When the hour strikes 1965

René Magritte made "When the hour strikes," sometime in the 20th century using oil on canvas. Magritte's brushwork is so smooth, almost invisible, which is so different from my own process. The classical, almost academic handling of the paint, with a very thin application of pigment, creates this dreamlike feeling, a sense of hyperreality. Look closely at the torso. There's this weird tension between the sensuality of the body and its cold, stone-like texture. The way the light caresses the curves and contours is beautiful but also eerie. The shadow cast on the ground gives it a ghostly presence. A bit like those Giorgio de Chirico paintings, it has a similar sense of displacement and enigma. What does it mean? What does it signify? I don't know, and I like it that way. It keeps the conversation going, keeps the mystery alive.