Picture the scene. Beaming toddler leaps down the path clutching a painting. Circles, squiggles, and wavy lines in bright zany colours. Mum or Dad sweep up the impressive piece of artwork, pinning it on to the fridge for all to admire. Could this be the start of a burgeoning art career, the beginnings of a future Monet or Picasso? In the same way, when a little child kicks a ball around with some nifty footwork in the park, the idea of a famous footballer such as Lionel Messi in the family remains a fascinating thought. The answer is you won’t know yet, but there’s always a possibility.
I loved art and wielding a paint brush from an early age. Once, there was a zealous moment at the age of four, when our black farm cat burst out in oversized orange spots. Well… er… with some help from me as I pursued him round the garden.
Our secondary school in Ireland was hot on literature and culture. Yippee! Sandwiched between the intricacies of science and the sheer terror of Maths, was the History of Art with a superb teacher. I soaked it all up. Lowry, Matisse and Constable, with their fascinating lives and influences.
Rene Magritte has always been one of my favourite artists. Born in 1898, he lived most of his life in Belgium. He shunned the intellectual and artistic life of the capital, preferring to live with an unassuming identity. For him, the art of painting was a means of knowing life better and at the same time, liberating things from their familiar roles in everyday life. We are used to the images of birds in cages or apples on trees. Our interest is awakened more readily if the bird is replaced by a fish or a shoe. As a surrealist painter, Magritte had the knack of showing both the absurdity and contradiction in reality.
He has been described as a, ‘painterly Lewis Carroll’, who created a wonderland for children in his book, Alice in Wonderland, with the tales of the Queen of Hearts, the Mad Hatter and the White Rabbit. Maybe this is why I remain fascinated by Magritte, as this story was my favourite as a child. I spent a lot of time turning the pages and imagining I was Alice.
To look at a Magritte painting is to see through the barrier of time. His vision of the world, was one in which the people and things around him, could quite easily turn into something else. Bowler hatted commuters hung in the clear skies like April showers and express trains rushed out of open fire places.
The ultimate experience for an art lover, was a visit to the Rene Magritte Museum three years ago with my son. This building on the Place Royale, in a neoclassical hotel, houses a collection of original sculptures and drawings, in addition to the two hundred paintings. As I hovered in front of the artist, who I’d admired so much as a teenager, I was able to appreciate for the first time all his wonderful work, in the moody, half lit interior… the perfect setting. I will never own one of Magritte’s paintings, but the close proximity to this master of fantastic art was an experience to remember.
