A Warmth and Caring That Transcends Art

Whether in her illustrations for numerous children’s books or in worldwide exhibitions showcasing her graphics, Helen Siegl’s etchings give viewers a sense of earthiness and cooperation that can often be difficult for an artist to express.

“It’s like praying,” says the 64-year-old mother of eight, describing her craft. From the stark, earthy Three Kings to Mother Goose carrying two children on her wings in a work titled Solace, Helen’s characters radiate a warmth and caring that reaches out to the audience.

Helen says that warmth and caring are rooted in her Christian upbringing. Born and raised in Vienna, Austria, she was 13 when Hitler’s Nazis took control of her country.

“You got to know people who were true believers and true friends.”

Her family offered support and refuge to Jewish friends and others threatened by the Nazis.

One of Helen’s most dramatic memories of the Nazi occupation occurred when she was about 16. She and her parents lived on the fifth floor of a multifamily residence. Returning from school one day, she heard her mother speaking very loudly.

As she approached the second-floor landing, Helen wondered to whom her mother was speaking. Suddenly, she remembered that she was carrying the family’s correspondence list of friends to whom they sent letters of support.

“It had to be the Holy Spirit,” she said of the sudden realization.

She quickly removed the list from her Latin book and tucked it beneath a nearby doormat. When Helen entered her home, a Gestapo agent was waiting to inspect her bag.

“I’m sort of glad I went through this,” she said, explaining that such crises help people get their “priorities straight.” During times like those, she added, “It’s definitely that God is with you.”

After the war, Helen attended the Akademie für angewandte Kunst, where she majored in architecture and met Theodor Siegl, a Czechoslovakian art student.

In 1950, Theodor emigrated to America. After securing a position at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, he wrote to Helen and asked her to marry him.

Helen rushed to the American Embassy.

“I said, ‘My fiancé is in Philadelphia, and I want to get married,’” she recalled with glee, as though reliving the moment. “They just laughed and said, ‘You know, you’re Austrian. Your quota may not come up for another 25 years!’”

Friends of the couple were able to secure her a visa to Montreal, Canada. In September 1952, they married at St. Gertrude German Church in Montreal. Three months later, they moved to St. Patrick Parish.

Helen worked from home as a printmaker.

“There is a tremendous advantage to having a larger group of children at home,” she said, “because they interact and help each other. In many ways, it’s like a kibbutz.”

During the early 1970s, Helen taught art at Norwood Academy.

“I started the art department there,” she said proudly. She taught students a technique she had developed in Vienna. Because wood was scarce during the war, Helen used plaster of Paris to form printing blocks and carve images into them.

In 1975, when Helen began preparing for the 41st International Eucharistic Congress, she took a leave of absence. She recommended as her replacement a Rosemont College student whom she had taught in an independent art course.

Both Helen and Theodor—who served as conservator of paintings at the Philadelphia Museum of Art—worked on the Eucharistic Congress. Helen designed the missalette covers, while Theodor prepared art exhibitions for the event. He died less than a month after the Congress.

That fall, Helen planned to move to New York, where her new home would adjoin a Benedictine monastery. She had shared a long friendship with members of the order.

“I’m going to have a contemplative life,” she said with a smile. Then she quickly added, “But I’ll be back and forth.”