La Vida Secreta

For music to sound, silence must first exist — just as no sea can open without the certainty, however distant, that a piece of firm land lies hidden within the fold of some map.

There is no spring without winter. No forest without roots. No paradise without purgatory. No light without darkness. No gold without mud. No lucidity without madness. No light laughter without the weight of blood having first pulsed through our veins. No yin without yang. One must, indeed, know the south in order, perhaps, to one day come close to understanding the heart of the north. And vice versa.

The same applies when it comes to knowing — or at least attempting to know — the secret life of Salvador Dalí. How can one speak of the idol without listening to the man? How can one speak of the genius without invoking the muse?

For all these reasons, this proposal brings together Gala and the universe. For who better than the artist’s guiding star to lead us, by ear, on an odyssey towards all his centres?

Elena Ivánovna Diákonova thus submits herself to a singular session of psychoanalysis that borders on prayer. During it, the audience will also be invited to close their eyes in order to begin to see.

Leaping from canvas to canvas, from verse to verse, and from memory to memory, like a vessel cutting through faith from island to island, Gradiva will place in the spectator’s hands, at once, a sharp knife and a flower on the verge of extinction: the master keys to the doors of no return into the depths of the unrepeatable Dalinian consciousness.