It was a rather drab Thursday, toward the end of a rather drab week. As usual I took myself off to see my therapist, which is always uplifting and I feel unburdened of those dark thoughts provoked by these uncertain times. In a happier mood, I went off the the excellent Surrealism show at the Whitworth. Ofcourse, Freudian theory is the life blood of that movement and the gallery is full of uncanny moments and uneasy images. I imagined taking my favourite Surrealist, Rene Magritte to lunch at South Indian eatery, the Punjab, just down the road.
We lunched on Keema dosas and Cobra beer. He told me of the heady days spent making the latent manifest and how much they all hated Dali. They felt the Spaniard was as relevent to the movement as a fish and resent his place in Art History as every school kid's wet dream of a surrealist. That reminded Rene of his fav joke-'How many surrealists does it take to change a light bulb? Fish!'. The food was as excellent as the imagined company, but don't tell my therapist.
Rene had the apple for dessert.
