Max Dupain in London

My favourite boozer is an old lawn bowls club in SW London. It's huge, with big old and tatty leather armchairs, gargantuan snooker tables and other assorted wobbly furniture. It's filled with old trophies, ornaments and assorted detritus from its previous incarnation as a sporting club for old geezers. (Why is lawn bowling only ever practised by older folk?)

In the entrance to the gents there's an old poster for a Max Dupain exhibition, replete with his iconic Sunbather.

It still surprises me to see this image in this context; this bit of iconic Australian vernacular in the entrance to the dunnies of an old bowls club in London. What is it doing here? It creates a dissonance which jolts me home and reminds me I'm out of place, regardless of the fact I've lived in London for over six years. I love that a photograph can have such an effect - it can remind me who I am and where I am and prompt me to question, why am I here?