Le painting is only one photograph make in color -- le glory of technicolor make by hand.
But everybody ask, "How tis le difference, for instance, of le view of Vermeer of Delft almost completely
photographic with one real photograph?" And myself answer, "Le difference is twenty millions dollars!"
- Salvador Dalí, "An Evening with Salvador Dalí," The Gallery of Modern Art, December 19, 1965.
(Recorded by A. Reynolds Morse)
But everybody ask, "How tis le difference, for instance, of le view of Vermeer of Delft almost completely
photographic with one real photograph?" And myself answer, "Le difference is twenty millions dollars!"
- Salvador Dalí, "An Evening with Salvador Dalí," The Gallery of Modern Art, December 19, 1965.
(Recorded by A. Reynolds Morse)
In 1963 Gala told columnist Leonard Lyons "It is unlikely that Dalí will paint any more portraits. Portraits require aesthetic surgery. The nose is too long, etc." 1965 was the last year that saw regular production of Dalí’s American society portraits, and according to a 1967 article by Gordon Brown in Art Magazine, Dalí had drastically increased his prices in order to discourage commissions. “$50,000 is Dalí’s present price for a portrait,” Brown writes. “He doesn’t want to be bothered.”[1]
Despite these efforts, Dalí continued to be bombarded with portrait requests. These were from the likes of Edward Durell Stone, architect of Huntington Hartford’s Gallery of Modern Art, who wanted a portrait of his wife Maria; and the owner of San Diego's Spreckels Theatre, Barre Shlaes, who wanted a portrait of his wife Jacquelyn. Eventually, with very few exceptions, not even the richest or most celebrated clients could convince the artist to lift his brush in their honour. In a LIFE magazine piece written by Robert Wernick in July of 1970, aptly entitled “Dalí’s Dollars: The Dauntless Surrealist Paints Less and Less and Sells More and More,” the author records a conversation between Dalí’s aide Captain Peter Moore and the artist. “'Onassis is in the bar downstairs,' Moore reported. 'He wants to send his yacht to Cadaqués to take you to Skorpios to paint his wife' -- that being, of course, the former First Lady Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. Dalí’s reply? 'If he can send his yacht from Skorpios to Cadaqués . . . he has only to put his wife in the yacht and send her, too.'"[2]
Despite these efforts, Dalí continued to be bombarded with portrait requests. These were from the likes of Edward Durell Stone, architect of Huntington Hartford’s Gallery of Modern Art, who wanted a portrait of his wife Maria; and the owner of San Diego's Spreckels Theatre, Barre Shlaes, who wanted a portrait of his wife Jacquelyn. Eventually, with very few exceptions, not even the richest or most celebrated clients could convince the artist to lift his brush in their honour. In a LIFE magazine piece written by Robert Wernick in July of 1970, aptly entitled “Dalí’s Dollars: The Dauntless Surrealist Paints Less and Less and Sells More and More,” the author records a conversation between Dalí’s aide Captain Peter Moore and the artist. “'Onassis is in the bar downstairs,' Moore reported. 'He wants to send his yacht to Cadaqués to take you to Skorpios to paint his wife' -- that being, of course, the former First Lady Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. Dalí’s reply? 'If he can send his yacht from Skorpios to Cadaqués . . . he has only to put his wife in the yacht and send her, too.'"[2]
Portrait of Mon Ling Yu Landegger, 1964.
Oil on canvas, 85.1 x 59.1 cm (33.46” x 23.22”).
Collection of Mon Ling Yu Landegger.
Oil on canvas, 85.1 x 59.1 cm (33.46” x 23.22”).
Collection of Mon Ling Yu Landegger.
Mon Ling Landegger was one of the lucky few to be favoured with one of Dalí's late portraits. At a party in 1962, the artist met the lovely wife of Karl Francis Landegger (1905-1976) a multimillionaire paper industry leader. Dalí was besotted with the Chinese beauty, and in an interview taken in 2014, Mon Ling recalled that Dalí told her he thought her to be the “most beautiful exotic woman in the world.” Very keen to paint her portrait, Dalí apparently pestered Mr. Landegger until he gave permission to Dalí to commence what would eventually become Portrait of Mon Ling Yu Landegger, completed in 1964.[3]
Mon Ling was born in the province of Hopeh, in North-West China, and her family later moved to Taiwan. At that time in Taiwan, it was the fashion for parents to send their children to study in the United States. Mon Ling, who was advanced for her age in learning and ready for college at age fourteen, was too young to live alone in America, so she was first sent to study in the Philippines, where her parents had friends. A year later she was old enough for a move to America, attending Regis College in Boston for four years. Her family had many connections in the U.S., and her uncle, a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, was a close friend of the Kennedy family. After completing her studies, Mon Ling went to New York and worked as a guide for the United Nations.[4]
During this time Mon Ling met her future husband at a cocktail party. Even though the lovely Miss Taiwan was a guest at the gathering, Mon Ling was so stunning Mr. Landegger apparently never gave the beauty queen a second glance. A pulp and paper mogul, Landegger was described by The New York Times as “the very model of the urbane and impeccable European businessman,” while simultaneously displaying the qualities of a “tough Yankee trader.” By the early 1960s, when he married Mon Ling, Landegger’s fortune was estimated as high as 250 million.[5] Born in Vienna, Austria in 1905 as Karl Landesmann, he left after the 1938 annexation of Austria into Nazi Germany, and lived for a time in England. Although he owned and operated global interests, he eventually settled in the United States where, despite his immense success in the pulp and paper business, he managed to live a remarkably private life. Mon Ling was the fourth of Landegger’s four wives, and together they had one child, a daughter named Ling.[6]
Mon Ling described her life with Landegger as nothing less than “charmed.” Living in New York, the couple attended the best parties and travelled across the globe, meeting all manner of dignitaries and heads of state. Because of her beauty and elegance, she was frequently approached by fashion magazines for photo shoots and modelling opportunities, which she had to decline, as her husband felt it was unseemly for a woman in her position to participate in such commercial activities. Artists of the caliber of Yousuf Karsh however, did manage to secure Landegger’s permission, as eventually did Dalí.
Mon Ling was born in the province of Hopeh, in North-West China, and her family later moved to Taiwan. At that time in Taiwan, it was the fashion for parents to send their children to study in the United States. Mon Ling, who was advanced for her age in learning and ready for college at age fourteen, was too young to live alone in America, so she was first sent to study in the Philippines, where her parents had friends. A year later she was old enough for a move to America, attending Regis College in Boston for four years. Her family had many connections in the U.S., and her uncle, a Cardinal in the Catholic Church, was a close friend of the Kennedy family. After completing her studies, Mon Ling went to New York and worked as a guide for the United Nations.[4]
During this time Mon Ling met her future husband at a cocktail party. Even though the lovely Miss Taiwan was a guest at the gathering, Mon Ling was so stunning Mr. Landegger apparently never gave the beauty queen a second glance. A pulp and paper mogul, Landegger was described by The New York Times as “the very model of the urbane and impeccable European businessman,” while simultaneously displaying the qualities of a “tough Yankee trader.” By the early 1960s, when he married Mon Ling, Landegger’s fortune was estimated as high as 250 million.[5] Born in Vienna, Austria in 1905 as Karl Landesmann, he left after the 1938 annexation of Austria into Nazi Germany, and lived for a time in England. Although he owned and operated global interests, he eventually settled in the United States where, despite his immense success in the pulp and paper business, he managed to live a remarkably private life. Mon Ling was the fourth of Landegger’s four wives, and together they had one child, a daughter named Ling.[6]
Mon Ling described her life with Landegger as nothing less than “charmed.” Living in New York, the couple attended the best parties and travelled across the globe, meeting all manner of dignitaries and heads of state. Because of her beauty and elegance, she was frequently approached by fashion magazines for photo shoots and modelling opportunities, which she had to decline, as her husband felt it was unseemly for a woman in her position to participate in such commercial activities. Artists of the caliber of Yousuf Karsh however, did manage to secure Landegger’s permission, as eventually did Dalí.
Mon Ling and her daughter Ling, about 1966.
Photo: Mon Ling Landegger.
Photo: Mon Ling Landegger.
Mon Ling vividly remembered sitting for Dalí, which took place over the course of a year at the Landegger’s Central Park South apartment. She was pregnant much of this time, and Dalí would drop in approximately every two weeks when he was staying in New York. He apparently liked to talk about his travels, and to gossip about society ladies, criticizing those he viewed as artificial or pretentious. Mon Ling became something of a confidante, and remembered they had very frank and open conversations, and that the artist was “very much himself” with her. That is, she explained, a normal, gifted person who never deployed his outrageous Dalí persona in her company. While her portrait was the premise for his visits, she noted that she never actually posed for the artist, and that he worked exclusively from a photograph, in this case, one that had been taken at a public reception by the photographer Bela Cseh. Once again, it seems, sitting were a ruse; this time for Dalí to spend time with this charming young lady. Gala evidently did not mind, and Mon Ling went so far as to say that Dalí’s wife was very kind to her, “treating her like a daughter, and protecting her.”[7]
The work is typical of Dalí’s portraiture of the period, with a sandy expanse behind the sitter, and a large segment of the canvas dedicated to a clear blue sky, punctuated by a few clouds. As Mon Ling considered herself to be blessed, having lived such an extraordinary life, she explained that the dark cloud shining light on her from the top left is an allusion to this.[8] This cloud is notable however, as, like other works of the 1960s, it appears to be of a different artist’s hand, suggesting like the others that it was completed by an assistant. The remainder of the portrait, appears to have been executed completely by Dalí.
The background is filled with imagery typical of Dalí’s society portraits. This includes a spindly tree, believed in this and earlier portraits to represent “rerooting” from another country; and a bareback rider atop a white horse, allegedly a reference to Karl Landegger, who was an avid rider. In the distance is a rounded yin-yang symbol similar to the one in Portrait of Arthur Clarke Herrington of 1958. Possibly referring to the sitter’s Asian heritage, it is surrounded by a “family” of similar, smaller, bean-shaped objects. As in the photograph from which the subject’s likeness was taken, which Dalí copied almost verbatim, the sitter wears a white silk shift with a paisley pattern, embellished with a high gold collar typical of traditional Chinese dress. The latter was apparently added by Dalí. She is poised and upright, with a large bouffant hairdo, and youthful skin on her face and bare arms. While the rendering is rather stiff, compared to his other society portraits which could be downright harsh and unflattering, the artist seems to have made a genuine effort to capture Mon Ling’s delicate good looks.
Nevertheless, despite Dalí’s kinder, gentler approach to a woman he seems to have genuinely considered a friend, Mon Ling remembered that at the portrait’s unveiling at her apartment, she and her husband were very disappointed. They found the painting vulgar, unflattering, and felt that it made Mrs. Landegger look twenty years older than her twenty-something years. Not wanting to offend Dalí, they courteously thanked him, and paid him for the work for politeness sake, even though they had not commissioned it to begin with. The work was first hung in the bathroom, and then discreetly tucked into storage. It has still never been exhibited publicly. Today Mon Ling works as a Senior Global Real Estate Advisor and Associate Broker of Sotheby’s International Realty, and her opinion of the work has changed. She now sees more merit in it and today Dalí’s Portrait of Mon Ling Yu Landegger is proudly displayed in her dining room.[9]
The work is typical of Dalí’s portraiture of the period, with a sandy expanse behind the sitter, and a large segment of the canvas dedicated to a clear blue sky, punctuated by a few clouds. As Mon Ling considered herself to be blessed, having lived such an extraordinary life, she explained that the dark cloud shining light on her from the top left is an allusion to this.[8] This cloud is notable however, as, like other works of the 1960s, it appears to be of a different artist’s hand, suggesting like the others that it was completed by an assistant. The remainder of the portrait, appears to have been executed completely by Dalí.
The background is filled with imagery typical of Dalí’s society portraits. This includes a spindly tree, believed in this and earlier portraits to represent “rerooting” from another country; and a bareback rider atop a white horse, allegedly a reference to Karl Landegger, who was an avid rider. In the distance is a rounded yin-yang symbol similar to the one in Portrait of Arthur Clarke Herrington of 1958. Possibly referring to the sitter’s Asian heritage, it is surrounded by a “family” of similar, smaller, bean-shaped objects. As in the photograph from which the subject’s likeness was taken, which Dalí copied almost verbatim, the sitter wears a white silk shift with a paisley pattern, embellished with a high gold collar typical of traditional Chinese dress. The latter was apparently added by Dalí. She is poised and upright, with a large bouffant hairdo, and youthful skin on her face and bare arms. While the rendering is rather stiff, compared to his other society portraits which could be downright harsh and unflattering, the artist seems to have made a genuine effort to capture Mon Ling’s delicate good looks.
Nevertheless, despite Dalí’s kinder, gentler approach to a woman he seems to have genuinely considered a friend, Mon Ling remembered that at the portrait’s unveiling at her apartment, she and her husband were very disappointed. They found the painting vulgar, unflattering, and felt that it made Mrs. Landegger look twenty years older than her twenty-something years. Not wanting to offend Dalí, they courteously thanked him, and paid him for the work for politeness sake, even though they had not commissioned it to begin with. The work was first hung in the bathroom, and then discreetly tucked into storage. It has still never been exhibited publicly. Today Mon Ling works as a Senior Global Real Estate Advisor and Associate Broker of Sotheby’s International Realty, and her opinion of the work has changed. She now sees more merit in it and today Dalí’s Portrait of Mon Ling Yu Landegger is proudly displayed in her dining room.[9]
Briggs Family Portrait, 1964.
Oil on canvas, 130.3 x 190.5 cm, 51 1/4 x 75 in.
Formerly owned by Carleton L. Briggs.
Oil on canvas, 130.3 x 190.5 cm, 51 1/4 x 75 in.
Formerly owned by Carleton L. Briggs.
In his aptly-entitled book The Dalí Adventure 1943-1973, A. Reynolds Morse, co-founder of the Salvador Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida, writes of a voyage he undertook in March, 1963. At that time, he and his wife Eleanor had been co-opted by Dalí to join the artist while he worked in California. He records that “we took the long trip by train with Gala and Dalí to Del Monte Lodge in Pebble Beach, California, where the painter was going to do another portrait of a woman he had painted two decades earlier. This time, however, she wanted her children in the picture, and it was judged easier to transport one painter to the West Coast than several children to New York!” [10]
The woman Dalí had painted “two decades earlier” was Mitzi Briggs, now a mother of five and the heir to the Stauffer Chemical fortune. Dalí had in fact painted her sixteen years earlier, in his 1948 Portrait of Mitzi Sigall Briggs, one of the most stylistically successful of his many society portraits. The children Dalí was commissioned to paint were the four she had produced with her husband John Carmon Briggs, a respected ichthyologist and professor in the Department of Marine Biology at Stanford University, and the fifth child was her son by his brother, Revoe C. Briggs, Junior.
Correspondence between the Dalís and Mitzi Briggs, dated 1963 and 1964, documents the commission’s trajectory. In the earliest letter, Mitzi is very excited about the prospect of a portrait of her children, and tells Dalí she believes it will be a masterpiece. The signed contract, dated January 21, 1963 reveals that the price was $75,000 (almost $600,000 in today’s currency), making it the most costly commission of his portrait career. The arrangement was payment of $25,000 on acceptance of the contract, $50,000 upon receipt of the work, with all travel expenses to be paid by Mrs. Briggs.[11]
Dalí, Gala, and the Morses arrived in Pebble Beach on March 22, 1963, where Dalí proceeded to sketch and photograph the Briggs children at the Del Monte Lodge. Linda Briggs, who was thirteen at the time, remembers the sittings well and recalls that Dalí spent two weeks sketching the children. Gala was ever-present, interpreting for Dalí, whose English was deemed inadequate for proper communication. The children recollect that the artist did not appear as the eccentric familiar to the public, but was in fact quiet and reserved, although he and Gala seemed remarkably “Old World” and European in their estimation.[12]
The woman Dalí had painted “two decades earlier” was Mitzi Briggs, now a mother of five and the heir to the Stauffer Chemical fortune. Dalí had in fact painted her sixteen years earlier, in his 1948 Portrait of Mitzi Sigall Briggs, one of the most stylistically successful of his many society portraits. The children Dalí was commissioned to paint were the four she had produced with her husband John Carmon Briggs, a respected ichthyologist and professor in the Department of Marine Biology at Stanford University, and the fifth child was her son by his brother, Revoe C. Briggs, Junior.
Correspondence between the Dalís and Mitzi Briggs, dated 1963 and 1964, documents the commission’s trajectory. In the earliest letter, Mitzi is very excited about the prospect of a portrait of her children, and tells Dalí she believes it will be a masterpiece. The signed contract, dated January 21, 1963 reveals that the price was $75,000 (almost $600,000 in today’s currency), making it the most costly commission of his portrait career. The arrangement was payment of $25,000 on acceptance of the contract, $50,000 upon receipt of the work, with all travel expenses to be paid by Mrs. Briggs.[11]
Dalí, Gala, and the Morses arrived in Pebble Beach on March 22, 1963, where Dalí proceeded to sketch and photograph the Briggs children at the Del Monte Lodge. Linda Briggs, who was thirteen at the time, remembers the sittings well and recalls that Dalí spent two weeks sketching the children. Gala was ever-present, interpreting for Dalí, whose English was deemed inadequate for proper communication. The children recollect that the artist did not appear as the eccentric familiar to the public, but was in fact quiet and reserved, although he and Gala seemed remarkably “Old World” and European in their estimation.[12]
Eleanor Morse, Salvador Dalí and Gala at Del Monte Lodge, March 25, 1963
Collection of The Dalí Museum Library and Archives, St. Petersburg, FL.
Collection of The Dalí Museum Library and Archives, St. Petersburg, FL.
When the preliminary drawings and photographs were completed, Dalí painted the portrait at his studio in Port Lligat. It took several months, but when the work was finally delivered, Mrs. Briggs, who had seen nothing of it in progress, was deeply disappointed with the result, which was awkward and unflattering. One of the problems was that aspects of the portrait appeared unfinished. Another was that it seemed as if Dalí had painted the children’s faces exactly as they were photographed, including that of Kenneth, who sat on the ground looking decidedly disgruntled, and Daniel, who stood squinting into the sun. Dalí had also chosen to clad all the boys in the same sable-coloured pants, bright orange blazers, and camel-hued desert boots, when they had originally donned their own casual shorts and T-shirts. While this lent formality to the assembly, the suspicion was that Dalí had used a different model or models for the boy’s bodies. Linda fared no better, and although she wore a white knee-length ensemble reminiscent of Jacqueline Kennedy’s boxy suits, she recalls that when she first saw the portrait she knew that “those were not my legs!”[13]
Most notably, however, is the startling conventionality of the piece. Except for the artist’s signature and a few other Dalínian flourishes, there is very little about this painting that marks it as the work of the world’s most famous Surrealist artist. Instead of his usual Cadaqués or Port Lligat setting, Dalí has set this mise-en-scène in what looks like a California desert, featuring stark white sand, a few sticks, and sundry rocky formations in the distance that evoke the coastline at Pebble Beach, albeit without the water. The shells scattered on the ground and one atop young Linda’s hand speak of the Pebble Beach setting and, according to the children’s mother, refer to local seashells, of which Dalí had a large collection at the Del Monte Lodge. The sky is a deep blue, and Dalí’s brilliant palette of cerulean, orange, and off-white creates a dry, sunny effect that evokes the southern climate. He has included his usual clouds, white and billowy to the left, and dark and stormy with beams of sunlight emanating on the right. The latter, similarly rough compared to the rest of the portrait, once again, suggests the hand of a lesser accomplished assistant.
Linda poses in the centre of the group, sitting on a large rock. In front of her reclines Carleton, who holds a book, and John David, on the ground with legs stretched before him. Standing behind these three is Daniel, with a stick in his hand and, legs akimbo on the sand, is Kenneth, holding what appears to be a smooth stone. Some of the poses are rather stilted as, similar to the little boy in Portrait of Mrs. Ann W. Green and her Son Jonathan painted the previous year, Dalí had transposed the photographed figures from lawn chairs to a rocky perch. The placement of the subjects is equally quirky, with the entire group being relegated to the right of the canvas, as most of the children gaze to the left outside of the field of vision.
While the portrait is remarkably conservative by Dalí’s standards, it is neither devoid of surrealistic elements, nor of Dalí’s personal iconology. Of note is the angel in white, holding a white flower, a traditional symbol of purity and likely a reference to childhood innocence. Dalí’s inclusion of an angel in the canvas, allegedly in reference to the children’s mother, also perhaps reflects upon their mother’s growing piety. Notably, being swindled out of the fortune she had invested in a Las Vegas casino the late 1970s, the increasingly devout Mitzi even worked well into her eighties as a sacristan and bridal coordinator at the Guardian Angel Cathedral in that same city.[14]
In the background Dalí has also painted the hull of a dilapidated ship, in which only the foundation ribs have remained. This object is familiar in other works by the artist, including an illustration created for the cover of the June 8, 1939 American edition of Vogue. In it, editors give an explanation that presumably paraphrases the artist, of the “Symbols by Salvador Dalí, the fantastic Surrealist,” including “a skeleton ship for the sadness of things past.”[15] Many years later, Mitzi believed that Dalí’s inclusion of the skeleton ship foresaw the bankruptcy of her company, and that the little figure next to the hull of the ship represented Mitzi herself.[16] Members of the Briggs family note that they are often struck by further iconographic prescience of some of the imagery in the Briggs Family Portrait. It is noted for instance, that Carleton Briggs, who is the only child with a book in his lap, went on to become an attorney, while Daniel, who faces the opposite direction and squints into the sun, became an astrologer and founded an inline metaphysical bookstore. The artist would have no doubt been delighted by such observations, having claimed regarding an earlier portrait that, “What Dalí paints happens.”[17]
It is clear from the existing correspondence that Mitzi had high expectations for the Briggs Family Portrait, especially as the artist had produced such a charming portrait of her before she was married. It turns out that she was far from satisfied with the outcome, and as a result she returned the portrait to Dalí for amendments, which were implemented. The final version was sent back from Barcelona in July of 1964, and despite the changes, Mitzi immediately made it clear to Dali that she did not want the work to be seen publicly. Considering the astonishing amount paid for the commission, it was perhaps the cruelest disappointment of all Dali’s society portraits. In an interview with Mitzi in 2011, it was evident she still found it difficult to discuss. An exceptionally large piece, it was kept in storage at the San Francisco Museum for many years, away from the public eye. It remained in the family until it was sold at auction in 2016.
Most notably, however, is the startling conventionality of the piece. Except for the artist’s signature and a few other Dalínian flourishes, there is very little about this painting that marks it as the work of the world’s most famous Surrealist artist. Instead of his usual Cadaqués or Port Lligat setting, Dalí has set this mise-en-scène in what looks like a California desert, featuring stark white sand, a few sticks, and sundry rocky formations in the distance that evoke the coastline at Pebble Beach, albeit without the water. The shells scattered on the ground and one atop young Linda’s hand speak of the Pebble Beach setting and, according to the children’s mother, refer to local seashells, of which Dalí had a large collection at the Del Monte Lodge. The sky is a deep blue, and Dalí’s brilliant palette of cerulean, orange, and off-white creates a dry, sunny effect that evokes the southern climate. He has included his usual clouds, white and billowy to the left, and dark and stormy with beams of sunlight emanating on the right. The latter, similarly rough compared to the rest of the portrait, once again, suggests the hand of a lesser accomplished assistant.
Linda poses in the centre of the group, sitting on a large rock. In front of her reclines Carleton, who holds a book, and John David, on the ground with legs stretched before him. Standing behind these three is Daniel, with a stick in his hand and, legs akimbo on the sand, is Kenneth, holding what appears to be a smooth stone. Some of the poses are rather stilted as, similar to the little boy in Portrait of Mrs. Ann W. Green and her Son Jonathan painted the previous year, Dalí had transposed the photographed figures from lawn chairs to a rocky perch. The placement of the subjects is equally quirky, with the entire group being relegated to the right of the canvas, as most of the children gaze to the left outside of the field of vision.
While the portrait is remarkably conservative by Dalí’s standards, it is neither devoid of surrealistic elements, nor of Dalí’s personal iconology. Of note is the angel in white, holding a white flower, a traditional symbol of purity and likely a reference to childhood innocence. Dalí’s inclusion of an angel in the canvas, allegedly in reference to the children’s mother, also perhaps reflects upon their mother’s growing piety. Notably, being swindled out of the fortune she had invested in a Las Vegas casino the late 1970s, the increasingly devout Mitzi even worked well into her eighties as a sacristan and bridal coordinator at the Guardian Angel Cathedral in that same city.[14]
In the background Dalí has also painted the hull of a dilapidated ship, in which only the foundation ribs have remained. This object is familiar in other works by the artist, including an illustration created for the cover of the June 8, 1939 American edition of Vogue. In it, editors give an explanation that presumably paraphrases the artist, of the “Symbols by Salvador Dalí, the fantastic Surrealist,” including “a skeleton ship for the sadness of things past.”[15] Many years later, Mitzi believed that Dalí’s inclusion of the skeleton ship foresaw the bankruptcy of her company, and that the little figure next to the hull of the ship represented Mitzi herself.[16] Members of the Briggs family note that they are often struck by further iconographic prescience of some of the imagery in the Briggs Family Portrait. It is noted for instance, that Carleton Briggs, who is the only child with a book in his lap, went on to become an attorney, while Daniel, who faces the opposite direction and squints into the sun, became an astrologer and founded an inline metaphysical bookstore. The artist would have no doubt been delighted by such observations, having claimed regarding an earlier portrait that, “What Dalí paints happens.”[17]
It is clear from the existing correspondence that Mitzi had high expectations for the Briggs Family Portrait, especially as the artist had produced such a charming portrait of her before she was married. It turns out that she was far from satisfied with the outcome, and as a result she returned the portrait to Dalí for amendments, which were implemented. The final version was sent back from Barcelona in July of 1964, and despite the changes, Mitzi immediately made it clear to Dali that she did not want the work to be seen publicly. Considering the astonishing amount paid for the commission, it was perhaps the cruelest disappointment of all Dali’s society portraits. In an interview with Mitzi in 2011, it was evident she still found it difficult to discuss. An exceptionally large piece, it was kept in storage at the San Francisco Museum for many years, away from the public eye. It remained in the family until it was sold at auction in 2016.
Portrait of São Schlumberger, 1963-65.
Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 115 cm. (35.2” x 45.3”).
Sold at Sotheby’s, New York, May 8, 2008, lot 357.
Oil on canvas, 89.5 x 115 cm. (35.2” x 45.3”).
Sold at Sotheby’s, New York, May 8, 2008, lot 357.
Dalí’s next portrait was of the immensely wealthy international socialite Maria Schlumberger (1929-2007) an extravagant patron of the arts, fashion, and design. São, as she was known, was born Maria da Diniz Concerçao in Oporto, Portugal in 1929. Her father was NN. da Diniz Concercao, whose family owned cork and olive plantations, and her mother was Erna Schroeder, a German heiress from Hamburg. São’s parents met while attending Portugal’s University of Coimbra and were not married when their daughter was born.[18] São attended the University of Lisbon, and graduated in 1951 with a degree in philosophy and history. She later attended the Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga, were she met Pedro Bessone Basto, a young Portuguese boulevardier whom she married and divorced in the span of a year.
São met her second husband, aristocratic French oil-industry tycoon Pierre Schlumberger, who was fifteen years her senior, in New York. Pierre’s immense wealth stemmed from the fact of his father and uncle having founded what has become the world’s largest oil field services company, Schlumberger Limited, in 1926. Pierre rose to become its president and CEO, and a billionaire in the process. Sotheby’s, who has sold millions of dollars’ worth of art and objects from São and Pierre’s estate since São’s death in 2007, explains that the Schlumberger clan, though lesser known, attained the same status and spending power as the Rothschilds, the Rockefellers and Guggenheims.[19]
São and Pierre were avid patrons of the arts, and among their many achievements was gifting the Centre Pompidou with an important Robert Rauschenberg assemblage, funding the production of avant-garde composer Philip Glass’s Einstein on the Beach, and contributing generously to the renovation of the King’s Bedroom at Versailles.[20] São sat on the board of the Pompidou Center and was a member, and later Vice President of the International Council of The Museum of Modern Art. Pierre’s cousin, Dominique de Menil was also famously involved with the world of collecting, establishing with her husband John the renowned Menil Collection in Houston, considered one of America’s largest and most significant private art collections.
The “impossibly glamorous” Pierre and São owned properties all over the world, largely decorated according to São’s gaudily lavish style, and filled with priceless antiques and top-tier works by modern masters. The Schlumberger family were avid collectors of the up-and-coming European and American vanguard, with an emphasis on Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism, and Pop Art. Andy Warhol, who did one of his famous silk-screen portraits of São in 1974, described their Paris home on Rue Férou near the Luxembourg Gardens — which featured its own discothèque — as “a palace . . . with great Picassos, Rothkos, Matisses.”[21] São loved to entertain in the highest of style, and in 1968 she held her notoriously lavish La Dolce Vita ball for 1,500 guests, which she held on the one hundred acre estate her husband had given her, close to the Portuguese resort of Estoril. The guest list included key figures of the day such as Audrey Hepburn, Gina Lollobrigida as well as Portuguese and Italian royalty.[22]
Described as “wildly extravagant,” and “utterly fearless” in her style, in the early 1990s São engaged designer Gabhan O’Keeffe to decorate her new Paris apartment on Avenue Charles Floquet in the Seventh Arrondissement. It featured a dining room table that could accommodate forty guests and a sixty-five-foot-long grand salon with a gold-leafed ceiling, purple and orange drapes swagged with outsized Murano glass tassels, and bright yellow walls upon which hung gallery-sized work of contemporary art. Described as a “neo-Baroque fantasyland,” the fashion designer John Galliano held his Fall/Winter runway show there in 1994. At one party a particularly vocal guest was overheard saying “It’s simply hideous . . . but totally fabulous!”[23] Fitting that Dalí’s portrait of São was hung in the front hallway.[24]
Besides her flamboyant taste and love of luxury, São was notoriously outspoken, and described as possessing “extraordinary spirit, style, keen intelligence, and humor.”[25] She was also a great beauty, and Vanity Fair contributor Reynaldo Herrera, whose father Dalí painted in 1959, describes her as “ravishing.” “She had this wonderful Rubenesque quality about her,” he recalls, “with the most luminescent skin. She wasn’t a stick, and everyone around her was. She was like a luscious, ripe peach.”[26] São’s husband Pierre apparently adored her, and in addition to his five children from a previous marriage, they had two children together: Paul-Albert and Victoire. When Pierre became ill, he freely allowed his spirited wife to have affairs, including a five-year relationship with Naguib Abdallah, an Egyptian man in his twenties, when she was in her fifties. This dashing companion reportedly travelled with the family, and was a welcome fixture in their home.[27]
Not only was São a celebrated beauty, but she was famous for her love of couture. Partial to Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Coco Chanel, and Christian Lacroix, she was voted to Vanity Fair’s International Best-Dressed List’s Hall of Fame in 1975.[28] She also adored jewelry, and in an interview with W magazine in 1987, she said, “There is nothing more annoying than seeing a woman with the means to buy anything she wants who always wears the same piece of jewelry.”[29]
São met her second husband, aristocratic French oil-industry tycoon Pierre Schlumberger, who was fifteen years her senior, in New York. Pierre’s immense wealth stemmed from the fact of his father and uncle having founded what has become the world’s largest oil field services company, Schlumberger Limited, in 1926. Pierre rose to become its president and CEO, and a billionaire in the process. Sotheby’s, who has sold millions of dollars’ worth of art and objects from São and Pierre’s estate since São’s death in 2007, explains that the Schlumberger clan, though lesser known, attained the same status and spending power as the Rothschilds, the Rockefellers and Guggenheims.[19]
São and Pierre were avid patrons of the arts, and among their many achievements was gifting the Centre Pompidou with an important Robert Rauschenberg assemblage, funding the production of avant-garde composer Philip Glass’s Einstein on the Beach, and contributing generously to the renovation of the King’s Bedroom at Versailles.[20] São sat on the board of the Pompidou Center and was a member, and later Vice President of the International Council of The Museum of Modern Art. Pierre’s cousin, Dominique de Menil was also famously involved with the world of collecting, establishing with her husband John the renowned Menil Collection in Houston, considered one of America’s largest and most significant private art collections.
The “impossibly glamorous” Pierre and São owned properties all over the world, largely decorated according to São’s gaudily lavish style, and filled with priceless antiques and top-tier works by modern masters. The Schlumberger family were avid collectors of the up-and-coming European and American vanguard, with an emphasis on Surrealism, Abstract Expressionism, and Pop Art. Andy Warhol, who did one of his famous silk-screen portraits of São in 1974, described their Paris home on Rue Férou near the Luxembourg Gardens — which featured its own discothèque — as “a palace . . . with great Picassos, Rothkos, Matisses.”[21] São loved to entertain in the highest of style, and in 1968 she held her notoriously lavish La Dolce Vita ball for 1,500 guests, which she held on the one hundred acre estate her husband had given her, close to the Portuguese resort of Estoril. The guest list included key figures of the day such as Audrey Hepburn, Gina Lollobrigida as well as Portuguese and Italian royalty.[22]
Described as “wildly extravagant,” and “utterly fearless” in her style, in the early 1990s São engaged designer Gabhan O’Keeffe to decorate her new Paris apartment on Avenue Charles Floquet in the Seventh Arrondissement. It featured a dining room table that could accommodate forty guests and a sixty-five-foot-long grand salon with a gold-leafed ceiling, purple and orange drapes swagged with outsized Murano glass tassels, and bright yellow walls upon which hung gallery-sized work of contemporary art. Described as a “neo-Baroque fantasyland,” the fashion designer John Galliano held his Fall/Winter runway show there in 1994. At one party a particularly vocal guest was overheard saying “It’s simply hideous . . . but totally fabulous!”[23] Fitting that Dalí’s portrait of São was hung in the front hallway.[24]
Besides her flamboyant taste and love of luxury, São was notoriously outspoken, and described as possessing “extraordinary spirit, style, keen intelligence, and humor.”[25] She was also a great beauty, and Vanity Fair contributor Reynaldo Herrera, whose father Dalí painted in 1959, describes her as “ravishing.” “She had this wonderful Rubenesque quality about her,” he recalls, “with the most luminescent skin. She wasn’t a stick, and everyone around her was. She was like a luscious, ripe peach.”[26] São’s husband Pierre apparently adored her, and in addition to his five children from a previous marriage, they had two children together: Paul-Albert and Victoire. When Pierre became ill, he freely allowed his spirited wife to have affairs, including a five-year relationship with Naguib Abdallah, an Egyptian man in his twenties, when she was in her fifties. This dashing companion reportedly travelled with the family, and was a welcome fixture in their home.[27]
Not only was São a celebrated beauty, but she was famous for her love of couture. Partial to Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Coco Chanel, and Christian Lacroix, she was voted to Vanity Fair’s International Best-Dressed List’s Hall of Fame in 1975.[28] She also adored jewelry, and in an interview with W magazine in 1987, she said, “There is nothing more annoying than seeing a woman with the means to buy anything she wants who always wears the same piece of jewelry.”[29]
Swirling Sea Necklace, 1963.
18k gold with sapphire and emerald beads, pearls and diamonds
Conceived in 1954 by Salvador Dalí and executed by 1963 by Alemany & Co., New York.
18k gold with sapphire and emerald beads, pearls and diamonds
Conceived in 1954 by Salvador Dalí and executed by 1963 by Alemany & Co., New York.
One of her own pieces was a fantastical gold and bejewelled necklace designed by Dalí in 1954, and executed by Dalí collaborator Carlos Alemany of Alemany & Co., in 1963. Entitled the Swirling Sea Necklace, the piece consists of a gold collar sculpted to resemble rippling water set in motion by a baroque cultured pearl in the shape of a water drop. The “splashes” are set with smaller pearls, and the golden waves undulate around the wearer’s neck, held together with a clasp made of two stylized drops. A “waterfall” fringe sparkles below, made of twenty-four strings threaded with emeralds and sapphire beads interspersed with pearls.[30] Dalí apparently told São that this object was “seaweed turned to gold,” because everything São touched “turned into gold.”[31] A photograph of Dalí making preliminary sketches of São suggests that the society matron was originally intended to wear Swirling Sea Necklace in the portrait. In the finished work, however, she wears a more conventional diamond and ruby collar, and holds what may be a stylized version of the Alemany piece in her hands.
São Schlumberger sitting beside her portrait, 1990s.
Sittings for the portrait took place over a course of two years, when Dalí would sporadically drop by São’s Sutton Place apartment in New York City. From the aforementioned photograph, it is clear he continued with his custom of insisting his more attractive female subjects pose nude under a blanket during sittings. The artist is said to have selected the garment she wears in the final portrait; a pastel green satin décolleté evening gown.[30] Compared to the figure and most of the details in the portrait, however, the dress appears roughly brushed in, as does the dark cloud, and some of the details at the bottom of the canvas. A crudely executed yellow glow under the sitter’s elbow and along her back also suggest overpainting that was not particularly well camouflaged. Not characteristically Dalí’s hand or level of painterly sophistication, once again an assistant was likely tasked with these details.
In the work, São sits to one side, looking relaxed and lovey with her dark blonde hair and brown eyes, while her hands enclose the jewel on her knees. She is set in Dalí’s habitual Mediterranean background, above which is a blue sky filled with clouds. To the left is the familiar dark grey storm cloud out of which golden rays emanate, and in the distance a vast expanse of golden sand strewn with a familiar objects, including an angel, two small rocks, and a small tree. To the left a red and yellow vessel is moored in the sand. In reference to São’s heritage, this is a Portuguese fishing boat similar to those used in Malta and ancient Phoenicia, featuring high prows painted with eyes intended to ward off evil spirits.[31]
While Dalí worked in his academic mode for Portrait of São Schlumberger, the work is not as polished or realistic as his previous society pieces, and with its rounded forms and awkward elements, it has a cartoonish quality to it. Not surprisingly, although the likeness is flattering, São was unhappy with the result. Being an enthusiast of modern and contemporary art, she had hoped for something more vanguard, perhaps along the lines of Dalí’s supremely Surrealist La Femme poisson of 1930, which she and Pierre also owned. As was Dalí’s custom, the subject was not allowed to see the work until it was finished. “I don’t really like it,” she admitted in an interview with Women’s Wear Daily in 1987. “I was expecting a fantasy…but he did a classic.”[32]
In the work, São sits to one side, looking relaxed and lovey with her dark blonde hair and brown eyes, while her hands enclose the jewel on her knees. She is set in Dalí’s habitual Mediterranean background, above which is a blue sky filled with clouds. To the left is the familiar dark grey storm cloud out of which golden rays emanate, and in the distance a vast expanse of golden sand strewn with a familiar objects, including an angel, two small rocks, and a small tree. To the left a red and yellow vessel is moored in the sand. In reference to São’s heritage, this is a Portuguese fishing boat similar to those used in Malta and ancient Phoenicia, featuring high prows painted with eyes intended to ward off evil spirits.[31]
While Dalí worked in his academic mode for Portrait of São Schlumberger, the work is not as polished or realistic as his previous society pieces, and with its rounded forms and awkward elements, it has a cartoonish quality to it. Not surprisingly, although the likeness is flattering, São was unhappy with the result. Being an enthusiast of modern and contemporary art, she had hoped for something more vanguard, perhaps along the lines of Dalí’s supremely Surrealist La Femme poisson of 1930, which she and Pierre also owned. As was Dalí’s custom, the subject was not allowed to see the work until it was finished. “I don’t really like it,” she admitted in an interview with Women’s Wear Daily in 1987. “I was expecting a fantasy…but he did a classic.”[32]
It should be noted that on January 31, 1965 The Washington Post reported that Dalí would come to town in early spring to stay at the Hillwood, Washington D.C. estate home of Mrs. Merriweather Post, the Post cereal heiress who was one of the richest people in the USA. Merriweather Post was known to be amused by the gifted painter, and greatly admired his "more serious" work. She became intrigued by the idea of commissioning the artist to paint her portrait after they were introduced at a party in New York the year before. It appears the commission never materialized.
Dalí performs in the window of the National Cash Register showroom.
In February 1965 Dalí created a so-called Portrait of Raquel Welch, as part of 20th Century Fox's promotion for the science fiction film Fantastic Voyage, in which Welch starred. This work turned out to be more of a publicity stunt than a real portrait, however. It was more of what Dali might describe as an "hallucinatory" portrait of the actress, and was based on computer techniques.[33]
Another actress and former model who posed for Dalí in 1965 was Ivy Nicholson (1933-2021), Andy Warhol's first "Superstar." She had heard some unsavoury things about Dalí and his suspected voyeuristic tendencies. "I heard that he used to tell people that he was going to paint their portrait, so he would get a canvas and have them strip and 'do it' to himself and then, after the pose, they'd expect to see the painting and they'd see nothing. This would be totally humiliating." In a 2017 interview for BOMB magazine Nicholson told photographer Conrad Ventur that LIFE wanted Dalí to paint her, but he never replied. When she told him "Oh, what a shame because [celebrity photographer] Milton Greene is doing an article on all the painters who have ever painted me, what a shame!" he said, "What? Milton Greene is photographing? I'll do it! I'll do it on the spot!".
According to Nicholson, Dalí used reddish-brown charcoal and did a nude drawing of her, which was very ethereal and lovely.
It is not known where the drawing is today, but photographs of the sitting showing Dalí working on it have survived. Like the "portrait'"of Rachel Welch, this piece of Ivy Nicholson was not a commissioned portrait, but nevertheless worth mentioning. Also worth a mention is that when Dr. Ivo Pitanguy, celebrated Brazilian plastic surgeon, died at the age of 93 in 2016, a number of newspapers reported that his friend Salvador Dalí painted him in the 1970s, but it turned out, that this was only a dedicated drawing.
According to Nicholson, Dalí used reddish-brown charcoal and did a nude drawing of her, which was very ethereal and lovely.
It is not known where the drawing is today, but photographs of the sitting showing Dalí working on it have survived. Like the "portrait'"of Rachel Welch, this piece of Ivy Nicholson was not a commissioned portrait, but nevertheless worth mentioning. Also worth a mention is that when Dr. Ivo Pitanguy, celebrated Brazilian plastic surgeon, died at the age of 93 in 2016, a number of newspapers reported that his friend Salvador Dalí painted him in the 1970s, but it turned out, that this was only a dedicated drawing.
Portrait of Abel Fagen, 1965.
Oil on canvas, 121 x 89.5 cm. (47” x 35”).
Last seen at Leslie Hindman Auctioneers, Chicago, May 14, 1984, lot 158.
Oil on canvas, 121 x 89.5 cm. (47” x 35”).
Last seen at Leslie Hindman Auctioneers, Chicago, May 14, 1984, lot 158.
Five years after Dalí completed Portrait of Mildred Fagen, he was engaged to paint Mildred’s husband, the textile broker Abel Edward Fagen (1899-1982), from a Russian Jewish family who founded Medtex Fabrics, a textile company headquartered in New York City. Yet while the earlier portrait is well-documented, almost nothing is known about the later work. Certainly, the artist appears to have made some effort to make the works complement each other, although Mr. Fagen’s portrait is slightly larger. Placed side by side with Abel to the left and Mildred to the right, the duo face each other, both with their hands clasped, and sitting within triangular formations. Considering this, and that the earthy tones of Mrs. Fagen’s dress and perch are similarly echoed in Mr. Fagen’s brown suit, the styles and media are still so different that they can hardly be considered pendant.
The unusual peach and beige-toned palette Dalí has used for the Portrait of Mr. Fagen is indeed surprising, as is the abstract background with spoon shapes and the rectangular frame around the sitter’s head and torso. This forms a sort of window to the horizon, populated with the ubiquitous Dalínian horse and tiny figures. For the sky above, there is a vestige of Dalí’s trademark dark cloud, although the remainder of the sky appears to have been roughly brushed in, and a few Surrealist touches added. The expanse below Mr. Fagen resembles billowing clouds of dark smoke, which has been roughly implemented with what looks like a finger-painting technique.
In the mid-1960s Dalí was experimenting with a number of styles and methods, and was highly intrigued by Pop Art and other movements of the decade. While the image of Mr. Fagen and his immediate background look to be the beginnings of one of Dalí’s “formula” portraits, he abruptly switched his traditional style to contemporary. For the border of the work, it seems he used a stencil technique, likely with aerosol paint. The suggestion being that he began with a conventional portrait, and then used a piece of paper or board surrounding Mr. Fagen to protect it from the aerosol paint, and once removed, to create the rectangular “window” around the subject. The spoon shapes, which circle the upper half of the triangle also have a stenciled appearance, suggesting the artist used real spoons, which he removed after over-spraying, and later in-painting one with a group of ants, the other with a clock. The spraying would explain the misty pinkish areas around each spoon, and perhaps Dalí’s uncharacteristic palette, as he would not have had the opportunity to mix the colour.
The unusual peach and beige-toned palette Dalí has used for the Portrait of Mr. Fagen is indeed surprising, as is the abstract background with spoon shapes and the rectangular frame around the sitter’s head and torso. This forms a sort of window to the horizon, populated with the ubiquitous Dalínian horse and tiny figures. For the sky above, there is a vestige of Dalí’s trademark dark cloud, although the remainder of the sky appears to have been roughly brushed in, and a few Surrealist touches added. The expanse below Mr. Fagen resembles billowing clouds of dark smoke, which has been roughly implemented with what looks like a finger-painting technique.
In the mid-1960s Dalí was experimenting with a number of styles and methods, and was highly intrigued by Pop Art and other movements of the decade. While the image of Mr. Fagen and his immediate background look to be the beginnings of one of Dalí’s “formula” portraits, he abruptly switched his traditional style to contemporary. For the border of the work, it seems he used a stencil technique, likely with aerosol paint. The suggestion being that he began with a conventional portrait, and then used a piece of paper or board surrounding Mr. Fagen to protect it from the aerosol paint, and once removed, to create the rectangular “window” around the subject. The spoon shapes, which circle the upper half of the triangle also have a stenciled appearance, suggesting the artist used real spoons, which he removed after over-spraying, and later in-painting one with a group of ants, the other with a clock. The spraying would explain the misty pinkish areas around each spoon, and perhaps Dalí’s uncharacteristic palette, as he would not have had the opportunity to mix the colour.
Springbok, box top on top of finished puzzle, featuring image of Dalí’s
Double Image/Apparition of Voltaire (1965).
Double Image/Apparition of Voltaire (1965).
That Dalí was experimenting with the stencil and spray-paint technique in 1965 is evident in another work he created that year. This was Double Image/Apparition of Voltaire, a work he created for a puzzle design produced by American company Springbok. While the artist had first devised the central trompe l’oeuil of Voltaire morphing into a group of Dutch women in the early 1940s, as with the Fagen portrait, he has used a similar stencil technique to frame the image. Likewise, he has surrounded the periphery with cutlery shapes (spoons and forks), which also appear to have been spray-painted over, removed for effect, and embellished. This technique marks a move away from Dalí’s “classic” academic technique, and a celebration of the experimental zeitgeist which dominated the American art world of the 1960s. While this method helped to situate Dalí within the contemporary art movements of the time, it was also in keeping with his increasing efforts to produce more work more quickly, replacing his meticulous “classic” academic technique with those of mass and mechanical reproduction.
In interviews with Mrs. Fagen, reporters were often surprised to note that although the Fagens were great admirers of Dalí, both of their portraits were hung in private areas of the home, away from the public eye. Mr. Fagen’s likeness was kept in the studio, while “surprisingly, the prized portrait [of Mrs. Fagen] hangs not in the elegant modern living room . . . but in a curved corridor that leads to a series of bedrooms.” Mrs. Fagen claimed that the paintings were too bold, and hers, in particular “dominated the living room,” and therefore required hanging in a less obvious place.[34]
In interviews with Mrs. Fagen, reporters were often surprised to note that although the Fagens were great admirers of Dalí, both of their portraits were hung in private areas of the home, away from the public eye. Mr. Fagen’s likeness was kept in the studio, while “surprisingly, the prized portrait [of Mrs. Fagen] hangs not in the elegant modern living room . . . but in a curved corridor that leads to a series of bedrooms.” Mrs. Fagen claimed that the paintings were too bold, and hers, in particular “dominated the living room,” and therefore required hanging in a less obvious place.[34]
Portrait of Lammot du Pont Copeland, 1965.
Oil on canvas, 39 ¾ x 30” (100.95 x 76.2 cm.).
Gerrett Copeland collection.
Oil on canvas, 39 ¾ x 30” (100.95 x 76.2 cm.).
Gerrett Copeland collection.
Painted in 1965, Portrait of Lammot du Pont Copeland is perhaps one of Dalí’s least known commissions of a male subject. This was Lammot du Pont Copeland (1905-1983), a descendent of Eleuthère Irénée du Pont, founder of America’s E.I. du Pont de Nemours and Company. Today worth approximately $15 billion, DuPont, as it is familiarly known, began with the manufacture of gunpowder, and has since been responsible for numerous innovations over the past two hundred years, including Nylon and Teflon.[35]
The company’s founding father in America, Samuel du Pont de Nemours and his family emigrated from France in 1800. Since that time the du Ponts and their countless offspring have become among America’s wealthiest and most powerful, figuring prominently in business, politics, society, science and philanthropy and the arts. Proud of their ancestry and accomplishments, throughout the centuries the du Ponts regularly commissioned prominent and local artists to capture and preserve their likenesses.[36] Among the most notable of these is a small gouache study of du Pont de Nemours, which is attributed to French neo-classical artist Jacques-Louis David. In America, the family commissioned important artists such as Rembrandt Peale and Thomas Sully, John Singer Sargent, and of course, Salvador Dalí.[37]
Born in Delaware into this grand clan and groomed for leadership, Lammot du Pont Copeland became an integral part of the company at an early age. Graduating from Harvard in 1928 with a degree in industrial chemistry, he joined DuPont as a chemist in 1929, and worked his way up to becoming the company’s eleventh president, a post he held from 1961-1971. He married in 1930, and Lammot and his wife Pamela Cunningham became highly active in numerous educational, cultural and community endeavors. Their philanthropy involved frequent endowments to colleges and universities, museums, historic houses, theaters, musical organizations, and hospitals, among them the Winterthur Museum and the Delaware League for Planned Parenthood. Together the couple had three children, and the eldest, Lammot’s namesake, caused a scandal in 1970 for filing what was at that time the biggest personal bankruptcy action in U.S. history, listing liabilities in the range of 60 million.[38]
In 1935, the Copelands built a stately neo-Georgian home on a two hundred and thirty acre estate near the village of Mount Cuba, not far from Wilmington, Delaware. As they shared an interest in horticulture, shortly after completing their house the couple began to design and develop a series of garden spaces on the expansive estate. The result was several woodland gardens, and today Mount Cuba is a laboratory for developing cultivars of Piedmont plants, and has been described as a cluster of “nationally known gardens with one of the largest and most spectacular collections of native plants cultivated in the Mid-Atlantic region.”[39] Lammot and Pamela also collected art and antiquities, and Pamela in particular was known as a distinguished collector of American furniture and Chinese export porcelain.[40] A great fan of Dalí’s work, Lammot had long wished to own a work by Dalí, and had long tried to convince his wife to sit for a portrait. She apparently refused, and hence Lammot decided to sit himself. [41]
The company’s founding father in America, Samuel du Pont de Nemours and his family emigrated from France in 1800. Since that time the du Ponts and their countless offspring have become among America’s wealthiest and most powerful, figuring prominently in business, politics, society, science and philanthropy and the arts. Proud of their ancestry and accomplishments, throughout the centuries the du Ponts regularly commissioned prominent and local artists to capture and preserve their likenesses.[36] Among the most notable of these is a small gouache study of du Pont de Nemours, which is attributed to French neo-classical artist Jacques-Louis David. In America, the family commissioned important artists such as Rembrandt Peale and Thomas Sully, John Singer Sargent, and of course, Salvador Dalí.[37]
Born in Delaware into this grand clan and groomed for leadership, Lammot du Pont Copeland became an integral part of the company at an early age. Graduating from Harvard in 1928 with a degree in industrial chemistry, he joined DuPont as a chemist in 1929, and worked his way up to becoming the company’s eleventh president, a post he held from 1961-1971. He married in 1930, and Lammot and his wife Pamela Cunningham became highly active in numerous educational, cultural and community endeavors. Their philanthropy involved frequent endowments to colleges and universities, museums, historic houses, theaters, musical organizations, and hospitals, among them the Winterthur Museum and the Delaware League for Planned Parenthood. Together the couple had three children, and the eldest, Lammot’s namesake, caused a scandal in 1970 for filing what was at that time the biggest personal bankruptcy action in U.S. history, listing liabilities in the range of 60 million.[38]
In 1935, the Copelands built a stately neo-Georgian home on a two hundred and thirty acre estate near the village of Mount Cuba, not far from Wilmington, Delaware. As they shared an interest in horticulture, shortly after completing their house the couple began to design and develop a series of garden spaces on the expansive estate. The result was several woodland gardens, and today Mount Cuba is a laboratory for developing cultivars of Piedmont plants, and has been described as a cluster of “nationally known gardens with one of the largest and most spectacular collections of native plants cultivated in the Mid-Atlantic region.”[39] Lammot and Pamela also collected art and antiquities, and Pamela in particular was known as a distinguished collector of American furniture and Chinese export porcelain.[40] A great fan of Dalí’s work, Lammot had long wished to own a work by Dalí, and had long tried to convince his wife to sit for a portrait. She apparently refused, and hence Lammot decided to sit himself. [41]
Lammot du Pont Copeland on the cover of Time magazine, November 27th, 1964.
Described as a “heavyset, bespectacled man with a forthright manner and a passion for American history,” Mots, as he was known by friends and family, was an avid hunter, and loved to fish for trout and salmon.[42] He appears from the waist up in Dalí’s portrait, sporting a grey jacket and vest, and looking beyond the canvas to the right. In an interview in 2015, his son, Gerrett Copeland, explained some of the symbolism of the work, and noted that the way Dalí captured the folds on the vest was most characteristic of his the way clothing fit his father. He further explained that the road stretching out behind his father represents the “road of life,” and that the landscape in the background is reminiscent of Andelot Farm, on the Eastern shore of Maryland, once owned by Copeland. The tree represents the Tree of Knowledge, and the egg also holds similar symbolism. The female figures in the background indicates Lammot’s “love of the female” which his son recalls, was as pronounced an aspect of his character as was his keen sense of humor.[43]
The schema of Portrait of Lammot du Pont Copeland is similar to a number of Dalí’s other works, with the subject appearing very low on the bottom of the canvas. As in his Portrait of Abel Fagen of the same year, and the Briggs Family Portrait of 1964, Dalí has again employed his curious palette of creamy yellows and beiges, so far from his regular chromatic choices. This gives the impression of watercolour or gouache, rather than the artist’s habitual oil, and along with the crude treatment of the dark clouds, suggest once again that Dalí’s assistant may have contributed to the work. Lammot sat for Dalí at the St. Regis in New York some six or seven times, and his son recalled that the pet ocelot owned by Dalí’s manager, Captain Peter Moore, was often present for the sittings. As was typical, the client was not allowed to view the canvas until the work was complete. According to the inventory card and consignment book of M. Knoedler & Co. the portrait was officially sold to Mr. du Pont Copeland in Wilmington, Delaware on March 18, 1965 for $25,000 (approximately $235,500 in today's currency). [44]
The schema of Portrait of Lammot du Pont Copeland is similar to a number of Dalí’s other works, with the subject appearing very low on the bottom of the canvas. As in his Portrait of Abel Fagen of the same year, and the Briggs Family Portrait of 1964, Dalí has again employed his curious palette of creamy yellows and beiges, so far from his regular chromatic choices. This gives the impression of watercolour or gouache, rather than the artist’s habitual oil, and along with the crude treatment of the dark clouds, suggest once again that Dalí’s assistant may have contributed to the work. Lammot sat for Dalí at the St. Regis in New York some six or seven times, and his son recalled that the pet ocelot owned by Dalí’s manager, Captain Peter Moore, was often present for the sittings. As was typical, the client was not allowed to view the canvas until the work was complete. According to the inventory card and consignment book of M. Knoedler & Co. the portrait was officially sold to Mr. du Pont Copeland in Wilmington, Delaware on March 18, 1965 for $25,000 (approximately $235,500 in today's currency). [44]
Portrait of Eunice Gardiner, 1967.
Oil on canvas, 88.8 by 64 cm. (35 by 25 1/8 in.).
Sold at Sotheby’s June 20, 2012
Oil on canvas, 88.8 by 64 cm. (35 by 25 1/8 in.).
Sold at Sotheby’s June 20, 2012
As Dalí’s sideline as a society portraitist came to a close in America, one of his last likenesses was that of Eunice Bailey Gardiner (1928 – 2011), a woman as famous for her beauty as for her marrying into two extraordinary families. Eunice was born in London, England in 1928, the daughter of the apparently unremarkable Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Bailey. She grew, however, to be what one writer described as “an unforgettable beauty with her striking colouring, gorgeous red hair, ivory skin and brilliant eyes,” and has been described by those who knew her as “gracious, kind, generous, and charming, and comfortable in any social setting.”[45]
Eunice went into modelling, working for Christian Dior, who was one of the top clothing designers of the 1950s and good friend of Dalí’s. She also began dating Stephen Ward, the London-based osteopath and artist who would become notorious for his role in the 1963 Profumo political scandal involving other young girls, among them Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davies. He was reported to have been heartbroken when Eunice broke off their relationship, and attempted suicide as a result.[46] Another acquaintance of Eunice’s, the American actor and filmmaker Orson Welles, was also bewitched by her, and it was rumoured she turned down a marriage proposal from the famous director.[47]
Instead, when she was twenty-four, Eunice married the twenty-two year old American William Pitt Oakes, the son of Lady Oakes and Sir Harry Oakes, the latter having entered the peerage by being created 1st Baronet Oakes, of Nassau, in the Bahama Islands in 1939.[48] Sir Harry was a mining magnate, whose millions were made in gold and other ventures in the northeastern U.S. and Canada. For tax purposes, the family lived in Nassau, where William’s father was brutally murdered in 1943 in a case that made international headlines. While his father’s French Mauritian playboy son-in-law “Count” Alfred de Marigny was suspected of the crime, the case was never solved. The young William had his own troubles, and was an alcoholic, which evidently put a strain on his marriage with Eunice. The couple remained childless and it is believed they were in the process of divorcing in 1958, when William died of coronary thrombosis complicated by a liver ailment.[49]
After her husband’s death, Eunice traveled and became a student of art and architecture in America and overseas. In 1961, she met the wealthy landowner Robert David Lion Gardiner at a birthday party given for him at the Everglades Club in Palm Beach. Eunice was thirty-two at the time and Robert was fifty. Born in New York in 1911, Robert graduated from Columbia University, served in the navy during WWII and then worked on Wall Street. Inheriting a large fortune at a young age, he invested shrewdly. He lived with his mother until he was almost fifty years old and met Eunice. They married in 1961, and once again Eunice had married into wealth and status, as the Gardiners were a prominent and long established American family, considered as close as possible to being royalty in that country. Most notably the clan was famous for owning Gardiner’s Island (as it became known), a private island some six miles long, and three miles wide in the town of East Hampton, New York State. Gardiner’s ancestor and partial namesake Lion Gardiner, a British engineer and soldier, had purchased the property from the Montaukett Indians in 1639. He allegedly loved to boast that the price was a gun, some gunpowder and shot, a quantity of Dutch cloth and a large black dog. This ownership was later confirmed by a charter from King Charles I, a grant that led Robert Gardiner frequently to style himself – and insist on being addressed as – “16th lord of the manor.”[50]
Eunice went into modelling, working for Christian Dior, who was one of the top clothing designers of the 1950s and good friend of Dalí’s. She also began dating Stephen Ward, the London-based osteopath and artist who would become notorious for his role in the 1963 Profumo political scandal involving other young girls, among them Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davies. He was reported to have been heartbroken when Eunice broke off their relationship, and attempted suicide as a result.[46] Another acquaintance of Eunice’s, the American actor and filmmaker Orson Welles, was also bewitched by her, and it was rumoured she turned down a marriage proposal from the famous director.[47]
Instead, when she was twenty-four, Eunice married the twenty-two year old American William Pitt Oakes, the son of Lady Oakes and Sir Harry Oakes, the latter having entered the peerage by being created 1st Baronet Oakes, of Nassau, in the Bahama Islands in 1939.[48] Sir Harry was a mining magnate, whose millions were made in gold and other ventures in the northeastern U.S. and Canada. For tax purposes, the family lived in Nassau, where William’s father was brutally murdered in 1943 in a case that made international headlines. While his father’s French Mauritian playboy son-in-law “Count” Alfred de Marigny was suspected of the crime, the case was never solved. The young William had his own troubles, and was an alcoholic, which evidently put a strain on his marriage with Eunice. The couple remained childless and it is believed they were in the process of divorcing in 1958, when William died of coronary thrombosis complicated by a liver ailment.[49]
After her husband’s death, Eunice traveled and became a student of art and architecture in America and overseas. In 1961, she met the wealthy landowner Robert David Lion Gardiner at a birthday party given for him at the Everglades Club in Palm Beach. Eunice was thirty-two at the time and Robert was fifty. Born in New York in 1911, Robert graduated from Columbia University, served in the navy during WWII and then worked on Wall Street. Inheriting a large fortune at a young age, he invested shrewdly. He lived with his mother until he was almost fifty years old and met Eunice. They married in 1961, and once again Eunice had married into wealth and status, as the Gardiners were a prominent and long established American family, considered as close as possible to being royalty in that country. Most notably the clan was famous for owning Gardiner’s Island (as it became known), a private island some six miles long, and three miles wide in the town of East Hampton, New York State. Gardiner’s ancestor and partial namesake Lion Gardiner, a British engineer and soldier, had purchased the property from the Montaukett Indians in 1639. He allegedly loved to boast that the price was a gun, some gunpowder and shot, a quantity of Dutch cloth and a large black dog. This ownership was later confirmed by a charter from King Charles I, a grant that led Robert Gardiner frequently to style himself – and insist on being addressed as – “16th lord of the manor.”[50]
Eunice and Robert Gardiner in the late 1960s.
Gardiner’s Island, which has been in the family for almost four centuries, has played an important role in American history. The site of the country’s first witch trial, it was also used as a base by British troops during the American War of Independence, and was home to Julia Gardiner, who became First Lady to the tenth American president, John Tyler, in 1844.[51] The notorious pirate Captain Kidd is recorded as having buried treasure there, and the Gardiners even kept a few diamonds from this plunder as a memento. Following a long line of secession, Robert Gardiner and his sister inherited the island in 1953, and the property became the subject of a number of acrimonious family feuds. Gardiner also owned other substantial properties in the area, and he and Eunice spent summers in East Hampton, wintered in Palm Beach, and frequently stayed in New York.[52]
Dali and Eunice were apparently first acquainted at the Palazzo Labia in Venice, which at the time was owned by Charles de Beistegui (famous for his 1951 Beistegui Ball, considered by many to be the "ball of the century.") At some point it was decided that Dali would paint Eunice, and it was in New York that Dalí did the sketches for the portrait, beginning in 1966. Of great interest to the press, Dalí informed the St. Petersburg Times that the commission was $50,000, although Mr. Gardiner later boasted that he had talked Dalí down $5,000 from his usual price of $25,000, stating “I told him I was not among the nouveau riche, and couldn’t afford it.” He claimed this explained the small size of the work, which spans roughly two by three feet. [53]
Dali and Eunice were apparently first acquainted at the Palazzo Labia in Venice, which at the time was owned by Charles de Beistegui (famous for his 1951 Beistegui Ball, considered by many to be the "ball of the century.") At some point it was decided that Dali would paint Eunice, and it was in New York that Dalí did the sketches for the portrait, beginning in 1966. Of great interest to the press, Dalí informed the St. Petersburg Times that the commission was $50,000, although Mr. Gardiner later boasted that he had talked Dalí down $5,000 from his usual price of $25,000, stating “I told him I was not among the nouveau riche, and couldn’t afford it.” He claimed this explained the small size of the work, which spans roughly two by three feet. [53]
Clipping from column by society writer Suzy Knickerbocker,
The Philadelphia Inquirer, July 24, 1964, page 19.
The Philadelphia Inquirer, July 24, 1964, page 19.
In addition to the size, Dalí strays somewhat from his usual format for Eunice’s portrait. Gone is the habitual Mediterranean background, replaced by a misty expanse in which Eunice is surrounded by a yellow aura, set off by a blue sky. The familiar dark cloud makes an appearance, but although the Suzy Knickerbocker article suggests that this was meant to be the Palazzo Labia, where the artist and the subject first met, it in fact seems to be the baroque Venetian church Santa Maria della Salute.
Another vaguely classical reference in Portrait of Eunice Gardiner is the slab upon which the subject sits or, more accurately, appears to levitate above. As for Eunice herself, Dalí has rendered her fabled face and remarkable red hair with near photographic precision. While all the elements of her beauty are evident, however, the artist was rather heavy-handed with the shadows on her face and mouth, sharpening her features and making her front teeth protrude, lending her a subtly rodent-like appearance. From period photographs it is clear she was quite the opposite. Most striking are her bright green eyes, which Dali sets off by the hint of an emerald earring, her emerald ring, and the large jade-coloured pendant around her neck. Eunice was in fact a great collector of fine jewelry, of which she had some magnificent and extremely valuable pieces. Her ensemble in the portrait is complete with a décolleté evening gown in shades of brown, grey and gold and, draped in train-like fashion from her back, is a light-coloured shawl laced through with lines of gold.
Another vaguely classical reference in Portrait of Eunice Gardiner is the slab upon which the subject sits or, more accurately, appears to levitate above. As for Eunice herself, Dalí has rendered her fabled face and remarkable red hair with near photographic precision. While all the elements of her beauty are evident, however, the artist was rather heavy-handed with the shadows on her face and mouth, sharpening her features and making her front teeth protrude, lending her a subtly rodent-like appearance. From period photographs it is clear she was quite the opposite. Most striking are her bright green eyes, which Dali sets off by the hint of an emerald earring, her emerald ring, and the large jade-coloured pendant around her neck. Eunice was in fact a great collector of fine jewelry, of which she had some magnificent and extremely valuable pieces. Her ensemble in the portrait is complete with a décolleté evening gown in shades of brown, grey and gold and, draped in train-like fashion from her back, is a light-coloured shawl laced through with lines of gold.
Detail of jewelled object.
A mysterious element of the work is the object below Eunice’s right hand. At first this appears to be a small mirror reflecting her profile, although her hair and thumb can be seen extending the logical boundaries of the gilt oval frame. Attached to the edge is a golden bird, from whose beak dangles a large baroque pearl. While either a Surrealist flourish, or another “classic” reference, this grouping is likely a metaphor for Eunice’s beauty and wealth.
Parts of Portrait of Eunice Gardiner including the subject’s face, arms and body, are highly detailed, and typical of the quality of Dalí’s earlier portraits. As with his renderings of Sara Maria Larrabure and São Schlumberger, however, one suspects once again a different artist’s hand in the lesser details. The dark mist above is remarkably crude, especially considering Dalí’s extraordinary ability to paint exquisite clouds. Despite Dali's claims that he would paint "3D" drapery, Eunice’s shawl is decidedly flat, not to mention awkwardly placed. With its heavy-handed brushwork and sharp jut at the subject’s behind, it not only distorts Eunice’s body, but also floats her far above the seat upon which it is meant to rest.
The Gardiner’s reception of the portrait has not been recorded, although the work remained in the family until Eunice’s death in 2011. It was known to hang prominently in the family home, and Robert Gardiner apparently proudly showed it to visitors during tours of their property.[54]
Parts of Portrait of Eunice Gardiner including the subject’s face, arms and body, are highly detailed, and typical of the quality of Dalí’s earlier portraits. As with his renderings of Sara Maria Larrabure and São Schlumberger, however, one suspects once again a different artist’s hand in the lesser details. The dark mist above is remarkably crude, especially considering Dalí’s extraordinary ability to paint exquisite clouds. Despite Dali's claims that he would paint "3D" drapery, Eunice’s shawl is decidedly flat, not to mention awkwardly placed. With its heavy-handed brushwork and sharp jut at the subject’s behind, it not only distorts Eunice’s body, but also floats her far above the seat upon which it is meant to rest.
The Gardiner’s reception of the portrait has not been recorded, although the work remained in the family until Eunice’s death in 2011. It was known to hang prominently in the family home, and Robert Gardiner apparently proudly showed it to visitors during tours of their property.[54]
Portrait of John Theodoracopulos, 1970
Oil on canvas, dimension unknown.
Oil on canvas, dimension unknown.
Dali’s next society portrait was of John Theodoracopulos (1908 - 1989), a Greek oil, shipping, and textile millionaire. Despite his great wealth, surprisingly little can be found about this figure’s private life. It is known that the family originally came from the Ionian island of Zakynthos. John was married to Mando Poulitsas, daughter of Greek judge and archeologist Panagiotis Poulitsas. Together they had two sons, Harry (born 1934) and Petros (born 1937), who is better known as “Taki.” Taki is today a well-known paleoconservative journalist and socialite, whose second wife is Austria’s Princess Alexandra Schoenburg-Hartenstein.
According to Taki, his father was a fantastic and heroic figure. A member of the Greek Resistance, who was awarded the Order of the Phoenix and Golden Cross Resistance medals and published the then illegal newspaper Greek Blood. He also apparently won the highest medal for gallantry in action during the 1940 Albanian campaign, blew up the Gestapo headquarters in Athens, and shut down his factories for the duration of the war, despite German demands to keep production going. How reliable this information is, is not clear, however, as he also writes that his father was a former Olympic rowing gold medalist, which is documented to be untrue. What is known, is that by 1945, John was financially ruined.[55]
Nevertheless, post-war Theodoracopulos was among the few far-sighted entrepreneurs who took the first steps in making Greece the world’s leading power at sea. It took almost one hundred U.S. Navy cargo ships which the American government had decided to sell after the war. These were the famous Liberty ships, which were low-cost, mass-produced vessels based on a pre-war design. Between 1941 and 1945, 2,710 of them were built. At wartime they became emblematic of the American navy, and most of them survived. When the U.S. government put a number of these ships up for sale, Greek entrepreneurs bought ninety-eight of them. More specifically, John Theodoracopoulos, Aristotle Onassis, Stavros Niarchos, Stavros George Livanos, the Goulandris brothers, and the Andreadis family bought dozens of them each. While many of the vessels were also purchased by French, Italian, British and the Norwegian ship owners, only the Greeks were able to build a fleet that, within a few decades, dominated, and still dominates the seas today.[56] Thedoracopolos became a big player, and not only reached the top levels of the world shipping community but also became owner or principal shareholder of a number of companies and factories estimated at well over $300 million at the time.
According to Taki, his father was a fantastic and heroic figure. A member of the Greek Resistance, who was awarded the Order of the Phoenix and Golden Cross Resistance medals and published the then illegal newspaper Greek Blood. He also apparently won the highest medal for gallantry in action during the 1940 Albanian campaign, blew up the Gestapo headquarters in Athens, and shut down his factories for the duration of the war, despite German demands to keep production going. How reliable this information is, is not clear, however, as he also writes that his father was a former Olympic rowing gold medalist, which is documented to be untrue. What is known, is that by 1945, John was financially ruined.[55]
Nevertheless, post-war Theodoracopulos was among the few far-sighted entrepreneurs who took the first steps in making Greece the world’s leading power at sea. It took almost one hundred U.S. Navy cargo ships which the American government had decided to sell after the war. These were the famous Liberty ships, which were low-cost, mass-produced vessels based on a pre-war design. Between 1941 and 1945, 2,710 of them were built. At wartime they became emblematic of the American navy, and most of them survived. When the U.S. government put a number of these ships up for sale, Greek entrepreneurs bought ninety-eight of them. More specifically, John Theodoracopoulos, Aristotle Onassis, Stavros Niarchos, Stavros George Livanos, the Goulandris brothers, and the Andreadis family bought dozens of them each. While many of the vessels were also purchased by French, Italian, British and the Norwegian ship owners, only the Greeks were able to build a fleet that, within a few decades, dominated, and still dominates the seas today.[56] Thedoracopolos became a big player, and not only reached the top levels of the world shipping community but also became owner or principal shareholder of a number of companies and factories estimated at well over $300 million at the time.
John Theodoracopulos standing between Stavros Niarchos and his son Filippo Niarchos, about 1967.
After WWII John Theodoracopulos had become an American citizen, and lived in New York. In Athens, he also had a penthouse apartment at the Hotel Caravel, which he owned. The apartment was designed by fashionable English interior designer David Hicks, son-in-law of Lady Louis Mountbatten, and boasted a magnificent view of the Acropolis.[57] The small Dali portrait of John was hung there, together with another Dali work, the enormous 1952 Assumpta Corpuscularia Lapislazulina, which dominated the dining area. It is possible that Dalí met John Theodoracopulos in New York, perhaps when he bought the above-mentioned work at Carstairs Gallery.
From David Hicks, On Decoration, 1972
The portrait makes an unfinished impression and many parts of the canvas are painted very loosely. It shows the subject in a marine bay, in a three-quarter view, sitting atop a kind of bricked bench. He wears a sports jacket over a white shirt with a cravat, typical of tycoon fashion of the day. In contrast to the suntanned face, painted with photographic accuracy, John’s hands are ghostly pale, as if part of the water itself. His left arm is only implied, and in his right hand, which has only four fingers, the sitter holds a rolled document upon which is Dalí's signature and the date, 1970. Behind this is the head of a steed reminiscent of the artist's early Surrealist works such as his William Tell of 1930. This no doubt references the magnate’s prowess and strength in the marine shipping world, as may the brick wall. Below his right arm is a dedication that reads, "POUR MON AMIGO / JOHN THEODORACOPULOS / SALVADOR DALI JACINTHE”.
Along with Dali’s conspicuous dedication is another notably personal inclusion, among the blue sky and clouds above the water. One of the mountains above turns into a transparent self-portrait of Dalí, who looks at the spectator like a ghost. The reference in turn is reminiscent of one of many self-portraits by one of the artists Dali most admired, Diego Velasquez. It should be noted that this is the only time Dalí himself appears in one of his society portraits. Occasionally there might appear small figures with a red Catalan barettina in the background, that are likely self-referential. Yet the very notable inclusion of the artist’s face in Portrait of John Theodoracopulos, in tandem with the noticeable dedication tells a story of a friendship that waits to be uncovered. As far as we know, contracts or documentation for payment for the work are not known to exist, so whether or not the portrait was commissioned, or perhaps a gift, remains to be seen.
That said, considering the rivalry concerning a Dali portrait between two other Greek shipping magnates Stavros Niarchos and Aristotle Onassis, in the 1950s, it is tempting to think that Theodoracopolos continued this tradition in 1970.
According to art history legend, Niarchos commissioned Dali to paint him some time around 1954. Dali’s price was said to be $15,000, U.S. However, during the first sitting, “Dali was incensed by Niarchos' departure as soon as his face had been drawn in. Dali, Niarchos pragmatically explained, could complete the rest without him.” The artist, trickster that he was, decided to paint a naked body beneath the face, and then announced to Niarchos that the price had risen to $25,000. When the magnate refused to pay, “Dali simply redoubled his price and sold the painting to Niarchos' nemesis, Aristotle Onassis.” Apparently as a very expensive joke, Onassis later invited Niarchos to lunch, and was appalled to discover that the artist’s revealing portrait of him was hanging on the wall of his rival’s dining room. Niarchos was determined to buy it back to prevent others from seeing it -- and Onassis’ price? An inflationary $75,000. Niarchos apparently forked up, took the painting home, and “buried it in the back of a closet.” [58]
Salvador Dali denied the story in 1957 saying, "The whole thing is idiotic and embarrassing for my friend Niarchos and myself."
With this weighted history of Dali portraiture among the Greek shipping moguls, it should be noted that Aristotle Onassis had also apparently attempted a commission from Dali to paint his wife Jacqueline (formerly Kennedy), in the same year as Theodorocopolos had his done. Dali, it is reported, turned Onassis down, and as such, it is entirely possible John asked Dali to “ham up” the conspicuous friendship and authorship in his own commission for as a form of one-upmanship. Regrettably, what John Theodorocopolos knew or thought about the work is not known, and the portrait was never publicly exhibited.
Along with Dali’s conspicuous dedication is another notably personal inclusion, among the blue sky and clouds above the water. One of the mountains above turns into a transparent self-portrait of Dalí, who looks at the spectator like a ghost. The reference in turn is reminiscent of one of many self-portraits by one of the artists Dali most admired, Diego Velasquez. It should be noted that this is the only time Dalí himself appears in one of his society portraits. Occasionally there might appear small figures with a red Catalan barettina in the background, that are likely self-referential. Yet the very notable inclusion of the artist’s face in Portrait of John Theodoracopulos, in tandem with the noticeable dedication tells a story of a friendship that waits to be uncovered. As far as we know, contracts or documentation for payment for the work are not known to exist, so whether or not the portrait was commissioned, or perhaps a gift, remains to be seen.
That said, considering the rivalry concerning a Dali portrait between two other Greek shipping magnates Stavros Niarchos and Aristotle Onassis, in the 1950s, it is tempting to think that Theodoracopolos continued this tradition in 1970.
According to art history legend, Niarchos commissioned Dali to paint him some time around 1954. Dali’s price was said to be $15,000, U.S. However, during the first sitting, “Dali was incensed by Niarchos' departure as soon as his face had been drawn in. Dali, Niarchos pragmatically explained, could complete the rest without him.” The artist, trickster that he was, decided to paint a naked body beneath the face, and then announced to Niarchos that the price had risen to $25,000. When the magnate refused to pay, “Dali simply redoubled his price and sold the painting to Niarchos' nemesis, Aristotle Onassis.” Apparently as a very expensive joke, Onassis later invited Niarchos to lunch, and was appalled to discover that the artist’s revealing portrait of him was hanging on the wall of his rival’s dining room. Niarchos was determined to buy it back to prevent others from seeing it -- and Onassis’ price? An inflationary $75,000. Niarchos apparently forked up, took the painting home, and “buried it in the back of a closet.” [58]
Salvador Dali denied the story in 1957 saying, "The whole thing is idiotic and embarrassing for my friend Niarchos and myself."
With this weighted history of Dali portraiture among the Greek shipping moguls, it should be noted that Aristotle Onassis had also apparently attempted a commission from Dali to paint his wife Jacqueline (formerly Kennedy), in the same year as Theodorocopolos had his done. Dali, it is reported, turned Onassis down, and as such, it is entirely possible John asked Dali to “ham up” the conspicuous friendship and authorship in his own commission for as a form of one-upmanship. Regrettably, what John Theodorocopolos knew or thought about the work is not known, and the portrait was never publicly exhibited.
Portrait of Eva Suero de Falla, 1973.
Oil on canvas, dimensions TBD
Collection of Evette Suero Talkish, Florida.
Oil on canvas, dimensions TBD
Collection of Evette Suero Talkish, Florida.
For six years nothing -- except Portrait of John Theodoracopulo s-- had been seen or heard about Dalí’s American portraits, and it seemed this aspect of his career had petered out. This changed when on June 16, 1973 Paris Match published “Les Six Jours de Dalí,” an article in which the artist recounted his daily activities during a week in Paris. In the entry for Wednesday he writes, “Mme. Suero de Falla posed for her portrait,”[59] referring to Eva Suero de Falla (1930 – 2007), the wife of Alejandro “Alin” Suero Falla, brother of Dolores Suero Falla, whom the artist had painted in 1955. Born Eva May Talkish in Pennsylvania, from Russian parents, according to her nephew Carlos, “Eva was a stunningly beautiful woman, very fair skinned and [with] flowing blonde hair.”[60] As a young woman she worked as a model in New York, and stayed at the famous Barbizon Hotel for Women on East 63rd Street. It was when she was modelling a fur coat that she met her future husband. Alin was already married, and to avoid trouble from his wife, Eva returned to Pennsylvania, but Alin followed, and after his divorce, the two soon married. They had two children together, David and Evette.[61]
Impressed by Dalí’s portrait of his sister Dolores, Alin contacted Dalí to paint his second wife, and terms were decided upon. Considering Dalí’s aversion to portrait commissions of the previous years, one wonders what convinced him to take this one. It is known that one of Dalí’s requirements was that Eva would have to be available wherever he was residing at the time, which meant sittings took place at the St. Regis in New York, the Hotel Meurice in France, the Hotel Palace in Madrid, and the Dalís’ residence in Cadaqués. The artist’s original plan for the work also included images of the Suero’s seventeen year old daughter Evette, whom he had pose for several days in her bikini, wearing an elaborate owl mask.[62]
In it, Dalí portrayed Eva as a classical blonde goddess, wrapped in a toga-like sheet. The only Surrealist touch this portrait is given are cracks in her garment, as they might appear in stone or plaster. Perhaps she is gradually turning to marble, suggesting a reference to Pygmalion, the sculptor of Greek mythology who fell in love with a beautiful statue he had carved out of ivory. Longing to marry the sculpture, Pygmalian’s wish was granted by Aphrodite, the goddess of love who turned the statue into a living human. Considering Eva's famed beauty, this seems an apt analogy. The cracks in her figure also echo the rock formations typical of the landscape at Port Lligat and Cadaques behind her. This suggests cluster or jewelry holds together the white wrap that envelops the sitter, and features a shell, a pearl and coral. According to her daughter Evette, in Spanish culture, coral symbolizes good luck, and indeed, in traditional Christian symbolism, it denotes protection from evil.[63]
Evette explained that she, her father and mother were not allowed to view the portrait while Dalí was working upon it, and recalls how shocked they were when it was unveiled at the Hotel Palace in Madrid. The configuration, it turned out, was completely different from what they had expected from the sittings. Evette did not appear in the final canvas, and like so many clients before this one, Alin felt that Dalí had made his beautiful wife look older and less attractive than she was. Dalí insisted that the reason for this is that he had depicted what she would look like in the future, and remarkably, Evette confirms that this was indeed the case as time wore on. Despite these reservations, the Sueros accepted the portrait, and Eva apparently even grew to love it.
The 1960s and ‘70s saw Dalí reach heights of fame and fortune even he could not have imagined. He became increasingly concerned with this legacy, which was manifested largely in the instigation of the Dalí Theatre Museum in his hometown in Figueres, Spain. Envisioned as a “great Surrealist object” that housed many of his installations, artworks and objects of significance, it would serve as a sort of monument to his career.[64] At this period Dalí also began painting portraits of important figures in Spain, such as his Equestrian Portrait of Carmen Bordiu-Franco of 1974, or his portrait of Prince, and later King Juan Carlos of Spain, completed in 1979. As a result, he had far less need for commissions from his wealthy American clientele and much higher ambitions as to whom he wanted to paint.
As far as we know at this point, the Portrait of Eva Suero de Falla is Dalí's last American society portrait. As to whether or not more portraits will emerge as time goes on, remains to be seen.
Impressed by Dalí’s portrait of his sister Dolores, Alin contacted Dalí to paint his second wife, and terms were decided upon. Considering Dalí’s aversion to portrait commissions of the previous years, one wonders what convinced him to take this one. It is known that one of Dalí’s requirements was that Eva would have to be available wherever he was residing at the time, which meant sittings took place at the St. Regis in New York, the Hotel Meurice in France, the Hotel Palace in Madrid, and the Dalís’ residence in Cadaqués. The artist’s original plan for the work also included images of the Suero’s seventeen year old daughter Evette, whom he had pose for several days in her bikini, wearing an elaborate owl mask.[62]
In it, Dalí portrayed Eva as a classical blonde goddess, wrapped in a toga-like sheet. The only Surrealist touch this portrait is given are cracks in her garment, as they might appear in stone or plaster. Perhaps she is gradually turning to marble, suggesting a reference to Pygmalion, the sculptor of Greek mythology who fell in love with a beautiful statue he had carved out of ivory. Longing to marry the sculpture, Pygmalian’s wish was granted by Aphrodite, the goddess of love who turned the statue into a living human. Considering Eva's famed beauty, this seems an apt analogy. The cracks in her figure also echo the rock formations typical of the landscape at Port Lligat and Cadaques behind her. This suggests cluster or jewelry holds together the white wrap that envelops the sitter, and features a shell, a pearl and coral. According to her daughter Evette, in Spanish culture, coral symbolizes good luck, and indeed, in traditional Christian symbolism, it denotes protection from evil.[63]
Evette explained that she, her father and mother were not allowed to view the portrait while Dalí was working upon it, and recalls how shocked they were when it was unveiled at the Hotel Palace in Madrid. The configuration, it turned out, was completely different from what they had expected from the sittings. Evette did not appear in the final canvas, and like so many clients before this one, Alin felt that Dalí had made his beautiful wife look older and less attractive than she was. Dalí insisted that the reason for this is that he had depicted what she would look like in the future, and remarkably, Evette confirms that this was indeed the case as time wore on. Despite these reservations, the Sueros accepted the portrait, and Eva apparently even grew to love it.
The 1960s and ‘70s saw Dalí reach heights of fame and fortune even he could not have imagined. He became increasingly concerned with this legacy, which was manifested largely in the instigation of the Dalí Theatre Museum in his hometown in Figueres, Spain. Envisioned as a “great Surrealist object” that housed many of his installations, artworks and objects of significance, it would serve as a sort of monument to his career.[64] At this period Dalí also began painting portraits of important figures in Spain, such as his Equestrian Portrait of Carmen Bordiu-Franco of 1974, or his portrait of Prince, and later King Juan Carlos of Spain, completed in 1979. As a result, he had far less need for commissions from his wealthy American clientele and much higher ambitions as to whom he wanted to paint.
As far as we know at this point, the Portrait of Eva Suero de Falla is Dalí's last American society portrait. As to whether or not more portraits will emerge as time goes on, remains to be seen.
ENDNOTES
[1] Gordon Brown, “Brown on Dali,” Art Magazine, Vol. 42, 1967, 44.
[2] Robert Wernick, “Dali’s Dollars: The Dauntless Surrealist Paints Less and Less and Sells More and More,” LIFE, July 24, 1970, 48.
[3] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[4] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[5] Karl F. Landegger, Find a Grave website, accessed April 24, 2015, http:// www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=100475713.
[6] Li Li, Shang Magazine, May-June 2012, 68-71.
[7] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[8] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[9] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[10] A. Reynolds Morse and Eleanor R. Morse, The Dalí Adventure 1943-1973 (Cleveland: The Salvador Dalí Museum, 1973), 5.
[11] Correspondence between the Dalís and Mitzi Briggs, dated 1963 and 1964, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Archives, Figueres, Spain.
[12] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Linda Leonard (formerly Linda Briggs) conducted on June 24, 2011, and Jan. 20, 2011.
[13] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mitzi Sigall Briggs, June 24, 2011.
[14] Staff writer, Vogue, June, 1939, 33.
[15] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mitzi Sigall Briggs, June 24, 2011.
[16] 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 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.
[17] Correspondence between the Dalís and Mitzi Briggs, dated 1963 and 1964, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Archives, Figueres, Spain.
[18] Bob Colacello, “The Wow of São,” Vanity Fair, October 2010, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.vanityfair.com/news/2010/09/São-schlumberger-201009.
[19] Anthony Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty,” Sotheby’s Magazine, Oct. 6, 2014, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/news-video/blogs/all-blogs/sothebys-at-auction/2014/10/paintings-modern-dynasty-São-schlumberger.html.
[20] Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty.”
[21] Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty.”
[22] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[23] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[24] Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty”; Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[25] “Schlumberger, São,” obituary, International New York Times, September 12, 2007, accessed March 22, 2015, http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9903E7D7113AF931A2575AC0A9619C8B63.
[26] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[27] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[28] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[29] Danielle Stein, “Portrait of a Lady,” W Magazine, December 2007, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.wmagazine.com/society/2007/12/São_schlumberger#ixzz0uQW8vemh.
[30] “Swirling Sea Necklace,” The Schlumberger Collection, Salvador Dalí, Sotheby’s, Impressionist and Modern Art Day Sale November 5, 2014 catalogue, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2014/impressionist-modern-art-day-sale-n09220/lot.316.html.
[31] David Plante, “Splendor in the Glass,” Nest: A Magazine of Interiors, Number 8, 1999, 86.
[32] “Swirling Sea Necklace,” Sotheby’s catalogue.
[33] Portuguese fishermen and boats, Nazare, Portugal,” Port Communities, Port Cities London, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.portcities.org.uk/london/server/show/conMediaFile.5348/Portuguese-fishermen-and-boats-Nazare-Portugal.html.
[34] Plante, “Splendor in the Glass,” 86; Stein, “Portrait of a Lady.”
[33] For more see Julia Pine, A Fantastic Voyage: Mapping Salvador Dalí's Science Fiction World of Tomorrow in Surrealism. Science Fiction and Comics (Liverpool University Press, 2015), 194
[34] “Who and What is Artist Dalí?,” 14.
[35] “Lammot du Pont Copeland,” Dupont company website, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www2.dupont.com/Heritage/en_US/related_topics/lammot_dupont_copeland.html; “#13 Du Pont Family,” America’s Richest Families (2014), Forbes magazine online, accessed June 12, 2015, http://www.forbes.com/profile/du-pont/.
[36] “Celebrating 200 Years: Du Pont Family Portraits,” press release, The Brandywine River Museum News, 2000, accessed June 12, 2015,
http://www.brandywinemuseum.org/news_print/news007_print.html.
Note that Ruth Daponte, who was immortalized by Dalí in 1962, is not connected to the Du Pont family.
[37] “Celebrating 200 Years,” Brandywine River Museum News, 2000.
[38] Staff writer, “DuPont Descendent Files Bankruptcy,” Lodi News-Sentinel, Oct. 22, 1979, p. 6, accessed June 12, https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=2245&dat=19701022&id=4VozAAAAIBAJ&sjid=iDIHAAAAIBAJ&pg=878,1834298&hl=en; “Biographical Note,” Copeland family papers, Manuscripts and Archives Department, Hagley Museum and Library, accessed June 12, 2015,
http://findingaids.hagley.org/xtf/view?docId=ead/2203.xml.
[39] “About Us,” Mt. Cuba Centre website, accessed April 15, 2015, http://www.mtcubacenter.org/about/; Melanie Burney, “Pamela Copeland, 94; Esteemed Horticulturist,” obituary, The Enquirer, Philly.com, January 28, 2001, accessed June 12, 2015, http://articles.philly.com/2001-01-28/news/25309456_1_dupont-pont-winterthur-museum-henry-francis-du.
[40] “Pamela Cunningham Copeland, 94,” obituary, Antiques and the Arts Online, Jan. 30, 2001, accessed April 15, 2015, http://antiquesandthearts.com/TT0-01-30-2001-11-41-52.
[41] Catherine E. Hutchins, The Du Pont Family. Two Hundred Years of Portraits, exh. cat., Brandywine River Museum 2000, 109.
[42] Robert D. McFadden, “Lammot Copeland Sr. Dead; Led du Pont in Major Growth,” obituary, International New York Times, July 3, 1983, accessed June 12, 2015, http://www.nytimes.com/1983/07/03/obituaries/lammot-copeland-sr-dead-led-du-pont-in-major-growth.html.
[43] Telephone interview between Julia Pine and Gerrett Copeland, August 27, 2015.
[44] Inventory card and consignment book of M. Knoedler & Co., Getty Research Institute Special Collections.
[45] “Portrait of Eunice Gardiner,” Property from the Estate of Eunice Joyce Gardiner, Sotheby’s Impressionist & Modern Art Day Sale, 20 June 2012, catalogue, accessed March 26, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/lot.126.html/2012/impressionist-modern-art-day-sale-l12007.
[46] See Stephen Dorril and Anthony Summers, The Secret Worlds of Stephen Ward: Sex, Scandal and Deadly Secrets in the Profumo Affair (London: Headline Publishing, 2013).
[47] Staff writer, “Robert Gardiner,” obituary, The Telegraph, August 25, 2004, accessed, 2015, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1470120/Robert-Gardiner.html.
[48] “Sir Harry Oakes, 1st Bt.,” The Peerage: A genealogical survey of the peerage of Britain as well as the royal families of Europe website, accessed February 7, 2016, http://www.thepeerage.com/p54338.htm.
[49] Rick Berketa, “William Pitt Oakes” in “Sir Harry Oakes and his Family Legacies: A History,” Niagara Falls Thunder Alley, accessed March 3, 2015, http://www.niagarafrontier.com/oakes.html.
[50] Staff writer, “Robert Gardiner,” The Telegraph.
[51] Staff writer, “Gardiners is One Family’s Island: It Has Been Since 1939,” The Reading Eagle, Sunday August 1, 1976, 8, 10.
[52] Staff writer, “Robert Gardiner,” The Telegraph.
[53] Staff writer, The New York Times, Jun 5, 1966, n.p.; Steven S. Gaines, Philistines at the Hedgerow: Passion and Property in the Hamptons (New York: Back Bay Books, 1999); Staff writer, “Gardiners is One Family’s Island, The Reading Eagle.
[54] Gaines, Philistines at the Hedgerow.
[55] Taki Theodoracopulos, Joining the Restistance, June 16, 2003, acessed February 28, 2022, www.theamericanconservative.com/articles/joining-the-resistance/
[56] Philip Chrysopoulos, The Liberty Ships and the Beginning of Post-War Greek Maritime Rule, November 9, 2017, accessed February 28, 2022, The Liberty Ships and the Beginning of Post-War Greek Maritime Rule (greekreporter.com)
[57] Ashley Hicks, David Hicks: designer (Scriptum Editions, 2003), 62. 181
[58] Brian Sherwin, “How Salvador Dali handled a portrait commission gone wrong,” in Fine Art Views, January 26, 2012, https://fineartviews.com/blog/39502/how-salvador-dali- handled-a-portrait-commission-gone-wrong; and Staff writer, “When Stavros Niarchos Commissioned Salvador Dali To Paint His Portrait”, retrieved November 28, 2022; and https://anecdotage.com/anecdotes/when-stavros-niarchos-commissioned-salvador-dali-to- paint-his-portrait https://anecdotage.com/anecdotes/when-stavros-niarchos-commissioned- salvador-dali-to-paint-his-portrait
[59] Salvador Dalí, “Les Six Jours de Dalí,” Paris Match, No. 1258, June 16, 1973, 3
[60] E-mail correspondence between Julia Pine and Carlos M. de la Cruz, Sr., October 7, 2015.
[61] Telephone interview conducted by Julia Pine with Evette Suero Talkish, October 30, 2015.
[62] Telephone interview conducted by Julia Pine with Evette Suero Talkish, October 30, 2015.
[63] [George Ferguson, “Coral,” Signs and Symbols in Christian Art (New York: Oxford University Press, 1955), 53.
[65] See Antoni Pitxot, The Dali Theatre-Museum in Figueras (Sant Lluís, Menorca: Triangle Postals, 2007).
[1] Gordon Brown, “Brown on Dali,” Art Magazine, Vol. 42, 1967, 44.
[2] Robert Wernick, “Dali’s Dollars: The Dauntless Surrealist Paints Less and Less and Sells More and More,” LIFE, July 24, 1970, 48.
[3] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[4] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[5] Karl F. Landegger, Find a Grave website, accessed April 24, 2015, http:// www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=100475713.
[6] Li Li, Shang Magazine, May-June 2012, 68-71.
[7] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[8] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[9] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mon Ling Landegger, November 22, 2014.
[10] A. Reynolds Morse and Eleanor R. Morse, The Dalí Adventure 1943-1973 (Cleveland: The Salvador Dalí Museum, 1973), 5.
[11] Correspondence between the Dalís and Mitzi Briggs, dated 1963 and 1964, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Archives, Figueres, Spain.
[12] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Linda Leonard (formerly Linda Briggs) conducted on June 24, 2011, and Jan. 20, 2011.
[13] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mitzi Sigall Briggs, June 24, 2011.
[14] Staff writer, Vogue, June, 1939, 33.
[15] Telephone interview by Julia Pine with Mitzi Sigall Briggs, June 24, 2011.
[16] 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 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.
[17] Correspondence between the Dalís and Mitzi Briggs, dated 1963 and 1964, the Gala-Salvador Dalí Archives, Figueres, Spain.
[18] Bob Colacello, “The Wow of São,” Vanity Fair, October 2010, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.vanityfair.com/news/2010/09/São-schlumberger-201009.
[19] Anthony Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty,” Sotheby’s Magazine, Oct. 6, 2014, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/news-video/blogs/all-blogs/sothebys-at-auction/2014/10/paintings-modern-dynasty-São-schlumberger.html.
[20] Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty.”
[21] Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty.”
[22] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[23] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[24] Calnek, “Paintings from a Modern Dynasty”; Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[25] “Schlumberger, São,” obituary, International New York Times, September 12, 2007, accessed March 22, 2015, http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9903E7D7113AF931A2575AC0A9619C8B63.
[26] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[27] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[28] Colacello, “The Wow of São.”
[29] Danielle Stein, “Portrait of a Lady,” W Magazine, December 2007, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.wmagazine.com/society/2007/12/São_schlumberger#ixzz0uQW8vemh.
[30] “Swirling Sea Necklace,” The Schlumberger Collection, Salvador Dalí, Sotheby’s, Impressionist and Modern Art Day Sale November 5, 2014 catalogue, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2014/impressionist-modern-art-day-sale-n09220/lot.316.html.
[31] David Plante, “Splendor in the Glass,” Nest: A Magazine of Interiors, Number 8, 1999, 86.
[32] “Swirling Sea Necklace,” Sotheby’s catalogue.
[33] Portuguese fishermen and boats, Nazare, Portugal,” Port Communities, Port Cities London, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www.portcities.org.uk/london/server/show/conMediaFile.5348/Portuguese-fishermen-and-boats-Nazare-Portugal.html.
[34] Plante, “Splendor in the Glass,” 86; Stein, “Portrait of a Lady.”
[33] For more see Julia Pine, A Fantastic Voyage: Mapping Salvador Dalí's Science Fiction World of Tomorrow in Surrealism. Science Fiction and Comics (Liverpool University Press, 2015), 194
[34] “Who and What is Artist Dalí?,” 14.
[35] “Lammot du Pont Copeland,” Dupont company website, accessed March 22, 2015, http://www2.dupont.com/Heritage/en_US/related_topics/lammot_dupont_copeland.html; “#13 Du Pont Family,” America’s Richest Families (2014), Forbes magazine online, accessed June 12, 2015, http://www.forbes.com/profile/du-pont/.
[36] “Celebrating 200 Years: Du Pont Family Portraits,” press release, The Brandywine River Museum News, 2000, accessed June 12, 2015,
http://www.brandywinemuseum.org/news_print/news007_print.html.
Note that Ruth Daponte, who was immortalized by Dalí in 1962, is not connected to the Du Pont family.
[37] “Celebrating 200 Years,” Brandywine River Museum News, 2000.
[38] Staff writer, “DuPont Descendent Files Bankruptcy,” Lodi News-Sentinel, Oct. 22, 1979, p. 6, accessed June 12, https://news.google.com/newspapers?nid=2245&dat=19701022&id=4VozAAAAIBAJ&sjid=iDIHAAAAIBAJ&pg=878,1834298&hl=en; “Biographical Note,” Copeland family papers, Manuscripts and Archives Department, Hagley Museum and Library, accessed June 12, 2015,
http://findingaids.hagley.org/xtf/view?docId=ead/2203.xml.
[39] “About Us,” Mt. Cuba Centre website, accessed April 15, 2015, http://www.mtcubacenter.org/about/; Melanie Burney, “Pamela Copeland, 94; Esteemed Horticulturist,” obituary, The Enquirer, Philly.com, January 28, 2001, accessed June 12, 2015, http://articles.philly.com/2001-01-28/news/25309456_1_dupont-pont-winterthur-museum-henry-francis-du.
[40] “Pamela Cunningham Copeland, 94,” obituary, Antiques and the Arts Online, Jan. 30, 2001, accessed April 15, 2015, http://antiquesandthearts.com/TT0-01-30-2001-11-41-52.
[41] Catherine E. Hutchins, The Du Pont Family. Two Hundred Years of Portraits, exh. cat., Brandywine River Museum 2000, 109.
[42] Robert D. McFadden, “Lammot Copeland Sr. Dead; Led du Pont in Major Growth,” obituary, International New York Times, July 3, 1983, accessed June 12, 2015, http://www.nytimes.com/1983/07/03/obituaries/lammot-copeland-sr-dead-led-du-pont-in-major-growth.html.
[43] Telephone interview between Julia Pine and Gerrett Copeland, August 27, 2015.
[44] Inventory card and consignment book of M. Knoedler & Co., Getty Research Institute Special Collections.
[45] “Portrait of Eunice Gardiner,” Property from the Estate of Eunice Joyce Gardiner, Sotheby’s Impressionist & Modern Art Day Sale, 20 June 2012, catalogue, accessed March 26, 2015, http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/lot.126.html/2012/impressionist-modern-art-day-sale-l12007.
[46] See Stephen Dorril and Anthony Summers, The Secret Worlds of Stephen Ward: Sex, Scandal and Deadly Secrets in the Profumo Affair (London: Headline Publishing, 2013).
[47] Staff writer, “Robert Gardiner,” obituary, The Telegraph, August 25, 2004, accessed, 2015, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/1470120/Robert-Gardiner.html.
[48] “Sir Harry Oakes, 1st Bt.,” The Peerage: A genealogical survey of the peerage of Britain as well as the royal families of Europe website, accessed February 7, 2016, http://www.thepeerage.com/p54338.htm.
[49] Rick Berketa, “William Pitt Oakes” in “Sir Harry Oakes and his Family Legacies: A History,” Niagara Falls Thunder Alley, accessed March 3, 2015, http://www.niagarafrontier.com/oakes.html.
[50] Staff writer, “Robert Gardiner,” The Telegraph.
[51] Staff writer, “Gardiners is One Family’s Island: It Has Been Since 1939,” The Reading Eagle, Sunday August 1, 1976, 8, 10.
[52] Staff writer, “Robert Gardiner,” The Telegraph.
[53] Staff writer, The New York Times, Jun 5, 1966, n.p.; Steven S. Gaines, Philistines at the Hedgerow: Passion and Property in the Hamptons (New York: Back Bay Books, 1999); Staff writer, “Gardiners is One Family’s Island, The Reading Eagle.
[54] Gaines, Philistines at the Hedgerow.
[55] Taki Theodoracopulos, Joining the Restistance, June 16, 2003, acessed February 28, 2022, www.theamericanconservative.com/articles/joining-the-resistance/
[56] Philip Chrysopoulos, The Liberty Ships and the Beginning of Post-War Greek Maritime Rule, November 9, 2017, accessed February 28, 2022, The Liberty Ships and the Beginning of Post-War Greek Maritime Rule (greekreporter.com)
[57] Ashley Hicks, David Hicks: designer (Scriptum Editions, 2003), 62. 181
[58] Brian Sherwin, “How Salvador Dali handled a portrait commission gone wrong,” in Fine Art Views, January 26, 2012, https://fineartviews.com/blog/39502/how-salvador-dali- handled-a-portrait-commission-gone-wrong; and Staff writer, “When Stavros Niarchos Commissioned Salvador Dali To Paint His Portrait”, retrieved November 28, 2022; and https://anecdotage.com/anecdotes/when-stavros-niarchos-commissioned-salvador-dali-to- paint-his-portrait https://anecdotage.com/anecdotes/when-stavros-niarchos-commissioned- salvador-dali-to-paint-his-portrait
[59] Salvador Dalí, “Les Six Jours de Dalí,” Paris Match, No. 1258, June 16, 1973, 3
[60] E-mail correspondence between Julia Pine and Carlos M. de la Cruz, Sr., October 7, 2015.
[61] Telephone interview conducted by Julia Pine with Evette Suero Talkish, October 30, 2015.
[62] Telephone interview conducted by Julia Pine with Evette Suero Talkish, October 30, 2015.
[63] [George Ferguson, “Coral,” Signs and Symbols in Christian Art (New York: Oxford University Press, 1955), 53.
[65] See Antoni Pitxot, The Dali Theatre-Museum in Figueras (Sant Lluís, Menorca: Triangle Postals, 2007).
