In the corridors of Chateau de Beaulieu, one finds an emporium of whimsical art, color and monotones sketched with almost childish abandon across the walls. At the Collection de l’art brut, you’ll hear from 1000 of society’s outcasts, the neglected and the invisible.

Through inks, paints, folded paper and a dozen other media rise the voices of those labeled as mentally deranged and as tainted criminals, their art speaking in ways which they couldn’t. Here, you will meet Henry Darger, a hospital porter from Chicago, who smiles ear to ear as you peer closer at his detailed watercolors. It was only post-mortem that we discovered his 19,000 pages of carefully blotted pieces but he’s happy that they were brought to the light of day finally despite the wait. Some distance away, you might speak to Rodolfo Abella through his steed of wood. An educator of arts in an unknown aboriginal village in the Andes, sculptures came to life in his hands. He would introduce you to his zoo of animals, the horse included built from materials such as recycled wood off the riverbed before he gave it a blow of life as a final touch.

Each patient, criminal and person off the street retells their soul-crushing tale in relative brevity beside their work of art in this museum. One would slowly come to realize that the collective work doesn’t go by any rhyme or reason, the only constant being each artist’s reason for obscurity and their lack of training. But in no way does this compromise the depth of their best masterpieces nor the message which they seem to be shouting out.