Freud's home in north London is quite impressive, a very small and very intimate museum off Finchley Road (in the infamous Margaret Thatcher's former constituency I believe). No photos were permitted, but while I obey this in St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, my infantile need for wish fulfillment proved too strong in Freud's own house, and I snapped several illicit pics of the famous couch and Freud's large consulting room. What struck me the most is that his desk, chairs, and the couch itself filled little more than one fourth of the room, while an enormous, dining-sized table covered in various stone idols and totems dominated the rest. The desk itself faced to the side, not at all business-like, and the "office" component seemed almost an afterthought. In this day of "solution-focused" short-term therapy that tends to take place in sterile, antiseptic, hospital-like offices, it was nice to see a room filled with objects and symbols by which the client could be inspired. A little disappointing that the museum seems to emphasize Freud's more bizarre cases and dream interpretation rather than the broad idea that the unconscious/subconscious mind inevitably affects our conscious lives and relationships. If you ask me, this little message is far more important than the Wolf Man et al.
