Religion is supposed to help with this, so it's not surprising, as the exhibition title indicates, that Anderson has framed her memorial to Lolabelle in religious terms, specifically Buddhist but allusively Christian as well.
The framing begins with the Tibetan Book of the Dead, which, Anderson says, describes the Bardo as the 49-day period between death and rebirth. Lolabelle died on Palm Sunday and was reborn on June 5, the artist's birthday.
What these fateful coincidences might signify, where Lolabelle's reincarnated spirit is now, even why Tibetan Buddhism is a factor, is left blank. Anyway, it's a touching story.
The most imposing part of Anderson's homage is a suite of 10 huge charcoal drawings on paper, each more than 10 feet high by 14 wide, that resemble cartoons for tapestries. Initially, they reminded me more of stations of the cross - devotional episodes that synopsize a life.
The panels aren't narrative, though; they're composites of images and energetic movements that are more like fragments of dreams or memories, boldly expressed. I presume they represent Anderson's emotional conflict, her struggle to reconcile her cherished memories of Lolabelle with the finality of the dog's demise.
Two other smaller works complete the picture. One is a striking portrait of a dog as a heavenly constellation. Anderson achieved the effect by pricking the image into a large sheet of aluminum, then backlighting it.
The other is what amounts to a reliquary, although of an odd kind. After Anderson had Lolabelle cremated, she mixed the dog's ashes with mud, clay, and water, then shaped the material into a violin, her signature instrument as a performer.
