12.11.2006 - 12.11.2006
Paula and I went to the Freud Museum this weekend. We stopped by Abbey road on our way so that she could take photos of Beatles stuff that I was completely uninterested in, save for the fact that Michael's dog is named after the album named after this road. The museum is at the London house that Freud and his daughter Anna fled to during WWII. The inside was very cluttered with sculptures that he collected and put on his desk as a buffer between him and his patients. We got to see the couch he used for psychoanalytic sessions as well, although we weren't allowed to pose for photos on it. They had excerpts from his books scattered around the house with props from the dreams he was interpreting. There was an odd can of baked beans in one room that I could not understand the purpose of, since I didn't see any writings about beans. They also had some portraits people drew of him, and photos of his house in Vienna (which had been just as cluttered as this one). There was one modern exhibit in Anna's room, which consisted of an artist's table full of mutilated dolls, red paint, hand saws, etc, which had something to do with children's repressed sexuality. I didn't get it, though; it just creeped me out.