreckels Munn, another of Dalí’s portrait subjects.
Rosemary Chisholm and Salvador Dalí at a farewell party in the famed El Morocco, January 9, 1961.
Rosemary appears in Dalí’s painting sitting with her body askance, while her head faces the viewer, whom she holds with an even, green-eyed gaze. Considering some of Dalí’s other subjects, she appears quite lovely, comparable to a mature Hitchcock beauty, with upswept golden hair, likely pulled into a chignon in the back. She wears a décolleté evening gown with floral details in the front, in varying shades of white and pale blue. Around her neck is a large necklace of diamonds and pearls, with a large tear-shaped pearl in the centre, matching those in her earrings. Rosemary’s son Vere believes this impressive jewel set formerly belonged to Rosemary’s mother, Rosamund Vanderbilt.
Winston and C.Z. Guest, Rosemary Chisholm and Salvador Dalí in New York, 1964.
ABC Madrid, Feb. 2, 1964, page 51.
ABC Madrid, Feb. 2, 1964, page 51.
For the background, Dalí chose his usual format of a horizon line, studded with a few natural rock formations, and a multi-faceted boulder and a small tree, for scale. He has maintained a white and blue palette throughout, which picks up the icy hues of his subject’s diamonds, pearls and couture gown, and suggests a certain patrician coolness. Oddly, the artist has placed the sitter at the bottom half of the canvas; an awkward arrangement that is perhaps explained by her son’s recollection that at that time Dalí charged an extra $3,000 to paint hands, presumably because they were challenging and time-consuming to do. In light of the client’s choice not to include the hands, it seems the painter, who was likely working from a photograph, has simply “pushed” the sitter to the bottom of the visual field where her hands are out of sight. One of Dalí’s sparser canvases, Vere explains that that the tiny figures in the background represent members of his family, while the rose naturally refers to his mother’s name, Rosemary. Significantly, Dalí chose a white rose, the colour of purity, which echoes the colour of the subject’s dress. “If you look closely,” Vere points out about this flower, “you can see that it is beginning to wilt (slightly). Not sure my mother ever noticed that.”[33] Indeed, it would not be out of character for Dalí to subtly suggest that, while still charming at forty years old, Mrs. Chisholm was slightly past her "prime."
Portrait of Ruth Lachman, 1961.
Oil on canvas, 91.5 x 62.9 cm (36.22” x 24.80”).
Private Collection.
Oil on canvas, 91.5 x 62.9 cm (36.22” x 24.80”).
Private Collection.
On May 9, 1961, the Hartford Courant announced that “Mrs. Charles (Ruth) Lachman is the latest socialite to be painted by Dalí. She wears a bright red dress against a background of clouds and an archangel.”[34] The subject in question was that of New York socialite Ruth Mabee Lachman Greenleaf (1903-1990). Born in Illinois, she was the daughter of Dr. William E. Mabee and Grace Widney, a singer and educator. Married three times, her first husband was banker Edward Gwynne Wormhoudt, of Beverly Hills, and the marriage lasted two decades. Ruth’s second husband, whom she wed in 1947, was Charles R. Lachman, a chemist, who founded the Revlon cosmetics company in 1932 with brothers Charles and Joseph Revson. The name Revlon itself is a combination of the names “Revson” and “Lachman,” and Charles is often described as having “put the “L” in Revlon.”[35] Ruth was the second of four of Lachman’s wives, and while together the pair adopted two children, Linda and Charles Robert “Bobby” Lachman.
After the Lachmans divorced, Ruth settled in a luxurious Fifth Avenue apartment, and eventually married a former model, Crawford Greenleaf, who was twenty-four years her junior. The couple shared their time between Manhattan and Palm Beach, and held parties which featured those from the society set at both locations. This circle included the Robert Gardiners and the Winston Guests, who had also commissioned portraits from Dalí, suggesting that the portrait may have resulted from these connections.
After the Lachmans divorced, Ruth settled in a luxurious Fifth Avenue apartment, and eventually married a former model, Crawford Greenleaf, who was twenty-four years her junior. The couple shared their time between Manhattan and Palm Beach, and held parties which featured those from the society set at both locations. This circle included the Robert Gardiners and the Winston Guests, who had also commissioned portraits from Dalí, suggesting that the portrait may have resulted from these connections.
Ruth Lachman in the 1970s.
Correspondence about the painting, as well as the contract, survive at the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives in Figueres. The latter is dated March 17, 1960, for a work 25 by 36 inches, and the price was 14,000, with 7,000 advance, demonstrating that Dalí’s prices continued to rise.[36] Of note is another letter of agreement from Mrs. Lachman dated April 13, 1960, and a contract “to paint the portrait of my two children at the agreed price and compensation of 22,000,” which was dated April 13, 1960.[37] It is not known if this agreement was ever fulfilled, as no evidence of such a portrait has come to light.
For the background of the work, Dalí once again employs the sandy expanse leading to the horizon, above which he has painted a bright blue cloudy sky with his customary dark cloud to the right. In the background behind the subject are two towering mountains in the misty horizon, a few trees, and a small body of water. To Lachman’s left is a nude figure riding bareback on a white horse, and to the right, an angel in a white robe, followed by its elongated shadow. While nothing here is remarkable, the portrait is striking for three reasons. The first is the cavernous background, similar to his Portrait of Rosemary Chisholm, painted that same year. With the subject taking up less than half the bottom half of the canvas neither of these works are in keeping with Dalí’s other, more visually balanced portraits. While this could be written off as a Surrealist gesture, it is likely that, as with the portrait of Mrs. Chisholm, the subject did not wish to pay the extra 3,000 for the inclusion of her hands, perhaps resulting in Dali “pushing” the figures low down on the canvas.
The second notable feature of the work is, without a doubt, Mrs. Lachman’s seemingly irritated expression. Sitting with her body and head facing the left of the canvas, she looks askance at the viewer with wide eyes and a stern demeanor. This gives the impression that the cloudy arch in sky behind is a metaphor for emotional weight, concern, or mistrust, and considering the result of the portrait, it is hardly surprising that Dalí might catch his subject gazing at him in this manner. That said, while fifty eight at the time her portrait was painted, Dalí has portrayed Mrs. Lachman as youthful and fit in her red dress with a low neckline. She has tousled golden hair and her lipstick matches her dress so noticeably as to remind the viewer of her former cosmetics magnate husband. The third oddity in the work, however, is the subject’s ear. Perhaps intended to showcase an earring, instead it is twisted like a Gordian Knot, resembling a fleshy pretzel.
While such an approach might be understandable in a more abstract or experimental work, Dalí’s attempt at academic realism is truly undermined by such awkward gestures, and while they may well have been intentional, they nevertheless give the impression of having been painted by an artist less seasoned than Salvador Dalí. This may explain why, until now, Portrait of Ruth Lachman has never been published or exhibited, and remained in the family of the sitter from the time it was executed until it was sold at auction in November 2012.[38] The less than flattering rendering may also explain why the second painting of Lachman’s children, as discussed with Dalí, may not to have been completed.
For the background of the work, Dalí once again employs the sandy expanse leading to the horizon, above which he has painted a bright blue cloudy sky with his customary dark cloud to the right. In the background behind the subject are two towering mountains in the misty horizon, a few trees, and a small body of water. To Lachman’s left is a nude figure riding bareback on a white horse, and to the right, an angel in a white robe, followed by its elongated shadow. While nothing here is remarkable, the portrait is striking for three reasons. The first is the cavernous background, similar to his Portrait of Rosemary Chisholm, painted that same year. With the subject taking up less than half the bottom half of the canvas neither of these works are in keeping with Dalí’s other, more visually balanced portraits. While this could be written off as a Surrealist gesture, it is likely that, as with the portrait of Mrs. Chisholm, the subject did not wish to pay the extra 3,000 for the inclusion of her hands, perhaps resulting in Dali “pushing” the figures low down on the canvas.
The second notable feature of the work is, without a doubt, Mrs. Lachman’s seemingly irritated expression. Sitting with her body and head facing the left of the canvas, she looks askance at the viewer with wide eyes and a stern demeanor. This gives the impression that the cloudy arch in sky behind is a metaphor for emotional weight, concern, or mistrust, and considering the result of the portrait, it is hardly surprising that Dalí might catch his subject gazing at him in this manner. That said, while fifty eight at the time her portrait was painted, Dalí has portrayed Mrs. Lachman as youthful and fit in her red dress with a low neckline. She has tousled golden hair and her lipstick matches her dress so noticeably as to remind the viewer of her former cosmetics magnate husband. The third oddity in the work, however, is the subject’s ear. Perhaps intended to showcase an earring, instead it is twisted like a Gordian Knot, resembling a fleshy pretzel.
While such an approach might be understandable in a more abstract or experimental work, Dalí’s attempt at academic realism is truly undermined by such awkward gestures, and while they may well have been intentional, they nevertheless give the impression of having been painted by an artist less seasoned than Salvador Dalí. This may explain why, until now, Portrait of Ruth Lachman has never been published or exhibited, and remained in the family of the sitter from the time it was executed until it was sold at auction in November 2012.[38] The less than flattering rendering may also explain why the second painting of Lachman’s children, as discussed with Dalí, may not to have been completed.
Portrait of Louis Sachar, 1961.
Oil on canvas, 36 x 24.75 inches. Gift of Mrs. Frances Sachar, New York, NY.
Rose Museum, Brandeis University.
Oil on canvas, 36 x 24.75 inches. Gift of Mrs. Frances Sachar, New York, NY.
Rose Museum, Brandeis University.
Dalí continued to paint in this configuration in a third portrait completed in 1961, which also features a low horizon and a sky filling almost three quarters of the canvas, pushing the subject to the lower regions of the picture plane. This was Louis Sachar (1904-1975), the president of the Sachar Development Corporation, a New York realty investing and building company. Sachar’s father was Samuel Sachar, an immigrant from Lithuania, and his mother was Sarah Abramowitz, a native of Jerusalem. Originally settling in New York, the family later moved to St. Louis, Missouri. While Louis went into business, his brother Abram became a prominent intellectual and historian, and was the founding president of Brandeis University, a nonsectarian Jewish-sponsored institution just outside of Boston. Considering this, it is likely the Sachars were acquainted with Helena Rubinstein, whose portrait Dalí painted in 1943, and who was also a benefactor to Brandeis, where she endowed a chemistry chair.[39]
Portrait of Louis Sachar was commissioned in 1960. An existing copy of the contract, written on Sachar’s Park Avenue penthouse stationary, shows that Dalí charged his patron $13,000, and was given a year to produce the work.[40] Evidently Dalí finished the canvas and it appears to have been delivered some time in late 1961 or early 1962. Correspondence about the piece in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives, dated February 16, 1962, show Sachar had been concerned about the completion of the work, and also asked the artist to make changes.[41] While not the most successful of Dalí’s portraits, it has much in the way of visual interest, and the artist has clearly attempted to convey the subject’s dignity, albeit a rather awkward one.
Sachar is depicted in profile, striding confidently across a conventional Dalínian landscape dotted with a man on a horse, a tiny figure holding a crutch, a woman in white, and several trees. Behind him an enormous tower reaches to the clouds, replete with arches, windows, cracked plaster and a terra cotta chimney stack. The museum had the foresight to retain a written and signed statement by Dalí about the work, which offers rich insight into its symbolism, and Dalí’s pictorial approach to portraiture in general. “In the background we see a metaphysic tower under the tradition of Quirico,” Dalí explains, in reference to the work of the Italian metaphysical painter Giorgio de Chirico. Next he references Francesc Pujols, a Spanish philosopher whom he knew and greatly admired, explaining that “This tower is made up of vertical elements of Francesc Pujols’s philosophy: protozoaire, mineral, vegetable, animal, human, space men and angel.” Finally, no doubt in reference to Sachar’s métier of developer, he writes, “Above the blue sky of the future stands out the geological direction of the constructive spirit.”[42]
While the painting is typical of Dalí in terms of the subject, tower and minor details, the rough and incongruous painting of the dark cloud and part of the sky reveal a trend that would characterize the work of the 1960’s. That is, evinced by what seems like a markedly different “hand,” that Dalí had an assistant paint in such details. Nevertheless, the client was evidently pleased with the final product, which he displayed in his Park Avenue home for twenty years. In 1986, the portrait was donated by Sachar’s wife to the Rose Museum art gallery at Brandeis University, where it resides to this day.[43]
Portrait of Louis Sachar was commissioned in 1960. An existing copy of the contract, written on Sachar’s Park Avenue penthouse stationary, shows that Dalí charged his patron $13,000, and was given a year to produce the work.[40] Evidently Dalí finished the canvas and it appears to have been delivered some time in late 1961 or early 1962. Correspondence about the piece in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives, dated February 16, 1962, show Sachar had been concerned about the completion of the work, and also asked the artist to make changes.[41] While not the most successful of Dalí’s portraits, it has much in the way of visual interest, and the artist has clearly attempted to convey the subject’s dignity, albeit a rather awkward one.
Sachar is depicted in profile, striding confidently across a conventional Dalínian landscape dotted with a man on a horse, a tiny figure holding a crutch, a woman in white, and several trees. Behind him an enormous tower reaches to the clouds, replete with arches, windows, cracked plaster and a terra cotta chimney stack. The museum had the foresight to retain a written and signed statement by Dalí about the work, which offers rich insight into its symbolism, and Dalí’s pictorial approach to portraiture in general. “In the background we see a metaphysic tower under the tradition of Quirico,” Dalí explains, in reference to the work of the Italian metaphysical painter Giorgio de Chirico. Next he references Francesc Pujols, a Spanish philosopher whom he knew and greatly admired, explaining that “This tower is made up of vertical elements of Francesc Pujols’s philosophy: protozoaire, mineral, vegetable, animal, human, space men and angel.” Finally, no doubt in reference to Sachar’s métier of developer, he writes, “Above the blue sky of the future stands out the geological direction of the constructive spirit.”[42]
While the painting is typical of Dalí in terms of the subject, tower and minor details, the rough and incongruous painting of the dark cloud and part of the sky reveal a trend that would characterize the work of the 1960’s. That is, evinced by what seems like a markedly different “hand,” that Dalí had an assistant paint in such details. Nevertheless, the client was evidently pleased with the final product, which he displayed in his Park Avenue home for twenty years. In 1986, the portrait was donated by Sachar’s wife to the Rose Museum art gallery at Brandeis University, where it resides to this day.[43]
Portrait of Sara Maria Larrabure, 1963.
Oil on canvas, 85.4 by 60 cm.
Private collection.
Oil on canvas, 85.4 by 60 cm.
Private collection.
Dalí’s next portrait was of the Peruvian author Sara Maria Aspíllaga Anderson (born Larrabure Loredo) (possibly 1921 -1962). Sara’s father, Pedro Luis Larrabure y Correa, was Peruvian farmer and industrialist, although her place of birth was Paris. Her mother was her namesake, Sara Loredo Mendivil.[44] Sara attended Peru’s National University of San Marcos, the oldest university of the Americas, and graduated first in her class.[45] Becoming a writer, she was associated with the Generación del 50, a Peruvian modernist literary group parallel to the Spanish group of the same name.[46] Among her publications was her semi-autobiographical novel of a privileged life in coastal Peru. Published in 1949, the book is entitled Rioancho, and has been described as a work “between regional, psychological and existential, enriched by a somber prose and elegant precision.”[47]
Sara’s first husband was Enrique Montero Muelle, with whom she had one child, and she later married Ramón Emilio Aspillaga Anderson.[48] Considered cultured and refined by those who knew her, Sara traveled extensively, and is said to have lived life to the fullest and surrounded herself with the best the world could offer.[49] In addition to her intellectual strengths, she was also considered very lovely, and was renowned for her twinkling eyes and joie-de-vivre. Notably, besides Dalí’s portrait, Sara also sat for the Spanish-American sculptor José de Creeft, who created a bronze bust in her likeness. Sadly, she died in 1962 of an unrecorded cause, cutting short a promising career while in her early forties.
Sara first met Dalí on February 17th, 1962, when she found herself sitting near his table during a birthday party in her honour at the St. Regis. Later that evening, while she was waiting for a taxi at the hotel entrance, she and Dalí arranged a portrait commission. The contract for the work, dated Feb. 21, 1962, is retained at the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives, signed by Sara’s husband Ramón Aspillaga. It specifies a 23 x 30 in. canvas, and the price is $15,000.[50] Sara sat for Dalí a number of times in New York and the artist appears to have completed the portrait posthumously, dating it 1963, a year after subject’s demise. The work remained in Larrabure’s family until 2010.[51]
For Portrait of Sara María Larrabure, Dalí has once again employed his standard formula: a sandy expanse rolling out to a rocky horizon, above which rises a dramatic cloud-laden blue sky. He has framed the sitter with the surrounding light, while above, to the right, floats one of his black clouds out of which beam rays of sunlight. A grey and blue palette has been used, punctuated by flashes of gold, echoing Sara’s blue-grey eyes, her golden hair, and her gold-trimmed grey dress. In the background are two trees which frame her torso, and a lone, distant figure standing behind a winged gold-clad angel wielding a staff. Sara’s face is painted in Dalí’s usual detail, with her oval face and chic hairstyle framing her delicate features and large eyes. Her bare neck and shoulders appear smooth and youthful. Pains were taken rendering her carefully manicured hands, and the artist faithfully documented her gold wedding band with its diamond askew on her finger. He also carefully limned her oddly-arranged grey dress which, with the collar unhooked and dropped to reveal her shoulders, gives the impression of having wings at either side.
Sara’s first husband was Enrique Montero Muelle, with whom she had one child, and she later married Ramón Emilio Aspillaga Anderson.[48] Considered cultured and refined by those who knew her, Sara traveled extensively, and is said to have lived life to the fullest and surrounded herself with the best the world could offer.[49] In addition to her intellectual strengths, she was also considered very lovely, and was renowned for her twinkling eyes and joie-de-vivre. Notably, besides Dalí’s portrait, Sara also sat for the Spanish-American sculptor José de Creeft, who created a bronze bust in her likeness. Sadly, she died in 1962 of an unrecorded cause, cutting short a promising career while in her early forties.
Sara first met Dalí on February 17th, 1962, when she found herself sitting near his table during a birthday party in her honour at the St. Regis. Later that evening, while she was waiting for a taxi at the hotel entrance, she and Dalí arranged a portrait commission. The contract for the work, dated Feb. 21, 1962, is retained at the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives, signed by Sara’s husband Ramón Aspillaga. It specifies a 23 x 30 in. canvas, and the price is $15,000.[50] Sara sat for Dalí a number of times in New York and the artist appears to have completed the portrait posthumously, dating it 1963, a year after subject’s demise. The work remained in Larrabure’s family until 2010.[51]
For Portrait of Sara María Larrabure, Dalí has once again employed his standard formula: a sandy expanse rolling out to a rocky horizon, above which rises a dramatic cloud-laden blue sky. He has framed the sitter with the surrounding light, while above, to the right, floats one of his black clouds out of which beam rays of sunlight. A grey and blue palette has been used, punctuated by flashes of gold, echoing Sara’s blue-grey eyes, her golden hair, and her gold-trimmed grey dress. In the background are two trees which frame her torso, and a lone, distant figure standing behind a winged gold-clad angel wielding a staff. Sara’s face is painted in Dalí’s usual detail, with her oval face and chic hairstyle framing her delicate features and large eyes. Her bare neck and shoulders appear smooth and youthful. Pains were taken rendering her carefully manicured hands, and the artist faithfully documented her gold wedding band with its diamond askew on her finger. He also carefully limned her oddly-arranged grey dress which, with the collar unhooked and dropped to reveal her shoulders, gives the impression of having wings at either side.
Sara María Larrabure.
Creating a jarring technical contrast to Dalí’s carefully detailed subject, Sara’s large breastplate-like gold and emerald necklace appears more like a surrealist doodle than a credible accessory. Dalí in fact seems to have ignored the details at this point, as he has with Sara’s lap, which has been left out in lieu of a grey expanse or table upon which rests a hastily-painted shell-like object. Finally, in what appears to be an afterthought, the bottom of the canvas has been filled with a large grey swoosh, ending in a scroll-like curl behind the subject’s back. The general impression is that Dalí had been working as usual on the main aspects of the portrait, but then lost interest and hastily filled in the final details. Perhaps he lost a taste for the work after the subject’s death, as he would no longer have access to her for sittings. It is also possible that, as he was working with assistants at this point, he left the finishing to a different artist all together.
Despite the uneven quality of the painting in Portrait of Sara María Larrabure, the work retains its charm largely thanks to the warm character of the sitter, and is a fine testament to a graceful and cultured woman whose life was cut too short. As one writer suggests, referring to the angel and its seeming connection to Sara’s death, it makes “the interpretation of the details in this remarkable work all the more poignant.”[52]
Despite the uneven quality of the painting in Portrait of Sara María Larrabure, the work retains its charm largely thanks to the warm character of the sitter, and is a fine testament to a graceful and cultured woman whose life was cut too short. As one writer suggests, referring to the angel and its seeming connection to Sara’s death, it makes “the interpretation of the details in this remarkable work all the more poignant.”[52]
Portrait of Mrs. Ann W. Green and her Son Jonathan, 1963.
Oil on canvas, 26 1/8 by 37 1/2 in. (66.3 by 95.4 cm.).
Sold at the Impressionist & Modern Art Day Sale, November 6, 2015, Sotheby’s NY.
Oil on canvas, 26 1/8 by 37 1/2 in. (66.3 by 95.4 cm.).
Sold at the Impressionist & Modern Art Day Sale, November 6, 2015, Sotheby’s NY.
One of Dalí’s most intriguing and unusual portraits is his Portrait of Mrs. Ann W. Green and her Son Jonathan, completed in 1963. The commission came about when Montgomery Meigs Green, a World War II intelligence officer in the United States Navy, literary critic, and “self-styled intellectual, gentleman farmer, patron of the arts,” arranged a commission with the artist, most likely through the Carstairs Gallery in New York.[53]
Mr. Green descended from what has been described as “America’s greatest and most singularly iconic military family.” He and this family lived in Havre de Grace, Maryland, in a house that once belonged to Green’s ancestor Commodore John Rodgers, considered by some to be the “Father of the American Navy.”[54] They also had a vacation residence in Cocoa Beach near Cape Canaveral, Florida, sometimes referred to as the “Space Coast,” where they were afforded a close-up view of some of the “spectacular early failures and eventual successes of the still secret missile launches off the coast.”[55] Indeed, while the subject of the painting is Green’s wife, Anne (1921 – 2014), born Laural Ann Watts, and one of their four children, Jonathan, it is clear from correspondence between Green and Dalí regarding the portrait, that Green intended to lard the portrait with symbolism and personal references, reflecting not only the family’s fascination with space travel, but also with religion and politics.
A letter in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives dated April 20, 1962, sent from Green at Havre de Grace, documents that they had first met in New York two weeks previously, and outlines the client’s very clear vision for the finished work. “The more I thought about the matter,” Green writes, “the more ideas came to me about how the portrait might be done in such a way as to signify the great confrontation between what is good and admirable in the Christian West as threatened by the evil forces of atheistic Communism in the East.” He further fleshes out this grand vision, explaining how he views his wife and child as exemplars of American Protestantism, and presumably, those in need of protection from malignant forces. “My wife, Ann,” he writes,
was born and brought up in central Indiana which is most typical of the bourgeois native stock in America. To me she and the child epitomize the wholesomeness and devoutness of this most typical region of our country. In our conversation I stressed her Protestantness because this is a basic part of her makeup. And, as you know America is essentially a Protestant country. We completely agree with the thought that you expressed that the divergent branches of Christianity should be brought closer and closer together and that this in fact is happening. Indeed, I think that this may be one of the good things to result from the mortal threat of World Communism.”[56]
Green again stresses that he wanted the portrait to have “some Protestant flavour to it,” and writes, “My general thought was that perhaps this portrait might contain an allegorical message contrasting what is good and worthwhile in our American and Western bourgeois Christian world against the evil forces that now confront the whole of Christendom.” He then suggests numerous symbols Dalí might use in the work, including “beams of sunshine (Western Christian element), dark thunder clouds, red thunder bolts (Eastern atheistic side). A stark wall separating one side from another. An eagle with talons dripping with blood.” Finally, he sheds light on the most intriguing aspect of the portrait, writing “My suggestion that having Jonathan, the boy, depicted holding a space helmet under his arm occurred to me because he was born at the very dawn of the space age and is facing life in that age. You expressed disapproval of this concept, but I was not entirely clear as to what your objection was.”[57]
In terms of the final outcome of the work, the letter provides intriguing insight the extent to which Dalí has taken his cues from his patron, and how he has interpreted them in keeping with his own creative vision. For the making of the portrait, the Greens travelled to Cadaqués, for an extended visit in 1962, where photographs and preliminary drawings of Ann and Jonathan were taken. It is clear that Dalí has worked directly from one of them, as he was wont to do. He also included his usual setting of a sparse, undulating background, populated by a few regularly-spaced trees suggesting an orchard-like setting. That said, Dalí has rendered the ground in similar blue tones to the sky, presumably to underscore the “galactic” theme of space travel.
In the distance are four angels, one of which is red, holding a cross, and further back along the horizon, a rocket has just launched, leaving a fiery plume shaped like a cross, surrounded by a halo-like haze. This was no doubt Dalí’s attempt to give the work its “Protestant flavour.” On the left side of the composition are transparent floating bean-like objects, which give the impression of plasma or bubbles in water, while on the opposite edge of the work, behind Ann, are similar strands and bubbles floating in the sky. These are in red, possibly Green’s suggested red thunder bolts, intended to depict the “Eastern atheistic side” and ultimately to convey “what is good and admirable in the Christian West as threatened by the evil forces of atheistic Communism in the East.”[58]
Ann sits to the right of the canvas in profile, with a far-off stare, transposed in faithful detail from the photograph, down to her pearl necklace and patterned white sundress. Apparently Ann was quite nervous about sitting, and being the modest, Midwestern girl her husband described her as, wore a respectable white smock. This apparently did not sit well with Dalí who preferred his sitters décolleté, or better yet, naked under a blanket or sheet. At the end of the sitting, he thanked her and apparently remarked, “Darling, please wear something more revealing – more nude – tomorrow.” The prudent and proper Ann, a relative reports, “had always told the story of that remark as if it were the most salacious moment of her life.”[59]
The most extraordinary aspect of the work, however, is little Jonathan, who has been transposed from his chair and floats, wearing his brown corduroy suit and sneakers, to a ghostly embryonic sac in the sky, while donning a transparent space helmet. His chair has been transformed into a sort of metallic spine/apparatus at the bottom of which is a rather obscene-looking hole that stands in, presumably, for the exhaust pipe of his flying device of not the cervical exit from the womb.
Dalí’s choice of introducing the intrauterine element, which features strongly in his work after about 1940, is perhaps explained by John Rodgers Meigs Green, Johnathan’s brother, who recalls that “Dalí and my father were both sparkling conversationalists who shared some eccentricities and some values. Both men liked to claim remembering their own births, and during their visits with each other in Spain and New York, they touched on the artistic themes of time, space, dreams, birth, motherhood, and love.”[60] Dalí no doubt saw this as a credible segue between depicting the boy with a space helmet under his arm, which he evidently did not relish, and the interest in the pre-natal he shared with Montgomery.
Mr. Green descended from what has been described as “America’s greatest and most singularly iconic military family.” He and this family lived in Havre de Grace, Maryland, in a house that once belonged to Green’s ancestor Commodore John Rodgers, considered by some to be the “Father of the American Navy.”[54] They also had a vacation residence in Cocoa Beach near Cape Canaveral, Florida, sometimes referred to as the “Space Coast,” where they were afforded a close-up view of some of the “spectacular early failures and eventual successes of the still secret missile launches off the coast.”[55] Indeed, while the subject of the painting is Green’s wife, Anne (1921 – 2014), born Laural Ann Watts, and one of their four children, Jonathan, it is clear from correspondence between Green and Dalí regarding the portrait, that Green intended to lard the portrait with symbolism and personal references, reflecting not only the family’s fascination with space travel, but also with religion and politics.
A letter in the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives dated April 20, 1962, sent from Green at Havre de Grace, documents that they had first met in New York two weeks previously, and outlines the client’s very clear vision for the finished work. “The more I thought about the matter,” Green writes, “the more ideas came to me about how the portrait might be done in such a way as to signify the great confrontation between what is good and admirable in the Christian West as threatened by the evil forces of atheistic Communism in the East.” He further fleshes out this grand vision, explaining how he views his wife and child as exemplars of American Protestantism, and presumably, those in need of protection from malignant forces. “My wife, Ann,” he writes,
was born and brought up in central Indiana which is most typical of the bourgeois native stock in America. To me she and the child epitomize the wholesomeness and devoutness of this most typical region of our country. In our conversation I stressed her Protestantness because this is a basic part of her makeup. And, as you know America is essentially a Protestant country. We completely agree with the thought that you expressed that the divergent branches of Christianity should be brought closer and closer together and that this in fact is happening. Indeed, I think that this may be one of the good things to result from the mortal threat of World Communism.”[56]
Green again stresses that he wanted the portrait to have “some Protestant flavour to it,” and writes, “My general thought was that perhaps this portrait might contain an allegorical message contrasting what is good and worthwhile in our American and Western bourgeois Christian world against the evil forces that now confront the whole of Christendom.” He then suggests numerous symbols Dalí might use in the work, including “beams of sunshine (Western Christian element), dark thunder clouds, red thunder bolts (Eastern atheistic side). A stark wall separating one side from another. An eagle with talons dripping with blood.” Finally, he sheds light on the most intriguing aspect of the portrait, writing “My suggestion that having Jonathan, the boy, depicted holding a space helmet under his arm occurred to me because he was born at the very dawn of the space age and is facing life in that age. You expressed disapproval of this concept, but I was not entirely clear as to what your objection was.”[57]
In terms of the final outcome of the work, the letter provides intriguing insight the extent to which Dalí has taken his cues from his patron, and how he has interpreted them in keeping with his own creative vision. For the making of the portrait, the Greens travelled to Cadaqués, for an extended visit in 1962, where photographs and preliminary drawings of Ann and Jonathan were taken. It is clear that Dalí has worked directly from one of them, as he was wont to do. He also included his usual setting of a sparse, undulating background, populated by a few regularly-spaced trees suggesting an orchard-like setting. That said, Dalí has rendered the ground in similar blue tones to the sky, presumably to underscore the “galactic” theme of space travel.
In the distance are four angels, one of which is red, holding a cross, and further back along the horizon, a rocket has just launched, leaving a fiery plume shaped like a cross, surrounded by a halo-like haze. This was no doubt Dalí’s attempt to give the work its “Protestant flavour.” On the left side of the composition are transparent floating bean-like objects, which give the impression of plasma or bubbles in water, while on the opposite edge of the work, behind Ann, are similar strands and bubbles floating in the sky. These are in red, possibly Green’s suggested red thunder bolts, intended to depict the “Eastern atheistic side” and ultimately to convey “what is good and admirable in the Christian West as threatened by the evil forces of atheistic Communism in the East.”[58]
Ann sits to the right of the canvas in profile, with a far-off stare, transposed in faithful detail from the photograph, down to her pearl necklace and patterned white sundress. Apparently Ann was quite nervous about sitting, and being the modest, Midwestern girl her husband described her as, wore a respectable white smock. This apparently did not sit well with Dalí who preferred his sitters décolleté, or better yet, naked under a blanket or sheet. At the end of the sitting, he thanked her and apparently remarked, “Darling, please wear something more revealing – more nude – tomorrow.” The prudent and proper Ann, a relative reports, “had always told the story of that remark as if it were the most salacious moment of her life.”[59]
The most extraordinary aspect of the work, however, is little Jonathan, who has been transposed from his chair and floats, wearing his brown corduroy suit and sneakers, to a ghostly embryonic sac in the sky, while donning a transparent space helmet. His chair has been transformed into a sort of metallic spine/apparatus at the bottom of which is a rather obscene-looking hole that stands in, presumably, for the exhaust pipe of his flying device of not the cervical exit from the womb.
Dalí’s choice of introducing the intrauterine element, which features strongly in his work after about 1940, is perhaps explained by John Rodgers Meigs Green, Johnathan’s brother, who recalls that “Dalí and my father were both sparkling conversationalists who shared some eccentricities and some values. Both men liked to claim remembering their own births, and during their visits with each other in Spain and New York, they touched on the artistic themes of time, space, dreams, birth, motherhood, and love.”[60] Dalí no doubt saw this as a credible segue between depicting the boy with a space helmet under his arm, which he evidently did not relish, and the interest in the pre-natal he shared with Montgomery.
Jonathan and his mother in Port Lligat, October 1962.
Not recorded are the Green’s response to Dalí’s interpretation of his requests when the portrait was unveiled to the family in 1963 in a suite at the St. Regis Hotel. The portrait remained in the family until it was sold a year after Ann’s death in 2014. John Rodgers Meigs Green does, however, recall a conversation Dalí held with his father, at the opening of what was likely his Salvador Dalí: Hommage à Crick et Watson exhibition held at the M. Knoedler and Co. gallery in the last two months of the year the portrait was painted. “Among other pleasantries after their greeting,” he recounts, “my father informed Dalí that we had witnessed a night launch of a missile after the painting was created, and that by some atmospheric phenomenon, there had been a halo around the glowing missile’s flame as it ascended into the night sky, much like Dalí had depicted in our painting. Rolling his eyes wide and twirling his waxed mustache the artist replied: ‘What Dalí paints happens.’ Both men delighted in this statement of fact that doubled as a universal declaration.”[61]
Douglas DeWitt Bazata and Salvador Dali. Undated portrait from Bazata's obituary.
Another portrait Dalí allegedly produced in 1963 was recorded in a letter by Douglas DeWitt Bazata (1911 - 1999), an American artist, and decorated officer for the United States Office of Strategic Services (precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency). Believed to be a Cold War spy as well as an assassin, Bazata's diaries suggest his close friend, René Alexander Dussaq, was working as a double agent for Cuba, and was a “primary organizer and plotter” of Kennedy’s assassination in 1963. The diaries even suggest that Dussaq might have actually fired the fatal “shot or shots” that killed Kennedy. [62]
Addressed to an overseas friend, and dated December 5, 1978, Bazata wrote "Exactly fifteen years ago this month, Dalí made a painting of me as Don Quixote, the sole [such painting] he ever did for any fellow artist . . . It was done in the St. Regis Hotel in Dalí's sixth floor apartment." [63) The painter reportedly later lost the portrait, said to be entitled Homage to Bazata. It remains unclear as to whether or not the work was a full canvas or simply a sketch or drawing, and also whether or not it might be considered a "society" portrait. Dalí's association with Bazata does, however demonstrate how wide and diverse Dalí's circle of friends was in America, and, along with his association with Franco-friendly Don Juan Cardenas, Ambassador to Spain (much maligned by the left-leaning Surrealists), and his translator, Haakon Chevalier (suspected Communist spy, and friend of physicist Robert Oppenheimer), how he touched upon some of the political hot buttons in America of his day.
ENDNOTES
[1] See Salvador Dali: A Soft Self-Portrait, directed by Jean-Christophe Averty, narrated by Orson Welles, Seven Arts TV and Coty TV, 1966.
[2] Cynthia Lowry, “Rockefeller’s Divorced Wife Described as She Really Is,” Reading Eagle, Sunday, September 23, 1956, 33; Stephen Miller, “Bobo Rockefeller, 91, Married Well, Divorced Better,” The New York Sun, May 21, 2008, accessed Feb. 26, 2015, http://www.nysun.com/obituaries/bobo-rockefeller-91-married-well-divorced-better/76767/; Margalit Fox, “Barbara Sears Rockefeller, Actress with a Famous Divorce Settlement, Dies at 91,” The New York Times, May 21, 2008, accessed Feb. 26, 2015, http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/21/nyregion/21rockefeller.html?_r=0.
[3] Miller, “Bobo Rockefeller.”
[4] Miller, “Bobo Rockefeller.”
[5] Miller, “Bobo Rockefeller.”
[6] Fox, “Barbara Sears Rockefeller.”
[7] Staff writer, “Tut, Tut, Lady Olivier – Nobody Mentions Names,” New York Daily Mirror, May 23, 1960, n.p.
[8] Brown, “Brown on Dali.”
[9] Salvador Dalí correspondence files, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation archives, Figueres, Spain.
[10] Staff writer, “Tut, Tut, Lady Olivier,” n.p.
[11] Leonard Lyons, “The Lyons Den,” The Post-Standard, Friday, October 28, 1960, 15.
[12] Leonard Lyons, “The Lyons Den,” Lawrence Journal-World, 21 Jan, 1961, 4.
[13] Dorothy Kilgallen, “The Voice of Broadway,” Toledo Blade, April 17, 1961, n.p.
[14] “Guy d’Oultremont” Geneanet website, accessed April 15, 2015, http://gw.geneanet.org/gounou?lang=en&p=guy&n=d+oultremont; Charles Poplimont; La Belgique héraldique: recueil historique, chronologique, généalogique et biographique complet de toutes les maisons nobles, reconnues de la Belgique, Volume 4 (Typ. de G. Adriaens, 1866), 197-237 accessed May 19, 2015, https://books.google.ca/books/about/La_Belgique_h%C3%A9raldique.html?id=fXJJAAAAMAAJ&hl=en; Oultremont Castle Travel Guide, Eupedia website, accessed February 10, 2016, http://www.eupedia.com/belgium/oultremont.shtml.
[15] Sousa Mendes Foundation: Preserving the Legacy of Aristides de Sousa Mendes website, accessed Feb. 6, 2015, http://sousamendesfoundation.org/doultremont-hallet-vitali/.
[16] “Ham-sur-Heure Castle,” Wallonia-Brussels Tourism website, accessed May 19, 2014, http://www.opt.be/informations/tourist-attractions-ham-sur-heure-ham-sur-heure-castle/en/V/42191.html; “Ham-sur-Heure Castle,”Castles.nl: Castles and Other Fortifications in Europe and Beyond!,” accessed May 19, 2015, http://www.castles.nl/hamsurheure-castle.
[17] Salvador Dalí correspondence files, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation archives, Figueres, Spain.
[18] Staff writer, Las Vegas Review-Journal (Las Vegas, NV), July 13, 2001, n.p. NB for tracing ownership: according Robert Descharnes (Dalí: The Paintings), it was once owned by New London’s Connecticut College. It was auctioned by Guy Loudmer in France, in 1989, and then put on sale at the Centaur Galleries in Las Vegas for $1.2 million. The Dalí Museum (Florida) file has letter stating it was in the possession of the Galerie Furstenburg ([email protected]) in 2005. It is signed Jean Christophe Argillet, who is also affiliated with the Centaur Galleries.
[19] Margaret Fish, “Who and What is Artist Dalí?,” The Milwaukee Sentinel, 16. November 1960, part 1, 14.
[20] Fish, “Who and What is Artist Dalí?”, 14; Marilou Hedlund, “There are many ways to test a house,” The Chicago Tribune, May 8, 1967, n.p; Rommy Lopat, Arthur H. Miller and Sarah Wimmer, “Postwar Modernism in Lake Forest,” The Lake Forest Preservation Foundation Newsletter, Vo. 2, No. 3, Fall 2009, 3-4, accessed April 15, 2015, http://www.lfpf.org/pdf/newsletter_fall_2009.pdf.
[21] Fish, “Who and What is Artist Dalí?,” 14.
[22] Contract between Salvador Dalí and the Fagans, dated March 13, 1959, the Gala-Salvador Dalí archives, Figueres, Spain.
[23] Edith Weigle, “She had Dalí Paint her Portrait,” Chicago Sun Tribune, May 22, 1960, part 7, 4.
[24] Fish, “Who and What is Artist Dalí?,” 14.
[25] Weigle, “She had Dalí Paint her Portrait,” 4.
[26]“Roy Titus; Philanthropist, Executive,” obituary, Los Angeles Times, April 20, 1989, accessed Feb. 9, 2015,
http://articles.latimes.com/1989-04-20/news/mn-2093_1_cosmetics-film-buff-mrs-rubinstein.
[27] Dalí, Unspeakable Confessions, 206.
[28] “William Kissam Vanderbilt,” Geni website, accessed 15, 2015,
http://www.geni.com/people/William-Kissam-Vanderbilt/6000000002447355778;
“William K. Vanderbilt II” Suffolk County Vanderbilt Mansion, Museum, Planetarium website, accessed March 3, 2015, http://www.vanderbiltmuseum.org/about-us/history/who-was-william-k-vanderbilt-ii/.
[29] Staff writer, The New York Times, April 18, 1958, n.p.
[30] “About Bridget Tichenor,” Surrealist Women Artists (SWA), Hope College Digital Archive, accessed May 19, 2015, http://faculty.hope.edu/andre/artistPages/tichenor_bio.html.
[31] Staff writer, “Society: Open End,” TIME, July 20, 1962, accessed March 15, 2015, http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,896380-8,00.html; Anon., Palm Beach Post, Wed., March 3, 1971, n.p.
[32] Suzy Says, “Barbados Buzz,” Chicago Tribune, Mar 3, 1970, n.p.; “Mrs. Hugh Chisholm, Society Figure, 53,” obituary, New York Times, Jul 31, 1974, n.p.; Anon, Palm Beach Daily News, March 23, 1961, n.p.
[33] E-mail correspondence with Elliott King, forwarding interview with Vere Gaynor, Aug 4, 2011, and telephone interview by Julia Pine with Vere Gaynor, August 7, 2011, and e-mail correspondence, March 16, 2015.
[34] Staff writer, “The Kissing Season", Hartford Courant, May 9, 1961, n.p.
[35] “Legacy,” Behind the Colour, Revlon official website, accessed March 14, 2015, http://www.revlon.com/behind-the-color/legacy.
[36] Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation archives, collected letters.
[37] Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation archives, collected letters.
[38] Portrait of Ruth Lachman, catalogue for Sotheby’s Impressionist & Modern Art Day Sale, New York, November 7, 2012, accessed May 19, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/lot.pdf.N08899.html/f/338/N08899-338.pdf.
[39] Louis Sachar, http://www.geni.com/people/Louis-Sachar/6000000015729907700
Maxene Fabe, Beauty Millionaire: The Life of Helena Rubinstein (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1972), 159.
[40] A signed copy of the contract was auctioned on eBay, August, 2012.
[41] Gala-Salvador Dali Archives, the Centre for Dalinian Studies, Figueres, Spain. The letter is from Louis Sachar, 598 Madison Ave and is dated February 6, 1962.
[42] Thanks to Brian Friedberg, Curatorial Assistant at The Rose Art Museum, Brandeis University, for forwarding this information from their artefact file.
[43] “Behind the Scenes: Stories of Rose Artwork,” Unlocking the Vault at the Rose, Diverse City, Vol. iv, No. viii, October 16, 2009, 1.
[44] Instituto Peruano de Investigaciones Genealógicas, “Revista del Instituto Peruano de Investigaciones Genealógicas,” Volume 22-23, p. 53, accessed March 13, 2015, https://books.google.at/books?id=zt4LAAAAYAAJ&q=%22Sara+Maria+Larrabure%22+Paris+1921&dq=%22Sara+María+Larrabure%22+Paris+1921&hl=de&sa=X&ei=a90HVaqfB-T_ywOK1YGwBA&ved=0CB4Q6AEwAA.
[45] “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Sotheby’s Impressionist & Modern Art Day Sale, New York, May 6, 2010, catalogue notes, accessed March 18, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/lot.pdf.N08634.html/f/376/N08634-376.pdf.
[46] “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Christie’s Impressionist/Modern Day Sale, June 12, 2012, catalogue notes, accessed May 3, 2015, http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/paintings/salvador-Dalí-portrait-de-sara-Maria-larrabure-5580473-details.aspx#top.
[47] M. Lillian von der Walde, “Larrabure, Sara María,” Mujeres en la literatura. Escritoras. (Mexico: Editorial Grupo Destiempos, 2009), 350.
[48] “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Sotheby’s catalogue.
[49] “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Sotheby’s catalogue.
[50] Contract between Salvador Dalí and Ramón Aspillaga, Gala-Salvador Dalí Archives, Figueres, Spain.
[51] “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Sotheby’s catalogue; “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Christie’s catalogue.
[52] “Portrait of Sara María Larrabure,” Christie’s catalogue.
[53] Salvador Dalí, Portrait de Madame Ann W. Green et de son fils Jonathan, entry for online catalogue for Sotheby’s New York Impressionist and Modern Art Day Sale, November 6, 2015, accessed November 2, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2014/impressionist-modern-art-day-sale-n09416/lot.312.html; Letter from Montgomery M. Green, Sion Hill, Havre de Grace, Maryland, to Salvador Dalí, dated April 20, 1962, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation Archives, Figueres, Spain. The letter is cc’d to Carstairs.
[54] Anonymous author, “States of Disjuncture: Salvador Dalí, Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler, and the Question of a ‘Psychotic Style,’” The Transverse Spectator, July 20, 2015, accessed November 20, 2015, http://thetransversespectator.tumblr.com/post/124579025958/states-of-disjuncture-salvador-Dalí-elfriede.
[55] Salvador Dalí, Portrait de Madame Ann W. Green et de son fils Jonathan, entry for online catalogue for Sotheby’s New York.
[56] Letter from Montgomery M. Green to Salvador Dalí, Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation Archives.
[57] Letter from Montgomery M. Green to Salvador Dalí, Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation Archives.
[58] Letter from Montgomery M. Green to Salvador Dalí, Gala-Salvador Dalí Foundation Archives.
[59] Anonymous author, “States of Disjuncture: Dalvador Dalí, Elfriede Lohse-Wachtler, and the Question of a ‘Psychotic Style,’” The Transverse Spectator, July 20, 2015, accessed November 20, 2015, http://thetransversespectator.tumblr.com/post/124579025958/states-of-disjuncture-salvador-Dalí-elfriede.
[60] As quoted in Salvador Dalí, Portrait de Madame Ann W. Green et de son fils Jonathan, entry for online catalogue for Sotheby’s New York.
[61] As quoted in Dalí, Portrait de Madame Ann W. Green et de son fils Jonathan, entry for online catalogue for Sotheby’s New York.
[62] Chris Simmons, Cuba Confidential: The Source for News on Cuban Espionage Worldwide, blog post, November 11, 2016, "New JFK Assassination Theory: Cuban Double Agent Led Plot," https://cubaconfidential.wordpress.com/2016/11/11/new-jfk-assassination-theory-cuban-double-agent-led-plot/.
[64) Robert K. Wilcox, Target JFK: The Spy Who Killed Kennedy (Regnery Publishing, 2016).
