I found myself in the Tate Modern the other day, preparing to take in the Dorothea Tanning exhibition. For those of you who don’t know Dorothea’s work, she was a surrealist painter, who married Max Ernst. She was born in rural America in 1910, moved to New York in 1930, discovered the freedom surrealist expression gave her and followed that path for her 70 year career, eventually dying in 2012 aged 101. Over time her work changed and adapted to new approaches, mediums and so on but she remained true to the surrealist love. It was small but lovingly curated and fascinating.
I often think of life as having a surreal tinge to it – not necessarily of the sort Dorothea’s work expressed with her occasional pin sized head added to a foot or a vagina housed in an armpit – but in her fascination with what might be behind numerous doors, or how we can experience moments in a sort of corrupted scale.
I stood in the queue for a coffee and cake, processing what I had seen. A couple of women in front of me were talking about the exhibition. They were probably my age, sensible haircuts and shoes, nothing frivolous in their dress. The subject of their discussion was a room Dorothea made, a very unexceptional room save for the various body parts seeping out of the sofa or oozing out of the fireplace.
In particular a pair of pink buttocks appeared to be exploding from the wall paper.
Having ordered two lattes and a slice of Madeira, they continued their debrief.
‘I think they were a woman’s’
‘No definitely male. Donald’s are the same type.’
‘Really. I imagined his would be more pendulous.’
‘Oh no. He was in the Guards, you know.’
The barista looked up, causing them to pause. ‘Chocolate on those?’
I did wonder if she was referring to the coffees or Donald and his Buttocks Of Military Bearing…
I sat near the picture windows, and thought I’d capture St Paul’s that is directly opposite. In the event even the picture I took was almost surreal.
Life:Art, huh? Can’t make it up.
TanGental 
Art is what you make of it…
LikeLiked by 1 person
And in the eye of the beholder
LikeLike
True…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great overheard conversation; great artwork. I’m pleased you found yourself
LikeLiked by 1 person
Just a little…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, Geoff, whose buttocks did YOU think they resembled?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I must admit to a lack of buttock comparators to make a judgement. I supposed, if pressed I might have a crack at it…
LikeLiked by 1 person
*groan*
LikeLiked by 1 person
You asked….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes; I need to remember to just be an observer.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Difficult when you are hardwired to intervene- sort of domestic special forces, you moms
LikeLiked by 1 person
Right, right. Mom instincts.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love eavesdropping. It is so entertaining!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Gives us material,eh?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I wonder if Donald is reading this, I love the second painting the doors and demon on the floor, it shrieks a poem at me . I am very impressed with the toast to St Paul’s.💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
That was a complete fluke…
LikeLike
Interesting conversation to overhear Geoff. Lovely artwork though, and your photo is good too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I think they give you a great material for writing.
LikeLike
They do, that and the innocent comments from kids.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Another eye beholder moment. Thanks, Geoff.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Exactly John
LikeLiked by 1 person
How fascinating, Geoff. You do visit some interesting places.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am a lucky chap,that’s true
LikeLike
Surrealism often creeps me out – but I love how you turned St Pauls into the Pisa tower and modernised it. And thank you for the great poem you left on my blog this morning – it’s made my day 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I feel, with surrealism that it is something of a visual representation of some of my writing, without the weird sex schtick…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sometimes this is so – springing to mind immediately are some of the conversations between Grommet and Percy or whatever their names are. You know who I mean……..
LikeLiked by 1 person
I do and there is an element of the unrestrained psychotropic about those two..
LikeLiked by 1 person
🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Looks as if she was influenced by Dali, Magritte and El Grecco…
LikeLiked by 1 person
She was, spending a few years at the end of the thirties meeting them and then the emigres escaping to New York from Europe when the war broke out. Not sure she had a lot to learn from her husband Ernst, mind. But as with everything surreal it’s very much a Personal choice of what you like and not.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I enjoy the surrealist film and literary movements more, but surrealist art is always interesting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I still have narco-kniptions over that sliced eyeball film…
LikeLiked by 1 person
The Andalusian Dog freaks everybody out… almost as if they’ve never seen an eyeball cut in half before… Buster Keaton made an interesting film with Samuel Beckett in the fifties, I believe. Less optical slashing than the other movie…
LikeLiked by 1 person
While I had known of Ernst, she was unknown to me. Fascinating work. Thanks for the mention. As for comparing behinds…
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know. It’s one of life’s truisms that discussion of cauliflowers can go unheeded but a single use of ‘buttocks’ and everyone in a radius of 200 yards will hear your conversation
LikeLiked by 1 person
Especially with cell phones I hear all sorts of things I wish I hadn’t!
LikeLiked by 1 person
The grittiest minutiae of other people’s dull existences drives one to conclude selective euthanasia might not be such a bad idea
LikeLiked by 1 person
Here, here.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Here’s to Donald, ‘pert & clenched’! 😀
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah yes…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: The Madness of doors. | willowdot21
Ah, the Tate Modern! My children enjoy telling everyone how they were permanently damaged by being exposed to the works on display when we visited. I rather like having my brain re-wrinkled now and then, but as they are quick to point out, what’s a few more wrinkles to someone my age? Wretched little beasts. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha! Damn their cheek. My dad had a sticker on the back window of a family motor – get your own back on your kids, live to be a hundred… right now that feels like a plan
LikeLiked by 1 person
In my dictionary, one of the definitions of surreal is, “a museum of modern art or the people who visit one.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, that often seems to be the case. Stand still long enough in a MOMA and you’re treated as an exhibit…
LikeLike