KAREN WIGHT -- No place like home

I still remember the dress I wore for my silhouette sitting. I was 5

years old, and the dress was light green with a lime embroidered on the

pocket. The color was luscious, not that it mattered for the silhouette.

I remember keeping that dress in my closet for years just because I loved

the citrus shade and how I felt every time I looked at it.

I’m not sure why my mother thought it was important to have my

silhouette done. Perhaps it was a connection with her Southern roots.

Charleston artist Carew Rice kept the art of silhouettes alive throughout

the 1950s with his sophisticated cutting techniques and maintained his

popularity in Southern circles long after the art had died in Yankee

territory.

Silhouettes were initially very popular in the 19th century, before

photographs stole the scene. In the early 1800s, silhouette artists were

the vogue, and every home had multiple black and white works of art.

Silhouettes were affordable ways to reproduce likenesses, both of the

human variety and regional landscapes.

White paper was inked black and the likeness was drawn on top of the

paper then meticulously cut out and mounted against a white or cream

background. The rarest and most valuable silhouettes were mounted on

watercolor backgrounds or colored pencil drawings to give the picture a

more three-dimensional look.

Silhouettes have become classic collectibles, unpretentious yet full

of character. They add an element of contrast to a room. The spartan

black and white color scheme heightens their sense of drama. These little

jewels can be quite intricate, depending on the artist and the subject

matter. And though the genre generally produced a shadowed profile, the

model is eerily recognizable.

That’s the power of art: feelings, memories and dreams portrayed by

still images. Whether memories of the past or visions toward the future,

the decorations in our homes speak softly to us as we walk down the

hallways or when we sit to reflect in a quiet moment.

My dad hung my silhouette in his dental office. Going into his waiting

room and seeing my picture was a source of great pride for me. Since his

retirement, the pictures and artwork that hung in his office have been

scattered among my siblings. That silhouette from 1963 now hangs in the

hallway of my house. I smile when I walk past and think that I’d still

like to have a dress that color hanging in my closet.

And though silhouettes are not considered precious art, sometimes in a

reflective moment I go back to that office in Riverside and remember

happy moments from my childhood, moments when I would wonder what the

future held for me: what kind of job would I have, what kind of man would

I marry, how many children would I have? And I realize that as artwork,

my silhouette may not be valuable, but for me, precious memories have a

power greater than money.

* KAREN WIGHT is a Newport Beach resident. Her column runs Saturdays.