SEATTLE — In the edge becomes the center at the Frye Art Museum, Mary Ann Peters invokes the suppressed histories of mass killings and forgotten diasporas. The first solo museum show for the second-generation Lebanese-American artist, it presents her drawing series this trembling turf (2016–21), along with a site-specific installation. The drawings — dense sketches of white ink on black clayboard, each titled with the series name followed by a unique subtitle — depict fanciful geomorphic abstractions in some cases (for instance, those subtitled “the shallows” and “down deep”), while others, such as “(surge)” and “(burst),” imply associated dynamic phenomena.
In “(the hollow)” (2021), short, fine dashes swirl and rotate toward a large dark void exciting the apparent direction of the lines while sucking them in via its gravitational power. “(echo)” delineates more complicated topographies. A darker band near the top establishes a horizon line above a sea, a set of different fields, or low mountain ranges — or combinations of all. Amid these, spiky geological formations seem to rise up out of vast swathes of liquid bodies.
The retinal stimulation and active line work seem intended to suggest deeper meanings to the abstract imagery, yet reveal nothing underlying. An accompanying wall text offers a single, general note about one real-world incident: an alleged mass grave beneath Beirut’s only golf course. Rumors have circulated for decades that the site of the golf course contains the bodies of thousands of Palestinian refugees murdered by Lebanese Phalangist militia in 1982 as part of the Sabra and Shatila massacres overseen by invading military forces from Israel. Though Peters’s drawings are striking reminders of sensational disturbance that might lie beneath perceivable surfaces, any specific references remain mysterious.
A subtler tour-de-force is “impossible monument: gilded” (2024). This upright rectangular chamber, in a heavy wood frame, looms large, taking up most of one gallery alcove wall. It holds a set of objects obscured behind a mesh-like fabric grid whose patterns allow partial glimpses of what’s behind, depending on a viewer’s position. The striking elements within the frame include ribbons, keys, door lock plates, and laminated survival blankets, all seen through the dim yellowing light of aramid (a honeycombed synthetic fiber fabric) — as if suspended in amber.
The black daubed sealant bonding the frame’s timbers also makes for a rough, if determined sense of something being hidden away. As much as keys and blankets serve as signifiers of home loss and refugee status, the peekaboo effect of the opaque mesh persists in those signs remaining mostly hidden from view. Presumably channeling some of the artist’s reckoning of outcomes and experiences related to her own Lebanese descent, symbolic items such as these keys and blankets have accompanied and emblematized forced emigration among a growing multitude of refugees from around the world over many generations of exile.
Symbolic items such as these have accompanied and emblematized forced emigration among a growing multitude of refugees from around the world over many generations of exile. Such talismanic objects hint at journeys of migration and loss but the larger work’s enigmatic sensibility keeps visitors at a distance. As with the this trembling turf drawing series, more specific reference points or contextualizing information could result in greater connections between viewers and this artwork’s tantalizing glimpses of profound and difficult human experiences.
Mary Ann Peters: the edge becomes the center continues at the Frye Art Museum (704 Terry Avenue, Seattle, Washington) through January 5, 2025. The exhibition was organized by Alexis L. Silva, curatorial assistant.
