https://post.moma.org/the-silence-of-sanctuary-how-the-museum-served-as-a-safe-space-for-haitian-vodou-art/?fbclid=IwY2xjawPxrlhleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEe6Vw1ZBHhsb3hicyCWzsM8rmu13Vqu-yQhyvNo3gUHpfM-UPKIXPE_zQHV4A_aem_ERSJfXBXhwszN95eDgVQ8Q

from March 31st to October 4th at the NSU Art museum Fort Lauderdale, FL https://nsuartmuseum.org/exhibition/frantz-zephirin/?fbclid=IwY2xjawPvRdJleHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeVHNfMIjxgWwhAfvMW1hS1BB60312gBpH4n_zYipGqai7SsL6KGdeSxKhwXI_aem_d7e5A-pSRbmmBXFo1S6MPw

A hush hangs in the air—like the moment right before a story turns. In Untitled, Felix Lafortune invites you into a dim, living corridor of color where the trees don’t just stand… they flare, shimmer, and seem to watch. The scene feels both intimate and mythic, as if you’ve stepped into a secret garden that only appears when you’re willing to follow instinct instead of a map.

The first thing you feel in Together (2012) is a steady, almost ceremonial presence—two forms held in a single, radiant structure, as if closeness itself has been turned into pattern, color, and sacred geometry.

A painting can feel like a doorway—quiet at first, then suddenly expansive. In Untitled, ca. 1980, Madsen Monpremier offers a scene that reads like a midnight procession: poised, enigmatic, and softly luminous, as if the air itself has been cooled into color.

There’s a particular kind of painting that doesn’t just invite attention—it returns it. Simbi Ganga, ca 1999 feels like a threshold scene: part ceremony, part warning, part welcome, where beauty and intensity share the same breath.

Luckner Lazard invites you into a place that feels both remembered and invented—where houses gather like whispered stories, where the sky presses close in thick, ocean-blue breath, and where Haiti Collection Privée holds the doorway open for you to step inside with your imagination first, and your eyes second.

Some paintings don’t sit still—they happen. They arrive like a sudden weather system inside the mind, where thought becomes lightning and the air fills with symbols you can’t quite translate, yet somehow understand. In Chaos, 2007, Pierre Sylvain Augustin (Payas) doesn’t offer a calm scene to observe. He opens a threshold: a dark field where motion, impact, and mystery collide—where order tries to form, then slips away, then returns wearing a different mask.

Jacques Gabriel paints a face the way memory paints—never purely one thing, never finished, always shimmering at the edge of a dream. In “Portrait, ca 1980–1985,” a woman emerges from a calm, blue hush as if she has been summoned by song: half daylight, half dusk, held together by poise, mystery, and a gaze that feels older than the frame that contains it.

At Haiti Collection Privée, some paintings don’t just show a world—they open one. François Dominique’s “Paradise” feels like that kind of threshold: a dream-garden where color becomes weather, and every living thing seems to speak in a language made of leaves, hoofprints, and light.

In Table au Diable, Francois Dominique doesn’t simply paint a scene—he opens a doorway. Everything feels alive at once: color breathing, shadows whispering, and the air thick with ceremony. Seen through the spirit of Haiti Collection Privée, this work invites you to step into a dream where celebration and caution share the same drumbeat—where a “table” might be an altar, a feast, a warning, and a promise, all at once.

In the quiet rooms of Haiti Collection Privée, some paintings don’t merely hang—they listen. Villard Denis, known as Davertige, was both poet and painter, and you can feel that double-life in his images: the way objects become metaphors, the way a simple arrangement becomes a spell. Close your eyes for a moment and let the title guide you—Ceremonial drum, 1968—as if you’re stepping into a dream where sound has weight, and devotion has color.

Step into a blue that isn’t merely color—it’s atmosphere. In Frantz Zéphirin’s “Drum,” the world feels submerged in spirit-water, where symbols drift like constellations and faces appear the way memories do in dreams: suddenly, intimately, and with a quiet insistence. This is the kind of painting that doesn’t sit still. It listens back. It hums. It warns. It blesses.

Imagine stepping into a painting where every color sings and each symbol whispers an ancient tale. Haitian artist André Pierre invites us into such a world with Couzin Zaka’ Mede’, a canvas alive with spiritual energy and vibrant detail.

Step into a world where forest spirits, mermaids, and ancient souls dance on the edge of dreams. Haitian painter Frantz Zéphirin is known for canvases teeming with fantastical life that represent scenes both “magnetic and inspired”.

Step into the mind of Haitian artist Lionel Saint Eloi, where reality bends and dreams bloom in extraordinary hues. Today’s post invites you into a vivid narrative that describes a remarkable painting—not through visuals, but through words alone. Before you see it with your own eyes, imagine it with your mind.

Step into the mind of Haitian artist François Chéry, where reality bends and dreams bloom in extraordinary hues. Today’s post invites you into a vivid narrative that describes a remarkable painting—not through visuals, but through words alone. Before you see it with your own eyes, imagine it with your mind.

https://bit.ly/3RoyVXw

Masters of Haitian Art: Spotlight on Influential Artists

Landscape Haitian art is a vivid tapestry woven with bold colors and profound symbolism, each hue telling its own unique story. At Haiti...