A tunnel of flowering bushes and berry shrubs leads to a typical Flemish white fisherman’s house from the early 20th century, nestled in a Monet-like garden — an ever-changing canvas where Filip Pillen finds inspiration for his paintings, and where butterflies and hummingbird moths perform like a tiny theatre troupe. Except for the scent of flowers and fruit, on a day when the wind blows from the west, you can fill your lungs with the tang of sea salt and iodine.
At his summer weekend garden expo, guests admire his canvases from a distance. They are placed among plum trees, poplars, lilacs, grapevines and figs — reminding us that, like a garden, impressionist paintings are best seen as a whole, not examined leaf by leaf.
Filip shares this dreamlike space with two shaggy dogs and a handful of chickens, who roam their own little pasture fenced in by raspberry bushes.
I step into the first shady nook and find two moss chairs Filip crafted — like something out of a fairytale.
My favourite of all the sea views, garden corners, and portraits is an impressionist piece: the fisherman’s house in silhouette, its thick white brushstrokes like carved light. In the morning sun, it stands calm, wrapped in a summer gown of green leaves and wearing a necklace of poppy petals.
At the back of the garden stands a wooden cabin — Filip’s atelier. There, one painting caught my breath: a soft, round nude, the muse’s contours tender and timeless.
Two silhouettes — the fisherman’s house and the muse — held me still in Filip Pillen’s paradise last weekend. To lose myself among paintings and blooms, in the quiet heart of Saint Idesbald, is my sweetest escape from the ordinary.
