The Therapist 1937

René Magritte painted “The Therapist” with oil on canvas sometime in the mid-20th century, and the gentle brushstrokes and muted colors really set a contemplative mood. It’s like Magritte is inviting us into a quiet, personal moment, where the boundaries between the internal and external blur. Check out the texture on that draped fabric, it almost looks like a makeshift tent—it’s not super obvious, but you can tell Magritte built it up layer by layer. Then there's that birdcage where you’d expect a torso, with two birds. I love how the softness of the birds contrasts with the rigid geometry of the cage, a stark reminder of confinement and freedom. Magritte is always playing with these kinds of paradoxes, kind of like Phillip Guston, who smashes together the profound with the mundane. The man, or rather, the idea of the man, is concealed, inviting us to reflect on what we hide, what we reveal, and the complex dance between our inner selves and the world.