A woman with a mole on her lip and an ordinary man close together, standing by the window of a train that is pulling away. Each one looks to the side. They hide so that no one sees that their bare hands are knotted, that they sweat together. Desire germinates in the form of a dark green sprout.
It is exactly the color of the wagon that rattles in the painting La Garde Forestière by Paul Delvaux, painted in 1960. The lovers are not seen in the canvas, but that is what the imagination that overflows in the works of the great Belgian artist who died is for. 30 years ago and has already become one of the artistic stars of 2024.
Delvaux (1897-1994) had a long life, an extensive, somber, mysterious and unique work, and one of the most recognizable and least copied of the 20th century. At the same time, in recent decades, his figure has been eclipsed by Magritte's apples and clouds (with a souvenir shop at Zaventem airport included) and even by the always immaculate shadow of Tintin.
However, Delvaux flew very high for decades; His recognition during his lifetime was incontestable (few artists can say this), to the point that Andy Warhol insisted on visiting him and taking photographs with him. The Belgian artist did not understand the reason for all the fuss. The Pop Art genius thought, perhaps, that those were his own 15 minutes of fame.
This year Delvaux is even in Campbells soup. In the edition of the Brafa fair, a great classic every January, this month in Brussels, which has been pyrotechnic, and already underway in Bozar and the Royal Museum of Arts with exhibitions that celebrate 100 years of the birth of surrealism in addition to another dedicated to him, an encyclopedic exhibition starting in October dedicated to The Worlds of Delvaux in his native Liege.
Neige sur Liège, sang Jacques Brel. The latter will be in La Boverie and will be promoted by the Foundation that bears his name. This year Belgium will not take off its gala dress at any time as it celebrates the 75th anniversary of the death of the also enigmatic James Ensor.
In Brafa, the same foundation that organizes the Liège exhibition has its own space and, in parallel, numerous galleries offer one or several pieces (seven-figure prices) by the man who has always carried the stamp of surrealist and who he always declined. That and all the isms that were foisted on him.
“Although he draws from the sources of surrealism and owes a debt to the surrealists, particularly Magritte and De Chirico, Delvaux did not adhere to either the ideas or the dimension of the surrealist collective. For him, art was never political, nor a platform for subversion. He was a loner and the pictures of him are the dreams that he had during the day and that he never explained. His connection with surrealism is the strange atmospheres and the presence, side by side, of incongruous elements, which flow into a river of poetry,” defines Camille Brasseur, director of the foundation.
who walks with Magazine through a garden of works of incalculable value (or calculable in millions of euros if you prefer). The Sleeping Venus (1932), The Ladies' Hairdresser (1933), The Burial (1957), Chrysis, (1967) starring that naked model, long dark eyelashes, lowered eyes, a half-finished candle, lined stairs maroon velvet. An unlit lamp.
The elements are repeated. The tracks, the trains, the smoke, memories of his childhood very close to a station. Ancient Greece that drinks from the environments of De Chirico. Many galleries offer one or several works by Delvaux where the model or the skeletons that are alive, dead or zombies reign alone, but which represent one of the basic elements of his universe.
In The Burial there is the skeleton that has died, those who mourn it, those who watch over it, those who are clothed and those who are naked. In The Danse Macabre, a watercolor and ink from 1934, in the gallery the skeletons dance, rise towards the clouds, vaporize, the sky is one of the gloomiest in the history of art.
The skeletons are us, they are you, they are our conscience. Going to work, enjoying a party. “Sometimes Delvaux's graphic work is strangely related to Picasso,” explains Bethsabée Hervy, director of the Belgian Royal Chamber of Dealers.
Matilde Daufresne, from the Opera gallery, poses in front of one of Delvaux's most extraordinary paintings, La Fin du Voyage (1968), which is for sale for four million euros, partly because it is a unique work "where everything comes together." poetic, with the dreamlike with the precision of down to the last detail as in the electric poles of the tram.”
It is true that Magritte's moons are universal, but the one that appears in this Delvaux canvas is not far behind. In many of his paintings it is day and night at the same time. Experts point out that Delvaux's dimension would have been much greater if he had not destroyed so many paintings because he did not like them or they had taken on a life of their own and had rebelled against him.
Experts are investigating its last period, which does not appear in the catalog raisonné, which was closed in 1975, and in the 1920s and 1930s, where there are still gaps. In the thirty years that have passed since his death, many trains have passed, many loves that have taken off or remained on the siding.
While the clouds pass and the sparks from the catenary offer small fireworks displays. The couple in the dark green bud-colored carriage have their own pyrotechnics in their respective eyes.
