Abstract digital artwork titled Fallen Song showing a stone-like form suspended above deep blue water. Layers of mineral textures, muted reds, and diffused light suggest the moment when the siren Leucosia turns into stone. Digital glazes create the illusion of stone, water, and air merging.

Fallen Song

Fallen Song

Between stone and sky

My first impression of Fallen Song was the sense of a body falling. It is not a figure, but a form collapsing into itself. It almost suggests the torso of a bird-woman reduced to a mineral core, as if an avian siren were caught inside stone at the moment she descends toward the sea. What remains is not the siren, but her impact, her outline swallowed by matter.

The surface behaves like a skin that is coming apart. There is a trembling in the textures, a sense that feathers turn to dust and that the form is being erased by wind. This dissolution fits the direction of the Siren Series. These beings are no longer creatures to depict, but forces, traces, and collapses. They exist in the moment where myth shifts into erosion.

Below the falling form, the blue acts like a mythical threshold. The sea is never shown directly, yet its presence is clear. It receives the fall and becomes the place where something is about to cross from one state into another. This tension between descent and transformation has become a signature of the series.

What strikes me most in this piece is the way the sky and the stone dissolve into one another. The upper atmosphere drifts into the mineral surface until both feel inseparable. This unstable horizon suspends the siren between breath and matter. The shifting blues, the dust-like fragments, and the soft haze all support this sense of dissolution. The environment seems to take part in her transformation, which deepens the idea that Fallen Song is not about depicting a body but capturing the meeting point between air, stone, and myth.

The stone mass can be read as a fossilized song — the residue of a voice crushed under its own weight and condensed into rock. Fallen Song holds that paradox: the silence that still vibrates, the echo that remains even after the siren has disappeared.

Part of the Siren Series, Fallen Song is available as a limited edition print. Details can be found on the Unique Editions page.
You can also view related works on Singulart.

Abstract digital artwork from the Siren series by Denis Leclerc, inspired by the Amalfi Coast and the ancient siren Ligea, with swirling textures in muted gold, grey, and soft light.

Ligea

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.
Ligea — Study in Academic Light


I didn’t expect her to be this still.

Ligea does not arrive with a song, nor with an invitation. She settles. Low. At the edge of the sea, where stone meets breath.

Her wings are not symbols. They are weight. Lived-in, darkened by salt and wind, folded not in rest but in restraint. This is not a figure about flight — it is a figure about holding.

What emerges here is a tension without spectacle. Flesh does not dominate the wing, nor does the wing escape the body. They coexist, unresolved. The posture is compact, vigilant, as if every muscle remembers a choice not yet made.

She is not watching the sea to call it closer. She watches to remain.

— Ego Klar