To begin writing about Sita Gomez’s stunning retrospective at Hudson Hall, I conjured the vision of her petite ceramic sculpture Julie de Burgos, Poet (1985). In this work, we encounter Burgos from the hips up, her eyes closed, head leaning coyly to the side, a pencil in one hand and a journal in the other, a honeyed smile on her face as she entertains a private thrill, and thus starts my hymn of praise for this dignified doyenne. Gomez gives us retro glamour and mature luxuriousness in every one of her vibrant artworks—in her world, vintage vixens confidently enjoy personal pleasures while living in abundance. Luscious, sensual, and unencumbered, Gomez’s ladies ravage the soul.
Now in her 90s, Gomez is a living legend whose life story reveals the social-political instabilities of the 20th century. Born in Paris in 1932, a decade later she and her family fled Europe during the height of Hitler’s power. They lived between New York and Cuba until Castro’s extremism made it impossible to return, yet another example of fascism’s unfolding in the West (a longtime resident of Hudson, she is now witness to the rise of a fascist American leader in her lifetime). Gomez began to study art in the late 1940s and received her degree from Parsons School of Design, and she has been painting ever since.
Expertly curated by the seasoned gallerist Nancy DeCarlo Cobean of Rose Gallery, the exhibition highlights her 75-year career, and the entire show is infused with a nostalgic essence as such. Among the staring characters is a portrait of Sandra Bernhardt (1969) in a bold image of the actress wearing a black dress set against a rich yellow background. Gomez’s theatrical scenes are authentically lived, and Black Mantilla (1971) is a robust vision of a rosy-cheeked woman with a jumbo orange patterned shawl cascading down around her. Reminiscent of Goya’s Spanish women of royalty, this daring senora smiles sweetly as her demure fingers and exposed breasts shine with a glossy glow. In Baile de Tropical, Habana (1992), two bi-racial couples dance the night away under a cobalt sky while the sumptuous twirling of their bodies exposes the women from below and we catch a perfectly naughty glimpse of their blond-hued pubic hair.
In Mathilda and Her Girls (1976), an oversized grande dame in a flowing pink frock relaxes on a scarlet couch while a bevy of miniature women hang about smoking cigarettes and gossiping (here Gomez’s recurring motifs of naked nipples and bare pubis is as cute as can be). Little Lesbians (1965) features identically plump women who initiate an innocent kiss in the nude, while Nude (1974) is the image of a ripe woman leaning against two plush pillows. Among the other gems of this show are Gomez’s handmade cloth dolls from the 1970s (lovingly displayed in a vitrine) and a series of assemblage works that incorporate small pieces of leather, fabric, trinkets and other upcycled materials, including Adam & Eve in Paradise (1965). In this lavish display of history’s most infamous couple, a hairy-chested Adam sports a pair of decorative yellow boots and red flowing hair combed back, while Eve’s Medusa-like do and daring footwear match his in their splendor.
It was an unexpected joy to meet Sita Gomez and Nancy Cobean during a private event at Hudson Hall a few weekends ago, where the gorgeous Gomez held court at a table in the center of the gallery lounge as an adoring fan club doted on her. Her painted ladies seemed to partake in the lively gathering, their playful grins energizing the room from their respective positions on the wall. I imagined a steady samba beat somewhere in the distance as Cobean spoke affectionately about Gomez and her distinct style of multicultural storytelling through painting. Just then, Gomez heard our conversation and she tilted her head back slightly and stated ever so eloquently: “I only paint women!”
“Sita Gomez” is on exhibit at Hudson Hall through April 4.
This article appears in March 2026.
Where is Hudson Hall. Would be help to put signature of the venues you feature in your posts. Thanks!
Subject: Regarding “Sita Gomez’s Painted Women, Reconsidered at Hudson Hall”
Dear Taliesin Thomas,
I am writing in response to your review, “Sita Gomez’s Painted Women, Reconsidered at Hudson Hall.” While the retrospective thoughtfully traces Ms. Gomez’s remarkable 75-year career, one passage in your opening biographical framing compels me to respond.
You wrote:
“Born in Paris in 1932, a decade later she and her family fled Europe during the height of Hitler’s power. They lived between New York and Cuba until Castro’s extremism made it impossible to return, yet another example of fascism’s unfolding in the West (a longtime resident of Hudson, she is now witness to the rise of a fascist American leader in her lifetime).”
This statement places a contemporary political position into Ms. Gomez’s life without any indication that she herself has expressed it. That is not interpretation; it is projection.
If Ms. Gomez has made such a statement, it should be quoted. Absent that, attributing it to her is unwarranted.
Ms. Gomez fled Hitler’s Europe and lived through the upheaval of Castro’s Cuba. For someone who has endured regimes marked by repression and exile, the word “fascism” is not rhetorical shorthand. It names lived history. To extend it into present political commentary — and to imply that it reflects her own view — diminishes the gravity of what she has experienced.
Writers bear responsibility not to place words or convictions into the lives of those they are covering. Words matter. Assumptions, once printed, carry weight.
Ms. Gomez’s extraordinary life and work deserve to be presented on their own terms, with care and precision equal to the history she carries.
Sincerely,
Carolina Marquez-Sterling
Brilliant reply Carolina! I totally agree with you!