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Texts on my painting

by Roland Buraud

On the denial of Saint Peter

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The Denial of Saint Peter.

In Rembrandt, what there is, and what touches me, is this light which rises from the shadow, and which does not seem to come from any source. As if produced by the subject himself.

In the impressive collection of self-portraits that punctuate his pictorial experience, but also in a number of biblical paintings and etchings, and up to The Night Watch, I remember a painting that struck me during my last visit to the Rijksmuseum, and that I had not noticed before despite my frequent visits (the encounter with a work is the result of chance and maturity).

The Denial of Saint Peter.

This is the scene where Saint Peter refuses to acknowledge, after Christ's arrest, that he was. He is probably afraid... And everything happens off-screen... I don't know... Christ, from behind, a dark silhouette, in the foreground, occupies a large triangle at the bottom left of the painting, as if absorbed, merged with my projected, carried shadow. As if it were me. I, the spectator, am Christ.

I see Pierre, I perceive only a few spots lighting up the forehead, the nose, a sketched hand, barely spoken, superbly unfinished, in a movement of retreat trying to disappear into the painting, while a servant lights the white coat with a candle hidden by her right hand, yellow incandescence, as if he were denying his own denial, and, through painting again, trying to dissolve himself in a greenish but golden light, in this half-light where nothing can really be said except terror, through modesty.

It's all there. The pain of betrayal, the pain felt by betrayal, remorse, forgiveness. The intimacy of the scene, the absence of anecdote, the purity of the space, this strange framing, and this light whose source we don't know, open us to the drama that is being played out.

Monday April 17th


I am rereading the interview about Rembrandt for correction. I have just come back from Amsterdam. I have seen the exhibition. I have seen or seen again The Denial. The impression is no longer the same. I do not recognize in the painting described above the one currently exhibited.

Is there another one, a sketch perhaps? The Rijksmuseum being closed for renovations I cannot check. In any case it is not Christ who stands in shadow and from behind in the lower left corner of the painting, but a Roman soldier, in profile, sitting nonchalantly on a railing and seeming little concerned by the scene.

If it is not in the light, one cannot say that it is treated in silhouette, but rather simply sketched in broad black strokes. The rest, quite consistent with my memory, for the general impression, nevertheless shows Christ in the background moving away, turning around as if to verify the accuracy of his prediction: "You will betray me three times before the cock crows."

I am a little devastated. Am I a bad witness? What trick is this good Van Rijn playing on me? Has he made an inexhaustible sorting out that leads the viewer to the back of the painting, towards Christ, could he, the viewer, be one of those faces closing the composition and one of which evokes the artist's own features, forcing him to turn the space inside out as one does with a sock?

This soldier would have known how to serve the reflection of Pierre in the soldier's eyes... Who knows...

Have I invented a Rembrandt from scratch, and from all dreams?

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©2025 by Etienne Buraud

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