Les grands toits sous la neige c. 1946

Michel Ciry made this print, "Les grands toits sous la neige," depicting snowy rooftops, at an unknown date, using a technique that leaves a dense accumulation of small, dark marks. I imagine Ciry, nose to the paper, patiently layering each tiny line. He must have felt like he was building a world, one tiny stroke at a time. It’s such a quiet, meditative process, different from the grand gestures of painting, but with its own kind of intensity. I can feel the cold and the hush of the snow just looking at it. The starkness reminds me a little of some etchings by Whistler, but where Whistler's line is elegant, Ciry’s marks are rougher. It gives the scene an emotional charge, almost vibrating with feeling. Maybe that's what it feels like when the world is muffled under snow and your thoughts are amplified in the silence. Painters are always borrowing from each other, aren't they? A constant exchange of ideas across time. Ultimately, art embraces ambiguity and uncertainty, allowing for multiple interpretations. I can't help but wonder what stories those roofs hold and how many more stories they'll inspire.