Who’s that blonde on the red kayak? Why is she crossing the vertical body of water on a powerful symbol, too big for her? Talking about body, why is she wearing a cocktail dress? Is that an iceberg or a white sandy beach standing behind her? And what about the green, crooked hill hiding a fortress? Why only the kayak’s fore is mirrored into the lake? (by the way, is it a lake or a pool contained by grey marble walls?) Why the girl’s reflection is swiped by horizontal, quick brushstrokes as if to cancel her upside-down counterpart? A distant love, a memory the artist wants to get rid of, undoubtedly. All these questions, and many more, remain unanswered. Peter Doig‘s images seem to be painted with this unconfessed goal: to create a tale, an open story, a mystery to play with, at leisure. It can be a starry sky, people on a lobster- red beach, a building seen through the thick of a mediterranean vegetation, a truck cutting through the american plains: everywhere, in any case, we can feel something that rarely happens in contemporary art: a beautiful, electric silence.