The Toilet 1957

Balthus’ painting, The Toilet, of uncertain date, seems to have been made with thin layers of paint, one on top of the other, like glazing. The palette is limited: warm skin tones and muted greys, grounded by the pops of colour in the floral fabric. It makes me think about how painting is a process of building up, of adding and subtracting, until something emerges. You can see the texture of the canvas throughout. It isn't concealed. The paint is applied in a way that allows the surface to breathe. Look at the right leg of the figure. It’s just a few strokes of colour, a whisper of form, and yet it’s so present. That kind of vulnerability, that willingness to leave things unresolved, is something I find really compelling. It is as though Balthus wants to keep the painting open, alive, a conversation. I think Balthus is in dialogue with artists like Piero della Francesca, you can see it in the cool detachment of the figure. All these artists show us that art isn’t about answers but about embracing the questions.