The View Through a Tilted Arc
Sculpture boggles my mind. I have no idea how a person can see a form trapped in a piece of rock and chisel it free. Or, go through all that painstaking work to create a mold for liquid bronze or some other material. Of all art forms, sculpture probably intimidates me more than any other. I usually squirm when I view it, wishing those frozen people could be free and wondering what it must feel like to be imprisoned.
I never said I wasn’t crazy.
Maybe that’s why I find rapture and release in Richard Serra‘s work. His metal sculptures stagger me. I love to run through the circular ones at DIA: Beacon. I make noise like I am four years old to hear my voice mutate and pretend I am burrowing my way to the center of an exquisite sea shell. Coming upon one of his outdoor installations makes hours disappear. I want to photograph the work from every conceivable angle, using the full prism of natural light.
To me, Serra’s work is both masculine and feminine, heavy and weightless. And, whenever possible, a most excellent playground to frolic with my inner child.
Has a work of art ever made you act like a child?
This post is the fourth installment in the series Eye of the Beholder, my wandering observations about works of art that speak to me. If this is your first visit to the series, please click here to catch up on the first post, go here for the second and here for the third.