I had forgotten about this sculpture from 20 years ago, using white, gray, and red clay. My son took the photos and emailed them down today (the shadows may be from stained glass front windows). I am reminded of tragedies in Japan and Haiti.
I'm not sure it had a title--maybe, Together. The thought was, no matter what race or religion, in the end we share the same world.
This was left in Maryland. Not only did our son get a good deal on buying our house, I took the easy route in moving and left a lot of stuff--clay, furniture, lawn mower, snow blower, sculpture.......he's considered charging me storage fees.
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This is a piece that gives me goose bumps, Hallie. How prescient for the times too. Amazing!
ReplyDeleteIt's very cool how the shadows on the wall seem to be part of the sculpture. I like this and I bet your son likes it too. I agree, that we are all part of something ....."together".
ReplyDeleteWow! This is a powerful piece - made even more so by the dynamic lighting... I love the thought for the original intent, and the first image reflects it quite nicely. But, after reading that it reminded you of the tragedies in Haiti and Japan followed by the second image, that's all I will ever be able to associate it with.
ReplyDeleteI have to repeat... powerful.
-Don
Actually the colours lighting works well! These look like giants astride the remains of an ancient world to me.
ReplyDeleteSculpture has always been so intriguing to me, the reality of dimensionality, I admire sculptors so much. The shadows are so exciting in this, and what a wonderful message to convey. Your son is lucky to be your storage!
ReplyDeleteHi Autumn Leaves. For some reason, earthquakes and pirates were my childhood bad dreams. We didn't have either here in southern Virginia.
ReplyDeleteHi Celeste. My son and I like cool shadows. I don't think I ever took a photo of this sculpture--I fired it, then stuck it in a corner of the studio (large unused ex-living room in MD). There is another one similar to this--a cemetary.
Thank you Don. I think the power comes from the lighting.
Hi Mark. I agree; when I saw the photo I thought the upright figures loomed large. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteHi Robin. I love shadows, too. Sometimes I place furniture (like a tractor seat stool) just for the shadow. My son got a lot of junk and books, too--he might have inherited the dreaded "collector's gene."
Beautiful
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Yes, like in the theatre, lighting is everything, and the shadows are nice, but don't shortchange the sculpture itself. I think it's where the emotional impact lies. Taking another thoughtful look reveals a lot, doesn't it? Re-viewing often makes repurposing obvious.
ReplyDeleteThank you Skizo.
ReplyDeleteSamArtDog--you're right. I hadn't seen this sculpture in 12 years. When the email came in yesterday, I was shocked at how current it seems.
Masterful art always stands the test of time. Beautiful work Hallie. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteHi Pam and thank you. I was looking at this earlier and had a deep thought (like on the old SNL). Without hair or clothes this can't be dated and seems current. Unfortunately, that doesn't work with real people.
ReplyDeleteThis is a very powerful piece, Hallie, and as you and others noted, timeless. We are reminded how little control we have in the world we share.
ReplyDeleteIs it eerie when something like this shows up at a time like this? I could imagine this piece lifesized. Very moving.
ReplyDeleteI did a painting of Wall Street in late 2000. In the painting the world trade center towers were falling down. How scary is that?
I know better than to brush by your work too quickly. The longer you stay with a piece the more emerges. I would like to sit with this piece for an hour, and would like to see it rotate around once like a clock in that hour.
ReplyDeleteThe reason I say this is because of the "runes" carved into the octagon. There are two on each facet, making it a 360 degree pageant being portrayed.
I can't tell if it's a personal story (as in Together) or a more universal observation (as in the hope and tragedy cycle of a natural disaster like Japan). Or perhaps the viewer is not supposed to know, giving the whole thing edginess.
I see two people together walking, another in a fetal position on a rock perch (presumably in anguish), and some sleepers (or bodies), and all these "rune" inscriptions I cannot see.
The stand looks like old church alter furniture, perhaps a baptismal font, in which case the rocky center becomes a sort of spring (or fountain) that ties in perfectly with the pageant and the Christian "runes". Now the piece takes on new dimensions deep in Christian mysticism.
The shadows and the colored lights are sexy and everything but are peripheral to the art and disturbing--they are obscuring the view. I would rather see the piece dramatically illuminated by a couple of theatrical spots or even ceiling cans. That said the shadows and colored lights are engaging in a bloggy sort of way.
Does any of this strike a chord, or were you just sculpting a day at the beach, and grampop was throwing out the old Baptismal Font and gee wouldn't it make a great sculpture stand?
Have a great day!
Mary, thank you. We do forget how little control we have.
ReplyDeleteHi Linda. Your painting of the world trade centers falling would make me stop and wonder. This sculpture was much less specific.
William--you are so deep. I think this piece was about how we carry on and ignore so much that's happening around us.
ReplyDeleteHere's my best guess. Someone probably made an offensive comment about race or religion. This was my way of saying "Up yours--here's what I think." The octogan is, I suspect, a spare shelf from my kiln (I use whatever's lying around) and those symbols aren't just Christian but all religions. I've always had a love of symbols; beginning with hieroglyphs from the back of the dictionary.
Before firing the bodies were inside a clam-like shape. After firing there were some broken shards. I went with the "there are no accidents" theory.
This was one of those sculptures where I went back to age 5 and played with mud; they make good "reading." And the stand could be a speaker (don't recognize this base).
My church didn't have a baptismal font--there was a deep hole under the pulpit (scary).
I believe you glimpsed what I can't really define. I think that's what art is--a glimpse into something more than is there. I saw it during the process. Your comments always make me look again; your sight is unbelivable! Thank you.
Why am I thinking of a carnival barker hanging over a tank of water? Seriously, I wasn't thinking about how you wouldn't have had exposure to a Baptismal Font, but those symbols on the octagon do give the piece a religious aura. Very good point about art being more than the sum of its parts. We all need to staple that to our heads.
ReplyDeleteHi William. Carnival barker? Ha, I get it. Until these last two blog posts, I would have sworn that I steered far away from religion. Now I think that, when we're not looking, our whole selves go into our art--those parts we think were discarded or hidden. Then the viewers come along and bring all their parts. Makes it interesting.
ReplyDeleteVery cool!!
ReplyDeleteYeah the kids always make out when transition is in the works..
enjoyed this post
Thanks, jbkrost. Sometimes, the kids make out. Sometimes, they get stuck with a lot of stuff--and have to sift through the junk. That's life, I guess.
ReplyDeleteHallie this is very special and I think the title says it all. We tend to forget it ( and maybe that's the only way), but we all are in the same boat.
ReplyDeleteBig hugs
Thank you, Jane. Your boats, by the way, are beautiful and have soul.
ReplyDeleteWell! You've been prolific while I've been offline!
ReplyDeleteThe round faced chap is perfect as he is, the farm graveyard picture is poignant - another of those pictures of yours that say so much more than poetry.
This sculpture too: you just abandoned it? Well, it looks like your son appreciates it at least! I like the light effects in his pictures. Another artist in the family?
Welcome back, MM--I've been waiting for your return. I didn't exactly abandon the sculpture--I rushed through the moving process because I was taking care of my mother and my husband was ill at the time. I allowed myself four days to get rid of trash, bring in the moving company, and pack up my car. I intended to return and retrieve; it's been ten years and I haven't been back. Both my kids are good at art and/or photography, but they don't seem to have that need to do it--maybe later. Thank you for the comments.
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