George Segal: Standing Out from the Crowd
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Art does not exist in a neat little bubble. Contemporary events, like the devastating terrorist attack on America, effect the way we look at it. Viewing the eerie, white plaster sculptures of New York artist, George Segal, at Shibuya's Bunkamura, it is hard not to be reminded of the victims killed and buried alive in the destruction of the World Trade Center, or the survivors covered in white dust.
But the famous plaster cast sculptures of real people with their death mask quality is only one aspect of Segal's art featured in this major retrospective of works from the artist’s studio, held a little over a year after his sudden death at the age of 75. The exhibition also includes an illuminating look at Segal's early oil paintings, pastels and sculptures in relief.
The essence of Segal's work is the struggle of the human form and, by implication, the human spirit, to exist within spaces, shapes and relationships which are less than natural. There is much of the urban conundrum in the work of this quintessentially New York artist .
This can be seen starting in the early pastels of his untitled series of the late 50s and early 60s, which also reveal his surprising mastery of color. Here he pays tribute to Edgar Degas, the 19th century French artist who worked mainly in pastels. Like Degas, Segal uses radical cropping of figures and off-center compositions as in an untitled work from 1964 that shows a pair of female legs jutting out from an unusual angle.
These techniques, which were partly inspired in Degas by dislocated pages from Japanese ukiyo-e triptychs, allowed Segal to create a tension between the roundness and fullness of the human form and the sharp angles and limited space of the visual plane. This tension mirrors the psychological stress we encounter living in and moving through urban space. Not surprisingly many of these pastels seem to have been painted in small, cramped city apartments.
In his sculptural reliefs, the truncation of the human form is even more apparent. The incomplete fragments of the models’ bodies emerge from the plaster as if disinterred by an archeologist slowing brushing away the soil. Most startling in its contrast with this macabre setting is the Pregnancy Series (1978) showing the rotund swelling belly and breasts of a pregnant woman at seven different stages of pregnancy. Like many of the reliefs, this work is faceless, forcing us to depersonalize it and focus instead on the pure aesthetics of the human shape.
Segal's plaster sculptures are usually thought of as pure white, but, despite the problems of applying paint to plaster, a particularly absorbent material, he also painted many of them with a range of intriguing techniques. In the relief Flesh Nude in Blue Field I (1977) he uses color to both flatten and highlight. In this work a somber blue tone softens the contours of the faceless figures while vivid pinks and reds are used to pick out and enhance the humanity of a single figure. This work hints at the sense of individuality that is often lost in the crowd.
In Woman Eating Apple (1981), another relief showing his skill as a colorist, the sense of individual human consciousness is made more apparent. Representing the Biblical Eve, the face of the figure seems caught in a mystical light, as if transfixed in the moment of conscience and original guilt. This work reflects the strong influence Segal felt as a Jew from Biblical tradition. His first, crude, free-standing sculpture, The Legend of Lot (1958), also on display, refers to the Biblical story of the man whose wife was turned into a 'free-standing sculpture' of salt during their flight from the doomed city of Sodom.
His reliefs, but more especially his free-standing sculptures, work powerfully on our instincts. We feel in our gut that these free-standing 3-D images in the exact size and shape of humans are somehow real, but consciously we refuse to acknowledge them as people. This psychological paradox is at the essence of modern urban life, where, surrounded by millions of our fellow humans, we strive to ignore them. The Homeless (1989) reminds us of the way that many of us shut out the street poor from our minds. They may as well be plaster models for all the attention we pay them. While Bus Passengers (1997) documents the way we ignore each other in close proximity. His skill in dealing with this aspect of our environment is the true reason that Segal's work has such a resonance beyond its technical achievement.
If New York were somehow wiped from the face of the Earth, his work would serve as a poignant memoir of that city, as the artifacts recovered from Pompeii remind us of the Roman world. The shocking attack on New York that buried so many people and highlighted the dangers and inconveniences of this ultimate urban landscape, has given Segal's works almost an aura of prophecy, strengthening his connection to the city. But Segal's art is not just about New York. It strikes a chord with people anywhere who live in big cities that don't quite fit them.
C.B.Liddell
Japan Times
3rd October, 2001
But the famous plaster cast sculptures of real people with their death mask quality is only one aspect of Segal's art featured in this major retrospective of works from the artist’s studio, held a little over a year after his sudden death at the age of 75. The exhibition also includes an illuminating look at Segal's early oil paintings, pastels and sculptures in relief.
The essence of Segal's work is the struggle of the human form and, by implication, the human spirit, to exist within spaces, shapes and relationships which are less than natural. There is much of the urban conundrum in the work of this quintessentially New York artist .
This can be seen starting in the early pastels of his untitled series of the late 50s and early 60s, which also reveal his surprising mastery of color. Here he pays tribute to Edgar Degas, the 19th century French artist who worked mainly in pastels. Like Degas, Segal uses radical cropping of figures and off-center compositions as in an untitled work from 1964 that shows a pair of female legs jutting out from an unusual angle.
These techniques, which were partly inspired in Degas by dislocated pages from Japanese ukiyo-e triptychs, allowed Segal to create a tension between the roundness and fullness of the human form and the sharp angles and limited space of the visual plane. This tension mirrors the psychological stress we encounter living in and moving through urban space. Not surprisingly many of these pastels seem to have been painted in small, cramped city apartments.
In his sculptural reliefs, the truncation of the human form is even more apparent. The incomplete fragments of the models’ bodies emerge from the plaster as if disinterred by an archeologist slowing brushing away the soil. Most startling in its contrast with this macabre setting is the Pregnancy Series (1978) showing the rotund swelling belly and breasts of a pregnant woman at seven different stages of pregnancy. Like many of the reliefs, this work is faceless, forcing us to depersonalize it and focus instead on the pure aesthetics of the human shape.
Segal's plaster sculptures are usually thought of as pure white, but, despite the problems of applying paint to plaster, a particularly absorbent material, he also painted many of them with a range of intriguing techniques. In the relief Flesh Nude in Blue Field I (1977) he uses color to both flatten and highlight. In this work a somber blue tone softens the contours of the faceless figures while vivid pinks and reds are used to pick out and enhance the humanity of a single figure. This work hints at the sense of individuality that is often lost in the crowd.
In Woman Eating Apple (1981), another relief showing his skill as a colorist, the sense of individual human consciousness is made more apparent. Representing the Biblical Eve, the face of the figure seems caught in a mystical light, as if transfixed in the moment of conscience and original guilt. This work reflects the strong influence Segal felt as a Jew from Biblical tradition. His first, crude, free-standing sculpture, The Legend of Lot (1958), also on display, refers to the Biblical story of the man whose wife was turned into a 'free-standing sculpture' of salt during their flight from the doomed city of Sodom.
His reliefs, but more especially his free-standing sculptures, work powerfully on our instincts. We feel in our gut that these free-standing 3-D images in the exact size and shape of humans are somehow real, but consciously we refuse to acknowledge them as people. This psychological paradox is at the essence of modern urban life, where, surrounded by millions of our fellow humans, we strive to ignore them. The Homeless (1989) reminds us of the way that many of us shut out the street poor from our minds. They may as well be plaster models for all the attention we pay them. While Bus Passengers (1997) documents the way we ignore each other in close proximity. His skill in dealing with this aspect of our environment is the true reason that Segal's work has such a resonance beyond its technical achievement.
If New York were somehow wiped from the face of the Earth, his work would serve as a poignant memoir of that city, as the artifacts recovered from Pompeii remind us of the Roman world. The shocking attack on New York that buried so many people and highlighted the dangers and inconveniences of this ultimate urban landscape, has given Segal's works almost an aura of prophecy, strengthening his connection to the city. But Segal's art is not just about New York. It strikes a chord with people anywhere who live in big cities that don't quite fit them.
C.B.Liddell
Japan Times
3rd October, 2001
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