Chorus of the sphinx 1964

René Magritte made Chorus of the Sphinx without a known date, playing with scale and perception, like a visual riddle. Magritte's brushwork is smooth and deliberate, almost like he's trying to hide the fact that a human hand made this. But that's part of the charm, right? The colours are muted, almost dreamy, which adds to the surreal atmosphere. Look at the way the giant leaf floats against the sky. It's so out of place, yet it feels strangely natural. The leaf is both there and not there; it's a symbol, but of what? I am more interested in the tree line that dominates the middle ground. Each tree seems like a very small, methodical mark making decision. How does it feel to repeat the same small mark over and over? And what is that repetition in service of? A wall, a barrier, something unknown and unknowable? Magritte makes me think of other surrealist painters, like Salvador Dalí, but Magritte's got this quiet, understated weirdness that's all his own. It’s as though painting is about making questions rather than statements.