René Magritte

(possibly) Camille Goemans, Paris (acquired directly from the artist)

Joë Bousquet, Carcassonne (probably acquired from the above circa 1929-30 and until at least 1946)

Palais Galliéra, Paris, 10 December 1964, lot 151

Gerald Wexler, New York

Byron Gallery, New York

Acquired in the late 1960s by the present owner

London, Hanover Gallery, The Poetic Image, 1966, no. 28, n.p., illustrated (dated 1930 and with incorrect dimensions)

Rotterdam, Museum Boymans-van Beuningen and Stockholm, Moderna Museet, Magritte: het mysterie van de werkelijkheid, 1967, no. 32, p. 96; p. 97, illustrated (Rotterdam); no. 23 (Stockholm) (dated 1929, with incorrect dimensions and incorrect provenance)

New York, Byron Gallery, René Magritte, 1968, no. 5, p. 21, illustrated (dated 1929)

Brussels, Palais des Beaux-Arts and Paris, Centre Pompidou, Rétrospective Magritte, 1978-79, no. 89, n.p., illustrated in color

Montreal, Museum of Fine Arts, Magritte, 1996, no. 54, p. 140, illustrated in color

New York, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, Surrealism: Two Private Eyes, 1999, vol. I, no. 128, p. 191; pp. 192-93, illustrated in color

Sarane Alexandrian, Dictionnaire de la peinture surréaliste, Paris, 1973, pp. 32-33, illustrated in color

Joë Bousquet, Lettres mêlées, Marcinelle, 1979, p. 51

Exh. Cat., Madison, Elvehjem Museum of Art, Richard Artschwager Public (public), 1991, fig. 4, p. 12, illustrated (dated 1928)

David Sylvester, ed., René Magritte: Catalogue Raisonné: Oil Paintings 1916-1930, vol. I, 1992, no. 299, p. 328, illustrated

Executed in 1928–29, L’Idée fixe is an early compendium of significant motifs that would recur throughout René Magritte’s oeuvre. Not only does it anticipate the iconographic vocabulary of his mature paintings, but it also marks one of the earliest instances of Magritte’s use of compartmentalization—a structural device he would return to repeatedly in later works. In the present work, the surface of the canvas is transformed into a faux wooden frame, rendered with trompe l’oeil realism. Divided into four compartments, each containing a distinct visual element, the composition disrupts conventional spatial logic while inviting open-ended associative interpretation.

Magritte had relocated to Paris in September 1927, a move made possible through his agreement with Belgian art dealer Paul-Gustave Van Hecke, who offered him a steady monthly income, engendering one of the most productive phases of his career. Liberated from what he dismissively referred to as his ‘imbecilic’ advertising work, he was finally able to concentrate entirely on painting, and over the course of the next three years he created nearly 360 works. “During his time in the French capital… Magritte became one of the most creative artists of the era, systematically challenging representation in painting in ways that no other artist had done before” (Josef Helfenstein in Exh. Cat., New York, The Museum of Modern Art, Magritte: The Mystery of the Ordinary, 1926-1938,, 2013-14, p. 72).

Living in Paris also brought him into contact with key figures of the Surrealist movement, including André Breton, Louis Aragon, Max Ernst and Salvador Dalí. Among this circle, Magritte was arguably the most adept at orchestrating juxtapositions of everyday objects in ways that feel both uncanny and precise. In the present work, four discrete vignettes are rendered in his meticulous, hyper-real visual language, each framed by beveled edges that draw the viewer’s eye inward and create a heightened illusion of depth across the pictorial surface. While each vignette addresses a distinct subject—the material and the animate, time and space—they are subtly unified through two shared visual cues: the sleek, honey-colored wood, a signature element in many of Magritte’s paintings, as well as the uneven, curving black corners, as though each scene were captured through the viewfinder of a box camera. This photographic framing suggests that each compartment is not just a painted image, but a moment paused in time—posing, in its own way, for a surreal portrait.

The only figural element—found in the lower right compartment—appears as a bust, likely a stylized reference to his wife, Georgette, whose image often appears in his work from this period. A comparable treatment appears in a 1937 portrait of her where an equally irrational constellation of objects surrounds her face. Suspended in a void of open sky, that later composition similarly destabilizes spatial logic, placing the subject in a world unmoored from physical reality.

The clock in the upper right quadrant introduces a temporal dimension of temporality into a composition otherwise detached from conventional markers of time or place. If the surrounding three compartments are read as projections of the female figure’s unconscious, the clock adds a layer of psychological dissonance, heightening the surreal effect. Like Dalí, who famously manipulated the concept of time to unmoor his imagery from reality and reframe it as subjectively elastic, Magritte employs the clock not to anchor the scene, but to further destabilize it. Time here is paradoxical: simultaneously fixed, forever caught at the precise minute and hour on the clock’s face, and yet utterly irrational, disconnected from linear progression.

Throughout Magritte’s oeuvre, stone functions as a potent metaphor for the boundary between the conscious and unconscious, reality and dream. Their evocation of the ancient and prehistoric imbues them with a metaphysical weight—suggesting permanence while pointing toward the unknowable. Around the time of the present work, Magritte began exploring the stone as a visual site of embedded meaning, treating everyday objects as if fossilized within slabs of rock. In LeDormeur téméraire (1928), for example, familiar forms—a mirror, a bowler hat, an apple—are embedded in stone beneath a sleeping figure, as though conjured from the depths of his dreams. These juxtapositions elevate the mundane into relics of psychic significance. A similar ambiguity is at play within the present work: the jagged cliff face, rendered with stark realism, calls into question the ephemeral nature of the other three objects.

In the lower right quadrant, Magritte gestures toward a reality that seems to extend beyond the canvas. The glimpse of blue sky suggests perspectival depth, yet the image remains bound to the painting’s characteristically frontal, flattened format. This tension evokes the recursive spatial play found in the architectonic compositions of Giorgio de Chirico and the scaffold-like structures of Kay Sage, where logic dissolves into poetic ambiguity. In L’Idée fixe, the physical impossibility of housing four distinct scenes within a single pictorial frame underscores the Surrealist preoccupation with perception, paradox, and the unreliability of the real.

Shortly after its completion, L’Idée fixe was acquired by the French poet Joë Bousquet. Wounded in combat during the First World War, Bousquet was left paralyzed and spent much of his life confined to his bed, surrounded by books and an extraordinary collection of art. From this intimate setting, he maintained a rich correspondence with many of the leading Surrealists—including Magritte, Max Ernst, Salvador Dalí and Hans Bellmer—whose works resonated deeply with his own poetic sensibility. A letter to the artist from July 1946 documents the work in Bosquet’s collection at the time; it likely remained in the writer’s possession until his death in 1950. L’Idée fixe has remained in the same private collection since the 1960s.