Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
Monday, 4 July 2011
This is not a blog
The events in it do not exist. I am myself a creature of fiction, a creation of my own mind. I am not a blogger, not even a person. Okay, this is not a post, but it certainly is a pathetic attempt at being kind of surrealist. I am in this state of mind this evening. I learned from BBC News that there is an exhibition on René Magritteat the Tate Liverpool. I am missing my beloved Liverpool and I am missing Magritte... again. Back in 1996, there was a similar exhibition in Montreal, just when I had started university. I didn't go, I can't remember why. I regret it to this day. Magritte had ways to illustrate with whim dry intellectual concepts, such as Saussure's signifiant and signifié ("Ceci n'est pas une pipe") and made some really interesting paintings inspired by Fantômas (more here and here). Magritte's influence has been almost too important for his own good, but he himself was a true artist and a true intellectual.