One Work: Vicki Walsh
Vicki Walsh, Mom Mary, 2020, oil and graphite on panel, 24 x 32 in.
[Image description: A photorealistic depiction of a woman’s face. She has hazel eyes and light skin lined with wrinkles. A nasal cannula is draped across her cheekbones and inserted into her nose.]
The image is cropped closely, holding the face tightly within its borders, highlighting that this is more than a snapshot or journalistic documentation. The face is close, almost too close, a bit like a hug with someone you don’t know. This proximity makes us feel somewhat uncomfortable, but the closeness is intriguing because of the great care in how the complexion is rendered, the detail within the wrinkles, and mix of unusual color transitions that turn yellows, reds, and oranges into darker blues and browns. And while so much is unseen outside the frame, it’s apparent the woman is looking upward, acknowledging us, the viewer, as an oxygen tube aids her breathing. The irony that this tube is life-giving yet at the same time seems to hold her down is not lost on us. It’s a contradiction that lets us know that she is fighting for her life despite being limited in her movements. The longer we investigate, we wonder if her tired eyes are excited to see us, or if they are simply questioning our presence.
Vicki Walsh has a history of utilizing realism in her work, similar to the academic methods of past centuries. However, within this portrait she appears to deconstruct her process as graphite lines and brushstrokes are layered upon one another, much like the trunk of a tree displaying the many years of life lived. The roughness blends into an analysis that this is more than a portrait; it’s a story that’s nearing the end.
The sitter was a student’s mother, whose declining health relegated her to a convalescent home. When Walsh asked about painting her, she wondered, “Why would anyone want to paint me?” It’s a question that is a symptom of our airbrushed and filtered world, where most folks experience others through a screen that doesn’t come close to reality. Walsh’s extreme cropping, rough process, and darker tones force the viewer to confront the difficult and emotional process of watching the body slowly fail. The experience of having someone close to us but simultaneously losing them a bit each day is an added association in a composition filled with rich analogies. A last grasp by a form that has passed, it’s an emotionally laden and beautiful portrait, not in the cheap plastic definition of beauty, but rather a story about concepts like sacrifice, time, connection, and love.
— G. James Daichendt, art critic and historian, Vice-Provost and Dean of the Colleges at Point Loma Nazarene University