Aurora - The Persistence of Memory

I first saw the intricate details of Salvador Dalí's oil paintings on canvas up close in 2004 at a retrospective exhibition in Venice. Admiring the works, from the purely classical to the elaborate avant-garde, where his brilliant mind poured its powerful ability to depict the unusual, left an unforgettable imprint on my memory. The motifs of his distinct style rooted themselves deeply in my being, as these dreamlike images began to awaken a long-dormant voice within me, my own surreal reality.

Dalí's works, unmistakably unique and never to be confused with those of any other artist, can provoke admiration or rejection, but they are never met with indifference.

This kind of creation, where images take on unexpected qualities and unreal connections between objects combine the incompatible, does more than stir my imagination as a lifelong student of life. In his work, I found something that gave me hope during my studies. Hope and courage to continue on my own path, to explore and give form to my own expression.

The surreal masterpiece The Persistence of Memory, where Dalí’s full symbolic depth and technical skill come alive, was one of those artworks that stirred within me the still-dormant seeds of a true self-awarenss.

It marked one of those rare moments when the sense of time stopped, when time itself ceased to exist and I remained suspended in solitude, in pure being.

This peculiar form of expression, more recognizable than an egg or a nose with lips, carries a soft subtlety that, every time I return to it, brings back memories of moments when I longingly surrendered to my inner voice, a voice urging me simply to be, to listen. And to know that it is allowed.

It awakened in me the sense that I am not completely alone in this world after all.

According to Dalí himself, the painting was created entirely by chance. He is said to have conceived the image of the melting clocks after a hearty meal of Camembert cheese. As he watched it expand and melt under the scorching Catalan sun, he began to reflect on philosophical questions about the nature of hard and soft matter, the relativity of time, and the transience of existence itself.

In my own work, I am confronted daily by these same questions of impermanence, of what is real and tangible, and what is not. How do I express what I experience, see, and feel in visible form? How can I translate to canvas what cannot be seen in everyday life, what cannot be proven, but instead reflects a deeper, inner knowing?

I can only describe this impulse as inspiration through expression. Whether I am understood or not, this inner voice is so powerful that it transcends the confines of rational thought.

From this surrender to myself came the piece The Persistence of Memory, a text where I describe a moment when my gaze halted before beauty, and my body froze in time. Reawakened impressions surfaced, unleashing a wide spectrum of emotions and plunging me, willingly or not, into a complex mixture of unfamiliar pain, tears, joy, and laughter. My breath quickened, my exhalations gave way to words that poured onto paper in a rhythm so fast I could barely keep up with the pen.

Even now, I cannot explain all the phrases in a completely rational way. But I feel them with all that I am, I breathe them, because they are a reflection of my own multidimensional reality.



With Love, Ines

 

A poem from the book Aurora:

PERSISTENCE OF MEMORY

I take a look!

 

Do not surge forward,

I calmly observe the stroke of his presence.

 

High above the masses,

a distant tone sharpens my mind,

without moving, the dream image calms down.

 

I am following this shift!

 

Before me the captured dimensions of time,

without heat they melt in their softness,

they are slipping, but not losing their form.

 

I do not know what to say to make it right,

ever more I spread into the overflow.

 

I can feel this shift!

 

In me the curved and melted clocks go crazy,

out of the liquid coast they spill the colours through the veins,

the grain of hope turns moist.

 

I do not know what to say to make it right,

ever more the power of colours pulls me into the source.

 

I am becoming that movement!

 

The curve of a melodious hint crosses the world and inside of us is weeping from the sky,

the act burned out from the dark of the blue, survives the storm,

the move lights me up in a knowing hope.

 

The unveiled mystery now honours me,

softly, with a touch of clarity I am alive,

as Dali I am transforming the purpose of temptation into the now.

 

Look!

 

Slow down your step,

keep it quiet.

 

Listen to the strokes of visible dreams,

do not let your thought escape into the crowd of creatures,

all that is real is already here.