Turner

[ ST, Mar 5, 2006]

In her dream they are in London, attending an exhibition in a museum. He keeps amusing her by showing his enthusiasm for Turner's paintings (stormy-weather Turner). He oohs and aahs. Now and again his exclamations for this or that Turner reach her ears. She smiles. He is, to put it plainly, transfixed by Turner. She likes this artist as well but still, she is quite a bit surprised by how much he happens to like those paintings, he, a perfect newcomer in the world of museums, exhibitions, art, performing his first stares ever at oil on canvases. Perhaps that's the very reason of his excitement - inexperience cuts him plenty of slack, his saturation level still awaits to be reached fully.

At one point he tells her she has to take a look at some horrible chimneys in an obscure painting at the next room. It is not a Turner for a change. They approach the painting and walk inside. It displays a dark urban landscape of the outskirts of a British city. It could well be London. They stroll the streets depicted in the canvas, heading for the chimneys at the back. She feels the oppression of the place as they walk on, as if the frame of the painting were closing in on them. He guides her until they are before the chimneys. Just as she is about to admit their ugliness she wakes up.