An unique assemblage from a theatrical set designed and painted by Salvador Dalí for a 1939 ballet has been acquired by the Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida. The auction lot included the backdrop curtain that is the largest work of art ever made by the surrealist master, plus four friezes and fours wings, for a total of 13 canvases. It is almost the complete set from the original staging, missing only the giant wooden swan which no longer survives. It sold at Bonhams Paris for €254,400 ($292,000).
In March 1939, Dalí was contracted to design the sets for the Ballet Russe de Monte-Carlo’s production of Venusberg, a one-act ballet that used the Venusberg Bacchanale from the first act of Richard Wagner’s opera Tannhäuser as the score. It was a perfect commission for a surrealist. Dalí wrote the libretto, a Freudian flight of fantasy wherein King Ludwig II of Bavaria encounters Venus in the form of a fish-headed mermaid and then a dragon. He stabs the goddess, and she splashes him with her “libidinous poison” which drives his mad. He then hallucinates, among other things, a dancer emerging from a giant wooden swan from the Leda myth, his lover, famed courtesan Lola Montez, and the Three Graces as dressmakers’ mannequins.
Dalí was in New York at that time, so he created a scale model of the set and had it shipped to Monaco. Under Dalí’s supervision, Ballet Russe de Monte-Carlo’s set designer Oreste Allegri and Prince Alexandre Schervachidze, head of the workshops, would execute his vision. The massive scenic backdrops for the mad king’s dreamscapes were laid out flat on the floor of the workshop and hand painted.
The backdrop constitutes the central and monumental element of this set imagined by Salvador Dalí. Over nine metres [30 feet] high and nearly eighteen metres [59 feet] wide, it unfolds a landscape that is at once mysterious and dreamlike, crossed by mythological, artistic and psychoanalytical references. At the centre rises majestically Mount Venus, occupying almost the entire height of the curtain. At its base, on the left, a waterfall flows into a calm pond. This presence of water, rare within this mineral and arid environment, introduces a pause in the landscape: it evokes both the source of life and the flow of time, elusive and continuous.
The symbolic mountain is pierced at its heart, revealing a tempietto and figures from the Italian Renaissance that reproduce the composition of Raphael’s Marriage of the Virgin, itself inspired by the architecture of Donato Bramante. Yet here the scene seems emptied of its original meaning: there is neither union nor true celebration. Love is absent. This absence may be linked to the figure of the swan spreading its wings, once placed in front of the mountain, which referred to the myth of Leda and evoked both desire, temptation and the guilt associated with feminine sin.
To the left of the mountain, the carcass of a wrecked boat bears witness to an ancient drama that time seems gradually to erase. Nearby, a figure stands with an arm raised in an ambiguous posture: a call for help, a gesture of despair, or a final attempt at communication? To the right, in the distance, a desert stretches to the horizon line, punctuated by immense enigmatic rocks. This arid space intensifies the feeling of solitude and infinity so characteristic of Dalí’s landscapes.
The friezes and wings framed the spaces that transition from the stage to the backstage. Dalí employed a cabinet of curiosities motif, painting drawers, some open, some closed, and cubbies, some empty, some with figures including busts, skulls, ewers, his wife Gala, a reclining nude and more. The wings are an abstract, organic line design that suggests musical notes dancing in space.
In September of that year, with Nazi Germany’s invasion of Poland and the world about to plunge into war, the ballet’s name was changed from the Wagnerian Venusberg to the decidedly less German sounding Bacchanale. Dalí and Gala were in France then, and were unable to get to New York City for the premiere of the ballet at the Metropolitan Opera House on November 9, 1939, where it was a huge hit and of course caused many pearls to be clutched.
The company would perform Bacchanale with Dalí’s set for the next two years, then for one-off productions in 1945 and the last one in 1967. When the Ballet Russe de Monte-Carlo disbanded in 1968, the set was donated to the Ballet Foundation in New York. They donated it to Butler University in Indianapolis where it remained from 1970 until 2018 when it was sold at Sotheby’s New York for a private collection in Spain which loaned it out for display three times in Spain and Italy.
Now that it has been acquired by the Dalí Museum, the Bacchanale backdrop and wings will have a new home where they can be exhibited surrounded by thousands of other works by Dalí. The museum is embarking on a major expansion this year. Construction begins in the fall on an addition that will add 35,000 square feet to the existing building. The timing could not be better for them to figure out an ideal space to display such a monumental testament to Dalí’s work on the stage.

Where shall I start 😲️?
In the Catalan town of Figueres, north of Barcelona (road cycling training camp!), I had in the early 90ies the opportunity to see his own museum: A former theater, where he is even buried. He had lived in Cadaques, in the middle of the Cap de Creus peninsula close to the french border.
I never saw Ludwig’s castles, but they are rather Wagnerian than medieval, with Wagnerian installations. I have not met him, but a couple of weeks ago, my Mom had a (great-?) great grandchild of Ludwig’s psychiatrist as birthday guest – Yes, the drowned one from Lake Starnberg.
As far as Tannhäuser is concerned (the real one, not the opera), I sent to a friend of mine, who moved from London to (sic!) the Barcelona area as digital birthday present a translation of his song ‘Steter dienest der ist guot’ (cf. ‘Codex Manesse’ 264r, and the song on 267v) 😀
The song ridicules classic Minnesinger poetry, in essence describing an absurd shopping list for him as Crusader to the Holy Land, in which he indeed took part, and how -despite the tasks in each verse getting more and more impossible- the singer won’t give up the struggle.
The ‘Thannhausen’ in question is not in question at all, but -even according to the song- the one south of Nuremberg in Freystadt. However, he seems to be the one buried in the Deutschhauskirche in Würzburg. And here the song (tune on YT signature ‘hJhCY__HwK0’, …and of course, particularly to Suzie D.):
—————–
Constant service that’s done well,
done to ladies that look ‘belle’.
As I have done to mine.
A salamander I must get her,
Ah! One thing she strictly tells me:
The RED ONE it just has to be!
Brought from [French] Provence into the land,
to Nuremberg; In that I will succeed.
And the Danube over the Rhine,
Once I make that true, what I want she’ll do.
But where I say “Yes!” she will say “No!”
Such is what “in accord” we do.
Thanks to that I have the girl of mine,
The one I call my sweet sunshine.
-Heia hey!
For too long I did not concubine.
CHORUS: Yes – today and forever more ‘Yes’
Loud and completely, and still ‘Yes!’.
An aching weapon it turns out to be,
What does this love mean to me?
The pure one and praiseworthy?
That she wont make me glad,
is what in essence makes me sad.
Sweet delusion keeps me happy, though,
that I am getting from that ‘Frouw’:
In case the ‘Miuseberg’ would be flat
freed from snow, ‘Sweety’ will reward me that.
All that keeps my own heart blurred,
is what I see in her ensured.
My will she fullfills with certainty,
once I build her a house of ivory,
The house atop a lake, she asks from me.
I’d have gracious friendship for gallantry,
in case I bring to her from Galilee,
From every collateral free,
a mountain that I would put it on,
that Mr. Adam must have sat upon–
Heia hey!
All other deeds would be surpassed.
CHORUS
A tree that once in India stood!
Huge, of course, that’s understood.
My will she would fulfill flat,
So let’s see if I get all that:
I must gain for her that ugly Grail,
that once possessed Lord Parcyfail.
And the apple that Paris did address,
for ‘Minne’ to Venus the Lovegodess.
A strong mantle at last sainted,
the woman that remains untainted.
Many other wonders she proposed:
What grievous things on me imposed!
For the Ark she is feeling strongly,
that Noah himself had timbered longly.
Heia hey!
Brought I that, how dear I would be…