Sceptre – Hodder & Stoughton – The Blue Fox 2019

Editor: This watercolor illustration, "Sceptre – Hodder & Stoughton – The Blue Fox" by Owen Gent from 2019, strikes me as quite melancholic, despite the leaping fox. There's a sense of fading or dissolving. How do you interpret this work? Curator: The dissolving form is very evocative, isn’t it? Notice how the fox, rendered in these deep blues, isn't simply depicted, but almost becomes one with the surrounding landscape. The fading, or "dissolving" as you observed, could symbolize transformation. What does a fox leaping signify to you, particularly within this dreamlike landscape? Editor: Freedom, maybe? Or perhaps escape. But transformation is interesting. Curator: Indeed. Think of the fox across various cultures - sometimes a trickster, other times a guide. Its form shifts, mirroring its adaptable nature and symbolizing knowledge just beyond our grasp. The watercolor medium itself echoes this, its fluid nature reflecting the ever-changing qualities of the fox and maybe our own elusive sense of self. Notice how the artist lets the colors bleed. What effect does this have? Editor: It enhances the feeling of something ethereal and not quite solid. It suggests movement and a kind of porous boundary between the fox and its surroundings. Curator: Precisely. It hints at a deeper connection between the creature and the world it inhabits. It's as if the fox isn't just *in* the landscape, but *of* the landscape. Considering the title, "The Blue Fox", do you think the color impacts its meaning? Editor: The blue makes it feel almost unreal, otherworldly. Maybe it suggests the fox is more of an idea or a memory than a tangible thing. Curator: Exactly! We can read this not just as an image, but as a container of cultural and psychological weight, asking us to remember, interpret, and transform alongside it. Editor: This has definitely changed how I see the artwork. The symbolism and fluidity really deepen the emotional impact. Curator: And that’s the beautiful thing about images; they hold a mirror to our own internal landscapes.