The break in the clouds (The calm) 1941

René Magritte painted ‘The Break in the Clouds’ sometime in the middle of the twentieth century. The way the paint is applied here, feels almost like soft pastel. It is incredibly delicate and airy, like the whole image could blow away with a gentle gust. There is something so tactile in the way the bodies are rendered, the visible brushstrokes contouring and defining the forms. The light seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, softening and flattening the figures, so that the folds of flesh around the shoulders and the gentle curve of the back are almost sculptural. It’s like the painting is trying to grasp something ephemeral, something just out of reach, and I find myself drawn to that ambiguity. Magritte’s work always has an uncanny feeling to it, like Giorgio de Chirico. It’s like you think you understand the image and what it represents, but something always remains elusive. It’s this ambiguity, this openness to interpretation, that makes his work so endlessly fascinating to me.