Haven't I seen you somewhere before?

As I was finishing my recent painting starring Dr. Menzies,  I thought.... "Hmmm.  Where I have I seen something like this before?  A painting of a sculpture in the open air.  An onlooker...."   

Suddenly it came to me -- the artist Georgio deChirico.  He did plenty of plaza scenes like this "Piazza d'Italia" where sculptures and onlookers play a role:

 And when I checked further online, I found one of the sculpted heads I'd been thinking of in "Song of Love":-- (and if you want to know more about this curious painting, check here.)

This lesser known surrealist has stuck in my mind because of a wonderful story I once read about him.  A young couple who admired deChirico sought him out on their travels through Greece.  When they found his studio at the end of a dusty hot road, he invited them inside -- along with their cat, who couldn't be left in the car. 

This is not necessarily a reflection on deChirico's art, but the cat totally freaked out -- roared around the studio, tipping over easels and paints, making a complete mess of both finished works and works in progress.  The young admirers were of course mortified -- but the artist was totally undisturbed as he helped them corner their cat and ensure it was soothed.  As they tried desperately to apologize, he said, "It doesn't matter at all.  What is important is that no living creature should be afraid."  That's my kind of guy!

And perhaps it was this incident that led to his "Surrealist Scene with a Cat."

Well, cats are one good reason to hang out with this artist, and maybe there are other bonds between us.  Remember my egghead armature for what became the mini-sculpture Gaia?

  

Take a look at deChirico's "Face of Metaphysics."

Am I a surrealist at heart?  Well, consider how much fun I had with an assignment in last year's on-line course -- doing a fishy emulation of the contemporary surrealist Afarin Sajedi.

 And here's something more -- a fascinating treasure found in my back yard garden, a 3" rusty nail:

I carefully wiped it off and saved it, even before I knew the Vancouver Art Gallery would be hosting a Giacometti exhibit this year.  See any resemblance?

Maybe the surrealists can explain some of the wacky digressions my art is inclined to take.  As deChirico said:

"One must picture everything in the world as an enigma, and live in the world as if in a vast museum of strangeness."

 Or maybe it's a whole lot simpler than that.  In the words of that old rogue Henry Miller:

"Paint what you love and die happy."

And doesn't that shine through in deChirico's "Sun on the Easel"?