El Greco and Dali, up close and impersonal
In what manner, in a manner of speaking, are El Greco and Dali opposite, I hear myself ask. Like some strange and familial part of a car the answers are manifold. Let us, like a seamstress with a habit, pick them apart like a seamstress with a pet vulture. Firstly, let us say that both maniacs took many liberties with many things; which doesn't spit well with me - not one little tit. El Greco, the Spaniard, went to great lengths to take the image of the human form to great lengths when he went to the shops with all manner arms, spasms, defects, cats, piss-buckets, warts and money-wads. If form is opposite to content, and I'm hardly unconvinced it isn't or couldn't be or wouldn't be or was but now isn't or will be or never will be, then the lengths Dali took with content is cause for consternation in even the most cautious of cat-cuddlers, donkey-droppers, flea-scratchers, spine-tinglers and pastry-farters. So, as I have clearly and evidently documented in this document, herein when we talk of El Greco, and we do most frequently and with such lavish cutlery, we will remember what's-his-name. For the two are as opposite as two things ever were or ever could be or ever were.













