At the same time there is, quite simply, the pleasure of using one’s imagination, of letting it soar. This, again, is for everyone; but one forgets. Generally, for some mysterious reason, we let our imagination work against us rather than for us. There we are, powerful, magical beings, and yet we allow our imagination to think of all the things that could go wrong instead of thinking of the things that we can enjoy and create.

Perhaps that is why I was drawn to the world of surrealism: to remind myself.

Le Chercheur (The Seeker)

I have  always felt that there was something ‘surreal’ about life. It was not something conscious; it was, more, a kind of feeling. Perhaps that is why people become artists: maybe they just need to ‘express a feeling’. They’re not sure possibly exactly what it is, but it’s there and it’s real. There is a kind of magic to life, a kind of crazy impossibility about the whole business. Yet there it is. The artist’s job is to try to bring that out in his or her work.

Magritte’s paintings definitely touch on this, so do Chirico’s and so do Dali’s. The list of artists in fact is endless. It all connects up with the world of the subconscious mind and the reality of the ‘otherness’ of life. We are all much greater, much more sublime than we are led to believe, and it is perhaps the artist’s role to act as a catalyst and as a reminder.