‍The Others, the Self, the Narcissus complex — these are the themes explored in the paintings of Montreal artist Claude St-Jacques. This is not necessarily the first idea that comes to mind when looking at her elegant, nuanced works. Yet after a moment of sustained attention, focusing more closely on the stylized female form at the center of most of her compositions, the viewer gradually begins to search for meaning in the choice of pose and the symbolism of the composition, attempting to decipher the sense behind the deceptive simplicity of the imagery.

‍This attempt directly echoes the artist’s own personal quest in search of the essence of being, of the Self. In this process, both artist and viewer may find themselves confronted with the inherent duality of the human psyche… and the dance of masks begins. Claude St-Jacques strips the being of all its metaphysical layers, reducing the human body to its simplest expression: a silhouette without head or limbs, more symbol than person.

‍Titles such as Athena infuse certain figures with mythological or ancient resonance. In this particular work, exhibited at Galerie St-Dizier in Old Montreal, the sculpted torso of a woman in white, set against a black background, evokes a mythic sentinel whose body is marked by barely visible, strange writings.

‍Dinner on 47th Street stands out for its more complex composition, combining the human form with geometric silhouettes, thereby creating an unusual dialogue between figuration and abstraction. Colour plays an important role in this work.

‍The delicate gauze dress, which caresses the body more than it covers it, contrasts with the dark tones of the diamond-shaped patterns with sharp angles that complete the image. In Waiting for the Storm, the pale blue dress of the figure is awkwardly placed on a body with slightly blurred contours, its vulnerability heightened by the ominous title. A cascade of skirts dominates The Graduates’ Ball, in which the symbolic female form dances among very soft yellows, blues, and greys.

‍Claude St-Jacques’s mythical Venus appears as a self-biographical creation of a solitary artist. “I am inspired only by what is within me,” she once explained when speaking about her creative process. This movement — both intuitive and deliberate — can be felt in the artist’s hand as it moves across the canvas.

‍From the backgrounds emerge beings that are simultaneously expressions of the artist’s personality and of a barely perceptible viewer, as if on the verge of coming into focus but still too timid to reveal their features. These faceless figures, incomplete and vulnerable creative attempts, nevertheless radiate a presence that cannot be ignored.

‍The mystery of St-Jacques’s art lies in what is concealed just beneath the surface of the portrait, suggested only by shimmering borders that frame and contour an extremely simplified human form — as though a manifestation of the invisible, an energy detached from this world, had entered the body. Could this be the soul?