With a height of just under two-feet, our newest bronze is a diminutive piece for us. Its mid-century modern form is engaging from every angle. At first, it appears light and breezy, fluid and soaring—as might a bird in flight or a sailboat tacking at sea.
Only by lifting it, holding it, exploring it with my fingers, did I come to understand what might have been closer to the sculptor’s actual intent.
It’s heavy, extraordinarily heavy. The three undulating bronze plates are joined with precision—the precision of a watchmaker. As the plates emerge from the base they, at first, seem to lighten in weight as they rise. But, they don’t—it’s an illusion. As I first held it and explored it, it seemed like something truly organic.
To my eyes—and fingers—the bronze reminds me of the first couple of confident leaves emerging from the sprout of an underground seed or bulb. It is cold, yet has life. It feels as though it might be alive and growing. And, its lyrical. It arrived today and to me it sings, “Springtime.”
The artist and foundry are unknown.
Discovery made, artist contacted, sculpture verified. Stay tuned for the exciting details. Here’s a hint: