Here are a few things people have said about Ed, his work and his teaching talents

SCULPTURE MAGAZINE June 2009

NEW YORK

 

Ed Smith

Robert Steele Gallery

 

The rather curious title of Ed Smith’s exhibition, “Disasters, Republican Landscapes, and New Forms” offers a polemic inspired by the Spanish painter Francisco Goya and laminated against recent political events associated with the Bush Administration. The monoprints, titled Disasters, are clearly a reference to Goya’s “Disasters of War,” updated in terms of the present. Much the same could be said about Republican Landscapes, a more ironic title, which essentially deals with the same kind of horror and ambiguity. In either case, the landscape is neither settling nor romantic. The mood is a haunted one. The absence is real absence, with a real sense of loss, where the human spirit has somehow been diminished in relation to the nakedness of the trees, the myriad skulls, the cliffs overlooking the raging sea, and the incessant spiders weaving their webs. In each case, Smith has a way of instilling feeling in the transfer of monoprint imagery that speaks both directly and indirectly.

There is little doubt that the violence represented in his small and mid-sized sculptures of bronze appendages, twisted necks, and gnarled figures exists in a vacuum replete with the dissemblance of bodies. Instead of human feeling, we get the sense of an irreproachable disorder often revealed by war-torn bodies-the weight of corpses, the stench of human death. These sculptures are always seen from the right angle, calculated to extend the dark side of the human condition that Smith chooses to reveal. I am thinking of Untitled, bent arms driven with nails, and his bent over figures suffering the solitude of warfare, the figures of the universal Mephistopheles, Perseus, and Hercules. Smith is adroit with the figure but in a rough-edged way. There is nothing tame about these body parts. They inherit something of the dark truth, buried within the soil from which they emerge. The “rising neck” sculpture is ambiguous but horrific. Is it the head of a body rising with a full figure hidden inside? Is the neck a metaphorical body in the process of asserting its disappearance?

Smith’s bronzes are unlikely in their appearance: Who looks at bronze figures-especially small scale ones- with the seriousness of a postmodern anti-aesthetic? Some are eight inches high, others measure 30 inches. But the meaning in these works is less about scale than power-even small-scale works can exist as monumental and, through their monumental projection, become ciphers of war-the tactile truth that the virtual media hides from the perceiving body during the most exorbitant, wrenching warfare.

  -Robert C. Morgan

 

 

Ed Smith, Golden Winged Figure, 2008.

 Bronze, 29 x 14 x 6 in.

 

 

http://www.mirandafinearts.com/artists/EdSmith/ESindex.htm

Fragments and Layers: Irreducible Complexity in the Sculpture of Ed Smith by Frank Peseckis

Take Your Winnings by Lynne K. Perrella

 

Ed Smith's The Labors of Hercules

When I visited Ed Smithıs studio in Chatham, New York recently, to see the pieces he had selected for this show and to discuss his work, Ed reminded me of some remarks I made years ago. I complained that no one in late '6th-century Bologna bothered recording the working methods of the Carracci despite their great fame. ***We laughed and agreed. While not essential to grasp Smithıs Ĥuvre, knowledge of his working process and technique contributes to a richer exploration of his Labors of Hercules

Smithıs Labors of Hercules includes twelve small bronze sculptures and about ninety graphite drawings. All the sculptures but only half of the drawings are on display at the Carillon Gallery. I suspect that most viewers will assume, as I did, that Smith came up with the theme of Hercules and then drew preparatory sketches to help in the creation of the bronze sculptures. This is not so. The forms first took shape as sculptures in wax. When satisfied with the models, he sent them to a foundry in Oregon where they were cast in bronze in one piece with the lost-wax technique and finished with a hot patina. Only when the bronze sculptures returned to his studio did he start drawing from them. Using the sculptures as a starting point for each drawing, he looked for forms and ideas rather than transposing the visual appearance of the sculptures. This is the moment when the series as a whole came together. Smith describes the act of drawing from the bronzes as ³a way to understand fully the meaning of the sculptures.² Thus, through drawing, he entered into a dialogue with the bronzes.

The Greek myth of Herculesı labors was a favorite theme for Ancient and Renaissance artists because of the richness of the subject. Son of Jupiter and a mortal mother, Hercules killed his own children in a fit of madness. As punishment, the Oracle of Delphi ordered him to serve Eurystheus, King of Tiryns, for twelve years and to undertake all the great tasks he might require.

Historically, visual representations of Herculesı labors can be divided into two groups: works of art in which all twelve labors are illustrated, and those that show only one specific deed. The first group appears mostly in relief sculptures used to decorate Greek temples (such as the metopes of the Temple of Zeus at Olympia from the mid 5th century BCE) and in Renaissance frescoes (such as Baldassare Peruzziıs Room of the Frieze from circa '5'5 in the Villa Farnesina in Rome). The second group, the representation of a single labor, is much more common in all media. The over life-size Farnese Hercules (Museo Nazionale Archeologico, Naples) is the most famous and influential example. In this marble statue, Hercules holds behind his back the three golden apples of the Hesperides, a reference to his penultimate labor. In bronze, a noted twentieth-century statue is Émile-Antoine Bourdelleıs Hercules the Archer of '909. Regarded as an outstanding sculptor of the generation following Auguste Rodin (for whom he worked as chief assistant), Bourdelle focused on the sixth labor in which Hercules shot the Stymphalian Birds with his arrows.

To my knowledge, Smithıs Labors of Hercules is the only full series including two different artistic media (sculpture and drawing). The Italian Renaissance artist Antonio del Pollaiuolo painted three large pictures and produced one bronze sculpture, Hercules and Antaeus (Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence), probably around '470. But Smithıs series is much more extensive. The Florentine sculptor Vincenzo deı Rossi never completed all twelve marble sculptures that Cosimo I deı Medici had commissioned in '56'. And, while the Dutch sixteenth-century sculptor, Willem van Tetrode, produced many delightful bronze statuettes with Hercules as prime subject, he neither conceived nor created them as a series devoted to the heroıs labors.

Furthermore, Smithıs Labors of Hercules is by no means a traditional illustration of the Greek myth. The great majority of previous representations stress Herculesı superhuman prowess: his strength, as so remarkably captured in the Farnese Hercules; his skill, as Bourdelle shows us in his Hercules the Archer; and his courage, exemplified by Pollaiuoloıs Hercules and the Hydra (Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence). Differently, Smithıs series focuses on the concept of labor. According to Smith, ³the noble part of the Labors of Hercules is the labor not the triumph.² For instance, Smithıs drawing entitled The Wedding, which depends upon the story of Hercules Slaying of the Centaur Eurytion, highlights Herculesı failure as a noble hero, his brutality and lack of compassion. Eurytion was the bridegroom of a young woman who had been Herculesı lover. On the wedding day, Hercules slew Eurytion and his brothers and stole the bride. Visually and thematically, this drawing is reminiscent of the famous thirty-two metopes on the South flank of the Parthenon, now part of the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum in London. Devoted to the theme of Centauromachy, these metopes depict the battle between the Lapiths and the Centaurs. The Lapiths won but only after an extraordinary violent and deadly battle. Symbolically, Smithıs desire to stress ³labor² over ³triumph² derives from these metopes also as they emphasize not victory, but the battle and its casualties.

Despite the fact that Smithıs Labors of Hercules comprises twelve bronzes, it is not a literary translation of the ³canon² of the twelve labors as established during the Hellenistic age. Furthermore, while Smith numbered his bronzes, these numbers rarely match the traditional order of Herculesı deeds as they are not intended to depict a specific deed but rather to show the essence of the labors.

Labor '0 shows an elaborate structure consisting of bulky arms and hands creating a squarish shape with a large open space in the middle. The powerful limbs symbolize both Hercules and his victims. Smith associates this sculpture with the episode of ³The Oxen of Geryon.² Eurystheus ordered Hercules to capture Geryonıs oxen. Geryon, a monster with three human bodies but one pair of legs, lived on an island guarded by a giant and a two-headed dog. To accomplish this deed, Hercules killed the dog, the giant and then Geryon. Because of its focus on muscular arms, the sculpture also alludes to the slaying of ³Cerberus² and ³The Nemean Lion.² Hercules killed these two mythical beasts with his bare hands.

Composition and equilibrium are important visual factors in the sculptures. In Labor '0, the void in the center creates an aesthetic and intellectual tension within the work because of its precarious equilibrium. This void may relate to the channel, known as the Pillars of Hercules, that Hercules opened during his expedition to capture the oxen. Similarly, in Labor 8, some compositional elements escape from the group as they rest next to the sculptureıs base, creating a sense of motion. The treatment of the bronze is noteworthy: the smooth, polished surface of the snake-like element wrapped around the sculpture contrasts with the roughness of the rising shape in which a nail is stuck. While an obvious reference to Herculesı murderous nature, the skull is already an existing leitmotif in Smithıs Ĥuvre. For example, it appears repeatedly in the monotype prints of his Disaster Suite of 00'-00.

Labor 8 depicts a heroic but struggling male figure, in all probability Hercules himself. A snake-like creature crawls around his left leg and a beast of some sort, which seems to emerge from the stump next to his right leg, merges with his right arm to finally climb his upper back, forcing Hercules to bend forward under its weight. The viewpoint is unusual in that we are meant to study it from the back. Labor 8 tantalizes the viewer. The angle is reminiscent of a famous print representing the Farnese Hercules, an image that Smith admires profoundly. In this '6'7 engraving, Hendrick Goltzius shows the back of Hercules, allowing us to see the three apples in his right hand. He has playfully included two spectators, dwarfed by the statue. The way Smith modeled Herculesı feet, so anchored that they become part of the base, does not ground the figure but empowers him; the labor may be great but he will not fall to his knees. Labor 8 is about the power necessary to complete the task. Hercules will soon spring straight up, sending the creature on his shoulders flying away.

Smithıs twelve bronze sculptures project a vibrant, animate force despite their small size (they stand between eight and twelve inches). In these textured bronzes, Smith emphasizes the physicality of the artistic process as we can distinguish the marks his hands left on the heavily modeled wax. Light bounces and glides on the bronze, revealing its smooth and rougher parts while leaving others in shadow. The importance of light on the surface of the sculptures is such that one could even talk about a chiaroscuro effect, a term traditionally reserved for painting.

While the bronzes project raw and tumultous energy, elegance and a touch of vulnerability characterize his work on paper. Smithıs drawings are a tour de force for three main reasons. First, they are not preparatory sketches but rather large free standing images (thirty- eight by thirty inches). Second, the technique the artist used is fascinating. Smith draws on the paper, erases, draws some more; then he applies water with a Chinese brush. When the paper is dry, he resumes the drawing process. With Smith, the act of drawing and applying water can be repeated as many as forty times, which explains why the drawings look as if he had applied a thin layer of grey wash. Third, the sheer aesthetic quality and elegance of the drawings are remarkable. Each offers a primary subject, surrounded by several secondary images, all enhancing each other in order to create movement, layers of meanings, and a sense of mystery. For instance, as the eyes move around the composition of The Archer, the focus of the drawing slightly shifts, compelling the viewer to engage slowly with each line and highlight, until it is visually and intellectually possible to understand the whole image.

Smithıs drawings share several similarities with Old Mastersı work on paper. As with Claude Lorrain, the expressive quality of the medium is essential. In his landscape drawings, Claude took advantage of the inherent qualities of the ink and wash to render the atmosphere. Smith achieves the same fluidity with the softness of the graphite enhanced by the many applications of water onto the paper. As with Rembrandtıs drawings, each line of a Smith drawing has a purpose; none can be added, none can be removed. When Smith explained to me his technique, I asked ³when do you know that a drawing is finished?² His answer, ³I stop when the drawing looks done,² puzzled me at first, but now makes perfect sense. He conceived his drawings to be studied carefully and for long periods of time. Like all great art, on each return to his drawings, one sees something new and fresh and feels joy in the certitude that each further viewing will reveal something more, something even greater.

Smithıs Labors of Hercules is a metaphor for the artistıs working process. It took twelve years for Hercules to complete his penance and two years for Smith to bring this series from conception to completion. Smith works constantly. In addition to creating sculptures, prints and highly finished drawings, he sketches an average of three hours a day, much as a pianist plays daily in order to maintain peak performances. During my last visit to his studio, I caught a glimpse of an etching I had seen several years ago and which now hangs to the left of his drawing table. Entitled Draw, Eat, Shit (006), this print reveals a great deal about the role of drawing for Smith and his approach to art. With a sense of humor, Smith tells us that drawing is for him as fundamental as living. Aside from the sheer number of objects in the Labors of the Hercules, a feat in itself, this series demonstrates Smithıs intellectual depth and his stylistic range. The sculptures, bold and expressionistic, are charismatic. The drawings, with their soft lines and superimposed images, speak of restrained elegance.

Dr. Anne Bertrand-Dewsnap

Marist College - August 008

 

 

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