Cruel Babes

Hashimoto Contemporary is pleased to present Cruel Babes, a solo exhibition by Kansas City-based artist Rachel Gregor. The exhibition is Gregor's second solo exhibition at Hashimoto Contemporary. Stories have formed a part of our culture since time immemorial. Transforming through various iterations as centuries and millennia pass, certain tropes and characters prevail: forbidden love; ironic twists of fate; senseless tragedy. But, if it’s clear these stories are important to our understanding of our place in the world, how do courageous heroes, tragic maidens, vicious villains, or lovesick dopes fit into our lives? And where do we, our personal narratives of who we are, fit into these stories? In her latest solo exhibition at Hashimoto Contemporary New York City, Cruel Babes, painter Rachel Gregor reconsiders folk tales, ballads, and myths through a personal lens. The Kansas City-based artist casts different versions of herself as the characters in these stories, referencing compositions and figures from well known paintings in the art historical canon to create her mis-en-scène. The scenes don’t recede into the countryside but into a velvety, black backdrop, alluding to the artifice of the stories themselves and Gregor’s retelling. “I am taking on the roles of these characters,” Gregor reflects, “I’m just changing my costume between sets, and I am giving a recital.” By presenting these narratives through an entirely female perspective, Gregor prompts viewers to wonder how our perceptions of these ancient stories change over time, and what remains the same. Gregor’s narrative references stem from all sorts of folklore that continue to influence Western consciousness, from Greek mythology to folk tales told through ballads. Her honey-toned rendition of Actaeon’s Hounds shows a nude Gregor facing away from the viewer into the backdrop, posing as the bathing Artemis. Her now deceased Australian shepherd snarls at something out of view, while her other dog trails cautiously behind. The Cruel Mother references a murder ballad about a woman killing her illegitimate sons, and then wishing she could dress and care for children of her own—children who, in the end, remind her that she is a murderer. A crimson shadow casted over the figure’s head washes up into the eaves of the tree, as a bleach blonde Gregor leans against it, toying with dandelions in each of her hands. Whether a woodland goddess, a lost babe, or a murderous mother, Gregor’s self depictions invite us to place ourselves in these stories, to have empathy with versions of ourselves who may have lived in the past.