By Betsy DiJulio

What I expected to see in this exhibition, based on having seen only one promotional image—a sensitive and layered figurative drawing-- was not what awaited.  It was better.

Better, that is, in terms of the overall experience of exploring a gallery.

In addition to the large layered drawings, which were, not surprisingly, far more evocative than the digital image I had seen,  two small flat screen video monitors plus, especially, three installations activated the space in a way that I had not expected.

The seven graphite on mylar drawings comprise a series entitled “The Waiting.”  As a group, they are characterized by large white negative spaces and figurative images that are hybrid contour and modeled drawings.  The marks themselves are very fine and beautifully gestural, constituting seated and standing figures whose psychologically complex facial expressions are utterly convincing, yet somehow removed from this world. 

In each composition, Repak has devised a simple but effective way of suggesting the mental presence of the person on whom the figure is waiting.  In one, the figure is flanked by two empty chairs.  In all of the others, Repak uses the device of one or more faintly drawn figure layered behind the main figure.  Yet, even so, she varies her approach from image to image so that the ghostlike presence may be faint or more assertive and more or less integrated with the main figure, in once case actually seeming to embrace her. 

Compositionally and conceptually, the pieces are together a study in equipose.

Installed on two contiguous walls that form a corner of the first gallery are dozens of 4 x 6” photographs mounted in Plexiglas boxes.  Together, they comprise the installation “Fade.”  It begins on the far wall with a very straight and tightly-spaced eye-level row of identical portraits of a handsome dark-haired man.  But then the images begin to fade as the line breaks apart in a seemingly disorganized arrangement that stretches nearly floor to ceiling.  Eventually, the images converge again into a swag before becoming a very straight horizontal row of images that have “faded” to black.  The meaning is fairly clear, yet metaphorical, with nuances of interpretation left to each individual viewer.   In particular I was struck by how the composition seemed to suggest a lifeline on a monitor, flat-lining at the end.

In the opposite corner, a vintage sewing machine, stool and dozens, if not hundreds, of small family photos and portraits comprise “Recollect.”  The varying sizes of sepia and black and white images have been zigzag stitched together like blocks of a family quilt, cascading over the sewing machine cabinet and flowing onto the floor where some of the images are artfully scattered, detached, a few curled on the edges.  Again, the sculpture’s meaning is clear, yet poetic, as it provides a structure which is given richness and texture as each viewer mentally incorporates his or her own recollections of family.

Nearby, a black wall sprinkled with fingerprints provides the backdrop for “Remains” in which a black chair is pulled up to a table draped in a black cloth.  On top is long album or folio that opens like an accordion to span the length of the table.  On the page that is visible, a black fingerprint on light paper is mounted to another sheet of black paper using vintage-style photo mounting corners.  At the base of the chair are stacked other, similar, but smaller, albums.  I’m not sure what was missing from this piece or what I wish would have been done differently, but I did not find it compelling. 

And, as far as I am concerned “Delete” and “Erase,” the two videos, could be deleted from the exhibition.  They are mercifully short, yet I still found myself fast-forwarding, as they were tedious.  In the former, we see a hand writing a series of soul-searching questions in a notebook and as each hard-to-read paragraph is written, the previous one fades out.  In the latter, we see a hand removing photographic images from a spiral bound notebook, page after page.  Granted a generous viewer can find meaning just about anywhere, as anything can be seen as metaphorical.  However, in both cases, I wanted more from the artist, something on a par with the rest of the exhibition.  

Lost by Amy Repak

Through July 15

The Selden Gallery

208 East Main St.

Norfolk

664-6880

www.theselden.com