Anyone meeting Deborah Epstein, an architect and artist whose projects include the oceanfront music hall in Rockport, would likely view her as a successful professional.
A founding principal at Epstein Joslin + Picardy Architects, Epstein has been haunted by the memories of a knife attack on Columbia University’s campus when she was a student at Barnard College in 1977.
She endured the legal morass that ensued after the attacker was indicted and eventually pled down to the lowest felony. But memories of the stalking and threats didn’t just dissolve and disappear. Nearly 50 years later, she is using her artistry to reclaim some part of herself that was buried through this experience.
Epstein’s new exhibit, “No Words: Meditations on Being Stalked and Stabbed,” which features 11 prints, opened at Mercury Gallery in Rockport. An artist talk will be held Saturday, June 22, at p.m. at 3:30 p.m.
The prints came to life after years of contemplating a “monster file” of documents related to the attack in which she was stabbed in the head, about two weeks after she was threatened at knifepoint by her ex-fiancé.
“When I was 21 my ex-boyfriend tried to kill me. What remains from that time, over 45 years ago, are three scars on my scalp; a 2-inch-thick file of my father’s phone notes, court documents, and correspondence; anger and a deep lack of trust in the systems that are supposed to protect … . I call the piece ‘No Words,’ in part because in that 2-inch thick file there are so many words — my father’s, the school’s, the lawyers’, the court’s — but none of them is mine,” wrote Epstein in an artist statement.
After her undergraduate studies, Epstein went on to earn a Master of Architecture from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She later married and had a family.
It wasn’t until 2017, when her father’s aging became more apparent, that she asked him for his file, which she knew had to exist; he had a file for each of his four children and six grandchildren filled with papers related to their childhood and young adult years. In this case, she wanted to see her case file. The article about the attack was an above-the-fold story in the university newspaper, the Columbia Daily Spectator.
“My father was a lawyer and in his attempt to take care of me, he took over all communication and decisions,” Epstein recalled.
But the psychological and emotional wounds remained open.
“When I started reading through the file, I knew that I needed to do something with this material, but I didn’t know what,” she said.
Gallery director Amnon Goldman was immediately supportive and encouraging of Epstein’s new work.
A weaver and textile artist, Epstein at first thought she could create a weaving project, or perhaps make the original documents into a series of quilts.
“Eventually I decided to work with the themes, rather than the chronology. I turned to printmaking because I could manipulate the handwritten notes, typewritten correspondence and court documents,” she said. “I could emphasize important phrases, and bring together parts of different documents to express emotion.
“Another reason printmaking made sense was that when I left college for safety issues, I took printmaking classes at the University of Michigan Art School, that calmed me, allowing me to function during this difficult time. So returning to printmaking for this project made sense.”
As she pored over the hundreds of documents, it occurred to her that she did not want to elevate the words of the district attorney, the lawyers and others.
“I used the parts that furthered my narrative,” she said.
Epstein reflected on how frightened she was when her ex-fiancé was stalking her extended family, violating the conditions of his bail.
“The ever-present fear made me feel like I was drowning,” she said, referring to the exhibit piece called “fear.”
The titles of pieces in the series include words like “forgiveness” and “no consequences,” which give the viewer a sense of what experience is explored in that print.
“This story is mine, but unfortunately the themes will be familiar to too many people, most of them women,” Epstein said. “A serendipitous outcome of the exhibit has been to encourage this sharing of stories. Resilience is the goal.”
Throughout the process, sharing her work has elicited lots of disturbing personal stories from viewers.
In sharing an anecdote about a twist of fate of sorts, shortly after the attack, Epstein had asked Barnard College what steps would be taken to ensure her safety; one administrator quipped, “What are we supposed to do, give you a bodyguard?”
But when Joan Mondale became the keynote commencement speaker — guess what — Barnard did give her a bodyguard, Epstein recalled, perhaps because the administration didn’t want an incident to mar the celebration.
Gail McCarthy may be contacted at 978-675-2706, or gmccarthy@northofboston.com.