Quiet corridors

Long debate before setting out this morning to meet a friend at the Dean Gallery for the Surrealists show; drive or bus? The snow has let up, the weather is bitter but settled and it is the last weekend before Christmas. Driving into town would be lunacy (more on that word later) wouldn't it...? Decided on the bus and foot; stop-started painfully slowly across town among packed shoppers, trod the frozen pavements down the New Town to Dean Bridge, where before me laid out in silent rows were the biggest number of parking spaces ever observed in the city centre. Mental note; last weekend before Christmas = shops full, galleries empty.

This of course meant that we had a fantastically quiet view of the show - could almost have been a genuinely private view; I was occasionally surprised when I stepped back onto someone's toe, but the halls were blissfully silent apart from our own commentary. I have been meaning to see the show for months but luckily it had a long run; I have often dismissed the surrealists and never quite figured out why. Overexposure to 'The Persistence of memory' in reproduction on mouse mats and mugs? Worrying similarities to fantasy art? Just too damn clever for its own good? All considered but none rings entirely true; truth is I am not that familiar with all aspects of the 'genre' and wanted to see more. The internet helped me discover that Max Ernst was someone I wanted to see more of but did nothing for my affection for Salvador Dali; the show has pretty much confirmed that to be honest, but added many new names to the list of those I would like to see more of. Also fascinated by the British Surrealists, who seem a bit derivative, but still plenty to look at and wonder about. Edith Rimington, Emmy Bridgewater and Roland Penrose, who I keep bumping into in different contexts and get mightily confused about. Of the continental group I found the most interest in Max Ernst, Paul Delvaux (who I jokingly said painted a bit like me) and De Chirico; all of them essentially new to my eyes and all the more interesting for it. Some lovely drawings and smaller studies by all three.

Dali did get a look-in for me with his 'Exploding Raphaelesque Head' which is not one I had seen at Athena and so held the crucial trump card of novelty and was also very beautiful.

Reading the art mag in the very convivial teashop I found a reference to Ana Maria Pacheco, who I must look up as I am pretty sure that she was the head of Fine Art at Norwich School of Art when I was on foundation. Looks like some fantastic wooden sculptural figurative work she has been producing which struck me as like a 3d Paula Rego. Very strong.

Leaving to wander over to Stockbridge, peruse small galleries and shops and catch up on the last few months, we were treated to a stunning, frozen view over the Water of Leith and the Dean village lit by Venus and some early stars in crystal clear light. The moon is just a shade off full, which explains Twig's dementia over the last two nights. She is a lunatic - and it was only today on the prompt of my friend that I realised the root of the word...