Artist Lydia Randolph's bohemian, artistic parents changed their names and fled New York City by night, driving south after their good friends, Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, were arrested for being Russian spies. By the time Lydia was born, she and her parents were in Florida.
"My parents weren't guilty of anything, just afraid the FBI would arrest all the Rosenbergs friends, so I grew up a vagabond but felt at home in the South," says Randolph, who at age 17 followed a bad-boy beau to Chattanooga before settling by herself in Fort Payne, Ala.
"This town is not rich financially; folks call the valley where Fort Payne sits The Ditch. But the farms scattered across the mountains and the backroads are beautiful and inspiring," she says.
If You Go
› What: Rural South exhibition, through Monday, Sept. 21.› Where: Reflections Gallery, 6922 Lee Highway.› Hours: 10 a.m.-6 p.m. Monday-Friday.› Information: 892-3072.
Her love for the region ignites her paintings in colors so vibrant, they seem almost 3-D. In one, two pink pigs appear ready to tumble from the canvas. She convinced a farmer who was a fan of her work to spare Mary - a cow who couldn't produce a calf and was destined to become burgers - by painting a portrait of her.
Randolph's work is on display at Reflections Gallery's new summer exhibition, Rural South. Several other artists also have works in the show.
"What it means to be a Southerner in this era is a compelling topic; our rural landscape has menacing and inspirational qualities," gallery curator Summer Fisher says. "The emotional range is all here, from the love for the land and small communities to the sense of being trapped and the knack for creating something wonderful out of scraps."
She points to David Henson's bighorn sheep. whose body is a white apartment radiator, its head an old black dial phone and its horns loopy wire. Matt Welch is another of Fisher's favorites for his ability to capture the milky noon light as well as dusk fog that wreathes the hollers of the South.
Nathan Kilpatrick sculpted bits of carved gilded portrait frames, tiny tiles and azure-colored wood into a birdhouse so opulent, Donald Trump would live there if he could fit his hair inside. The roof pops open to reveal a portrait of a cat in a golden frame on the birdhouse wall.
Becky Fried's eerie black-and-white painting shows a young mother with a baby on her hip while holding a diapered toddler by the hand as she poses for a picture against a bleak Appalachian backdrop. Mom wears jeans, a sleeveless shirt and pristine white shoes for the family portrait. Her face and her children's faces are blurred.
Fried deliberately hid the faces so they could be seen as "all the anonymous poor people of Appalachia" who harbor enough spirit and hope to protect one pair of nice shoes in case their hard work earns them a reason to dance or have fun.
Contact Lynda Edwards at ledwards@timesfreepress.com or 423- 757-6391.