Draped Figure of Woman Playing on a Harp c. 1873 - 1877

Editor: So, here we have Edward Burne-Jones' "Draped Figure of Woman Playing on a Harp," a pencil drawing from the 1870s. It’s at the Art Institute of Chicago. I’m immediately struck by how delicate and ethereal the figure looks, almost as if she's a ghost. What draws your eye when you look at it? Curator: Oh, absolutely! It whispers of a dream, doesn’t it? For me, it's the drapery that sings. Burne-Jones was obsessed with classical beauty filtered through a medieval lens. Look at how the fabric clings, almost revealing more than it conceals. Makes you wonder about the kind of stories he was trying to tell. Do you get a sense of narrative, perhaps a lost myth or forgotten tale? Editor: I can see that. The folds definitely add to that ethereal feeling, but honestly, it also looks a little sad, doesn't it? Curator: Sadness is a very interesting angle! Yes, I see it in the downward gaze, the slight slump of the shoulders. Perhaps it is a lament. It makes me think about the Pre-Raphaelites and their romantic obsession with tragedy and unrequited love. She could be Orpheus’ lost Eurydice for all we know, still playing her mournful tune. What do you think? Editor: That actually makes a lot of sense. I was just thinking about the harp - maybe it's not necessarily a happy song she’s playing. Thanks! It's helped me look at it in a completely different way. Curator: My pleasure! I will cherish thinking that art invites us to find parts of ourselves mirrored. So it appears that this work is inviting each one of us. What a treat!