Solitude c. 1950

Juliette Steele made this print, Solitude, most likely in the mid twentieth century. The whole piece is rendered in subtle hatching and cross-hatching, the artist’s hand moving in tiny, incremental gestures. It’s an image built from simple marks, a process of accumulation not dissimilar from building with bricks. I find the steps so seductive, they feel like a stage set. Note how the artist uses the hatching to create a velvety texture on the walls, contrasting with the hard, linear edges of the architecture. The lone figure, seated on the stairs, seems lost in contemplation. The tree to the right almost mirrors her posture, its bare branches reaching out like supplicating arms. There’s a similar sense of loneliness and longing in the stark architectural landscapes of someone like Vilhelm Hammershøi. Like Hammershøi, Steele finds poetry in the everyday. It reminds me that art isn't just about what you see, but how you see, and what you bring to the seeing.