L'Oiseau qui Chante

Editor: So, this is Helen Phillips' "L'Oiseau qui Chante", from somewhere between 1950 and 1955. It's an etching, which is amazing! I am really drawn in by the way the artist used an array of interconnected and labyrinthine line patterns, almost a dense cityscape that makes the work feel both intriguing and a bit unsettling. What do you see in it? Curator: "Intriguing and unsettling" – I love that, it sings! And the cityscape feeling... exactly! I think it is like delving into one's inner world – our minds as an endlessly unfolding, multi-layered city, if you will. This wasn’t just abstraction for abstraction's sake. Remember that abstract expressionism emerged after the war. Editor: Yes! I can sense that tension, and even a bit of hope peeking through. Curator: I agree, it seems to invite viewers to lose themselves in its complexity. It is this tension, this seeking of resolution between light and dark, chaotic, maze-like forms – Phillips is less concerned with direct representation, and more with suggestion and evocation, inviting us to feel. Now, I am wondering: Does that feel relevant today? Editor: It really does, doesn't it? Almost like looking at a map of anxiety, or perhaps a score of something unknown. This print is so thought-provoking! Thanks! Curator: My pleasure! Every time I look at it, I see something new. And that, perhaps, is its greatest charm and success. It is like the song of the bird of the soul.