Perseus 

Editor: We're looking at Aubrey Beardsley's drawing, "Perseus," done in ink, sometime around the late 19th century. It's striking, isn’t it? Almost like a dark dream. I'm fascinated by how Beardsley used only line to create this mythical scene and I wonder: how do you read his use of line in this piece? Curator: The line! Yes, it dances, doesn’t it? Beardsley's line is a living thing; a decadent whisper. In “Perseus,” notice how it creates a kind of languid tension. The stark black and white heighten the drama. It’s both beautiful and grotesque, seductive and horrifying, much like the myth itself, no? The repetition of linear elements, like in the dense thicket behind Perseus, adds to the sense of unease. And that severed head! Chilling. Editor: I hadn't thought of it that way—a "decadent whisper." I was so focused on the subject that I hadn't noticed the uneasy feeling it creates. The high contrast emphasizes this disturbing feeling... why do you think Beardsley was drawn to such imagery? Curator: Ah, you're getting to the heart of it. Beardsley lived in a time of great change, and his art reflects a kind of revolt against Victorian ideals, perhaps with a touch of dark humor. He saw beauty in unexpected places, in the shadows. And his Perseus is less a hero and more… well, contemplate those shadowed eyes. Doesn’t it feel as if the victory comes at a terrible price? A question for our own age as well. Editor: It definitely does make you think differently about Perseus than the triumphant version in the traditional tales. I'll never see this story the same way! Thanks for sharing your insight. Curator: My pleasure, it seems Beardsley has worked his dark magic once more.