Four pages to track major developments in Longfellow’s life from his youth in Portland where he first showed literary talent, through the years learning languages in Europe and taught at Bowdoin College, to move to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he taught at Harvard, married Fanny Appleton, become a father, and wrote many of the most enduring poems, and finally be the year both as a poet-brother celebrity and grieving widower.

Information on the following pages largely taken from Longfellow: A Life rediscovered by Charles Calhoun and from an essay by Richard D’Abate, “Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: A Man of Letters” in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and His Portland Home. For more information about these and other sources, please refer to the bibliography.

It is reasonable to speculate that Ann Hall Longfellow miniature painted her in 1845 while looking Franquinet print, not a poet.

Figure awkwardly implies a tendency to idealize overextension: works from the print and not the subject of life, he was given as a poet of middle age overweight children.

Hall nonetheless important miniaturist of New England, was born in Pomfret, Connecticut, trained in Newport and New York City.

ivory small in relation to a broad range of fingerprint-based Franquinet shows two cultural phenomena. One, the popularity of Longfellow’s fast-growing, and, two, new print technology was treated demand for celebrity pictures.

Born in Jakarta, Indonesia, in 1971, Mr. Ekel, who has never exhibited before in this country, lives in Amsterdam, where he belongs to an artists’ collective that includes the sculptor Folkert de Jong. Mr. Ekel is primarily a painter, producing colorful works on paper that mix media and techniques, including gouache, acrylic painting and drawing.

Each of the paintings being shown here is well crafted and attractively presented in the mezzanine gallery. While there is nothing especially innovative about the style — a loose expressionistic realism — the content gives you pause for thought, and the economical use of symbolic imagery gives the pictures raw visual force.

As a starting point for viewing the exhibition, I would encourage visitors to dip into the excellent, informative catalog. It helps explain the social, political and cultural underpinnings of the works. Mr. Ekel has a great deal to say about the world we live in, not much of it positive.

Take “The Dutchman Willem Oltmans as George Washington” (2008), a cartoonish painting of a middle-aged white man with blond hair dressed up as the first president. It is at a glance an innocuous-looking portrait, reminding you a little of an Andy Warhol screen print.

But this work has a political message. Reading about the painting in the exhibition catalog, we learn that Mr. Oltmans, who died in 2004, was a Dutch journalist with political connections to the Sukarno regime in Indonesia. In Mr. Ekel’s eyes, he was a powerful figure who helped change the destiny of a nation.

“Willem Oltmans” is one of the show’s few portraits. The artist mostly paints late-20th-century buildings and architectural interiors, conveyed with a minimum of detail and information. This makes them seem oddly simple but mysterious.

Several paintings here depict the Century 21 department store and the nearby Millennium Hilton hotel in Lower Manhattan. They were done in 2006, based on snapshots. They are impressionistic night scenes, denuded of people, capturing reflections and the play of light.

The paintings are linked to the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center, once located across the street from Century 21, for the memory of what happened on 9/11 continues to resonate in the stone and glass of surviving buildings nearby. Mr. Ekel’s blurry, weirdly depopulated night scenes are all about memory and loss.