Page 47 - Studio International - July 1966
P. 47

Constant Permeke



                                  London commentary by J. P. Hodin
                                  Years ago I frequently spent my summers at Lo, not far  Sometimes he laughed noisily, like Rabelais' Gargantua;
                                  from Veurne in West Flanders and near Alveringhem  at other times he was moody, easily upset, often deeply
                                  where Cyril Verschaeve, one of those responsible for the  moved. He had the rich nature of Rubens, but unlike
                                  revival of the Flemish literary language, once lived.  Rubens belonged to the people. He was their painter and
                                  From Alveringhem, facing Lo, a narrow canal led to  draughtsman and, during his last years, their sculptor.
                                  Poperinge, where Constant Permeke's parents came    I am thinking here not of the people of industrial cities,
                                  from. In those days this greatest of Flemish painters  but the people of an old-fashioned agricultural com-
                                  since James Ensor used to spend weeks on a boat anchored   munity, with its established customs, beliefs, supersti-
                                  near the Lo bridge, in that flat land where windmills  tions, bright costumes, poverty mixed with well-being —
                                  and church towers are the only landmarks and the  the almost-Biblical people who face the changing seasons,
                                  country paths planted on both sides with poplars or ash  till the ground, fish the sea, and live vigorous lives. All
                                  draw a chessboard pattern.                         this found its way into Permeke's art. 'In art as in life all
                                   Constant Permeke was both  Thyl Uilenspiegel, the spirit  that is abundant gave him joy.' There was something of
                                  of Flanders (Van you bury Uilenspiegel?' asked de  van Gogh's spirit in him, a similar penetrating and ele-
                                  Coster. 'No. Flanders can sleep but not die.') and Lamme   mental seriousness and tenacious sorrow, so that his
                                  Goedzak,  the stoutly-woven sack filled with good things.  work was a direct expression of human passion and
                                  His head was heavy, like a ripe fruit, he had a ruddy  meditation. And because he went back to primary sensa-
          La basse-cour c.1932    complexion, and his prominent lower lip gave him a   tions he represented the type, not the individual. His
          Oil
          23 1/2 x 29 1/2 in.     facial expression halfway between a pout and a smile.   men— a sower, a fisherman—are not particular men but
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