Paul Delvaux

Brussels, Palais des Beaux-Arts, Delvaux, 1944-45, no. 41
Charleroi, Salle de la Bourse, XXXIème Salon du cercle royal artistique et littéraire de Charleroi, 1957, no. 50

Delvaux once said that when he was painting he always bore in mind the notion that a picture was a place in which one ought to be able to live (cited in Barbara Emerson, Delvaux, Antwerp, 1995, p. 400).  The inviting Mediterranean setting of Les Courtisanes has exactly that quality of recognition.  A stone colonnade provides a classical backdrop for six female figures who are as carefully placed within the picture as columns, or other architectural elements.  Delvaux was surely aware of the ancient connection made between the column and the female form, and here the subtle harmony between the figures and the measured rhythm of the classical architecture (one of the hallmarks of his style) underpins the structure of the composition. David Scott has pointed out how Delvaux's early mastery of architectural drawing played an all-important role in the development of his imagery:  'Delvaux uses perspective to establish a tension between nude and background, in which these elements combine, becoming charged with erotic energy.  In transmitting its electricity  along the lines of perspective with which it is juxtaposed, the nude body eroticizes its environment; the viewer of a work, while absorbed by the desirable objects in the foreground of the picture, is nevertheless enticed by the perspectival lines to look through or beyond them'  (D. Scott, Paul Delvaux:  Surrealizing the Nude, London, 1992, p. 103). As in so many of Delvaux's compositions, the deep perspective here allows a glimpse of a world beyond that is like a distant echo of the one being played out in front of us.

Delvaux loved ornament, as is evident in his treatment here of the richly patterned carpets, taking a particular pleasure in the intricate details of textiles and the textures of cloth. He was, as Scott reminds us, fully conscious of his obsession with detail, 'which he saw as a deeply Flemish characteristic' (ibid., p. 89), and here he gives it full rein, particularly  in the minutely described design of the pale orange and the blue Turkish carpet on the right. The softness of the rugs and the folds of the white cloth accentuate the feminine presence in this painting, which, as Gisèle Ollinger-Zinque has observed, is the real essence of Delvaux's work. 'The Delvaux woman is not just any woman: she is sphinx-like, having no past and no future. She is fixed in her immobility, indifferent to the people around her; she waits for something that does not happen and will never happen' ('G. Ollinger-Zinque, 'The making of a painter-poet', in Paul Delvaux 1897-1994, Brussels, 1997, p. 22).

For all its originality, Delvaux’ art shows a remarkable affinity with the work of other artists and artistic schools. He marries influences of mannerist rendering of the female body, which originated as a reaction against the humanistic conventions established during the Renaissance, on one side, and the rendering of perspective favoured by the Renaissance, on the other. The artist delights in representing the grandeur of ancient architecture, and in constructing lavish Roman-like piazzas to populate with his nudes. His use of clean horizontal and vertical lines replicates the simplicity and purity of classical architecture, whilst the diagonal line of the carpet diminishing into the distance refers to the treatment of perspective as developed by Renaissance masters (fig. 2). At the same time, his women are free of the expressive distortions of Michelangelo; they are rendered in an idealised fashion, and placed within a dream-like world, inspired by mannerist painting of the late fifteenth and sixteenth century.

Discussing Delvaux’ paintings in the context of mannerist influences, Barbara Emerson wrote: "One sees the nostalgic use of architectural settings against which are placed beautiful women, pearly to stress their essential irreality […] Florentine mannerism was imported into France where it evolved into the Fontainebleau School, an elegant, erotic, courtly art form. The dominant theme was woman, voluptuous, simpering, introspective or provocative. These earthly goddesses are remote from ordinary experience" (B. Emerson, Delvaux, Paris and Antwerp, 1985, p. 264).

Fig. 1, Paul Delvaux, La Vénus endormie, 1943, oil on canvas, Private Collection
Fig. 2, Piero della Francesca, The Flagellation of Christ, circa 1455, oil on panel, Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, Urbino