Latest News
Lily Al-Nemri, founder and owner, and artistic director and painter Rudy Vavra at Tyte medispa and gallery in Millbrook.
Natalia Zukerman
Vavra, a self-professed “painter’s painter,” has spent decades layering pigment in his barn-turned-studio in Milan, New York. “I find paintings as much as I make them,” he mused. “Some happen quickly, others are slow.” Of this latest collection, he said, “Some people call them busy. I think they’re slow.” His marks accumulate with a kind of devotional persistence, like petals left at a shrine. “A while ago, I saw a photographic image of a shrine,” Vavra said. “I don’t know if it was a Buddhist shrine or what, but there were colors on the ground all around it, and I realized they were the stains of flowers left in the worship. That’s very similar to the way I paint.”
The collection of paintings on view at Tyte — some as large as a shrine — are meditations on color, inviting the viewer to slow down. Or speed up. Whether viewers are activated or soothed by the images is neither Vavra’s intention nor within his control. Still, he said that watching people interact with the work has been a real treat. “Now that I have my paintings here, I get to see them all together,” he said. “It’s only when they’re all together that I see how they talk to each other. It’s interesting to see people come in and go to have a treatment and come out. It’s a very interesting connection.”
And what is the connection? What could be a disjointed pairing — aesthetics and aesthetic medicine — has become, improbably, a perfectly logical continuum. “They’re related in a sense,” Vavra said.
Aly Morrissey
Al-Nemri, a former radiologist who taught for over a decade at Westchester Community College, is no stranger to layering, precision, or the quiet rigor of care. Her incredible menu of services — Botox, body contouring, pelvic floor therapies — are the cutting edge of the industry. Of Vavra, Al-Nemri said, “I fell in love with his work, and we just hit it off.” It’s a kind of kismet that seems to hover over the place. Pilates mat classes take place twice a week in the main gallery space and both Al-Nemri and Vavra have loved watching clients pause, eyes caught by a stripe of cerulean or a vibrating cluster of brushstrokes. “Something will catch their eye,” said Vavra. “They’re looking for something in it.”
So, this gallery-meets-spa (or is it the other way around?) has plans. Vavra will be curating six shows a year. Laurie Adams’s photographs will be hung in June, a group show of local artists will share the space in July and August, and a Fall show will feature twenty women artists, which Vavra is eager to anchor with a piece by Judy Pfaff. “There’s nothing like this on this side of the county,” he said of the light drenched space. “It’s been a bit sleepier here. We want to wake it up.”
He means it kindly; sleep certainly has its place. But here in Millbrook, amid the low drone of machines designed to rejuvenate, something unexpected has emerged. Perhaps that’s what both Al-Nemri and Vavra are really after — not the quick fix or the final image, but the suspended moment, the long look. A face seen anew. A painting revealed slowly, in silence.
As for Vavra’s curatorial process? “I just unpack the paintings, lean them against the wall, and look,” he said. “Eighty percent of the time, they’re already where they’re supposed to be.”
Shoumita Dasgupta, a professor of medicine at Boston University, will speak about her book “Where Biology Ends and Bias Begins: Lessons on Belonging for Our DNA” at The Colonial Theatre in North Canaan on April 17.
Provided
The daughter of Bengali parents who came to the United States in the 1970s so her father could pursue an education in science and seek “the American dream,” Dasgupta remembers her childhood in central Pennsylvania. As the child of immigrants, she was able to fit in with others like herself, but was viewed as an outsider by others. Those experiences sparked her life-long interest in the area of equality and diversity.
Dasgupta went on to embark on an educational path, earning a bachelor’s degree from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and both a master’s and Ph.D. from the University of California.
In discussing the topic of her book, Dasgupta said in science, like any other type of society, there is some inclusion and some not. That realization has helped her acclimate to being comfortable in her own skin, which in turn, provides her with mentoring tools when dealing with her students. Her hope is to make it easier for others who don’t identify with a major group.
Dasgupta explained that she has been teaching a course about inclusivity with medical and Ph.D. students in which various topics such as sex/gender, biology and disabilities are discussed. She found the curriculum led to meaningful conversations and that what started as an anti-racist genetics project shifted to one of anti-oppression.
Provided
An editor, learning about the class, suggested she put the topics all together in a book. Her vision was to highlight the importance of bringing people together with a historical perspective and while honoring that history, hoping mistakes that were made aren’t repeated.
Talking about history, Dasgupta said science began centuries ago as a hobby for the upper echelons of society who had money to pursue their interests. This hierarchical structure led to almost predetermined outcomes that were often flawed, such as a belief that race was the reason for particular medical issues. She said that’s what oppressive science looks like now.
Dasgupta said science is a social structure and there is a need to check individual biases so as not to promote further harm. Using the term “virus of bias,” she said education is needed to overcome this way of thinking. She also fears the potential misuse of technology and the need to ensure its proper use before it’s released into society.
Dasgupta hopes a takeaway from her book is that people see the commonality among populations. She is also hopeful that all people can learn from one other.
To reserve tickets, visit: www.canaancolonial.com
The daffodils at Laurel Ridge Farm in Litchfield at their peak in late April 2024.A visit to the farm on April 10 showed that only a few daffodils were in bloom.Peak may be in another week or two.
Photo by Robin Roraback
It rings true to visitors who go to see the more than ten thousand daffodils and narcissus that were planted at Laurel Ridge Farm beginning in the early1940’s. The bulbs were planted in a field considered too rocky to plant crops. The stone marker that holds the poem by Wordsworth also explains: “These daffodils were planted for all to enjoy by Virginia and Remy Morosani, 1941.”
Since then, the Morosani family has maintained the daffodils and set up a foundation for their care. More bulbs were planted over the years. Maintenance includes digging up and separating bulbs when they become over-crowded.
A visit on April 10 found that only a few daffodils were in bloom. A couple who goes yearly and had come to check predicted, “Maybe a week or two more until peak.”
The daffodils at Laurel Ridge Farm in Litchfield. Photo by Robin Roraback
From about mid-April to early May, thousands of visitors are welcomed to see the daffodils. There are three rules: No dogs, no picnicking, and no picking or stepping on the flowers. They also ask that no one park on the east side of the narrow road so that emergency vehicles gain access if needed.
It is a magical experience to walk the more than ten acres of meandering paths, with woods and ponds, surrounded on all sides by daffodils and narcissus in shades of yellow from pale, almost white to golden yellow.
The Visit Litchfield CT Facebook page (www.facebook.com/VisitLitchfieldCT) posts updates and will post when the daffodils peak. Laurel Ridge Daffodils Facebook page also posts updates on when the peak is expected.
Laurel Ridge Farm is located at 66 Wigwam Road, 1.3 miles south of the intersection withRoute 254. A sign for Laurel Ridge Farm is at the beginning of Wigwam Road. There is no admission fee. It is open from sunrise to sunset while the daffodils bloom. After that, it is closed until the next year.
