A beautiful sadness permeates Emily Arthur’s print iconography. A deer stands in quiet profile witnessing a devastated landscape, a night moth with flattened wings adorns a pregnant Madonna, a bird and snake intertwine in silent repose. These rich tableaus are ripe with narratives of loss, witnessing and hope. In Arthur’s words, she “cools” the ills of our compromised modernity by recording the cycles of
destruction and creation inherent in the natural world.[i] The act of making art, leaving a mark, keeps the balance; it holds in tension the beauty and the pain.
— By Nancy Marie Mithlo, Ph.D. For the 2013 Air, Land, Seed