St. Philips Steeple Charleston before 1931

Editor: This print, titled "St. Philips Steeple Charleston," was created by Elizabeth O'Neill Verner before 1931. It appears to be a delicate, almost ghostly rendering of the church steeple amidst a tangle of branches and nearby buildings. It’s a lovely sketch, but I’m wondering what layers of meaning and context might be hiding beneath this quiet composition? What do you see in this piece? Curator: Ah, yes, Verner. I often wonder if Charleston whispers secrets to her artists; she certainly caught a particular Southern Gothic mood here. Look at how the steeple pushes upwards, striving towards heaven, yet surrounded by the barest of winter trees that feel like grasping claws. The surrounding architecture feels weighty and old, almost crushing the central spire. The print's almost fragile quality— the light pencil work—lends to this feeling of being trapped. What stories do these visual tensions suggest to you? Do you get a feeling for what Charleston might have been like in the years leading up to the Depression? Editor: I hadn't considered that sense of striving against limitations, or even impending economic uncertainty! I initially focused on the surface beauty of the sketch itself. Curator: That's perfectly valid, but what artists chose to express is as essential as how they express it. Editor: So, would you say that Verner is consciously reflecting Charleston's socio-economic environment? Curator: Consciously? Impossible to say definitively. Perhaps she was just trying to capture the beauty and the stillness. Perhaps she was more caught up in its potential fragility? Editor: That is definitely food for thought, how artists capture that certain mood...it makes me want to see the piece in person. Curator: Me too; prints, sketches, and the "unfinished" often convey a far deeper connection to place and subject than highly finished pieces.