For Sandra-Lee Phipps, a haunting first solo exhibit in Atlanta
by Felicia Feaster
A woman wanders through the forest alone, dressed in a poncho the same obscenely bright shade of orange as traffic cones and highway warning signs. The color and her solitude make her a beacon, a human exclamation point in the muted natural browns and greens of the wilderness surrounding her. The woman’s face is never seen; she is more an idea of “lost” than an identifiable presence.