The connivance 1965

René Magritte made this painting, called ‘The Connivance,’ with oil on canvas, but the year is unknown. The composition is clean: stone rocks with a stone fish perched atop them, by the sea, under a cloudy sky. I imagine Magritte applying paint in thin layers, almost like washes. It’s as if he’s searching for the right density, slowly building form and atmosphere with each stroke. His work isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about quiet observation. I can imagine him thinking deeply about the material aspects of painting. The grays and blues create a sense of serene melancholy, and the fish is almost like a monument. His artistic language is more akin to poetry than prose. Magritte’s world feels so familiar. He seems to whisper to us, inviting us to question what we think we know about reality.