For access to motion picture film stills for research purposes, please contact the Film Study Center at. Motion picture film stills cannot be licensed by MoMA/Scala.
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All requests to license archival audio or out of copyright film clips should be addressed to Scala Archives at. At this time, MoMA produced video cannot be licensed by MoMA/Scala. MoMA licenses archival audio and select out of copyright film clips from our film collection.
If you would like to reproduce an image of a work of art in MoMA’s collection, or an image of a MoMA publication or archival material (including installation views, checklists, and press releases), please contact Art Resource (publication in North America) or Scala Archives (publication in all other geographic locations). Publication excerpt from MoMA Highlights: 375 Works from The Museum of Modern Art, New York (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 2019) “The difference between a madman and me,” he said, “is that I am not mad.” The year before this picture was painted, Dalí formulated his “paranoiac-critical method,” cultivating self-induced psychotic hallucinations in order to create art.
The monstrous fleshy creature draped across the painting’s center is at once alien and familiar: an approximation of Dalí’s own face in profile, its long eyelashes seem disturbingly insect-like or even sexual, as does what may or may not be a tongue oozing from its nose like a fat snail. Permanence goes with it: ants, a common theme in Dalí’s work, represent decay, particularly when they attack a gold watch, and they seem grotesquely organic. Those limp watches are as soft as overripe cheese-indeed, they picture “the camembert of time,” in Dalí’s phrase. Mastering what he called “the usual paralyzing tricks of eye-fooling,” Dalí painted with “the most imperialist fury of precision,” he said, but only “to systematize confusion and thus to help discredit completely the world of reality.” It is the classic Surrealist ambition, yet some literal reality is included, too: the distant golden cliffs are the coast of Catalonia, Dalí’s home. Hard objects become inexplicably limp in this bleak and infinite dreamscape, while metal attracts ants like rotting flesh.
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