In October 1952, René Magritte’s New York dealer, Alexander Iolas, a champion of the Surrealists in the United States and elsewhere, wrote him in protest. He had recently unpacked Personal Values(1952), the first of what are sometimes called Magritte’s hypertrophic images, in which oversized objects appear to crowd their settings. In this case, a lusciously painted tortoiseshell comb, a vivid blue-green glass, a gargantuan bar of soap, and other personal items dwarf a modest bedroom. The colors made him sick, Iolas reported. Had the work been hastily painted? He begged Magritte for an explanation:
"I am so depressed that I cannot yet get used to it. It may be a masterpiece, but every time I look at it I feel ill.... It leaves me helpless, it puzzles me, it makes me feel confused and I don't know if I like it."
One has to admire this freshness of perception in a man who also represented Max Ernst and was no stranger to disturbing imagery. Perhaps Iolas’s honesty disarmed Magritte. “Well, this is proof of the effectiveness of the picture,” he replied. “A picture which is really alive should make the spectator feel ill.”
The New York Review
October 25, 2018
