René Magritte: The Fifth Season

"The Fifth Season" is an exhibit of paintings by René Magritte (1898-1967) now showing at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It features work from the latter part of his career, starting with the 1940s, when World War II was raging in Europe.

I've been a fan of Magritte for a long time, but I gave up trying to figure out the meaning of his paintings at the Royal Academy of Art in Brussels, which had more works by this highly prolific artist than I could digest in one afternoon. However, after viewing this well-arranged show, with seldom-seen works borrowed from all over the world, and doing some online study, I suddenly had a feeling that I could understand the paintings now. I thought I would share my thoughts in hopes that the reader might be stimulated to put on their own interpretative cap: the "true meaning" is up for grabs.

The Human Condition, 1933

In the 1930s, Magritte was a well-known Surrealist. His images combined hard-edged realism with optical puzzles that played tricks between images and the realities they depict. He complicated the matter by assigning the works weighty titles that apparently bear no connection with the subject. My interpretation of this work is that the human condition is such that we mistake illusion for reality; we are deluded.

The Return, 1940

Here the silhouette of a bird in flight is filled with very realistic clouds of a daytime sky. The setting is a dark night where trees are silhouetted in black, as you would expect. In the foreground is a naturalistic depiction of 3 perfect eggs. If the bird form represents the soul, and the eggs represent the birth process, we might have a statement about death and rebirth, or the eternal life of the soul.  

During the 1940s, Magritte abandoned his signature flat style, and experimented with brushier styles, such as Impressionism, Expressionism, and Fauvism. The generally accepted explanation is that he felt disillusioned and alienated during the German Occupation of Belgium. Magritte was born in Belgium and lived there most of his life, and he stayed in Brussels during the Occupation.

I think his reasons may have been more artistic than war-related. Even though his brushstroke might be loose to the point of messiness, his tricky turn of thought is very recognizable, and there is no emergence of social or political themes. Nazis were not keen on Surrealism, and it could be that he wanted to cloak his haunting questions in styles that had proved acceptable. It could also be that as an artist he was saying, "Even when I change my style, I'm still myself." It should also be noted that during this time Magritte was supplementing his income by selling copies of other artists' works.

The Fifth Season, 1943

The show was named for this crude and brushy painting of two anonymous similar men carrying paintings in opposite directions. One carries an image of the forest; the other an image of the sky. There is something sombre about this work; the artist doesn't know whether he is coming or going; dragging himself though his routine, he perseveres in his effort to sell paintings. This painting is very much in the manner of Edvard Munch, a contemporary whose roughly rendered figures are doubtful and confused.

Forethought, 1943

By shocking contrast, Magritte painted this utterly delightful bouquet, worthy of Renoir or Monet, in the same year. Surrealism as a movement was over at this point, but as a style, this painting clearly shows a similar way of thinking. The flowers are wonderfully convincing, but examples of several different species are growing on the same plant, which is more like a tree than a bush, and which looms gigantically over a serene impressionistic landscape.

The Harvest, 1943

In that same year, Magritte made a little art history joke. There was a long tradition of treating the reclining nude in this posture with upraised arm and sleeping or dreaming face. Historically, she was supposed to be receiving the god Zeus in the form of a shower of gold; so she might be blissed out, so to speak. In this case, instead of Zeus hovering overhead, she has a dream of a beautiful, fertile landscape in the background. The surreal element is the body's coloration; if you had been in contact with a supernatural power, you might feel he had brought out your true colors.

Elsinore, 1944

This picture shows a figure of a castle combined with that of a forest in a green land under a cloudy sky. Elsinore is a real port in Denmark, and it is also the name of the Castle where Hamlet lived with his benighted family. Again, this painting makes me think Magritte was seriously exploring the styles of other painters because it looks so much like the forest scenes of Gustav Klimt, another contemporary artist.

Image with a Green House, 1944

Can we squeeze in a little music? The world is very regulated and insulated, very closed and overheated—is anyone making room for culture? The title directs us away from the violin, which is trying to hide in the shadows.

Intelligence, 1946

Here we have two identical men wearing masks and caps looking at each other as though they were scheming. Behind them are icons of industrialization. On the right is a candelabra-like figure with three identical female faces gazing toward the men with very expressive looks. The color scheme is overheated. Once again, culture appears to be threatened. Perhaps a painting like this does show alienation; the painter feels that his values are threatened.

The Cut-Glass Bath, 1946

This little work from the same year, a gouache on paper, is a straight-forward wine-drinker's joke. Want to feel as lofty as a giraffe? Have a nice glass of wine; it centers you, as shown by the concentric white brushstrokes.

By the late 1940s Magritte had resumed his signature crisp style, and added new complications to his philosophical themes. The War was over and life was starting to return to normal. The art market was waking up, and his contemporaries were pumping out work in fresh styles.

The Liberator, 1947

Magritte's hard-edged super-realism has returned with this image, along with cynical wit. Whatever the liberator is, he ain't what he's cracked up to be. His promises are just castles in the air.

The Pebble, 1948

Here Magritte clones the late style of fellow surrealist Georgio de Chirico to present a frank image of a woman masturbating. She is in a room that morphs into the ocean, suggesting that auto-eroticism can take you away from it all. The experts who mounted the show worried about the painting's title; I think the meaning would be evident to any woman similarly engaged.

Sheherazade, 1950

Sheherazade is a character in a collection of Middle Eastern folk tales first compiled in English in the early 1700s. She is a young woman who attempts to trick a sultan who has a practice of bedding a virgin every night and beheading her the next morning. She forestalls her own death by telling the king a fascinating story, and stopping each morning before it is finished. She has prepared herself for this challenge by absorbing all the great literature and histories of her time. She holds the king's interest for 1001 nights—which would be over 3 years—by which time, he is in love with her. He marries her and makes her his queen. Which says a lot about the value of story-telling and the imagination. Magritte represents this magical person as a bejeweled carnival mask; she is the ultimate mystery because she contains infinite wisdom.

The World of Images, 1950

This sunset is so gorgeous that it burst through the window.

The Survivor, 1950

This is the most pointed and poignant of Magritte's images, a weapon covered in blood. Its placement in a homey, well-lighted room, depicted with loving attention to textures and patterns, connects it with American pop art. It resonates loudly nowadays when random bloodshed is so commonplace.

The Fair Captive, 1950

A stormy night on the ocean; a brilliant campfire illuminates a picture frame, which may be empty or may be a perfect likeness of the ocean, but somehow manages to reflect the fire's light; the fire is complemented by a boulder on the other side of the easel. The four elements are represented: air, earth, water and fire. I think the implied artist is trying to express something infinite; a successful painting is a fair captive of his effort.

The Active Voice, 1951

This portrait of an isolated rock—could be a boulder or a magnified pebble—is one of Magritte's bluntest statements. No matter how closely you look at an object, you still can't understand it. The title adds an aggravating complication; nothing seems more silent and passive than a stone. Is an active voice as hard as stone? The artist wants to worry you with these questions, in order to point you toward the mystery in art.

The Kiss, 1951

Here we recognize the free spirit represented by a cloud-filled silhouette of a bird in flight. The free spirit feels at home in the starry night with the eternal ocean as its companion.

Pandora's Box, 1951

Pandora is a character in a Greek myth who unknowingly opens a jar left in her husband's care by Zeus, the most powerful of the gods. The jar contained sickness, death and many other unspecified evils, which were then released into the world. The jar was long ago mistranslated as a box. Magritte said of this painting, "The presence of the rose next to the stroller signifies that wherever man's destiny leads him, he is always protected by an element of beauty."

Personal Values,  1952

This humorous painting, which is owned by SFMOMA and frequently on view, is such an appealing puzzle that the mind can hardly settle down. We recognize a comb, a neatly made bed, a wooden match, a wine glass, a bar of soap, a mirrored armoire, and a shaving brush, but the proportions are comical, the walls give way to the sky, and we have a pesky reflection that can't be explained. Can we say that sleeping and dreaming, smoking and drinking, personal grooming and reflective thinking are some of the painter's personal values. Or is this just a silly joke. The painter wants to put you on the edge of understanding.

The Blow to the Heart, 1952

It doesn't take much interpretation to relate to this figure. A pink rose generally stands for love, and the sharp connection between a thorn and a dagger is easy to make. Whenever you let love into your life, you open yourself to the possibility of pain. Is this a general observation, or is Magritte reacting to something in his life? For instance, Magritte's mother tried to commit suicide several times and finally succeeded in drowning herself when he was 13.

The Enchanted Domain, 1953

The Enchanted Domain in place at the casino.
Internet grab.

In 1953 a fan of Magritte's commissioned him to decorate the walls of a grand circular room in his casino in the seaside town of Knokke, Belgium. Instead of painting directly on the walls himself—which is a specialized skill—he did a series of eight easel paintings that technicians could enlarge and place continuously around the room. This gave the artist a chance to create an enchanted world filled with his own metamorphic figures. This exhibit includes five of Magritte's paintings.

Can we say that the enchanted domain, or enchanted realm, is a world where nothing is what is seems to be? Where absurdity reigns supreme? Where the rules of rationality don't apply? Good setting for heedless gambling.

The Dominion of Light, 1954

One of Magritte's best known themes is a dark city street under a blue sky with puffy daytime clouds. It should be mentioned that the scene he saw from the windows of his own home was a neighborhood like this one. Also in far northern regions like Finland, where the sun never goes down, it is possible to see real scenes where the streets are dark while the sky is still light. Some of these paintings seem almost like that. 

The artist produced several variations on this theme, partly because it was popular, and partly because the idea fascinated him. In each one, the idealized sky is a different shade of blue, the arrangement of houses and street lamps and silhouetted trees is different, and the light effects in the dark half of the image vary. The exhibit included several of these, but a two is enough to get the point. 

If you have day and night at the same time, you have the whole day at once. And the best part of the night or the day is the light, which makes everything visible, or almost visible, and makes painting possible.

Euclid's Promenades, 1955

Once again we have a canvas on an easel in front of a window. The cityscape in the window, presented as the real thing, is just as much an illusion as the cityscape on the canvas within a canvas. And the confusion between illusion and reality is compounded by an optical illusion calling attention to the illusion that from a certain perspective, parallel lines do come together, just like the sides of a cone. Euclid was a Greek mathematician who is considered to be the founder of geometry. Space, like time, is arbitrary and relative.

Hegel's Vacation, 1958

Now that we're all familiar with the value of absurdity, at least from the songs of the Beatles—"I'm fixing a hole where the rain's comin' in, and stops my mind from wanderin'"—the juxtaposition of a glass of water and an umbrella draws an easy guffaw. Hegel was a 17th century German philosopher who proposed the idea of "absolute idealism," in which the dualisms, such as mind and nature, and subject and object, are overcome.

The Listening Room, 1958

 This gorgeous oversized apple looks trapped and wistful. From Genesis, apples have associations with temptation, with knowledge, and with evil. And what about this 'listening room.' Is the room listening to the apple? Is the apple there to listen to the ocean? Is listening a form of temptation?

The Anniversary, 1959

Now it's the boulder's turn to fill the room and gaze at the ocean. Taken at these gargantuan sizes, inanimate objects such as an apple and a rock, seem to assume awareness and feelings. The rock seems a little more at home than the apple, but it must long for a little breathing space. Is Magritte an animist? Does he see every natural object as living and aware? Or perhaps when an anniversary comes up he feels too large for his situation.

The Tomb of the Wrestlers, 1960

This poor rose is not only too large for its space, it is harshly lighted as though by an interrogator. How the title might be related stumps me; I comfort myself by remembering that Magritte was happy when he posed a problem that foiled the thought process.

Magritte was in his sixties in the 1960s, and his work reached its peak of popularity, with his images being adapted to commercial uses. He continued to be concerned with the nature of reality and the role of imagination and illusion. Many of his symbols returned in different formats.

The Great Family, 1963

Once again we have the cloud-filled silhouette of a bird in flight, this time rising out of the sea and into a stormy sky. Seabirds are at home with both the sea and the sky. The free spirit need not fear the threatening storm.

The End of the World, 1963

Once again we consider the view on a dark street, with buildings and trees, and a bowler-hatted head, are silhouetted against the sky. This time, however, the cheery daytime clouds and light is replaced by a dim and threatening sky. For a painter, the end of light is the end of the visual world.

A Sense of Reality, 1963

This time our beloved boulder is hovering over a serene landscape. Is the painter's sense of reality floating away?

We conclude with four paintings featuring a bowler-hatted man, or his silhouette, centrally framed, like a religious icon. The bowler-hatted man is generic and anonymous (none of the many images of him show a face), so he may stand for Everyman. However, Magritte himself dressed formally and wore a bowler hat, so he may have identified with the figure.

The Son of Man, 1964

This image illustrates the idea that behind every reality is another reality, or the truth is always hidden by illusion, and illusion is based on temptation. The artist offers his creations in place of himself.

The Granite Quarry, 1964

The tempting apple returns in a group of three, arranged on a granite wall by the sea. The silhouette of the bowler-hatted man is filled with both fluffy clouds and bright stars, with a crescent moon thrown in as well, against a pale, disappearing seascape. Dichotomies of night and day, organic and mineral, natural and spiritual come to mind. This figure is attending the mysteries inherent in reality.

High Society, 1965-1966

The bowler-hatted silhouette is filled with the familiar puffy clouds and peaceful seascape, and its shadow (!) is filled with a close view of foliage, suggesting a forest. The sea and the forest are good company, the highest form of society.

The Happy Donor, 1966

This time the bowler-hatted silhouette reveals a night scene, with a night sky. It is placed in front of a brick wall and accompanied by a bifurcated sphere, against a dull brown background. While the silhouette seems like a memory of home, the sphere has no corollary in the real world. The bifurcated sphere appears in many of Magritte's paintings, though only once in this group, and it never accumulates any meaning for me. Does the silhouette represent a happy donor? And what is it donating, anyway? It is donating mystery to life, or donating life to mystery.

Magritte died of pancreatic cancer in 1967 at the age of 68.  Year after year he made viewers question their assumptions about the nature of reality and the role of the imagination, and his influence is widely felt.

René Magritte with his bowler hat.