Le Cirque
circa 1906
This is a painting of raw emotion. Each streak of colour is charged with a fervour that seems to agitate the surface of the canvas, almost like an unreachable itch that causes a pleasurable uncertainty as to whether it is welcome or not. Put together, the paint strokes behave like an army of beautifully-scaled fish which swarms across the scene with no particular destination but with the need to prove its mad love of life. But it is a current that threatens to implode on itself, unable to break free of the painting’s four constricting sides which maliciously mock it for its crazed, deranged perception of a life made simply from a few blotches of artificial pigment. Thus the army is forced to revolve inside the constraints of its own reality – one that embodies the painting’s original honesty in which Vlaminck infused his turbulent feelings, and one that echoes the shallowness of its own synthetic medium. It is fighting a visual war with itself in attempt to stabilise the two opposing qualities responsible for its very existence, and as a result the painting’s true voice breaks through. The dancing irregular shapes, the fiery colours and the sloping waves of perspective all roar in chaotic chorus a song about living life without rules or regrets, and most importantly about accepting true beauty – however uncommon – in the most unlikely places and things.
