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拍品专文
The series Les Péchés Capitaux was created over a period of 16 years, from 1888 to 1904, and was collated and published in an album in 1904. Eugène Demolder, a friend and enthusiastic supporter of Ensor’s work, provided the preface:
'The seven sins, as old as the catholic world, have tempted many painters. The Italians, faithful – in spite of the bells of the campaniles and the venerable basilicas – to paganism found in them a pretext to portray voluptuous scenes. The Gothic artists who appeared, when they painted, to unfold hands, which had been joined in prayer, saw the sins in a pious light, through the delicate stained-glass windows of their mysticism. Bosch and Brueghel filled them with baroque marionettes, grotesque drunkards, ridiculous females, in crazy landscapes where chapels burn. The 17th century produced powdered, perfumed and rouged sin, endowing it with a perverse prettiness. Certain modern artists have poured the morbid elegance of today in it. James Ensor mixes brutality with devilry. Ferociously, he gives us the image of his contemporaries in the merciless mirror of his irony. He is without pity. He doesn’t embellish. With mocking realism he accentuates the ugliness, the hideous features.’
'Solemn, punctual, grave, haughty, ridiculous, with falling jowls, with a narrow, square, abrupt forehead, with a head which is too large for his cramped body, some vague notary or merchant or provincial mayor presents himself to a mass of beggars, humiliated and poor people who kiss his hands. A skeleton places a crown on his head. A rooster, its feathers raised, cries out to him as if it were trumpeting with fury. A donkey is watching. A dismal Sacristan reads a discourse; a shabby old woman holds a posy. Death, armed with its scythe, runs his bony finger through the wig of a peevish woman - maybe the partner of the notary, merchant or mayor - and is looking for her head lice. The scene is of a cruel and wanton observation. Everything is piteous, morose and grotesque in this triumph. The small city has rallied to it and is debased. Ensor takes his revenge.' (E. Verhaeren, James Ensor, 1908, quoted in: E. Gillis & P. Florizoone, James Ensor - A Collection of Prints, Artemis Fine Art, London & Paris/C. G. Boerner, New York & Düsseldorf, 2002, pp. 170, 176).
'The seven sins, as old as the catholic world, have tempted many painters. The Italians, faithful – in spite of the bells of the campaniles and the venerable basilicas – to paganism found in them a pretext to portray voluptuous scenes. The Gothic artists who appeared, when they painted, to unfold hands, which had been joined in prayer, saw the sins in a pious light, through the delicate stained-glass windows of their mysticism. Bosch and Brueghel filled them with baroque marionettes, grotesque drunkards, ridiculous females, in crazy landscapes where chapels burn. The 17th century produced powdered, perfumed and rouged sin, endowing it with a perverse prettiness. Certain modern artists have poured the morbid elegance of today in it. James Ensor mixes brutality with devilry. Ferociously, he gives us the image of his contemporaries in the merciless mirror of his irony. He is without pity. He doesn’t embellish. With mocking realism he accentuates the ugliness, the hideous features.’
'Solemn, punctual, grave, haughty, ridiculous, with falling jowls, with a narrow, square, abrupt forehead, with a head which is too large for his cramped body, some vague notary or merchant or provincial mayor presents himself to a mass of beggars, humiliated and poor people who kiss his hands. A skeleton places a crown on his head. A rooster, its feathers raised, cries out to him as if it were trumpeting with fury. A donkey is watching. A dismal Sacristan reads a discourse; a shabby old woman holds a posy. Death, armed with its scythe, runs his bony finger through the wig of a peevish woman - maybe the partner of the notary, merchant or mayor - and is looking for her head lice. The scene is of a cruel and wanton observation. Everything is piteous, morose and grotesque in this triumph. The small city has rallied to it and is debased. Ensor takes his revenge.' (E. Verhaeren, James Ensor, 1908, quoted in: E. Gillis & P. Florizoone, James Ensor - A Collection of Prints, Artemis Fine Art, London & Paris/C. G. Boerner, New York & Düsseldorf, 2002, pp. 170, 176).