On a blisteringly cold New York day, Emma Kathleen Hepburn Ferrer stands in Tribeca’s Sapar Contemporary gallery on North Moore Street, the site of her first solo exhibition, “The Scapegoat” (on view through February 15). Comprising 15 contemplative works, the show explores themes of sacrifice, spirituality, and humanity’s intricate connection to nature, encapsulated by the biblical and mythological symbolism of the lamb.
Walking me through the white-cube space, Ferrer, 30, is dressed in oversized vintage men’s trousers that she had tailored to her frame, a sharp button-up, a men’s vest, and a silk neckerchief patterned with palm fronds. It’s a look that feels rather Katharine Hepburn-esque for a direct descendant of the other Hepburn: Ferrer’s father is Sean Hepburn Ferrer, Audrey Hepburn’s son with the actor Mel Ferrer.
Born in Switzerland, Ferrer spent her formative years between Los Angeles and Italy. Her artistic journey began early. “I always took drawing and painting classes from when I was really young, as long as I can remember,” she says. By the age of 18, she had been accepted into the prestigious Advanced Painting program at the Florence Academy of Art, where she would immerse herself in the methodologies of the old masters, delving into still lifes and human anatomy.
After completing her foundational training, Ferrer relocated to New York City in 2015. She stayed for six years, working in various positions across the art world, including as an intern at the very gallery now hosting her debut. “Ten years later, to have my own show here is really incredible,” she says.
The pandemic, however, prompted a return to Europe, where Ferrer converted a small guesthouse in a secluded Tuscan town into her studio. “It’s important to have a dedicated space to create. In New York, I didn’t have that,” she says. “My studio overlooks the valley and the sea—it’s truly beautiful. Living there made me realize how deeply intertwined my practice is with nature and the environment around me.”
That influence is evident throughout “The Scapegoat.” Rendered in muted palettes and delicate brushstrokes, Ferrer’s scenes are ethereal and emotive: Just take At Sea (2024), in which a lone lamb adrift on a small boat evokes a profound sense of loneliness (“It’s about empathy for this innocent little victim that has been betrayed by humans,” Ferrer tells me), or Agnus Dei (2024), featuring a lamb at rest on a crimson cloth—a tender yet haunting nod to the show’s overarching theme of sacrifice.
Ferrer’s fascination with the concept of the scapegoat—a being burdened with the sins of a community and cast into exile—was ignited by an artwork she encountered a decade ago. “The show is inspired by a painting by William Holman Hunt called The Scapegoat,” she explains. “I saw it in Liverpool recently, but I’ve been obsessed with it for 10 years. That painting led me to research the biblical myth and its interpretations across cultures.” These went back at least to ancient Greece, when “they would take a lamb and throw it into a lake as an offering,” she says. “Another ritual involved a sick person spitting into the mouth of a frog, which was then sent into the mountains to die, symbolizing the transfer of illness away from the community.” Ferrer tells me this as we stand in front of You Will Return the Evil to its Steppe (Homage to Zurbarán) (2024), her painting of a bloodied frog.
Not all of the work in “The Scapegoat” is focused on the natural world, however; one poignant painting, titled Lord, You Can Heal Me If You Want To, was informed by her visit to a hospital chapel in Italy. “I was struggling with an autoimmune disease and found myself standing in front of this chapel,” Ferrer recalls. “I saw a man praying alone, and it was such a moving moment.” She named the painting after a verse in the Book of Luke: “It reflects that raw feeling of desperation and solitude, the kind of prayer that’s both an offering and a plea for relief.
“I’ve been reading ancient texts, including the Bible, even though I’m not religious,” she continues. “Living in a small Italian town surrounded by religious relics and Roman Catholic history has allowed me to approach these stories from a neutral place.”
While Ferrer never met her grandmother, who died a year and a half before she was born, she senses her talents as draftswoman were passed down. “She was really good at drawing,” Ferrer says of Hepburn. “My dad put together an exhibition, ‘Intimate Audrey,’ which features some of her sketches and toured a little bit in Europe—now it s going to be in China for a while.”
The profound empathy on display in Ferrer’s work feels like another inheiritance. A UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador from 1988 until her death in 1993, Hepburn was a tireless advocate for vulnerable populations, a legacy that Ferrer—who has herself collaborated with organizations like UNICEF and UNHCR—intends to carry on. “I hope to continue my career in a way that allows me to have my own voice and contribute to philanthropic efforts,” she says.
It seems she is well on her way. A side conversation with a gallery representative reveals there is some concern about the overwhelming number of well-wishers eager to see Ferrer’s show. Will the space be able to fit them all on opening night? Ferrer is thrilled. “It’s exciting and surreal to have people from different stages of my life all in the same room,” she says. “I’ve invited over 450 people, including Glenda Bailey, who put me in Harper’s Bazaar when I was 19. It’s a full-circle moment.”
Looking ahead, Ferrer is eager to expand her practice into sculpture, inspired by her boyfriend, Thomas, who runs a foundry in Italy. “I’ve been in a really prolific rhythm,” she says. “I’d love to have my work shown in Europe, as well…This is just the first step.”
