The Camargue 1956

André Masson made ‘The Camargue’ with soft, dry marks in tones of ochre, and hazy shades of grey. I imagine him, years ago, gently applying the pigment, one layer at a time, trying to catch the light on that landscape. You can almost feel the scratch of the crayon on the paper – a constant back and forth. It’s not about showing off skill; it’s about trying to capture the essence of the place, like squinting in bright sunlight to grasp the form of what you see. Look at the little marks that build the image, each one is like a note in a song, coming together to create a hazy atmosphere. It's a landscape, but it's also about how we see and remember places, filtered through feeling and memory. It makes me think about other artists like Joan Miró or even Cy Twombly, who used simple gestures to suggest so much. Artists keep talking to each other, across time, across styles. They inspire and challenge each other. I think what Masson shows us here is that painting is a conversation with yourself, with the world, and with art history.