The Devil's Smile (Plate 2), 1966

"The Devil's Smile (Plate 2)" is an etching created by René Magritte in 1966 for his series "Aube A l’antipode". From the edition of 32, the artwork is signed 'Magritte' lower right and annotated lower left. The artwork is framed in a custom silver closed-corner frame and has a framed size of 17.5 x 15.5". The artwork ships framed and accompanied by a certificate of authenticity.

The artist book known as "Dawn at the Antipode (Aube a l’antipode)" was a collaboration between the revered French poet Alain Jouffroy and the great 20th Century surrealist, Rene Magritte. Jouffroy was a French writer, poet, and artist. He was an early advocate of an Art Strike and formed the "L’Union des Escrivains" during the strikes of May 1968 in France with Jean-Pierre Faye. He was also a major influence on the Zanzibar Group—part of the French New Wave who took part in the Paris demonstrations at that time.

The seven etchings chosen for the book by Magritte recall Magritte’s most iconic imagery. Each was created as an etching from an original pen and ink drawing by the artist. The book as an object came to fruition through the famed surrealist publisher of art-object books, François Di Dio of the "Le Soleil Noir" publishing house. Di Dio typically produced a book as an object in a small edition of less than one hundred as the ‘A’ edition, with second ‘B’ and third ‘C’ editions of less artistry (the C edition was typically a widely printed ‘pocket’ book). The first edition of Dawn at the Antipode numbers to about ninety-two with some artist proofs also known. These were created in the object tradition with a clamshell hidden compartment concealing a metal ‘Magritte’ bell or rattle. The outer cover of the book has cutouts including a bird, a wine glass, a leaf, and a pipe. Magritte signed and numbered the inner compartment holding the bell in each book.

The prints offered here are from the rare edition of the book, number 11, which included a full set of the seven etchings on large-format paper, all hand-signed and numbered by Magritte. Only the first 17 of 77 copies of the book have all seven hand-signed etchings on large-format paper. The remainder came with just two of the signed etchings per book. There were also artist proofs of the book including fifteen lettered A to O.

In "The Devil’s Smile," Magritte presents a tightly focused and deceptively simple image: a close-up view of a keyhole, rendered with crisp clarity against an otherwise undefined field. The viewer’s gaze is drawn into the dark aperture, where, rather than emptiness, a key appears lodged within the void, visible, yet curiously inaccessible.

At first encounter, the composition suggests the promise of entry or revelation. The keyhole, a universal symbol of access, invites the act of looking as a form of trespass or discovery. Yet Magritte immediately frustrates this expectation. The presence of the key within the darkness does not resolve the act of opening, it suspends it. The mechanism is complete, yet unusable; the solution exists but remains out of reach.

The title introduces a layer of psychological tension. The “devil’s smile” is not literal, but metaphorical, an allusion to seduction, to the quiet allure of something that appears to offer understanding while withholding it. The keyhole becomes a visual trap, drawing the viewer inward while denying any true passage beyond its surface. What is promised is never delivered.

Magritte’s enduring fascination with thresholds—between inside and outside, known and unknown—is distilled here with remarkable precision. The image transforms a mundane object into a philosophical proposition: is knowledge something we unlock, or something that remains perpetually just beyond our grasp?

By reducing the composition to this singular, charged motif, Magritte heightens its symbolic resonance. The darkness within the keyhole is not merely absence, but a space of projection, where meaning is suggested but never fixed. As with much of his work, the tension lies not in what is shown, but in what is withheld—an elegant and unsettling reminder that access, whether visual or intellectual, is often an illusion.