Sinbad 1966

This is Salvador Dalí's Sinbad, made in 1966, a flurry of ink, watercolour and gouache on paper. Can you see the quick, scratchy marks that make up the figure, juxtaposed with the soft, translucent washes of colour? I imagine Dalí, poised, almost manic, letting his hand fly across the paper. It's like he's possessed, channeling the story of Sinbad through his own surreal lens. The paint is applied so thinly in areas that it barely stains the paper, while elsewhere there are thick lines of ink. Look at the way the figures emerge from a haze of watery blues and reds. The strokes capture the raw energy and dreamlike quality that Dalí is so famous for. Maybe he was thinking about Picasso, about automatism, about the power of myth. Artists are always in conversation, riffing off each other. Painting is like that, it's a constant, evolving dialogue across time.