Freud on Dali's Bicycle

What a great pleasure it is for me to be invited by my good friends Le Bon David and the VeloDrone to write a series of articles for Velosophy! Today my subject is The Bicycle and Salvador Dali.

Now, the internet abounds in photographs of Dali's bicycles. These bicycles lean with buckled wheels against picturesque walls, as amusing references to Dali's famous melting clocks. Dali's melting clocks were intended by him to represent the irrelevance of time.

Dali came to see me often in the early days, although this fact is nowhere on the public record. Indeed, why should it be? The relationship between a man and his psychoanalyst is a private affair.

My work on dreams had influenced him profoundly. It was the basis for the movement known as Surrealism, of which he was a leading light. He told me he dreamed of ants, of lions' heads, of fish hooks and of half-opened drawers.

My friend, I told him, these things represent your fears. The ants represent death, the lion's head represents both sexual desire and your fear of the aggression of your father. The fish hook represents family ties, which you are unable to escape, while the half-opened drawer represents female sexuality, of which you are afraid.

Then I shall paint these things until I conquer all my fears, he said grandly.

That is all very well, my friend, but what you really need is a hobby, I told him. Have you ever thought about getting a bicycle?

From that moment Dali became obsessed with bicycles. He painted them incessantly. He painted men in bowler hats on bicycles, men with umbrellas on bicycles, lobsters on bicycles. He bought himself a bicycle. He kept it in his studio, although he never rode it.

He began to dream of bicycles. He asked me what these dreams might signify.

You are going on a journey, I told him.

We had a great debate about the matter. He thought my interpretation was banal. We argued for hours quite heatedly. Eventually I had to tell him that his time was up.

Time! he shouted. Time is irrelevant!

You will not think so when you receive my bill, I said.

He stormed out.

It was immediately after this I believe he dreamed up the story about seeing my bicycle, the red hotwater bottle and the snail, which has plagued me ever since.

Professor Freud Writes a Rough Copy

To the Editors of Velosophy, (no no that will not do...)

Dear comrades, (yes that's better)

Thankyou for your letter which I am inclined to accept in the spirit of an apology, although none was expressed ( hah! ) Never let it be said that Professor Freud cannot read between the lines.

I have given much consideration to your offer to publish any article I might care to write on the subject of bicycles and philosophy. I note that you claim to be unable to offer me any payment for the said article, should I agree to write it. ( leave this out, sounds a bit petty...) This does not concern me. ( no leave it in, after all....)

I shall shortly commence writing an article which I believe your readers will enjoy, on the subject of my old friend and disciple Salvador Dali, and his use of symbolism with special regard to the symbolism of bicycles. I may also mention his hidden fears and desires and his suppressed sexuality resulting from his relationship with his father. Or I may not. ( hee hee, this will put the wind up Le Bon and Vel!)

It is a condition of my acceptance of your offer that you agree to my becoming a regular contributor to your magazine. I have much to say on the subject of bicycles and dreams. I have a very fine anecdote about my granddaughter and her bicycle which is most amusing. I have an interesting experiment made by Galileo that relates to bicycles and.. ( perhaps leave it here for now, they might think I'm pushing it a bit ...)

Looking forward to your positive response, comrades, as I should not like to have to retract my acceptance of your 'apology'. ( should I ?.....)

Professor Sigmund Feud ( oops! ) Freud.

Professor Freud Receives A Letter

Dear Professor Freud,

Please forgive the long interval between our receipt of your letter and our response. My colleague the VeloDrone and I have had many long and philosophical discussions on the issues that you raise, and have come at last to this conclusion:

We have no case to answer.

Dali's story about you, your bicycle, the red hot water bottle and the snail are in the public domain. Indeed we note that the incident has most recently been celebrated in a play.

We meant no disrespect to you by speaking in a lighthearted manner about your bicycle. Our magazine is dedicated to the philosophy of bicycles and bicycling and our intention is to roam both far and wide in this pursuit. We wished, in other words, to honour you, comrade, by your inclusion.

And therefore, dear Professor Freud, we should like to extend an invitation to you to submit an article to Velosophy, on any subject that you wish, as long as it relates to philosophy and bicycles. You may like to consider writing on the subject of your 'scurrilous' friend, Dali. Or perhaps, upon the subject of bicycles and the meaning of their appearance in our dreams. It shall of course be left entirely up to you.

We should point out that we will not be able to pay you for your article, but we would like to think that you will consider it both as an honour to yourself and a token of the good faith of your fellow velosophers,

Le Bon David and the VeloDrone.

To the Editors

To the Editors of Velosophy,

I feel I must protest at the way I have been depicted in your publication, by your good selves.

Firstly, I object to your reference to that scoundrel Dali's description of my bicycle, with the attached red hot water bottle, and snail. Does no one think to question the great Dali? Is he not the master of Surrealism? Is not the picture of my so-called bicycle the very essence of something Dali would DREAM UP?

Secondly, I think I may claim to be a philosopher of sorts. There are, I am certain, many references in my works to bicycles. You will forgive me if I have forgotten exactly what they are. However thanks to google, of which I note you make great use yourselves, I have found an essay on my book The Interpretation of Dreams, in which essay I find the following statement: Thus the wish to sleep the meaning of every dreams Freud Freud p. the real substance of the book which is I rode a bicycle.

I admit, that is not perfectly clear, but you must admit, it is a reference. Why the writer scrambled up his text is not my concern. Possibly he wants the reader to pay him some money to read the essay proper. However, this is proof positive that I wrote directly on the subject of bicycles, and therefore I put it to you: Would you not have better served your readers with a serious discussion of my views about the meaning of dreams about bicycles rather than being content to mock me through the scurrilous words of my erstwhile friend Salvador Dali?

I await your response.

Yours faithfully,

Sigmund Freud ( Professor)

Freud's Bicycle

Hello fellow cycling philosophers! Something a little different for you today. Le Bon David and myself, the VeloDrone, in conversation:

VeloDrone: You know David, it struck me the other day that it isn't only we philosophers that have interesting things to say on the subject of bicycles.

Le Bon David: Now that's a coincidence, my friend, for I was only thinking the same thing myself last night.

VeloDrone: Why so?

Le Bon David: Well, I was idly googling famous people and their bicycles, as one does, and I chanced upon a most intriguing tale of Dr Freud and his bicycle, which was, believe it or not, related by the well known Spanish artist, Salvador Dali.

VeloDrone: Not the one about the hot water bottle?

Le Bon David: The very one. You know of it?

VeloDrone: Indeed. It is my favourite tale of Dr Freud. And Dali. But do relate it for our readers.

Le Bon David: Certainly. It seems that in 1928 Freud was a refugee in London, living in Hampstead. While there he was visited by Salvador Dali. As Dali was crossing the old professor's yard, he saw a bicycle leaning against a wall, and on the saddle, attached by a string, was a red hot water bottle, which looked full of water, and on the back of it, a snail.

VeloDrone: Brilliant! It gives a whole new interpretation to analysis. And I had forgotten about the snail!

Le Bon David: I think Dali was more taken with the snail than the hot water bottle. You may recall his famous drawing of Dr Freud's head as a snail. And Dali himself identified most strongly with the snail.

VeloDrone: It would be enlightening to know whether Dali rode a bicycle.

Le Bon David: It would indeed, my friend. I shall endeavour to find out.