The Inner World of an Artist on Canvas

Encountering Chagall’s Painting

It was a rainy early summer day — the perfect weather for wandering through museums and art galleries while travelling. My choice that day was the Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille.

As usual, I didn’t bother with museum maps, brochures or audio guides. In a building like this, I prefer to meander and let my feet decide. And so, moving from one hall to another, I suddenly stopped. In the corner of an adjacent room, my eyes caught a whimsical painting.

At first glance, I saw what appeared to be a gender-neutral artist seated in a studio, a canvas before them, a palette and brushes resting on their lap. But what struck me was this: the painter was not focused on their work. Instead, they were turned, looking back over their left shoulder.

Marc Chagall’s The Appearance of the Artist’s Family

That backward glance opened up the true heart of the painting. Behind the artist, at night, unfolds a crowded, colourful world.

A woman in a red dress stretches her arms wide, perhaps greeting the painter, or possibly distracting them. Her green-tinted face suggests she may carry something unsettling, a shadow of the negative. Above her, a similar figure – almost sharing the same long black hair but with a normal face – hints at an alternative self, a more familiar presence.

Farther in the distance, angels hover with flowers and books. An innocent animal’s head peers out. A couple reads from the same book. A bride stands between the canvas and the artist, bridging the two realities. Figures of men, women, and children drift, suspended like fragments of the past or fresh new dreams…

Curious, I glanced at the small card beside the painting – and smiled. Marc Chagall. No stranger to me. I first encountered his work more than twenty years ago when I stumbled into a church in Zurich, unprepared for the breathtaking beauty of his stained glass.

Now I understood: this was, in its way, a self-portrait. The seated figure is Chagall himself, on the left side of the canvas, occupying less than half the space. We glimpse only part of his painted surface, reflecting the same palette of red, yellow and deep blue that floods the scene behind him. He seems to be attempting to translate onto the canvas what already swirls behind him – memories, dreams, fantasies. Yet in this moment, he pauses, his right hand on his chest, gazing backward.

Is he distracted by the noisy world within?
Is he doubting himself?
Is he overwhelmed by memory and imagination?
Or is he pausing with excitement, on the edge of creation?

The religious symbols suggest a battle with inner demons. And in the corner, almost mischievously, a violinist with a divided, yin-yang face plays on, adding to the cacophony.

Below, in contrast, lies the earthly world: a dark blue landscape under a thin crescent moon. A church anchors the scene. A woman hurries with an umbrella, glancing back over her shoulder as if trying to escape.

The whole painting feels deeply psychological. We see the artist’s work, but behind it is something even more real: the crowded, colourful, noisy, angelic, and human world within.

The question is: How shareable is this inner world we carry?
And the next: How lonely are we, even with all these presences – angels, memories, people, music – inside of us?

Thankfully, as for me, at that very moment, my partner caught up with me in his own meandering through the museum. After listening to my animated musings, he simply suggested: “You should write a blog post about it.”

After writing this reflection, I looked it up online and discovered the painting’s title: L’Apparition de la famille de l’artiste (The Appearance of the Artist’s Family). How fitting.

The painting lingers with me still, whispering that our unseen worlds may be the most real of all.

As a hypnotherapist, I spend much of my time helping people explore the landscapes of their own inner worlds — memories, symbols, fears, and dreams that often feel just as crowded, colourful, and mysterious as Chagall’s canvas. His painting is a reminder that what lives inside us is not only real but profoundly creative, even when it feels overwhelming.

Perhaps that is the gift of Chagall: to show us that the unseen world within can be brought to light — not to silence it, but to honour it. And perhaps it is also an invitation: to pause, to look back, and to wonder what waits in our own inner gallery, ready to be seen.

Author’s note: Here’s from Wikipedia: “This oil on linen canvas is a family portrait in which the artist depicts himself at his easel surrounded by members of his family. Entered by donation in 1988 into the collections of the Musée National d’Art Moderne in Paris, it has been on deposit at the Palais des Beaux-Arts in Lille since June 15, 1990.”