The flash 1959

René Magritte made "The Flash" with oil on canvas, and what strikes me is how much of a conversation it is with painting itself. It’s like he’s in dialogue with the history of still life, but also totally subverting it. The outside is brought inside and the inside seems like it is exploding outwards. What does it mean to frame a landscape with the silhouette of interior plants? I can imagine Magritte pondering this same question as he laid down each stroke. The colours are muted, almost ghostly, and there’s this incredible tension between the flatness of the painted surface and the illusion of depth. It’s as if he’s saying, “Look, I’m making a picture, but it’s also a window, and maybe a mirror too.” Magritte, like all of us painters, is in an ongoing conversation with those who came before, and those who will come after. He embraces the ambiguity, inviting us to see the world anew.