Tucked inside a former chapel of the neo-Gothic Church of the Covenant on Boston’s Newbury Street is a charming contemporary art gallery, Gallery NAGA. The ornate stone church exterior belies the cozy and simple exhibition space inside—indeed, I was pleasantly surprised when I stumbled through a trefoil arch doorway into the gallery one cold November night. Nothing is more Boston than making innovative use of old places and things. Founded in 1977 as the Newbury Associated Guild of Artists (hence, NAGA), the female-owned Gallery NAGA has been supporting and promoting New England and Boston-based contemporary artists for almost 50 years. Their current exhibition, “Entwined,” showcases new work by Brazilian-American artist Dinorá Justice, on view from November 6 to December 20, 2025.

        Since 2016, Justice has been working on a series called Portraits that reimagines depictions of female forms in the canon of Western art history. For centuries, male artists have been painting women in revealing and provocative poses, creating adaptations and derivatives of their peers and predecessors—from Titian’s Venus of Urbino (c. 1534) to Ingres’s Grande Odalisque (1814). Building on this tradition, Justice revisits famous works of art and uses swirls of color and patterns to reposition the female form into an updated, contemporary context. She also replaces elements such as furniture, tapestries, and interior settings with nature-based surroundings motivated by her interest in ecofeminism.

        In “Entwined,” Justice pulls inspiration from her recent residency in Vienna and her engagement there with Gustav Klimt paintings. She adapts the Austrian artist’s opulent paintings (which often position semi-naked female forms in sensual situations), reconfiguring his well-known style with her own collage-like technique of painting. Where he used gilding and patterns to create richness and complexity, Justice introduces her own references to Brazilian textiles, jewelry, and flowers. While her paintings contain obvious references to his famous works like Death and Life (1910/1915) and The Kiss (1908-1909), Justice melds Klimt’s perspective with her own to offer a new lens into art historical interpretation today.

        Portrait 92, After Klimt (2025) illustrates Justice’s process of adapting historic works for a modern audience. Those well-versed in Klimt’s oeuvremay recognize the allusion to his 1905 work, The Three Ages of Woman. To start, Justice created a warm marbled background full of movement to serve as the backdrop of her work. She preserved the outlines of Klimt’s three female figures, painting in hair falling over their foreheads and shoulders, and using layers of floral and geometric patterns to map out the curves of their bodies. The shape of a figure’s hunched shoulders and protruding stomach are brought into view, as are the press of a head against another in a close embrace—just as in Klimt’s work. However in Justice’s work, the figures are only ever silhouettes, lacking the folds of skin and facial features. Viewers might imagine any woman—any person—occupying their nebulous forms.

        During his lifetime, Klimt was notorious for his erotic (almost pornographic) imagery. Justice’s technique complicates this interpretation by blurring the lines between figures and obscuring their more sexual elements. Portrait 102, After Klimt (2025) features what look to be a pair of figures locked in a tender embrace, adapted from Klimt’s The Kiss (1908-1909). However, as with Justice’s other works, the forms lack any recognizable features and their faces meld together through the swirls of the green and pink marbled base. Instead, a hint of their embrace is brought into focus through the bright yellow-and-red floral pattern that encircles them like fabric and the defined waves of their hair woven with flowers.

        Other works show a clearly defined figure—with continued references to Klimt’s paintings and the stories that inspired him. Portrait 101, After Klimt (2025) copies the overall subject of Klimt’s Judith and the Head of Holofernes (1901). The front-facing silhouette, the dark cloud of hair, the shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a gold armband and choker necklace, and the male head clutched in the figure’s hands all recall Klimt’s painting. However, Justice’s use of bold colors and vibrant patterns diffuses some of the violence and sexuality that pervades Klimt’s work, where a half-naked Judith exultantly holds the decapitated head of Holofernes to her hip. In Justice’s painting, Holofernes’s head becomes an obscure object carried by a mysterious, faceless figure framed by cheerful sunflowers. Who is this person? And what does she hold in her hands?

        Many of Justice’s works are more akin to portraiture—missing, of course, the identifiable features of the sitter. As a viewer, I wondered whether Justice had individuals in mind as she painted these works. Two favorites are Portrait 103, After Klimt (2025) and Portrait 99, After Klimt (2025). Both depict a feminine figure set against a backdrop of flowers, her womanly form created through the illusion of draping floral textiles. Justice introduced material items sparingly to further build the identity of these two women—a choker necklace, a headscarf, some bangles along a wrist, a ring, an earring articulating the delicate (and otherwise invisible) shape of an ear. Despite this, they remain unknown—perhaps even universal—figures, representing any and all women.

        Justice’s practice of reimagining great works of art to reclaim female form is fascinating and, as a viewer, I enjoyed the thrill of recognition when I spotted the parallels and transformations of Klimt’s work within hers. Once her technique is understood, the works may seem a bit formulaic—marble the canvas, trace the outline of figures, paint plants, flowers, patterns, and jewelry to define an arm, neck, head… etc. But despite the obvious references to famous works by male artists, each of Justice’s paintings are unique and present a view of a strong female form emerging against the backdrop of a wild and chaotic world. She challenges representations of the female form that have so long dominated the canon of art history: nudity, helplessness, sexuality, race. For those searching for vibrant, aesthetic works with an undercurrent of art historical critique, “Entwined” at NAGA Gallery will not disappoint.

Emelia Lehmann is a Boston-based writer and cultural heritage professional. When she is not looking at art, you can find her looking at buildings.