DRAWING ON LOST MEMORIES
Artist paints the relatives she never met
Snapshots of grandparents you never knew can be maddeningly haunting, like treasure chests you can't open. There might be familiar expressions on their faces, but the personalities, dispositiions, and family secrets are inaccessible.
Painter Catherine Kehoe, curious about her own roots, googled the name of a Polish grandmother she knew little about. The computer search led her to distant cousins she had never met, who e-mailed her scans of old photos of the family. She still didn't know much, but she started painting portraits, using the photos as source material. The result is an intimate, moving show at the Howard Yezerski Gallery.
An exhibition like this could easily descend into misty treacle. But there's nothing sentimental about these small, expertly crafted paintings. The palette is a yellowish sepia that in paint feels almost aggressive. The images are crisp. The figures don't smile; they pose stiffly. Kehoe has always had a talent for constructing strong portraits from planes of color. Look at "Emilia, " a portrait of her grandmother: Her cheeks and forehead, even her jowls, suggest the faceted surfaces of a jewel.
This cubist style works to Kehoe's advantage. In "Helen and Emilia, 1926," a pleated skirt looks stiff, smooth, and cornered as if it had been over-starched. That and the zig-zag layout of the fence behind the two women frame them sparingly. Their faces are delicately rendered, but opaque and mysterious. Even in "Pozgreb (funeral)," a depiction of mourners, there's a sense of inaccessibility, of emotions held in check.
The artist will never know her ancestors. But the power of longing and imagination that comes with not knowing is just as interesting.
� Cate McQuaid
Artist paints the relatives she never met
Snapshots of grandparents you never knew can be maddeningly haunting, like treasure chests you can't open. There might be familiar expressions on their faces, but the personalities, dispositiions, and family secrets are inaccessible.
Painter Catherine Kehoe, curious about her own roots, googled the name of a Polish grandmother she knew little about. The computer search led her to distant cousins she had never met, who e-mailed her scans of old photos of the family. She still didn't know much, but she started painting portraits, using the photos as source material. The result is an intimate, moving show at the Howard Yezerski Gallery.
An exhibition like this could easily descend into misty treacle. But there's nothing sentimental about these small, expertly crafted paintings. The palette is a yellowish sepia that in paint feels almost aggressive. The images are crisp. The figures don't smile; they pose stiffly. Kehoe has always had a talent for constructing strong portraits from planes of color. Look at "Emilia, " a portrait of her grandmother: Her cheeks and forehead, even her jowls, suggest the faceted surfaces of a jewel.
This cubist style works to Kehoe's advantage. In "Helen and Emilia, 1926," a pleated skirt looks stiff, smooth, and cornered as if it had been over-starched. That and the zig-zag layout of the fence behind the two women frame them sparingly. Their faces are delicately rendered, but opaque and mysterious. Even in "Pozgreb (funeral)," a depiction of mourners, there's a sense of inaccessibility, of emotions held in check.
The artist will never know her ancestors. But the power of longing and imagination that comes with not knowing is just as interesting.
� Cate McQuaid