I found myself in St. Pete (as the locals say) for a business trip; It is about half an hour drive from Tampa, Florida.
A few months ago, when I was on a road show in Texas, among the exhibitors were representatives from the St. Pete’s Ministry of Tourism; to be honest, I would not have thought of visiting there until I met them and they gave me some reading materials.
St. Pete is a cute coastal town; has a slightly European character, and the shocking, unknown fact is that they have Salvador Dali museum, which makes it more sophisticated than other destinations (in my opinion).
Yes, yes, what you read, Salvador Dali museum.
I was there, I saw the paintings, and I still cannot believe it happened in St. Pete, Florida.
The museum is located on the banks of the marina, with spectacular views of the sunset.
My content world, in the context of Salvador Dali, comes down to a famous painting of melted clocks that I was privileged to see at the Guggenheim Museum in Manhattan with my mother twelve years ago and Salvador Dali perfume bottle.
The moment I saw his work in Florida, I realized how ignorant I was about him and his influences on modern art.
The display in the museum is built in chronological order, beginning with his paintings from the 1920’s and progressing slowly along the timeline.
These days we tend to say “genius” to any toddler who manages to move the iPad screen or anyone who finishes a bachelor’s degree, but only few people in the world worthy of it; Salvador Dali was a genius.
The accuracy of his paintings is remarkable.
As I pass through and admire his paintings, my mind stops at the sight of the piece “The First Days of Spring.”
I approach the painting and see the “distant” people at the pier with facial expressions, and I wonder if he was satisfied with this painting.
The museum bell rang, and I did not get to see anything.
“Where is the drawing of the melted clocks?” I asked one of the workers anxiously.
I went through the museum to see it again, and here it was, a tiny painting, full of melted clocks; I turned my head and saw before me three huge paintings – enormous . I took another picture, and another. I also took a video, which I’d watch and remember when I write about it.
“Sorry, we’re closing, you have to leave. You can come back tomorrow,” the dispatcher told me.
“I’m going back to Atlanta tomorrow,” I said in a choked voice.
“So, you have to go back to St. Pete,” he said kindly.
I left politely with an embarrassed smile on my face. He’s right, I have to go back.
I saw the bakery several times on the way to and from the conference and did not go in. On the morning before the flight, I went back to check on their story, and I was glad I had entered; I even go to see the kitchen and the main chef; The owner is French, and that is the only explanation for their beautiful and tasty croissants.