Fairbairn’s Dream Drawings #2

A recent post on this blog, Fairbairn’s Dream Drawings #1, explored the subject of William Ronald Dodds Fairbairn’s dream drawings, which date from the 1950s. The focus of that first post were Fairbairn’s drawings of landscapes. For this return to the subject, I will be focusing on the drawings in which Fairbairn brings to life a cast of interesting characters.

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When looking through the drawings in the William Ronald Dodds Fairbairn Archive it becomes immediately apparent that many of the characters in Fairbairn’s dreams made regular appearances. The men, women and children are drawn wearing distinctive clothing or they perform distinctive activities. Some of the recurring characters include a middle-aged women, often in Edwardian looking dress, redolent of Mary Poppins, a child in traditional Scottish dress, often with a dog, and a seated male figure. It is likely that the child represents Fairbairn himself, and the man and woman are perhaps his parents, however, it is not my intention here to offer explanations or interpretations of these characters; I’m sure you will form your own opinions about that.

The female character is often depicted leading the child from a chain around his neck, or brandishing a weapon, typically a sword or stick:

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However, on occasion she is portrayed in a slightly less menacing way, such as below.

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As with the first image on this post, the image below includes the majority of the pantheon of Fairbairn’s dream characters.

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Whilst the majority of the characters in Fairbairn’s dream drawings are recognisable as humans, there are a few that have a more abstract feel. What do you think Fairbairn’s subconscious was trying to tell him here?

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Art and Psychoanalysis

As mentioned briefly in a previous post (Unexpected Item of the Month) the Edinburgh-based psychoanalyst, William Ronald Dodds Fairbairn, was notable for the diversity of subjects he pursued with a psychoanalytical eye. One of the best represented subjects in the Fairbairn Archive is art.

The first evidence we have for Fairbairn’s interest in this subject is from 1937. The item in question is a talk, written and delivered by Fairbairn at a meeting of the Scottish Branch of the British Psychological Society and entitled ‘Prolegomena to a Psychology of Art’. This little-known paper was published in ‘From Instinct to Self’, the 1994 compilation of Fairbairn’s papers, co-edited by David Scharff and Fairbairn’s daughter, Ellinor Fairbairn Birtles. In it, ‘Prolegomena’ is described as being, ‘written largely from the standpoint of the pleasure principle…Fairbairn described art as play; thus artistic activity is making something for fun’. This starting point is important, because it would later bring Fairbairn into conflict with members of the artistic world who objected to what was viewed as a superficial treatment of the subject.

‘Prolegomena’ was quickly followed by ‘The Ultimate Basis of Aesthetic Experience’, also read at a British Psychological Society, Scottish Branch meeting, in 1938. Fairbairn re-worked both papers which were then subsequently published in the ‘British Journal of Psychology’, in 1938.

Although Fairbairn’s ideas on art did undoubtedly offend some in the art world – if his correspondence is anything to go by – they nevertheless received unexpected support from the then Director of the National Gallery of Scotland, Stanley Cursiter. In what could be one of the greatest letters in the Fairbairn Archive, Cursiter reassures Fairbairn that fun was indeed the correct attitude for the appreciation for a work of art and,

‘I am glad you take this line because to serious-minded people seeking the meaning of art, I have always contended that the fundamental meaning of a picture was the fundamental meaning of a plum pudding – and have been counted frivolous for it!’

Perhaps buoyed by such high-profile vindication, by the 1950s Fairbairn had hopes of writing a book on the subject. The working titles was ‘Art and Psychoanalysis’ and Fairbairn had undertaken quite detailed preparatory work in advance of its hoped-for publication. This included not only collecting items such as this picture postcard of the statue ‘Church and Synagogue’ in Munster Cathedral:

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but also compiling this list of illustrations:

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Fairbairn corresponded with a wide-range of people and organisations in relation to this proposed book, including Stanley Cursiter and T Elder Dixon, Vice-Principal of Edinburgh School of Art. Fairbairn was clearly attempting to learn more about the minefield that is ownership and copyright in relation to reproducing works of art. He also sought companies who had the requisite skills to reproduce the works, once permission had been secured. However, the book was not to be and Fairbairn’s contribution to this field has been largely, and perhaps not surprisingly, overshadowed by his work on object-relations. However, few papers in the Archive demonstrate such personal enthusiasm for a subject; art was clearly something of great importance to William Ronald Dodds Fairbairn.

Where Did Fairbairn get his books?

It has often been commented that Fairbairn, in Edinburgh, was working a long way from the main centres of development in psychoanalysis. This must have made keeping abreast of the literature of his subject more difficult, as libraries and bookshops were unlikely to stock much of such a specialised subject. While cataloguing the books we have found some fascinating clues as to where some of them came from.

Of course it was possible to order through local bookshops, as an invoice from the Edinburgh bookseller James Thin, found between the pages of a 1940s issue of The Yearbook of Psychoanalysis, shows Fairbairn sometimes did.

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Our attention was caught by a bookseller’s ticket on the inside of the binding of a dozen or so of the books in the collection “H.K. Lewis & Co. Ltd., 136 Gower Street, London, W.c.1”. Lewis’s turn out to have been a specialist medical and scientific booksellers, publishers and commercial circulating library, who operated a huge, international mail-order business. Their catalogues contained exactly the books Fairbairn needed to know about.

It would be fascinating to know whether Fairbairn also used Lewis’s library. This part of the business was founded in 1852, and was still functioning in the 1940s. There were reading rooms in the company’s premises in Gower Street, for students and professionals living in or visiting London, but there was also a postal service, designed originally to meet the needs of provincial doctors, working without other access to a library of professional literature. By the 1940s the catalogue, sent out to subscribers, was 900 pages long, and covered every medical speciality.

One of the consequences of professional eminence is being asked to write book reviews. There are a number of volumes in the collection stamped ‘Review Copy’, or, as with Clifford Allen’s Modern discoveries in medical psychology, 1936, with the publisher’s slip requesting a review and Fairbairn’s notes for the review still inside it. Fairbairn’s papers at the National Library include his reviews for many other titles which are in the collection, although his copies have nothing in them to show this.

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There are presentation inscriptions inside a few of the books, not usually from their authors, but instead marking professional collaborations or visits. One of these has proved tantalising: Lewis Brown Hill’s Psychotherapeutic Intervention in Schizophrenia, 1955, is inscribed to Fairbairn by someone with a totally illegible name. If anyone can identify them we would be very grateful to know.

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Elizabeth Quarmby Lawrence

Edinburgh University Library

Fairbairn’s Dream Drawings #1

The composition of the Fairbairn Archive is rich, with a wide variety of materials from manuscripts to typescripts and photographs to correspondence. However, amongst the most striking of all the documents are a collection of dream drawings, made by Ronald Fairbairn in the 1950s.

Dreams have an important role to play when it comes to psychoanalysis. Alongside the exploration of fantasy and free-association, dreams offer analysts a means to gain insight into a patient’s symptoms and problems. Fairbairn made use of this technique when working with his own patients, but as these drawings reveal, he was also keen to record and analyse his own dreams.

That Fairbairn would be open to such self-analysis is no real surprise. Practitioners of Fairbairn’s generation were expected to undergo analysis as part of their training and in 1921, Fairbairn went into treatment with the analyst, E. H. Connell. With his obvious interest in the human psyche, understanding himself would be yet another means of furthering his knowledge of this complex subject.

Fairbairn’s dream drawings are, typically, simple line-drawings in pen, on lined paper. They give the impression of being made in haste, made as an aide-memoir rather than for any artistic purposes. There are recurring themes, recurring characters but much of the meaning is obscure and difficult to interpret.

For my first visit to this subject I have chosen a selection of images united by their depiction of landscape.

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Symbols of hills, valleys, coasts and water, as seen above, are recurrent in Fairbairn’s dream drawings, particularly those made in October, 1950.

They are often devoid of people, although there are occasional exceptions, such as the drawing below.

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And although most of the dream drawings depict plausible scenarios, there are occasional forays into the world of the supernatural, or at least the unusual, such as in the drawing below.

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These drawings offer an extremely intimate window into the mind of Ronald Fairbairn. Researchers of archives most often need to make inferences from the documentary remains in order to be able to get this close to their subjects. The Fairbairn Archive is special because material of this nature is tantalisingly accessible, even if it does require a sophisticated degree of interpretation.

Fairbairn Archive Mystery Item of the Month

One of the elements of archival work I have always enjoyed is the opportunity to get to know a collection really intimately. In order to generate intelligible finding aids for researchers, it is important to get a good overview of a collection: to understand how records relate to each other and to learn all that you can about the format, creator, use and date of an item. Luckily, this is often pretty easy but sometimes an item comes along which presents a bit more of a challenge.

Challenging items bring out an archivist’s inner Sherlock Holmes. Minute clues are forensically examined in the hope of cracking the mystery. However, some challenges are easier than others and today I would like to ask for your help with a mystery I have been unable to solve so far.

The item in question is a six-line, rhyming poem on a suitably psychoanalytical theme.

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My familiarity with Ronald Fairbairn’s papers means that I know this item is in his handwriting*. However, I have no real idea as to the author of this poem. Is this an original Fairbairn composition or is it something he merely transcribed?

Knowing the answer to this mystery will be invaluable as it will help to ensure Fairbairn’s papers are catalogued to the highest possible standard. So, can anyone out there help?

*By now, I can read Fairbairn’s hand pretty easily, but just in case it proves a little tricky, here’s a transcription of the poem:

Remember well what Freud hath said-

We want to take our mums to bed.

And, since they always utter “no”,

We feel we’ve nowhere else to go.

Hysteria doth thus emerge

Through failure of the sexual urge.

William Ronald Dodds Fairbairn: an archivist’s perspective

The papers of Edinburgh-based psychoanalyst, William Ronald Dodds Fairbairn (more usually known simply as Ronald) are held here, in the National Library of Scotland.

National Library of Scotland

I’m Karla, an archivist, and since January 2015 I have been lucky enough to work with Ronald Fairbairn’s papers. So far, I have examined and rearranged the collection and I will soon be working alongside our conservation department who will be ensuring its long-term physical survival. However, the main aim of my six-month, Wellcome Trust funded post is to promote access to, and facilitate use of, this collection, through detailed, online cataloguing. In order to achieve this I have been working with fellow professionals from the University of Edinburgh Library, which is home to Fairbairn’s own library. Our intention is to re-establish the relationships that exist between his papers and his books and to create a website through which both collections can be accessed.

The first three months of this project have been a revelation to me. Ronald Fairbairn’s papers roughly span the period of 1891-1964, a period that I happen to know quite a bit about through other archives I have worked with. However, the documents in this collection have provided me with a new window to this world: one that reveals some of its darker psychological spaces as well as those that are reassuringly familiar.

Fairbairn’s papers have a research interest for a wide variety of mental health professionals and researchers, after all, some of his most important published papers continue to influence psychoanalytical thought today. Much of the collection provides an insight into Fairbairn’s working methodologies and the constantly evolving nature of his research interests.

However, the collection is comprised of a variety of materials – including newspaper cuttings, photographs (such as the one of Ronald Fairbairn, c 1895, below) personal papers and drawings – as well as, occasionally, totally unexpected material.

WRD Fairbairn c 1895

During the remainder of this project I intend to share with you some of the stories you might expect to see but also, many that you won’t! Plus, I also hope you will be able to help me by solving some of the ‘archival mysteries’ I have come across in the past three months.