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Hugh at work in his studio.
199 North Main St., Cherryfield, ME 04622 (207) 546-0237 |
Notes on Sculpture
Snow is falling on a field of boulders and a garden of my finished sculptures.
all crevices are covered
the stalks of
fallen flowers vanish before
this benefice all the garden’s
wounds are healed
white, white, white as death 1
All of the carving energy that went into the sculptures is forgotten. Silent objects isolated by the snow. A sculptor races against time and age. One is very lucky to have such a race.
There are some small basalt Inuit carvings in the museum in Quebec City that move me more than all the sculpture produced in North America. Most sculptors have backed into sculpture, usually from painting. Their work is essentially two dimensional. Sculpture has been too accommodating; to its dilution.
There are forms of life and then there is a whole life of forms. These snow bound sculptures are trying to sing a song of tacit form! One need not succeed in creating a convincing life of forms but one can try… one can try to educate a block of stone into a form that continues to express itself as you walk around it.
This is a hard task and full of continued failure. There is nothing very complicated about the intention to create an abstract organic form. As a formal language, it has been renewed at least a hundred years ago and, anciently, it stretches back to the beginnings of human expression. I could list the names of my mentors but I will mention only Henry Moore.
The challenge comes in the actual carving. One is repeatedly brought to one’s knees, an empty husk, all chaff and winnowings and still this obdurate block refuses to sing.
Even when you finally realize that the decisions have been made and there is very little else you can do to improve a sculpture, the form presents its’ flaws. Perhaps next time one will succeed and the form will be more coherent and powerful.
Such is the faith, and driving energy, of a sculptor.
Hugh Lassen
1Exerpt from “The Snow Begins” W.C.Williams Pictures from Breughel 1962
Snow is falling on a field of boulders and a garden of my finished sculptures.
all crevices are covered
the stalks of
fallen flowers vanish before
this benefice all the garden’s
wounds are healed
white, white, white as death 1
All of the carving energy that went into the sculptures is forgotten. Silent objects isolated by the snow. A sculptor races against time and age. One is very lucky to have such a race.
There are some small basalt Inuit carvings in the museum in Quebec City that move me more than all the sculpture produced in North America. Most sculptors have backed into sculpture, usually from painting. Their work is essentially two dimensional. Sculpture has been too accommodating; to its dilution.
There are forms of life and then there is a whole life of forms. These snow bound sculptures are trying to sing a song of tacit form! One need not succeed in creating a convincing life of forms but one can try… one can try to educate a block of stone into a form that continues to express itself as you walk around it.
This is a hard task and full of continued failure. There is nothing very complicated about the intention to create an abstract organic form. As a formal language, it has been renewed at least a hundred years ago and, anciently, it stretches back to the beginnings of human expression. I could list the names of my mentors but I will mention only Henry Moore.
The challenge comes in the actual carving. One is repeatedly brought to one’s knees, an empty husk, all chaff and winnowings and still this obdurate block refuses to sing.
Even when you finally realize that the decisions have been made and there is very little else you can do to improve a sculpture, the form presents its’ flaws. Perhaps next time one will succeed and the form will be more coherent and powerful.
Such is the faith, and driving energy, of a sculptor.
Hugh Lassen
1Exerpt from “The Snow Begins” W.C.Williams Pictures from Breughel 1962