“The Winter’s Tale” is split into roughly three parts, set in ancient Greece. Over the course of the nearly three-hour play, the audience travels along with the cast through plotlines of accused adultery, tragic death, espoused love, and at the end –– spoiler alert –– a glorious reconciliation. 

Each of the play’s actors put on a truly marvelous performance that was larger than life; exactly what theater acting should be. The energy and choreographed physicality on the part of the actors –– as well as the creative team who directed them –– was able to overcome the linguistic boundaries of Shakespearean English, now outdated to most ears. Additionally, the incorporation of song and dance into the play’s second part, performed largely by Soonchunhyang’s actors, was a fascinating choice which broke up the traditional “straight play” structure. Donned in traditional and vibrant Korean hanboks and set against an abstract digital background to show the passage of time and space, the design choices enhanced the creativity present within this Shakespearean adaptation. The story existed in a space both historical and modern, and somehow also a time that has never occurred –– the perfect way to keep Shakespeare fresh even when maintaining the script, one that was first performed in 1611. 

Overall, the collaborative “Winter’s Tale” between WCT and Soonchunhyang University’s theater department was beautifully executed, despite the constraints of language and the limited time (less than one week) spent rehearsing together. Such collaborative efforts add greatly to the cultural richness of campus and to the theater scene in general, and the Wellesley community should see this play as an opportunity to continue such collaborative efforts in the future. While “The Winter’s Tale” has wrapped up here in Massachusetts, the entire cast and crew will travel to South Korea for more performances during winter break in January 2025. To the entire creative team: break a leg!

Contact the editors responsible for this story: Ivy Buck, Norah Catlin

McEwen’s preference for botanic subjects stems from his upbringing amongst the elder generations of Scottish aristocracy. McEwen’s mother was a botanist, and his childhood French governess encouraged McEwen to draw from nature. Wilfrid Blunt (the mind behind the seminal book “The Art of Botanical Illustration”) introduced McEwen to prominent French botanical artists and eventually acknowledged McEwan as “perhaps the most gifted artist to pass through my hands.” McEwen’s exhibit at the Davis is structured chronologically; visitors begin by encountering his early works, which often depict the artist’s personal influences. The exhibit then flows into McEwen’s later-stage deviation from florals, hyperrealism and painting in general.

In McEwan’s work, the inspiration from observational drawing is clear, as well as the style of medieval manuscripts and finely-detailed linework. The exhibit concludes with pieces from other artists (for whom McEwen provided inspiration), tracing a full circle of McEwen’s life as a student inspired by others, eventual master and inspiration himself.

Rihanna Perry ’28, one of the Davis Museum’s student staff members, mentioned how the placement of his paintings’ subjects to the side, and even the choice of painting an individual flower or plant on a blank background, may have been influenced by contemporary pop art. A clear display of this influence is found in the limited portfolio of seven glass sculptures McEwen created around 1969 that heavily resemble pop and conceptual art, and arguably are of those genres, with geometric shapes and abstract designs. He also experimented with non-western styles of art; “Spring Wind” (1978) aimed to be, according to the exhibit, “a modern equivalent of that supreme scroll of grey daffodils by Chinese artist Chao Meng-chien.” “Spring Wind” is loose and painted with a large brush, evoking a feeling of freedom that is less poignant than in McEwen’s signature, photo-realistic works. 

Late in his life, McEwen turned to painting leaves during their process of decomposition, and named the pieces –– such as “Limerston Street” –– after the momentary location of the chosen leaves themselves (a contrast to his other works whose titles echo the subject itself). McEwen was quite mesmerized by the leaves, writing in his journal that “every one of them is like a personality, especially when they are dying –– I don’t think of them as dying but simply showing the marks of time and experience.” Unfortunately, the decomposing leaf paintings came to represent a dark though nearly poetic omen; McEwen was diagnosed with terminal cancer soon after he completed the series.

 McEwen’s “A New Perspective on Nature” deserves its name for presenting a classical art style and medium through the unique positional lens of the artist himself. Exhibit visitors are likely to be pleased with McEwen’s work –– which presents the familiar subject of nature, but communicates more than meets the eye with its realism and attention to detail. From his realistic paintings of decaying leaves, it is speculated that they were his way of processing his own decline in health. His paintings also bring up the questions about the challenges of an artist who worked in such a realistic style during a time when it was not in demand, and suggests a love for his work and botanicals beyond societal value. 

 “A New Perspective on Nature” will remain open at the Davis Museum until Dec. 15, 2024.

Contact the editors responsible for this story: Ivy Buck, Norah Catlin

“In The Black Fantastic, boundaries between dichotomies assumed to be essential are erased,” reads the info sheet at the front of the exhibit. Each piece, be it painted on scrap wood or on blocks glued together, is full of colorful, almost esoteric, depictions of nature. From trees and flowers, to the cell, life is illustrated in a bath of greens, reds, and blues with pops of other hues. 

McMillian also includes elements of collage, mostly via printed images of galaxies. They serve to break up the texture of the pieces in subtle, but impactful, ways. In many of the works, there are winding roads, vines and rivers. These entities, which in real life lead to a destination or end, are instead portrayed as pillars of infinity, looping around and off the surface in impossible ways. The ground, if it even is the ground, is often patterned like a quilt instead of grass or dirt. Yet, for all the impossibility, each landscape materializes and stretches out before you, from the teardrop leaves of “Lilith’s Trees” that gently sway in the unseen wind, to the vibrant lapping of river water in the painting “In Search of the Black Fantastic.” Other pieces displayed are strikingly 2D, like “In Search of Our Mothers Garden.” Instead of a landscape, the viewer is encouraged to focus on the intricacies of the flowers and leaves intertwining to form an aesthetic reminiscent of textile and the gilding of medieval tomes. 

With her exhibition “In Search of the Black Fantastic,” McMillian brings us into her world of vibrant possibilities under a night sky through “In Search of the Black Fantastic”.

Contact the editor responsible for this story: Anabelle Meyers