A mythological vagueness informs this slight scenario. That is consistent with the indigenous tales collected by John Bierhorst, or for that matter with the myths that James Frazer goes on to elaborate in The Golden Bough. That elusiveness/allusiveness works very well here. Birds emerge as a kind of equivalent to the rainbow in Genesis, a gift of beauty and renewal in the face of constant seasonal entropy. It’s a shift, looking at things springward, rather than as everything returning to winter. These are drawn backgrounds, with figures in the foreground cut out. Virtuosity, but not just for its own sake.