Pride 1904

James Ensor’s etching, Pride, looks like it has been built up with a frenetic energy, its web of lines creating a sense of unease. I can imagine him hunched over the plate, scratching and biting into the metal, his hand moving quickly and anxiously. It's hard not to feel a pang of sympathy for Ensor, imagining him grappling with the etching needle, wrestling the scene into being with its sardonic crowd of figures and skeletons. Perhaps the colours began as a kind of intuitive response, layering and juxtaposing to amplify the drama. I think the artist’s process is also a dance between intention and accident, where mistakes can become breakthroughs. The way the skeleton has been scrawled in at the edge of the crowd with its scythe is so casual and weird. Ensor’s not afraid to let the messiness of the medium be part of the message, which I always appreciate as a fellow artist, as it makes me feel part of this long conversation, and chain reaction, that we call painting.