Today being Salvador Dali’s birthday, I am suddenly reminded of a memory from the late 1980s, one that I had quite forgotten until now. At that time, a friend of mine was the proud possessor of a small original painting by Dali.
She had always told me that she had mixed feelings about the painting. On the one hand, it helped her to feel connected to the great artist. On the other hand, she knew that its monetary value would greatly increase when he died, which somehow seemed wrong.
And sure enough, in early 1989, the great man passed away. The painting was now officially worth much more than it had been worth the day before.
My friend took no comfort at all in this. I believe that given the choice between the painting and Dali, she would have much preferred that we all still had Dali.
It’s odd that this would all come back to me only today. Chalk it up to the persistence of memory.