Okay, so where are the shoes? I count one -- maybe. Can't really tell if that's a shoe or a boot near the base of the pedestal or just a rock. And what's with the Biafran famine victim standing there on the left? Poor guy hasn't had a decent meal in months. Gaunt was about twenty missed meals ago.
The nubile young lass standing naked on the pedestal has two long streams of milk erupting from her breasts. All hips and breasts and legs... but I'm still looking for the shoes.
As with so many of Salvador Dalí's paintings there are things to be seen that require a little closer inspection. Faces hidden in rocks, nudes in the clouds, an occasional giant ear sitting all by itself. And what the broken piece of masonry lying there signifies is beyond me, but it sort of looks like the state of Wisconsin if you look at it right. They do make cheese from milk, you know.
I'm also kind of intrigued by the way the rays of sunshine arcing down in one direction intersect with the twin founts of breast milk. The hills in the landscape here are soft and rounded -- flat out mammary. Nothing remarkable about the village in the background. All in all, the only harsh note is that poor bloke with the shriveled penis and all too visible ribs. Geez, his waist must be about 14 inches.
Dalí created this work in 1945. It is at the Salvador Dali Museum in St. Petersburg, Florida.