All through Tobiasse’s life as a man and as an artist he was preoccupied by a quest for light and freedom. From those wretched times in the cold, dark years of man’s madness onwards, when, as a very young man, he had several miraculous escapes during the Nazi occupation, he only ever dreamt of light, huge skies and the shutters that he would open in the morning to reveal countryside inundated with light.
This is what lead him to the shining sea and sun of the French Riviera in 1950. There he experienced the jubilation of painting and working. Life was like a celebration, in contrast to those years of darkness and terror. In the world of Tobiasse, light was everywhere. Even the light which couldn’t be seen but was present, enveloping and vibrant in a celebration of eye and mind.
He also found light in the pleasure of enjoying what he called the gold of time, that of his art, in his luminous moments of silence and solitude. He wrote on his paintings and he painted on his writing words that, higgledy-piggledy and in waves, came to light up his world of creative intimacy. His universe was peopled with phantasmagorical symbols which had risen to the surface like so many tatters of childhood memory.