Photo: Hugo Lorini
Under his hand, women danced, stretching their long legs into stars, sometimes from here, sometimes from there. As in his life, the Îles-de-la-Madeleine and Thailand fade away to leave him all the space. We will never have known such a just, inspiring, gentle being.
Acrylics, inks, lines, crumpling tones and raw hues emerged from his frenzied spatulas. One had to see René Lemay paint. I often watched him work, between the rays of sunlight passing through the grimy windows of an old chicken coop in the industrial district of Saint-Eustache. I attended his very first exhibition, when he was already distinguished by his sense of humour, his colours taken straight from the tubes, his evident tenderness. How I admired this artist said to be self-taught.
Self-taught? René spent his entire life preparing to become the greatest painter in America through his astonishing observation of everything happening around him, admiring the works of his contemporaries and telling himself that he was equipped to do even better.
René the curious
René the ambitious
The seller of dreams
The beloved father
The affectionate husband
René the generous friend
It is to you that I am speaking, René Lemay. Try to continue dazzling us. Because you can never truly leave. You have left the world your roots, your ambitions, your colours, your sculptures, your paintings, your children, your restrained laughter. So, darling, do not pretend to be gone. You will never leave this earth, for you will live in the memory of those who were lucky enough to cross your path. You will live through your works. You once told me: what matters is to leave a body of work behind. It is the greatest chance to live for eternity. Farewell, my friend. And thank you for everything.
FRANCINE ALLARD, writer and painter
October 3, 2015, Saint-Eustache