From One Sculpture to Another

Made of steel blocks, the man represented in this iconic sculpture by Antony Gormley is firmly planted like an oak, his gaze turned skyward. With arms at his sides and knees bent, his posture is reminiscent of kouroi, ancient Greek statues of standing young men, in which the artist sees the essence of the “universal man.” To create this sculpture, Gormley used a cast of his own body, a common practice of his.

This sculpture of a man with a pixelated body has a dual role. When we look at it, it throws our reflection back at us and, as such, is a mirror of both our identity and our connection with others. Through this metaphor, Gormley invites us to ask ourselves about the relationship between public and private, between what we present to the world and what we keep to ourselves.

Born in London, Antony Gormley studied anthropology, art history and archaeology. Two subjects central to his explorations are the body and space. In his work, he ponders questions around scientific and technological development as well as the mystical dimensions of human beings. More generally, Gormley is fascinated by the many facets of the human condition.

The choice of materials and stance of Building VI lead us to imagine, feel and question ourselves in turn. Could this work possibly be evoking the emotions we feel as we look towards the future?

Executed in 1981, these bronze busts are part of a series of six works dedicated to all those who have been persecuted for their religious beliefs or political affiliations. They were created with the intention of celebrating the resilience of human beings and their capacity to overcome trials and transcend violence and injustice. Here, the sombre features of the two figures are accentuated by the marks made by the artist’s sculpting tools, which she deliberately left showing. Their gaze is sorrowful and pensive, yet their thin, sealed lips convey the quiet power of resistance and determination.

Just like the sculptor Alberto Giacometti, in the early 1950s Frink left stone and clay behind to take up a novel sculpture technique. She would start by building an armature with metal rods. Then, she would fill in the skeleton with various pieces of scrap before coating it with wet plaster, an inexpensive material that is easy to manipulate. Once dried, the rough form was sculpted using an axe, chisel or file. This technique enabled the artist to express herself freely and quickly. Her works were typically cast in bronze from the original model.

Raised in England during the Second World War, Elisabeth Frink was profoundly marked by the brutality of that conflict and the instability of the years that followed. Her entire body of work is devoted to a reflection on the human condition.

Joe Fafard was a Canadian artist from Saskatchewan. He is best known for his realistic bronze sculptures of animals such as cows, horses, wolves and buffalo. Life-size or larger, they are often exhibited in public spaces. Claudia is a good example of Fafard’s bronze animal figures, in its realistic detail. But beyond its faithful representation in form, posture, size and anatomical features, there is something special about this cow. As he does in all his sculptures, Fafard imparts to Claudia an inner life; a personality that exudes dignity, strength and self-possession, as well as an appearance of being in the present moment. It is this interiority that gives Fafard’s animal sculptures a living presence.

Artists often attempt to pursue artistic goals or interests, or explore psychological, social and political issues by means of distortion of form and other techniques. Fafard’s career and his long dedication to the sculpture of realistic animals have led some to wonder about his influences and whether perhaps animals have some particular meaning for the artist. When asked about this, Fafard simply answered that sculpting animals was “a good way to make a living.” Whether or not animals had a deeper significance for Fafard than he admitted, the creative urge is a force in art that seeks to express itself in its own way and not necessarily with any particular goal or motive. Sometimes a cow is just a cow.

This contemporary sculpture by Canadian artist Colleen Wolstenholme consists of a column of six simple geometric forms stacked on top of one another; the ones at the foot and the top are truncated. In creating this work, she drew inspiration from the particular shape of a pill as well as the aesthetic of Endless Column (1918) by the Romanian sculptor Constantin Brancusi (1876-1957). The result is a sort of tall, geometric bronze totem pole illustrating a crisis in our society.

The individual components of BuSpar Column evoke giant pills of buspirone (or BuSpar, as engraved on each tablet), an antidepressant prescribed to alleviate generalized anxiety disorder. Its imposing height makes reference to the magnitude of our society’s dependency on prescription drugs. Wolstenholme thus invites us to ponder the impact of our overmedicating ourselves and to question whether certain pharmaceuticals are too readily available on the market. She also draws attention to the fact that this drug is more often prescribed to women, which in her opinion may stem from a desire to numb them.

In the artist’s eyes, the growing popularity and use of antidepressants is more a reflection of society’s ailments than those of individuals.

Born in Nova Scotia, Colleen Wolstenholme is particularly known for her sculptures of oversized medications executed based on diverse techniques and aesthetics. Her committed work is especially driven by a deep reflection on the present-day status of women.

The human figure has for a long time dominated the sculptural tradition. Artist Barry Flanagan strays from this practice by portraying animals onto which he transposes human expressions and sentiments. Here, he created two sculptures that each comprises a pair: a hare dancing atop the head of an elephant that is itself standing on a bell. Incidentally, the hare is a major motif in the work of the artist, for whom the creature symbolizes freedom.

If we look closely at each pair, we can detect a difference in the treatment of the surfaces: the hares, which evoke rapidity and movement, have a smooth texture; while the sluggish pachyderms are endowed with a rougher surface, made up of hatched lines in every direction. We also see differences between the two sculptures in terms of their gender, hence work’s title, Gendrd, a contraction of the word gendered, defined as “being determined or limited by sexual identity.”

It is up to each person to determine what that means to them.

Interesting to note, the numbering of the sculptures’ titles recalls the spirit of modern art which, in referencing serial production, challenges the uniqueness and rareness of an artwork. Yet, we stand in front of bronze sculptures that have been reproduced several times and retain their own identity all the same. " Flanagan flouted conventions in sculpture. In these works, he proposes a journey into an improbable world with humorous juxtapositions of so very different animals.

The Eye is characteristic of the work of David Altmejd, one of the most internationally renowned Quebec artists. The sculptor, whose influences range from Louise Bourgeois and David Lynch to Francisco de Goya, believes that contemporary art is accessible to everyone and doesn’t require extensive explanation to be appreciated.

Here, we see a winged standing figure with a large hole in the middle of its torso, from which hands are emerging. Its head is formed by casts of the artist’s hands, and one of its arms seems to be a prosthesis.

But what secrets does this mysterious figure hide?

Part of the answer undoubtedly lies in the work’s powerful symbolism. With the hands that seem to at once compose and be shaping the body, Altmejd wanted to evoke a human in the making, whose ultimate form eludes him. In fact, metamorphosis is a recurring theme with the artist, hence his fascination with fantastical beings. The gaping hole represents an infinite inner space that is the gateway to art, culture and knowledge. Eminently positive, it lets through light, air and life. As for the sculpture’s monumental size, the artist has said that working at this scale allows him to live intensely and counterbalances his shyness. The artist added wings to bring some lightness to the overall feel of the sculpture.

Through its contrapposto and its various contemporary elements, The Eye bridges multiple eras, from the Classical period and the Renaissance – recalling Winged Victory of Samothrace and Michelangelo’s David – to modern times. Benevolent and protective, this figure watches over the Museum, its works and its visitors.

From Antony Gormley to David Altmejd, our selection of works has invited you into six distinct worlds and hopefully stirred your contemplation, imagination and reflection.
To round out the experience, here are a few additional questions to keep the conversation going: