The Lustre 1952

Paul Delvaux painted this dreamscape, The Lustre, sometime in 1952 with oil on canvas. The paint is applied thinly, almost like a wash, particularly in the background, creating a sense of distance and detachment. The scene feels so still, quiet, as if suspended in time. The figures are rendered with a smooth, almost porcelain-like finish, yet their poses and expressions feel stiff, awkward, and a little unsettling. The woman in the center reclines with an easy grace, while her compatriots are very obviously posed, gazing at something we can’t see. It’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on, but the odd combination of classical elements – like the columns – with the unnerving stillness of the figures creates a haunting, surreal atmosphere. This reminds me of Balthus’ paintings, they both have that eerie, quiet quality, capturing the strange undercurrents of human existence. Ultimately, I think Delvaux wanted to leave us with more questions than answers.