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Lot Essay
Held in the same private collection for over four decades, Le jardin nocturne is a beguiling depiction of five female figures in an opulent Italianate garden. Painted in July 1942, the present work is a captivating example of the striking and poetic dream-worlds that Paul Delvaux was renowned for. Here, pearlescent moonlight illuminates the verdant garden, which, with its lush lawns and colonnades of blossoming roses appears like an oasis before a backdrop of arid plains and mountains. Delvaux was conscious of his ability to imbue his works with a sense of shock and mystery, and knew that this power lay in the unexpected imposition of incongruous elements within a composition. Here, the barren surrounding landscape makes the highly-cultivated gardens all the more strange and striking, while the surprising presence of the nude women heightens the mystery even further.
The artist’s discovery of the metaphysical works of Giorgio de Chirico, as well as the startling and shocking art of the Surrealists in the early 1930s, was a seminal moment in his career. “To my mind, Surrealism meant freedom…” he explained. “De Chirico’s painting is poetry… while Magritte’s work is an entirely extraordinary mystery” (quoted in Delvaux and Antiquity, exh. cat., Museum of Contemporary Art, Andros, 2009, p. 24). Delvaux subsequently moved away from his early quasi-expressionistic style, perfecting his distinctive naturalistic and otherworldly brand of Surrealism over the second half of the decade. These paintings, with their imposing female figures and intermingled backdrops of Neoclassical architecture and rugged landscapes, garnered praise and interest from various members of the Surrealist group. Yet, while Delvaux felt aligned with the aesthetic tenets of the movement, he never became an official member, preferring to pursue independently his sense of the unreal and the enigmatic.
Unlike Magritte, who, upon leaving the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, supposedly remarked that “Botticelli’s Primavera isn’t bad, but I prefer it on a postcard,” Delvaux reverentially drew inspiration from the art historical canon (Magritte, quoted in G. Carels and C. van Deun, Paul Delvaux: His Life, Saint-Idesbald, 2004, p. 101). He had been enraptured by antiquity since childhood, and was exceptionally well-versed in the trajectory of Western art history, from the Paleolithic cave paintings of Lascaux which he declared were “perfect lines,” to the Post-Impressionist works of Paul Cezanne who he pronounced as “possibly the greatest painter of his time” (quoted in ibid., p. 103).
Delvaux travelled to Italy twice before the outbreak of the Second World War, first venturing there in 1937, and returning by car in the spring of 1938. Though the artist confessed himself to be a more “sedentary being,” he admitted that “one has to visit Italy if one wants to admire the Giottos, does one not?” (quoted in B. Emerson, Paul Delvaux, Antwerp, 1985, p. 93). Scholars have noted the development in the artist’s style following his Italian travels, as he embraced various elements of the Quattrocento and Mannerist compositions he had seen firsthand. Le jardin nocturne has a particularly Florentine feeling, created not only by the Italianate features of the garden—the geometric lawns, bubbling fountain, wide avenues lined with stylish topiary, and the surrounding loggia—but also in the elongated limbs and pronounced poses of the figures. The two furthermost nudes interlink their arms as they parade under the archway of roses, their stances reminiscent of the Three Graces in Botticelli’s Primavera.
Le jardin nocturne is, at first glance, a vision of serenity, in which a cloudless night sky, pricked with glittering stars, hangs over the paradisiacal moonlit gardens. Yet, Delvaux imbues the composition with a tense theatricality, and a sense of premonition. In the foreground, he renders the three figures mid-step as they advance towards the roses. In a transfixing synchronicity, their right arms are elegantly extended towards a pink bloom, and their hands anticipate plucking the flowers, index finger balletically pinched to thumb. Each is wholly absorbed in what they are about to do, their gazes intent on their chosen bloom, while their faces remain peaceful and impassive. The uncanny incongruity between their inscrutable expressions and the bold purposefulness with which they are positioned heightens the climactic intensity of the scene.
Throughout his oeuvre, the artist explored temporality as a means to infuse his works with a surreal and dreamlike quality, often interweaving anachronistic architecture or fashion to create the feeling of a realm beyond real time. In Le jardin nocturne, Delvaux expands upon this principle to enhance the dramatic potential of the scene, leaving his protagonists, and thus the viewer, in a moment of eternal suspense.
The artist’s discovery of the metaphysical works of Giorgio de Chirico, as well as the startling and shocking art of the Surrealists in the early 1930s, was a seminal moment in his career. “To my mind, Surrealism meant freedom…” he explained. “De Chirico’s painting is poetry… while Magritte’s work is an entirely extraordinary mystery” (quoted in Delvaux and Antiquity, exh. cat., Museum of Contemporary Art, Andros, 2009, p. 24). Delvaux subsequently moved away from his early quasi-expressionistic style, perfecting his distinctive naturalistic and otherworldly brand of Surrealism over the second half of the decade. These paintings, with their imposing female figures and intermingled backdrops of Neoclassical architecture and rugged landscapes, garnered praise and interest from various members of the Surrealist group. Yet, while Delvaux felt aligned with the aesthetic tenets of the movement, he never became an official member, preferring to pursue independently his sense of the unreal and the enigmatic.
Unlike Magritte, who, upon leaving the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, supposedly remarked that “Botticelli’s Primavera isn’t bad, but I prefer it on a postcard,” Delvaux reverentially drew inspiration from the art historical canon (Magritte, quoted in G. Carels and C. van Deun, Paul Delvaux: His Life, Saint-Idesbald, 2004, p. 101). He had been enraptured by antiquity since childhood, and was exceptionally well-versed in the trajectory of Western art history, from the Paleolithic cave paintings of Lascaux which he declared were “perfect lines,” to the Post-Impressionist works of Paul Cezanne who he pronounced as “possibly the greatest painter of his time” (quoted in ibid., p. 103).
Delvaux travelled to Italy twice before the outbreak of the Second World War, first venturing there in 1937, and returning by car in the spring of 1938. Though the artist confessed himself to be a more “sedentary being,” he admitted that “one has to visit Italy if one wants to admire the Giottos, does one not?” (quoted in B. Emerson, Paul Delvaux, Antwerp, 1985, p. 93). Scholars have noted the development in the artist’s style following his Italian travels, as he embraced various elements of the Quattrocento and Mannerist compositions he had seen firsthand. Le jardin nocturne has a particularly Florentine feeling, created not only by the Italianate features of the garden—the geometric lawns, bubbling fountain, wide avenues lined with stylish topiary, and the surrounding loggia—but also in the elongated limbs and pronounced poses of the figures. The two furthermost nudes interlink their arms as they parade under the archway of roses, their stances reminiscent of the Three Graces in Botticelli’s Primavera.
Le jardin nocturne is, at first glance, a vision of serenity, in which a cloudless night sky, pricked with glittering stars, hangs over the paradisiacal moonlit gardens. Yet, Delvaux imbues the composition with a tense theatricality, and a sense of premonition. In the foreground, he renders the three figures mid-step as they advance towards the roses. In a transfixing synchronicity, their right arms are elegantly extended towards a pink bloom, and their hands anticipate plucking the flowers, index finger balletically pinched to thumb. Each is wholly absorbed in what they are about to do, their gazes intent on their chosen bloom, while their faces remain peaceful and impassive. The uncanny incongruity between their inscrutable expressions and the bold purposefulness with which they are positioned heightens the climactic intensity of the scene.
Throughout his oeuvre, the artist explored temporality as a means to infuse his works with a surreal and dreamlike quality, often interweaving anachronistic architecture or fashion to create the feeling of a realm beyond real time. In Le jardin nocturne, Delvaux expands upon this principle to enhance the dramatic potential of the scene, leaving his protagonists, and thus the viewer, in a moment of eternal suspense.