Aliyah, the Rebirth of Israel, Salvador Dali

Salvador Dalí (1904-1989) is one of the most famous and popular artists of the twentieth century. Until recently, however, most critics and art historians considered only a small portion of his prolific output — that executed between 1929 and 1939, when he was in direct contact with the Paris Surrealists — to be worthy of serious study. Over the past decade, there has been a revitalization of interest in Dalí's art and writing of the 1940s through the 1980s, though that "renaissance" has concerned chiefly his paintings — his 1950s "Nuclear Mysticism," his 1960s proto-Pop Art paintings, and his 1970s experiments with optical illusions — and, to a lesser extent, his films. His enormous body of limited-edition graphic suites, in contrast, continues to await proper reassessment. The Exhibit, Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel (1968), organized as part of the dedicatory year for the Marcus Hillel Center of Emory University, leads that effort, buttressing the growing critical awareness and appreciation of Dalí's later work through its reconsideration of what is surely one of the artist's most visually appealing — and historically significant — graphic commissions.

Despite Dalí's perceived distance from the avant-garde in the later twentieth century, the 1960s were his most prolific years in terms of sheer volume, thanks largely to the graphic suites that became a steady income stream through the efforts of his business manager, Captain John Peter Moore.[1] Though ever popular with collectors and the public at-large, critics and scholars have widely judged these graphics as predominantly commercial ventures with little artistic interest or merit. Dalí did not aid his case: "Each morning after breakfast, I like to start the day by earning $20,000," he boasted, referring to the ease with which he could sign stacks of printed lithographs for a ludicrously quick profit. Yet neglecting the graphics has meant a lacuna for Dalí scholarship: after all, their creation comprised the vast majority of the artist's 1960s and 1970s activity, with literally hundreds of post-war commissions that ranged from Boccaccio's Decameron and Shakespeare's Macbeth to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland, Dante's Divine Comedy, Milton's Paradise Lost, Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's Venus in Furs, writings by the Marquis de Sade, and The Holy Bible. Further, just as fresh investigations into the inspirations underlying his much-ridiculed religious paintings have brought to light a much more profound intention than previously assumed, so explorations into Dalí's graphics reveal a surprising knowledge of his subjects, a seriousness that he adopted as a professional artist, and a refreshing willingness to experiment with new styles and media.

The Exhibit's most important contribution may be the welcome attention it gives to the artist's direct references to Jewish history, which have been heretofore dismissed as inconsequential or ignored altogether. Through the curators' choice to rearrange the lithographs in a thematic-historical sequence that underscores Dalí's quotations from Jewish history, Aliyah is seen here afresh and with newfound gravitas.

Some viewers may be surprised that the Aliyah illustrations are so loose and expressionistic in contrast with the refined, photographic quality characteristic of Dalí's paintings. One of the appealing elements of Dalí's graphics is the unusual means by which he would often create the original gouaches or, in this case, watercolors. This began in 1957 with his first lithograph series, Pages choisies de Don Quichotte de la Mancha, for which he pioneered the use of what he dubbed "bulletism": shooting the plates with paint-filled bullets using an antique arquebus. The same "splatter" effect can be seen in several of the Aliyah paintings, aligning them not only with earlier Abstract Expressionism (albeit with a Dalinian flair) but suggesting an element of performance as well.

Also noteworthy, four of the Aliyah paintings relate directly to the major 1966-1967 oil painting Tuna Fishing, a mammoth canvas (approximately 9 x 13 ft) intended as a hallucinogenic compendium of Dalí's artistic influences, from 19^th academic painting through Pop Art. Two of the Aliyah paintings relate to the spearing of fish — "We shall go up at once and possess it" (plate 4), in which the spear in Tuna Fishingis replaced by the flag of Israel, and "Let them have dominion" (plate 10) — while another two — Angels of Rebirth (plate 8) and "Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" (plate 14) — quote Tuna Fishing's abstruse Op Art sections. These quotations may be "paranoiac" in nature, by which I mean that they incorporate Dalí's "paranoiac critical method": a self-induced "psychosis" the artist theorized in the early 1930s that encouraged him to misread his environment and thereby tap his subconscious. This most directly guided the double-image paintings that typified his 1930s output, though the same mechanism directed his illustrative projects as well: rather than directly illustrating a text, he instead illustrated the images that the text invoked for him. As the artist wrote in 1934, "It is too evident that the 'illustrative fact' cannot in any way restrain the course of my delirious ideas, but that, on the contrary, it makes them bloom. Therefore for me, of course, it can only be a question of paranoiac illustrations."[2] This may explain the seemingly unrelated images included in Aliyah — specifically plates 8 and 10. As for the links Dalí makes between Aliyah and Tuna Fishing, one can speculate that in 1968 Tuna Fishingwas still clearly on Dalí's mind, having consumed him for the past two years, and so when his imagination was unleashed upon Aliyah, it was to this reservoir that his thoughts turned — not out of lethargy but for reasons that were possibly as mysterious and intriguing to himself as they are to viewers today.

While the Exhibit substantiates a fascinating historical context for Aliyah, it does not shy away from important questions and controversies. Did Dalí have any sincere connections to Jews, Judaism, or Zionism? David Blumenthal addresses this query in his essay, inviting investigation and speculation. The Surrealists famously attacked Dalí from the 1940s onwards as an anti-Semite, though the basis for this is unclear. In retort, Dalí identified his heroes as Sigmund Freud and Albert Einstein, and it should be noted that he also maintained a friendship and productive thirty-year collaboration with the Jewish Latvian-American photographer Philippe Halsman.[3] Adding to the mystery, nearly a decade before painting Aliyah, Dalí planned to include a scene in his unfinished film The Prodigious Story of the Lacemaker and the Rhinoceros (1954-62) in which Paul Goldman's 1957 photograph of David Ben-Gurion doing a headstand at Sharon Hotel beach would transform into a skull.[4]

What might be surmised from this about the artist's personal — or "paranoiac" — views of Judaism? Whatever his intention, it could not have been straightforward. "I hate simplicity in all its forms," Dalí wrote in 1935, and with this in mind, I hope that the Exhibit, Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel, leads to further discussion and (re)discovery, not only of Dalí's "Jewish" works but of his graphic production as a whole... and all the inherent complexities.

INTRODUCTION

David R. Blumenthal

Jay and Leslie Cohen Professor of Judaic Studies

Emory University, Atlanta, GA

In April 1968, for the 20^th anniversary of the State of Israel, a special issue of Hadassah Magazine was published. It caught the excitement of Dali's new work entitled "Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel" as follows:

An epic history of the return of the Jewish people to their homeland — expressed in 25 bold, dramatic, yet sensitive drawings, sketches and water-color paintings by the surrealist master, Salvador Dali — will shortly be added of the art treasure of Israel and museums and collectors throughout the world.

Appropriately titled "Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel," the series of paintings captures the spirit of the Jews from the first days of the exile and for nearly 2,000 years in the diaspora until their final return to their cherished soil of Israel. Embracing a wide spectrum of moods, from gaiety to deep drama to stark tragedy, it culminates in the ultimate triumph of justice and the joyous restoration of the nation.

The world premiere exhibit of the series is scheduled for April 1 at the Gallery of Modern Art (Huntington Hartford Museum) in New York, for the benefit of Bonds for Israel. Following 20 days of public showing, lithographs of the set will go on view in Israel and in leading cities of the Unites States and Europe.

Commissioned by Shorewood Publishers, a New York firm noted for publications of art, Dali devoted two years to the completion of this monumental task. His chronicles of the people are clearly stamped with his own unique poetic expression. Some are extremely lyrical, others sweeping and epic …

According to Shorewood, following sale of the original paintings, 250 sets of lithographs will be made available to leading museums and individual collectors. Portfolio No. 1 will be presented as a gift to the Israel Museum in Jerusalem where an exhibit of all the originals is slated to coincide with the celebration of the 20^th anniversary of Israel's independence.

Europe's two leading studios specializing in fine-art lithography — Fernard Mourlot's of Paris and Wolfensgerger of Zurich — extended their facilities for the conversion of the paintings into lithographs, each of which is signed by Dali. After the stones necessary for each subject were prepared, the required number of impressions were printed, following which the stones were destroyed, thereby assuring that these lithographs will never be reprinted.

In the early 1980s, my wife, Ursula, and I were visiting Mr. and Mrs. Charles Rutenberg, the parents of a former student, Laurie Rutenberg. “Charlie,” as he was known to all, offered to sell us his set of “Aliyah, the Rebirth of Israel” which he had bought when it was first issued. Ursula, recalling that, on our first date in 1965, I had taken her to see an exhibit of Dali in the Huntington Hartford Museum in New York, decided to buy the suite for me as a present. I have always cherished this gift and we have maintained it assiduously in its original box, with the original introductory booklet containing an essay by Prof. Gerson D. Cohen, an introductory letter by David Ben Gurion, the first Prime Minister of the State of Israel, and a Preface by A. Reynolds Morse. The box even contains the original flyer offering the suite for sale. Art experts, as well as its provenance, confirm, then, the authenticity of this set.

For a long time, this set, number 150 out of 250, was the only such set in Atlanta. As long-time friends of Hillel at Emory we, together with the sponsors and patrons of this Exhibit, are very pleased to present Dali’s “Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel” to the public. It began its life as part of the dedicatory year for the Marcus Hillel Center of Emory University and is now traveling to other venues. It is our hope that this will contribute to Jewish culture atin each of the communities that it visits.

The sequence of the lithographs follows the sequence in the small brochure that came with the set. Arranged by the publisher, that sequence probably follows the order used by the two firms that prepared the lithographs. This order, however, does not follow any chronological or thematic pattern. Further, it is not certain that this order is the sequence in which Dali intended the lithographs to be displayed, if there was an original order at all. It seemed reasonable, therefore, to rearrange the prints in this Exhibit in a thematic-historical sequence. The lithographs, then, are displayed in six thematic groups though the numbering of the prints follows the publisher’s brochure for reference purposes, as follows (original plate numbers in parentheses):

The Introductory Image

Aliyah (Plate 1)

Exile and Hope

"A Voice is heard in Ramah" (Plate 2)

The Wailing Wall (Plate 3)

"For it is thy life and the length of thy days" (Plate 12)

"Return, O virgin of Israel" (Plate 18)

The Yishuv (the pre-State of Israel settlement)

"We shall go up at once and possess it" (Plate 4)

"Let them have dominion" (Plate 10)

The Pioneers of Israel (Plate 21)

On the Shores of Freedom (Plate 5)

"Arise, Barak, and lead thy captives" (Plate 17)

The Land at the Start of Jewish Settlement (Plate 22)

The Land Come to Life (Plate 23)

The Land of Milk and Honey (Plate 24)

Shoah

Out of the Depths (Plate 6)

"Thou hast laid me in the nethermost pit" (Plate 13)

"Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death" (Plate 14)

"I have set before thee life and death" (Plate 15)

Independence

A Moment in History (Plate 7)

Hatikvah (Plate 16)

Orah, Horah (Plate 11)

Angels of Rebirth (Plate 8)

The Battle of the Jerusalem Hills (Plate 19)

Victory (Plate 20)

The Price — Bereavement (Plate 9)

The Final Image

Covenant (Plate 25)

A few facts about the suite: The prints themselves measure 22" by 28". A large number of the prints, 14 out of 25 (plates 2,4,6,10,12-14,15,17-18,20,22-24), are captioned directly or indirectly by a quotation from the Bible. Four prints deal with the shoah (plates 6,13,14). Two seem to have no relation to the theme of the suite (plates 8,10). Ten (plates 13,15-21,23) of the original artworks are signed and dated 1967. All the lithographs are signed by Dali.

The captions to the plates preserve the biblical quotations as given in the brochure. However, in the commentary, I have given my own translation of these texts. Many of the comments are followed by references for further reading; these are, perforce, very limited. Each image and comment is followed by a "zoomed image" for closer examination.

Some interesting historical footnotes: There seems to be some confusion concerning the very earliest history of "Aliyah, the Rebirth of Israel" on three issues. First, a brochure issued by Shorewood entitled, "The Miracle of the Aliyah," indicates that there were only 24 originals and lithographs. The number 24 is confirmed in the New York Sunday News, 4/30/1967, and in the Daily News, 3/10/1967. The press release of the Gallery of Modern Art Including the Huntington Hartford Collection that announces the exhibit for April 2-22, 1967, however, indicates 25, and that is the correct number. Furthermore, the Shorewood brochure indicates that there were 25 non-commerical suites issued. The Israel Museum in Jerusalem, however, has "HC" (that is, "hors commerce") edition "J/J," that is the tenth out of ten. There were, therefore, only 10 non-commercial suites issued. Finally, the article from Hadassah Magazine cited above indicates that the first portfolio was to be given to the Israel Museum. The Museum Card Catalogue, however, lists "Copy 1/125," which is a mistake as it should be "1/250." In any case, the Museum does not have the first portfolio; it actually has portfolio "J/J," the tenth and final copy of the non-commercial suites. (The Israel Museum also has another suite, given to it later.)

Second, the Daily News article cited above indicates that Samuel Shore, the head of Shorewood Publishers, wanted to find someone who was not "caught up in his own subjectivity" to commemorate the rebirth of Israel in art. It was, then, he who chose Salvador Dali and, according to the Daily News, paid him a fee of $150,000 to do the originals. Dali is said to have begun work on them in 1966, though the dated paintings are all dated to 1967.

Third, according to Hadassah Magazine, the world premiere of the exhibit at the Huntington Hartford was "for the benefit of Israel Bonds." This seems confirmed by a picture of Dali and Bess Myerson contained in Not Just a Bond: A Bond with Israel (ed. D. Strober, Talpiyot Press, New York and Jerusalem: 2010; page 49), a copy of which was kindly provided to me by the Israel Bonds office in New York. It does not seem to be the case that the originals, or the lithographs, were sold for the benefit of Israel Bonds. Rather, these were sold for profit by Shorewood while the Opening was a benefit (fund-raiser?) for Israel Bonds in honor of the 20th anniversary of the founding of the State of Israel.

DALI, THE JEWS, JUDAISM, AND ZIONISM

Beginning in the mid 1960s, Dali created a series of suites and individual works that some consider his "Jewish" art. These include: "Aliyah" (1968), "The Song of Songs" (1971), "The Twelve Tribes of Israel" (1971), "Paradise Lost" (1974), "Our Prophets" (1975), "Moses and Monotheism" (1975), and others, some of which, like the "Menorah" and "Western Wall" sculptures (1982) appeared very late in his lifetime. Most of these works were brought together by Jean Paul Delcourt in an exhibit entitled "Shalom Dali" that was displayed in the Performing Arts Center in in the President's Residence in Jerusalem, Israel (June 2002) and then in Rishon Le-Zion, Israel (Sept-Oct. 2002).

The question arises: How serious was Dali in these "Jewish" works? Did he have some latent sympathy for Jews and Jewish culture or, was this entirely a commercial venture of some sort? Scholars more familiar with the details will have to solve this question. Here, I summarize what I have learned and present my own surmise.

Some have speculated that Dali had Jewish ancestry — perhaps, a marrano (a Jew forced to convert to Catholicism) in the family (Jean Paul Delcourt cited in Iris Mendel, below). This thesis, however, is firmly dismissed by Ian Gibson, who maintains in Chapter One of his The Shameful Life of Salvador Dali (Norton, 1997) that Dali in fact claimed Moorish descent — a moresco (a Muslim forced to convert to Catholicism) in the family. Gibson points out that "Dali" is a common name in the Arabic countries along the northern littoral of the Mediterranean and has the meaning of 'leader' (http://www.nytimes.com/books/first/g/gibson-dali.html?_r=2).

Some have speculated that Gala had Jewish ancestry, either her grandfather or her father (Frank Hunter of the Dali Archives in an email to Emory University, 11/28/2010, referring us to "Gala," a film produced by IMDb in 2003 (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0373854/)). This thesis, however, is firmly dismissed by Tim McGirk in his Wicked Lady: Salvador Dali's Muse (Headline, 1990), who relates that Gala's real name was Helena Deluvina Diakonoff and that she had claimed that her mother married twice, she being the daughter of the first husband who ran off. Her mother, not being able to obtain a divorce, then lived with a converted Jew named Diakonoff whose name was a common Jewish name in Russian circles. McGirk cites Robert Descharnes who cites Gala's sister, Lida, who claimed that the first husband died childless and that Gala was, thus, the child of the second 'Jewish' 'husband.' Lida further claimed that Gala so disliked the Jewishness of the name that she changed it. McGirk goes so far as to speculate that Gala simply made up the story of the first husband's paternity. Nicolas Descharnes, the son of Robert, both experts on Dali (http://www.fineartregistry.com/mediacenter/2010/robert-descharnes-worlds-foremost-expert-on-dali-works.php) confirmed the following to us (email, 10/19/10): "We believe that Gala was from a Jewish family. But I remember having a visit with her sister, Lida, in Vienna, who passed away a few years ago. My father, during this visit, asked her if the family was Jewish and she denied it."

Some have speculated that Dali had a cultural or religious sympathy with the Jews, especially after the Six Day War of 1967. This would seem to be confirmed by Dali's dedicatory words when sculptures of the "Menorah" were put on the market in 1982. (The translation is my own from the abbreviated Hebrew version of Mendel (below, 23); I cannot locate the original. For a longer English version, see http://alviks.com/ved1 eng.html):

You — the Jewish people, the chosen people, the children of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. As a sign of appreciation for the firmness of your way in observing the tradition of the fathers … I created this "Menorah" and this "Western Wall." As you pray to your ancestors, accompanied by your unshakeable faith, I want to express in the clear light of these aged symbols, my great admiration for your people.

This thesis, however, is firmly dismissed by Iris Mendel ("The Dali Industries: On the Exhibit 'Shalom Dali' at the President's Residence, Jerusalem, and the Performing Arts Center, Rishon Le-Zion" (Hebrew), Studio, Art Magazine, 138 (Nov.-Dec. 2002) 19-23) who, first, went to great lengths to show that the entire "Shalom Dali" exhibit was the work of Jean Paul Delcourt:

In November 1980, they signed two contracts between them, according to which Delcourt received, in return for half a million dollars, the rights to works of two images of Dali which had appeared in print and gouache sketch form: the "Wall" and the "Menorah" (citing an Israeli newspaper and www.daliuniversal.com). Delcourt did not delay. He opened the company, Dali Universal, and began to create various objects based on the two images: small sculptures, mezuzot, jewelry, medallions, and key chains of the "Wall" and the "Menorah" in which are set the signature of Dali. In 1988, after many efforts, meetings, marketing trips, and public relations, Delcourt concretized his project entitled "The Menorah of Peace" — the gift of a giant sculpture of the "Menorah," five meters tall which bears Dali's signature, and its placement at the entrance to the Ben Gurion airport. Delcourt, who claims that Dali felt a closeness to Israel because of his Jewish grandfather, continues with his double mission: that of making the Jewish work of Dali available to the whole world and, more hidden, advancing the sale of Dali's work … [Delcourt] writes in his catalogue, "The goal of my life is to bring to the world, by means of this traveling exhibit which serves as an 'artistic ambassador' for Israel, the culture and history of the Jewish people with the purpose of breaking down barriers and to bridge between religions and nations."

With respect to the Dali "dedication" of the "Menorah" sculptures, Mendel adds:

It is not at all clear when and in what forum these words were said though they became the oracles upon which the exhibit rests and the raison d'êêtre for the project of Delcourt: "I am only in the end fulfilling the last will and testament of the artist." In great measure, he [Delcourt] is correct: Dali was the first to turn his art into business that had financial value and Delcourt is following in his footsteps.

It does not seem likely, then, that Dali's "Jewishness" had any cultural or religious base.

Some have speculated that Dali had a political sympathy with the Jews. However, Dali's political connections ranged from the early socialism/communism of the Surrealist movement to a flirtation with Hitler and then with Franco (Hayim Finkelstein, "Dali and Fascism, Dali and the Jews" (Hebrew), Studio, Art Magazine, 138 (Nov.-Dec. 2002) 24-29; and elsewhere.) This led to repeated charges that Dali (and Gala) were antisemites (Finkelstein, 27, citing Gibson, Shameful Life, 550). It is hard to know how much of this "antisemitism" was genuine and how much of it came from financial conflict with Jewish art dealers. The following, however, is clear: "Dali said to me personally in February 1939 — and I was alert enough to conclude clearly that he was very serious — that the key problem that stood before the world today is the topic of race; that it is obligatory for all the white races to unite and to bring to complete subjugation all the colored races" (Finkelstein, 26, citing Breton, Surrealism and Painting (Harper and Row, 1972), 146). Given, then, Dali's monarchist and racist tendencies, it is not likely that he had any hidden political sympathy for Jews, Judaism, or Zionism.

Some have speculated that Dali's "Jewish" interest was crass, cynical exploitation. Thus, Mendel (23): "In light of everything said above, it is reasonable to assume that the great commercial activity of Dali and his helpers in an area in which many Jews were active contributed to the sudden sympathy of Dali for the Jewish people — a sympathy not expressed in his earlier and ordered work — and to the creation of works that dealt with Jewish themes of the type presented in the exhibit "Shalom Dali" in Rishon LeZion and in the President's Residence. It is reasonable to assume that these were commissioned suites whose content was dictated in advance. It is clear that they were done from photographs that, apparently, were given to Dali by dealers on the assumption that there would be a 'Jewish market' for the prints…. Dali's love for money is perhaps the only topic about Dali that is not subject to differences of opinion." Thus, too, Finkelstein (29): "There is no doubt that, in New York in the 1970s, Dali could not let rumors about his antisemitism detract from his image in the eyes of the consumers and art dealers, many of whom were Jews. To rehabilitate his stature, his helpers and the administrators of his affairs worked hard to establish relations between him and Jewish and Israeli personalities (Dali was very proud of a picture of Moshe Dayan which the latter gave and inscribed to him). The suites of prints on Jewish and Zionist themes that begin in 1967 and continue to the middle of the 1970s are an integral part of these efforts, especially after the Six Day War when the image of Israel became valuable merchandise. In my opinion, there is no authentic voice at all in these suites on the themes of Zionism and Judaism…. In these suites there reigns a 'material exhaustion' and one can see that the arbitrariness was only for its own sake. When he began these suites of prints, the big paintings (in both sense of the word [important and large]) were already behind him, even as the last of them had their worth and stature in question…. the trivialization of these prints — both as art and with everything that has to do with matters Jewish or Israeli."

The thesis of crass moneymaking as the main motif of the later Dali is possible. It is certainly true that Delcourt exploited Dali, though legally since he had a license to do so, the Dali signature on the medallion commemorating the 3000^th anniversary of the city of Jerusalem in 1995, after Dali's death, being one of a series of gross examples. The thesis as applied to Dali himself, however, has been questioned seriously by Elliott King ("Dali After 1940: From Surreal Classicism to Sublime Surrealism," Salvador Dali: The Late Work (High Museum of Art, Atlanta, [2010]), 12-55) and Hank Hine, "The Salvador Dali Museum," Ibid., 160-67). King argues persuasively that, in his cosmological/scientific motifs and in his religious motifs, Dali's art was not simply about self-promotion but about expressing these motifs in art as he knew it (21, 26). In this sense, the late Dali is a continuation of the 'serious' artist of the early Dali. Hine, too, maintains: "In this new century, Dali's work can at last be seen outside the shadow of his flamboyant personality and in the context of other artists of his era" (165).

What, then, does account for the large number of “Jewish” works in the late Dali? The case of “Aliyah” is central. On the one hand, we have a remarkable attention to detail: The Hebrew of “For it is thy life and the length of thy days” is so clear that it can be read. The figures in A Moment in History can be identified, as can the name of the ship in On the Shores of Freedom and the song in Hatikvah. Fourteen out of the twenty five prints are captioned directly or indirectly by a quotation from the Bible, and three prints deal with the shoah. On the other hand, there is nothing atomic, no pop-art, no science, no hyperrealist painting, no cosmology, and no experimentation. So, what was Dali’s commitment to “Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel”?

Some have speculated that Dali’s “Jewish” interest was not so much crass, cynical exploitation as it was a desire on his part, and/or on the part of his managers, to develop the “Jewish market.” There were Jewish dealers and buyers, and Dali and his entourage wanted to expand into this area. Strangely, I know of a parallel case: Jovan Obican, a Yugoslav artist, made a good living painting Yugoslav peasants. At one point, the same peasants began appearing in “Jewish” settings: under a chuppah (a traditional Jewish wedding canopy), as a klezmer (traditional East European Jewish) band, etc. I happened to meet his son, Lazar Obican, at a Jewish arts exhibition and, after exploring our non-artistic connections, I asked how his father had come to do “Jewish” art. He replied to me, as he did to others: “Jovan Obican was encouraged by friends to add more Jewish influence to his work and in the mid-1960s he began reading books about the tradition and history of the Jewish people. Lazar Obican, who grew up helping and learning from his father, obtained the books and sometimes read them aloud while his father painted” (http://articles.sun-sentinel.com/1987-05-01/news/8701280320_1_jewish-influence-jewish-people-work).

It seems to me, however, that it was not an obsession with moneymaking or a need to rectify his reputation as an antisemite that brought Dali to use Jewish themes. Nor was it a quirk of his or Gala’s ancestry, or sympathy with Jews or Jewish culture, or a desire to develop the “Jewish market.” Rather, as I see it, this was a commission and Dali executed it seriously. Shoreham had commissioned this. Dali had Jewish friends in New York who helped him with the material, though we do not know who these friends were (Nicolas Descharnes in an email to Emory, 10/19/10). And Dali did his work -- as, indeed, artists from time immemorial have accepted commissions and then created serious art. Bach and Mozart certainly did this. Portrait paintings or sculptures are frequently the result of commissions. Lecturers frequently give serious performances for pay. A commission may not always provoke the most experimental art forms; indeed, Dali’s portraits are not his most experimental work. But commissions do yield authentic art. This, it seems to me, is the most reasonable explanation for Dali’s work on “Aliyah, the Rebirth of Israel” – that this was a serious execution of a serious commission, authentic even if not experimental -- though the argument of the “Jewish market” is not to be excluded.

Furthermore, in light of Elliott King's reevaluation of the late Dali, it seems to me that "Aliyah, the Rebirth of Israel" was one of a series of suites Dali did in the 1960s and 1970s such as: "Twelve Signs of the Zodiac" (1967), "Much Ado About Shakespeare" (1968), "Marquis de Sade" (1969), "Anamorphoses" and "Aurelia" (1972), "La Bestiaire de La Fontaine" and "Paradise Lost" (1974), and more -- plus his "Divine Comedy" (various versions in the 1960s). All these suites do not constitute Dali's most serious, experimental work but they are an integral part of his total effort as a serious artist.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

There are two websites that have the entire "Aliyah, The Rebirth of Israel" suite on display: Lockport Street Gallery and Doubletake Gallery. The Lockport site has a convenient list of the prints by title and the Doubletake site has a zoomed image for enlarging each print. Both sites are commercial and have prints for purchase. I am grateful to Bob Varner of Doubletake Gallery and to John Bates of the Lockport Street Gallery who allowed us to copy their web-based images of each of the prints for this presentation. I am also grateful to Daniel Weiss for the high resolution photographs of several of the lithographs.

I wish to express very special thanks, first, to my wife for the gift of this wonderful work of art, and for the idea of creating and traveling this Exhibit. Special thanks go to Michael Rabkin and the staff of Emory Hillel in Atlanta, GA, and to its sponsors, who were brave enough to undertake the first exposition of this Exhibit, as well as to Marshall Einhorm and his staff and sponsors at Brown RISD Hillel in Providence, RI, for being willing to be the second hosts of this Exhibit, and to Josh Furman and the staff at the University of Washington (Seattle) Hillel for their hard work as third hosts. Thanks also go to Dr. Elliott King, curator of the exhibit at the High Museum entitled, “Dali: The Late Work,” who was very helpful in guiding us on displaying this work. My gratitude also goes out to Mr. and Mrs. Andre Bernard, good friends, who sponsored part of the costs of traveling this Exhibit.

COMMENTARY

David R. Blumenthal

I. Introductory Image

Aliyah (Plate #1)

Zoomed image

The Hebrew word aliyah means 'ascent'; it is used to describe going up steps, or climbing a mountain. In biblical Hebrew, the term came to mean 'to ascend to Jerusalem' in pilgrimage. In later Hebrew, it was broadened to mean 'to ascend to the Land of Israel.' All travel to the Land of Israel, and more particularly to Jerusalem, is an ascent, a going-up to a place that is holy, special. In religious tradition, one also 'ascends' to the reading of Torah when it is read ritually in the synagogue.

In secular Jewish thought, aliyah means 'to go to live in the Land of Israel' and, after the establishment of the State, 'to go to live in the State of Israel.' In this modern sense, aliyah means a commitment to live the life of the Jewish people in its ancestral land, no matter what the hardships. After centuries of oppression in the exile, aliyah is a commitment to the rebirth of the Jewish people, to the Renaissance of the Jewish spirit, in its own space. Aliyah embodies the philosophy of Jewish national renewal that is Zionism.

Some 'ascended' of their own free will; these were the halutzim, the pioneers who settled the land, defended it, and built the institutions of the evolving Jewish state. Others 'ascended' because they had no alternative or because they felt no reason to remain where they were. Rejected by the world, they sought refuge in the Land of Israel.

Dali's first image, which became the icon for this whole suite, captures this modern, Zionist spirit of 'ascent to the Land of our People' for the purpose of creating a vital Jewish life as individuals and as a people. It expresses the defiance of the Zionist vision that seeks to reconstitute Jewish life in spite of the Jew hatred that surrounded Jews in the diaspora. Note the flag of the State of Israel across the breast of the pioneer and the head raised in defiance and pride. The body, like the one in "We shall go up at once," is based on two images in the Altar of Zeus in the Temple of Pergamum. These images also appear in "Tuna Fishing" (M. Gérard, Dali [De Draeger, France: 1968] 174, and especially in an unfinished version of that great painting.

For further reading on the Zionist movement, see Talmud, Kiddushin 69a and A. Hertzberg, The Zionist Idea, and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zionism.

On the Jewish star (Star of David), see "Thou hast laid me in the nethermost pit."

II. Exile and Hope

"A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping; Rachel weeping for her children; she refuseth to be comforted for her children, because they are not" (Jeremiah 31:15) (Plate #2)

Zoomed image

In 586 B.C.E., the Babylonians under their king, Nebuchadnezzar, conquered Jerusalem, burned the Temple, killed many Jews, and exiled others to Babylonia. Psalm 137 captures this moment very well:

By the waters of Babylon, there we sat,

sat and wept, as we remembered Zion.

There, on the weeping willows, we hung our harps.

For, there, our captors had asked us for songs

and our tormentors required us to be happy, saying:

"Sing us some of the songs of Zion!"

How could we sing the song of the Lord on foreign soil?!

"If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand be forgotten.

May my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth

if I do not remember you,

if I do not do not make you the most important of my joys."

"Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem,

[when] they said, 'Strip her. Strip her to her very foundations.'"

O, predatory daughter of Babylon,

happy is He Who will pay you back what you deserve for the way you treated us!

Happy is he who will seize your babies and smash them against the rocks!

The very beautiful quotation that is the title of this print is from the Book of Jeremiah. It describes the mourning of the matriarch, Rachel, for her children who have been killed or who have gone into exile in Babylonia. She refuses any comfort concerning them because they are not present; they "are not"; they are in exile.

The same motif is taken up by Rashi, the most famous medieval commentator to the Bible. In discussing Jacob's deathbed command to his son Joseph (Genesis 48:7), Rashi, drawing on earlier sources, puts the following words into the mouth of Jacob: "Know that I buried her [your mother, Rachel] on the way to Efrat which is Bethlehem so that she would be a help to her children when [the Babylonian general] Nebuzaradan would exile them. They would pass that way, and Rachel would come out of her grave, and cry and seek mercy for them."

This quotation represents the opposite pole of the Zionist vision: the mood of mourning, of sadness. It is the realization that we were once whole and are now fragmented, persecuted, hated by the world. We are absent from the Land, devoid of the Presence of our God, cut off from the roots of our literature and our language. Exile, galut, is the opposite of aliyah.

Dali's print, in somber colors, captures the desolation, the weeping which our mother, Rachel, feels when she realizes that our place is empty. Note the beautiful woman / child to the left.

The Wailing Wall (Plate #3)