The Pilgrim 1966

René Magritte made 'The Pilgrim' with oil on canvas, and look at that sky, so matte and evenly toned, so unlike anything in nature. It's as if he wants to make it absolutely clear that this is artifice, a stage for a drama of the mind. I love the way Magritte plays with the flatness of paint to create illusions. There's no visible brushwork, no impasto, just this smooth, almost ghostly surface. Take the floating bowler hat, for instance. It's rendered with such precision, such a lack of texture, that it feels like a symbol plucked from a dream. And then there’s that severed head just floating, so cool and calm. Magritte reminds me a bit of Giorgio de Chirico, another master of unsettling juxtapositions. But where de Chirico's shadows hint at existential dread, Magritte offers a kind of deadpan humor. Both artists remind us that painting isn't about answers, it's about opening up a space for questions.