LACMA showcases American spirit in modern art

LACMA showcases American spirit in modern art

By Kristin Fiore

What defines the American spirit? This question has come to a
head in the ’90s, and nowhere more so than right here in Los
Angeles.

The Los Angeles County Museum of Art has put together four
exhibits that pay tribute to the American spirit from its origins
in the 17th century to the present. The exhibits, running through
April 30 (and some into May), feature painting, prints, sculpture,
furniture and dress that reveal the artistic and political focuses
of the times.

"The Figure in American Sculpture: A Question of Modernity"
looks at American sculpture from the turn of the century through
World War II.

Unlike most art exhibits, the collection includes a wide variety
of work by traditionally underrepresented groups, immigrants, and
women. These populations’ experiences of America were quite
different from the natural-born white male, as their art
reveals.

The exhibit sets itself apart from others by proving that the
human figure can be included in the genre of modern art, a title
usually reserved for the purely abstract. By combining European
influences with American experiences and ideas, these artists
create works that are unique and truly "American."

The exhibit is divided into five rooms, each emphasizing a
different movement within the modern American framework. The first
is dedicated to the influence of Auguste Rodin, the French sculptor
whose passionate works showed Americans that art can be a means of
self-expression as well as commemoration.

Many of these sculptures mimic Rodin’s habit of leaving humans
submerged in the marble, as though they are part of their
surroundings, whether a river or a wall. The more erotic
submissions, such as Maluina Hoffman’s "Column of Life," blend
bodies together, intertwined and faceless, showing only hair and
limbs.

The modern element of these figures comes in their movement and
form, as well as their personal statements. Solon Borglom’s "The
Blizzard" traces a perfect circle you must walk around the
sculpture to see. A crouching man leans against the back of his
horse, who in turn touches his nose to the man’s knee. The horse’s
mane and the man’s coat are whipped in the strong winds with a
force and realism previously unseen in sculpture.

Other works take the human figure to levels of abstraction, such
as Gaston Lachaise’s "Torso." This marble study of the female form
is so exaggerated ­ huge breasts and hips and a tiny waist
­ that at certain angles it is impossible to tell what it is.
Regardless of the artist’s intentions, it certainly seems a
relevant comment on perceptions of the female today.

In fact, the second room of the exhibit is dedicated to
sculptures that explore the social issues of the time, most of
which mirror the problems our society faces ­ racism,
xenophobia, sexism and the degradation of the working man.

But while the topics may be negative, they attempt to bring
problems to light and deal with them, rather than sweep them under
the carpet. This is a dramatic shift from earlier centuries, where
art revered the past, the present and their leaders. The few
sculptures that do touch on thesetopics are hardly paying homage,
such as Chaim Gross’ "Hoover and Roosevelt in a Fist Fight," whose
sentiments need no explanation.

The most striking political statement is Isamu Noguchi’s
life-size masterpiece, "Death," which towers over you as you
approach it. A black body severely contorted in pain hangs from a
loop of rope as a testament to the continuing lynchings.

Slavery and contortion are also used to express the plight of
the white man and woman, as in Abastenia St. Leger Eberle’s "White
Slave," portraying a naked female prostitute bound by a man
presumably shouting his sales pitch. Robert Cronbach’s
"Exploitation" shows a naked man folded and twisted into a stone
vise, trying to wrest himself free from the literal grip of
machinery

Many works react against the industrial age with themes of mine
disasters and immigrant degradation, hunched-over laborers in
mid-shovel. Some of the female artists preferred to escape from the
drudgery of the workman by choosing more lighthearted subjects,
such as young girls dancing together, a picnic among flowers or the
silliness of high fashion.

Others chose to escape by turning to foreign traditions, such as
Greek classicism and non-Western art. The third gallery is filled
with traditional myths and religious stories told with a modern
twist.

Boris Lovet-Lorski’s interpretation of the ancient Salome with
"Head of John the Baptist" is distinctly modern, with slick, shiny
brown marble that resembles post-modern plastic. Salome towers over
the severed head in half splits, a position that was most likely
illegal in biblical times.

The Native American and non-Western-influenced sculptures in the
next room explore the equally timeless themes of birth and life.
The sculptors felt that these cultures were "naïve," untainted
with European traditions and civilizations, which explains why they
chose such universal, natural themes.

The sculptures tend to be simplistic, often not more than blocks
of stone. Many are three-dimensional portraits of basket carriers,
clergy members or men, women and children of the community. Their
straightforward portrayals show the dignity and mystery of the
cultures.

Their accessibility and warmth contrasts sharply with the
abstract and highly stylized shapes of the final gallery, which
showcases abstract art. Here, the human form is reduced to
geometric shapes ­ ovals, triangles and rough-edged squares.
In Boris Blai’s Triangle Girl, not only is her body made of
triangles, but the spaces within and around it are also.

Cubism’s hard angles represent the impersonal, steel-laden
industrial age, best shown by Aaron Goodelman’s faceless "The
Drillers," made entirely of squares. Futurism instead focuses on
the lighter concepts of motion and speed, using spirals and planes
to capture the movement of the human body.

These movements spawned ideas that broke the boundaries of
sculpture. For the first time, sculptures cannot be fully seen
unless you walk all the way around them, creating what the artists
termed a fourth dimension. New materials are also used, such as
metal, plastic and wire. The most experimental sculptures do not
physically resemble their subjects at all, but rather the feelings
they invoke, such as the previously mentioned "Hoover and Roosevelt
in a Fist Fight."

Though these avant-garde sculptures are markedly different from
the earlier ones in the exhibit, they all share similar techniques.
Whether cubism, classicism or primitivism (pick an -ism), American
sculptors took the existing rules and pushed them to create forms
and expressions all their own ­ which is as close to the
American spirit as you can get.

EXHIBIT: "The Figure in American Sculpture: A Question of
Modernity." At LACMA, Feb. 26 – April 30.