This set of harrowing paintings by Dinh Y Nhi are portraits of nameless women, each having been labelled with Roman numerals from ‘Portrait I’ to ‘Portrait XIV’. The passport photograph format is suggestive of the right to passage denied. Trapped and caged in these small rectangular canvases, these women seem to bear testimony to some kind of abuse. As in ‘Portrait I’ the only portrait from a side view, the grimace alongside a mix of fear and defiance in the subject’s expression suggests the head of this woman has been turned by a violent stroke. Tied down or physically constrained none of these women look like they are present voluntarily. These images ask more questions than answer. It would be hard to say whether in fact Dinh Y Nhi knows these women as individuals or whether they represent archetypes, or they are the sum of a very personal document. Painted with a deft force, the women portrayed are often left virtually featureless and almost totally de-personalized. However violated they retain an u nmistakable femininity. The flesh on Dinh Y Nhi’s palette is of a dull, bloodless hue, tones of grey with heavy black outlines interrupted by the occasional shock of an aggressive red or blue. Constrained by their own demons or by some imposing authority, these ghost-like images of frailty elude the mortuary slab with a vital passion. Although traumatized these women do not look at all passive or accepting of their fate whether anonymous victims or heroic female icons.

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