No. 3 1896

Curator: Good afternoon. Today we’re looking at "No. 3," an 1896 ink drawing on paper by Aubrey Beardsley. It’s currently held at the Art Gallery of South Australia in Adelaide. Editor: Well, hello decadence! What strikes me is the overall feel – simultaneously austere and playful, isn't it? Stark black and white contrasts create such dramatic tension, like a Wildean bon mot distilled into an image. Curator: Absolutely. Beardsley was a master of contrasts, a true child of Art Nouveau, though perhaps a rather naughty one. Note how he balances the dense, intricate patterns of the garden with the expanses of empty space, pushing against Victorian artistic conventions. Editor: It's as though the characters are performing a silent drama, a scandalous liaison perhaps, played out in this impeccably designed stage setting. The winged figure is a bizarre counterpoint to their worldliness, its shadow an unsettling presence. Curator: Shadows play such a key role in Beardsley’s work. The exaggerated, almost grotesque figures, like the aging dandy with his cane, offer a commentary on society's masks and artificiality. He embraces ornamentation yet simplifies form, playing with negative space to make our eyes dance. Editor: Indeed, every element feels carefully considered—from the meticulously rendered floral arrangements to the elegant curvature of the fountain. Beardsley, despite his premature passing, possessed this incredible control and sophistication. I suppose I get caught up in that strange little winged thing... like a footnote of doom to all the excessive froufrou. Curator: An appropriate assessment. As ever, with Beardsley, it's a paradox – an image of exquisite beauty concealing layers of dark satire and morbid sensibility. Editor: Exactly. This image is a prompt to confront the uncomfortable, the taboo, the utterly absurd… beautifully captured on paper. Curator: Precisely. A poignant example of why Beardsley continues to both intrigue and disturb us.