The Supernumerary

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Childhood is a long running opera. Some siblings star, others function more as supernumeraries, appearing only in the background, silent. Based on family snapshots from the 1960s, this work questions the roles imposed on even very small children. From an early age, harm happens insidiously during the millions of small moments at home, even among well-meaning family. Gender constructs are fostered, roles cast, attention centered on some rather than others. In this work: Bathing-suited sisters sit on a dock. But they are posed like objects on a shelf. A cowboy-costumed boy lays over two ottomans watching TV. His sister tries to get into the photo, sitting on the floor, first on one side of him and then the other. A boy smiles widely from the stairway that leads to the home’s second floor. He wears an Army uniform costume as he “man spreads” his sister next to him into the stair rail. A Catholic nun holds her baby nieces on her lap. Their big sister mimics the pose with her dolls. A red-dressed toddler nuzzles her father laying on the coach on a Sunday afternoon. Hungover, he keeps reading the Saturday Evening Post.