02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Washington Post
She didn't want to be boxed in. So she painted out.
The men in Vivian Browne's pictures are uniformly oafish. In the 1968 oil 'Seven Deadly Sins,' one is a swell of flesh puddling in the corner, feasting on his own foot, his hands a sickly green. Another looks out with sunken, mauve-ringed eyes before a row of blubbery figures, their faces sagging in loose folds. Browne relished scenes like these, when pretense falls away and the truth is laid nervily, searingly bare.
