Beneath the Firmament of Katherine Bradford
In this show, the 83-year-old American artist touches on life, death, and mutual support in ways that feel more personal than ever.
My father lowered into the ground.
My sister floating lifeless in the ocean.
The shock, the horror, the back-to-back grief, and the chilling void of their absence.
They were on my mind as I was looking at Katherine Bradford’s painting “Moonlight” (2025) in her exhibition Communal Table at Canada Gallery in Manhattan. It’s a woman hovering in space, coupled with what could be her ghost. Her features are well-defined, a rare gesture by Bradford, whose figures tend to be faceless. It must be someone important in her life. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. The stars twinkle behind the two figures. A full moon glows bright. I get the sense it’s a moment of tranquility, of acceptance.
In this show, the 83-year-old American artist touches on life, death, and mutual support in ways that feel more personal than ever.
Moons cycle, suns go up and down, waves rise and crash. Fathers and mothers, sisters and brothers, and friends and foes swim, fly, float, deliberate, commune, and cope.
Back here, I have a second child who looks so much like my father that I can almost hear him ask, “Do you need any money?”
My niece gets married, a bittersweet moment without her mom by her side.
Katherine Bradford is a once-in-a-generation artist. Her work shimmers with magic and kindness.
Communal Table continues at Canada Gallery (60 Lispenard St, Tribeca, Manhattan) through December 13. The exhibition was organized by the gallery.
