And he discerns an arid, knoll-covered plain (plate 7) 1896

Editor: Well, immediately, it gives me the impression of starkness. Almost lunar. Curator: Indeed. What we're looking at is Odilon Redon's "And he discerns an arid, knoll-covered plain (plate 7)" created in 1896. Notice how Redon uses pencil to conjure a landscape almost devoid of life. This aligns with his recurring exploration of dreams, the subconscious, and the unsettling beauty he found within. Editor: The starkness is mesmerizing though. It feels barren, like the dawn of creation or, equally plausible, the quiet aftermath of some unknown cataclysm. There's this flock of birds way off in the distance—do you think that’s a harbinger of some change, or just indifferent witnesses? Curator: Within Redon's symbolic language, flocks often signified the multiplicity of the soul, perhaps the internal voices clamoring for attention. This desolate landscape becomes less a physical location, more an arena for the psyche’s own dramas. We must remember, in much of Redon's work, landscape itself functions symbolically. The Symbolists loved interiority and the exploration of feelings made manifest through universal and shared forms. Editor: The more I look, the less “arid” this feels. The texture—the lines, the shading—it feels almost damp, like there's an undercurrent of unseen water. You know, something subtly regenerative even in what seems completely depleted. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. Curator: I wouldn’t dismiss the intuition. Remember, these seemingly barren landscapes are where myths germinate. In Redon's time, such places symbolized locations ripe with esoteric meaning, where inner work, personal discovery, or a sort of shamanic journeying may take place. He encourages that deeply personal reflection. Editor: Which makes this all the more potent, right? What you bring to it will always shift how you see it. It’s the psychic weather report as much as it is topography. Curator: Exactly. Redon offers the grammar, we construct the narrative, which is why it endures.