Laura Letinsky

For seven years, Laura Letinsky has made photographs of tabletop still lifes that capture the morning after something has occurred. Often in these works, much like 16th-century Dutch still lifes, fruit has been half eaten, wine glasses spilled and porcelain coffee cups stained. These memento mori objects, combined with the ethereal mist of the morning sun, evoke a nearly intoxicating feeling of bereavement.

In "SomewhereSomewhere," Letinsky's new work is on display, and while the images prompt a similarly intense psychological reaction, the artist explores new and unknown ground. These photographs are interiors of abandoned homes. In them, bare walls are freshly spackled, wood floors succumb to packing materials and divots dot the carpet where furniture has been. Striking for their nakedness, the empty rooms allow the most insignificant details to create a story. In one work, a solitary nail in the wall becomes the place where a painting or a keepsake might have hung. In another photograph, a gaudy chandelier remains, prompting the question, who would have chosen a chandelier like that?

In these works, there is a pervasive feeling that someone has moved out, yet the images are not entirely melancholic. There is also the impression that someone will move back into the space. This new work is less about the brevity of life and more about the uncertain, yet somehow poetic, transitional moments of living. Adding a new twist in her oeuvre, Letinsky confidently—and gracefully—dives into the unknown.—Madeline Nusser