Pentimento

 by Paula Gail Benson

First Edition from rarebookcellar.com

In 1973, Little, Brown and Company published Lillian Hellman’s Pentimento: A Book of Portraits, a sequel to her autobiography, An Unfinished Woman. Hellman begins by explaining the concept of “pentimento” and, in doing so, describes what she aims to achieve in the book:

“Old paint on canvas, as it ages, sometimes becomes transparent. When that happens it is possible, in some pictures, to see the original lines: a tree will show through a woman’s dress, a child makes way for a dog, a large boat is no longer on an open sea. That is called pentimento, because the painter ‘repented,’ changed his mind. Perhaps it would be as well to say that the old conception, replaced by a later choice, is a way of seeing then seeing again.

“That is all I mean about the people in this book. The paint has aged now and I wanted to see what was there for me once, what is there for me now.”

An example of pentimento in Pablo Picasso's The Blue Room
from Discovering a Pentimento: A Secret under Paintings (artfervour.com)

When I first read Hellman’s Pentimento, it made a strong impression upon me. In particular, I remember her chapter about Julia, which eventually became a movie starring Vanessa Redgrave and Jane Fonda. Pentimento was criticized as containing stories that Hellman had heard from others, rather than them being her own experiences. Even if they are fictionalized accounts, they are no less moving due to the lingering sad reminiscence conveyed in the telling.

I think “pentimento” suits this season of the year well. As we near Halloween, with its promises of ghosts and ghoulies, and All Saints Day, remembering those who have passed from the world this year, it seems appropriate to consider what of memories remain and what has been lost in time.

Photo of William T. Sherman by Matthew Brady

Where I live, Columbia, S.C., change seems to be a constant. I often wonder if it stems back to Union General William Tecumseh Sherman’s 1864 march from Atlanta to Savannah then through South Carolina to the sea. During that campaign, Columbia was significantly burned and destroyed. Some attribute it to the rage of Union soldiers unleashed in the city where the Ordinance of Secession was originally signed. Others suggest accident, sparks igniting cotton bales and then blazing out of control. Whatever the reason, Columbia does not have the more historic venues that Charleston still maintains and local properties are frequently being renovated or demolished.

Since I have spent most of my life in Columbia, when I travel by certain spots, I can’t help but think of past associations. For instance, today, as I waited at a stop sign, I looked over at an apartment complex where I remembered the police being summoned to help because an elderly friend had passed away alone inside. At another corner, I see a utility pole, but recall it once held a large metal box where one night an unhelmeted victim in a motorcycle accident lost a life. Near the center of town, a large Victorian style home is being transformed into a coffee shop with apartments above. Some believe it may have been where Sherman set up his Columbia headquarters, although the historical marker is on a new hotel across the street. For years, the house served as a funeral home, where I attended services and visitations. How would it be to live there, I wonder.

Burning of Columbia from Harper's Weekly

Sherman's Headquarters Marker

A friend who used to work late at night alone at my church said he sometimes heard women’s voices coming from the kitchen, where meals for the needy and bereaved were prepared. He would shut the door to leave the ladies to their business.

I can’t help but ponder, does a layer just below the surface continue to exist that helps us remember? Or is it more of a phantom memory, like feeling pain where a severed limb once was?

What do you think? Have you ever experienced “pentimento?”