Kiki Smith reproduces a freakish early American painting in her suspended sculpture Near.

That is, the 1670 painting that Smith drew inspiration from is by an anonymous artist known only as the Freake-Gibbs painter, because of his penchant for painting two upstanding Boston families: the Freakes and the Gibbs. He’s a pretty mysterious figure in the history of art.

But the de Young’s Freake-Gibbs doesn’t actually feature either of the namesake families. Instead, it's the Mason children, David, Joanna, and Abigail, who suffocate in their lace frills, bonnets and tight elf-shoes. Talk about restrictive clothing.

Oddly, the girls wear red coral jewelry, once believed to ward off death and evil. Their wrinkled little crone faces tell a different story though. I’d say it’s too late for the Mason kids, who look more like dour goblins than carefree children. Take a look and tell me they’re not a little freaky despite their best efforts. Puritanism will do that to you.

In Near, the painting is recreated in an embossed metal box and accompanied by a shower of glass raindrops. Everything hangs high above visitors in the Contemporary Craft Collection. Take the nearby stairs to get a closer view.

The kite the children peer out from is what Smith calls “indigenous urban architecture.”  That is, it reflects the cardboard boxes she saw San Francisco’s homeless population occupying during her visit. 

Interestingly, Smith had her own brush with “urban architecture” following her father’s death.  At the time, her aunt removed all the furniture from their house, leaving Smith and her sisters in stark surroundings. They improvised with fruit crates and cardboard box furniture, painting the cheap materials vibrant hues to glam up their home. As far as cardboard carpentry skills go, though, I’d say Smith still has a ways to go. The walls of this diorama are totally warped.

However, the wonky box does highlight Smith’s interest in injustice: of class disparity and also the gender divide. Basically, she threw out the Mason boy in favor of his two sisters.  Little David got enough privileges in his life, seemingly.  Time for Joanna and Abigail to have their turn flying high.

If you look at the glass raindrops (some might say teardrops, others Karl the Fog), you can even catch a glimmer of a rainbow on each. Smith coated them with stannous chloride to give them their multicolored sheen--a nod to the Bay Area’s history of gender politics, gay liberation, and hippie counter-culture.