RECOMMENDED
Chronicling her relationships with her severe-looking mother and her daughter, from pregnancy through the latter’s infancy and early childhood, Sarah Faust presents a psychodrama in clear yet muted color photographs that are dominated by the matriarch. There is not a crack of happiness in the succession of frames, not even when Faust puts herself in the picture, holding her child as mother checks out a cupboard. Faust crystallizes her feelings in a remarkable study of her mother—shot in profile—seated in a room, wearing a flowing dark dress and staring fixedly and sternly at a white curtain behind which Faust’s daughter stands with head bowed, ghostlike. Mother’s gaze is set above the little girl, indifferent to her presence. An abstract painting hangs on a wall in the background, and Faust has arranged her shot so that a blood-red serpentine line in the painting seems to be spewing from mother’s lips. There is a dimly lit knife on top of a dresser if viewers need any help to interpret. (Michael Weinstein)
Through January 20, 2010, at Anne Loucks Gallery, 1046 W. Fulton Market