Family portraits can reveal a lot about an individual, less so about an artist. The viewer is never really sure where to separate fact from fiction, experience from expression. So it is with L’s “Here They Are, My Family, I Mean.” True, the age and sex of her family members appears to be accurately portrayed giving the viewer a base in realism, but let’s not take the express train, shall we? Further inspection finds a young artist’s sardonic wit more on display than the limbs of any family tree. The full-chinned “father” seems blowfish-boastful while his masculinity is mocked by his thinning blue hair. Mommy smiles mindlessly by – shelving her dreams and independence for the unit while her unfulfilled hopes of another youngster manifest themselves as a top-hatted kernel caught in her throat. She’s choking. Who will save her? Can you, L? Or is this indeed why you paint?
