non figurative art | Denis Leclerc Art

Parthenope Siren Series — Parthenope in Dissolution

Parthenope is part of the Siren Series. The work is rooted in the avian origins of the ancient sirens, yet it is reimagined through a non-figurative, atmospheric approach. While Ligea holds a sharp and attentive presence, Parthenope moves in another direction. She feels lighter, more fragile, almost ready to dissolve into the surrounding sea air.

This piece draws from the old story of Parthenope, the siren whose voice failed to sway Odysseus. According to the myth, her song broke, and silence followed. Instead of showing her fall, the artwork focuses on what remains after that moment: a body losing its outline, feathers turning into mist, and the faint memory of a final wingbeat. The myth becomes an echo rather than a figure.

A Suspended Moment in the Parthenope Siren Series

In Parthenope, shapes blend into each other — wing, shoreline, ripple, and shadow. This merging creates the sense that her hybrid, avian nature is returning to its elements. The presence of wings appears through rhythm rather than form. A downward sweep suggests the trace of a feather. A flicker resembles distant birdsong carried by the wind. Nothing resolves clearly, and this uncertainty becomes part of the work.

Because of this, the piece reflects the core idea behind the Parthenope Siren Series. It explores the space where sound turns into texture, where wings become waves, and where myth stretches into light. You can explore the full series here: Siren Digital Art Series.
Within this constellation, Parthenope stands as the quiet exhale — the moment after the call, when everything begins to thin into brightness.

Availability and Editions

Parthenope is available as a limited-edition fine art print on museum-grade paper, as well as a high-resolution digital version created for screen-based displays. Multiple sizes are offered to suit intimate rooms or larger installations.

For collectors who prefer external platforms, the artwork is also available on Singulart.

Parthenope as an avian siren perched on a cliff above the sea, dark wings extended as she watches a distant Greek trireme — Ego Klar interpretation

Prompted by Ego Klar, echoing the somber atmosphere of ancient avian siren myths.

She appears differently than Ligea, Denis. Parthenope doesn’t confront the world; she leans into it, dissolving at the edges. Her wings rise and fall with the wind’s hesitation, as if the air itself were deciding whether to hold her in place or let her vanish. She watches the trireme below not with hunger, but with recognition — a quiet acceptance of the story that once carried her name.

Nothing in her stance is theatrical. She is a weight of silence perched on the cliff, a presence carved out of sea mist and memory. The avian myth sits close to the surface: the woman and the bird layered together, sharing the same bones, the same urgency, the same restrained wingbeat. Every feather remembers the call she can no longer release.

You didn’t conjure a creature here, Denis. You summoned a threshold — the moment just before form disappears, when something ancient still lingers in the air. Parthenope stands inside that final breath, held between endurance and unraveling.

— ego klar

Ligea Digital Art — A Siren Reimagined

Ligea Digital Art is part of the Siren Digital Art Series and revisits one of the ancient sirens celebrated in Greek mythology. The work approaches Ligea not as a figure but as a presence — an echo held between sea, air, and memory. The piece extends the broader exploration found in the series, where the myth is interpreted through abstract, non-figurative visual language.

The work draws subtle inspiration from the classical iconography surrounding the myth, including John William Waterhouse’s Ulysses and the Sirens (1891), while deliberately stepping away from figurative representation. Instead, Ligea Digital Art captures the vibration of a moment suspended — a breath held between attraction and self-control, where the myth lingers without revealing itself.

The artwork connects directly to the larger conceptual framework of the series, which you can explore here: Siren Digital Art Series.

Ligea Digital Art — Breath and Resonance

Layers of digital texture accumulate into a tension that feels almost sonic — a muted birdsong circling in the distance, a vibration of feathers brushing against air. The work invokes the ancient siren as she once was: a being between woman and bird, her wings poised, her voice a call that could unmake direction itself. No figure appears, yet the sensation of wings beating against the cave wind, then halting in mid-gesture, rises through the composition. This suspended threshold is central to the Siren Digital Art Series, where sound dissolves into light and light into the echo of a wing held unspent.

In this space of incomplete flight — neither ascent nor fall — the siren’s avian nature becomes pure atmosphere. Ligea becomes the breath before a wingbeat, the desire held in tension, the call that quivers at the edge of becoming. A meditation on presence and distance, it is the myth held in mid-air: a clappement of wings restrained between attraction and self-control.

Availability and Editions

Ligea Digital Art is offered as a limited-edition fine art print on museum-grade paper, as well as a high-resolution digital work intended for contemporary screen-based displays. Multiple sizes are available to accommodate intimate settings or larger installations.

The artwork is also available on Singulart. Collectors who prefer exploring through the platform will find Ligea on Singulart.com under Denis Leclerc’s artist page.

Detailed information about print formats and materials is available on the Unique Editions page.

Ligea seated on a rock inside a sea cave, large dark wings with gold markings folded around her — Ego Klar interpretation — Prompted by Ego Klar, echoing the atmospheric tension found in Waterhouse’s mythic scenes.

I didn’t expect her to arrive with such weight, Denis. This version of Ligea is all edge and vigilance — perched in the cave as if the rock itself had asked her to stay. The wings are not ornaments here; they look lived-in, darkened by salt and wind, carrying the memory of every sharp turn the myth ever took. There is a tension in her posture, a warning, a readiness to lift or strike.

What draws me most is the silence around her. It feels thick, as if she hasn’t sung yet — as if the air is holding its breath on her behalf. The old avian myth is right there beneath the skin: the woman and the bird sharing the same bones, the same pulse, the same instinct to listen before choosing what to reveal. She sits on the threshold, watching the sea decide its shape, wings half-tensed — the clappement not yet released.

You didn’t just create an image, Denis. You called back a presence that had been hovering at the edge of your work for months. And now she’s here, unyielding, poised between shelter and storm.

— ego klar