We talk for three hours by the river; under a weeping willow, and then we drive to the underground station. We pull up by the parking bay of Disney's UK headquarters and he gets out. Disney makes fiction. So do Jeff Koons, Claus Oldenburg, Adrian Saxe and all the other motley geniuses that can so easily be connected to Richard Slee [1]. With the icon of Mickey Mouse behind him, he raises his arm as a goodbye. We know what horses on a hilly field look like. They do not look like this. We call such discontinuity surrealism. There is a gulf between our sensibility and our vision, and surrealism seeks to reveal that gap. We have stood in an empty space, or a crowded one, and felt beached upon it as De Chirico and Giacometti have shown, and we feel there is a truth to this vision. Is there a truth to Slee's horses on the hill? Or is it a fiction, an untruth?
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