Courting a sculpture

My relationship with sculpture has always been a little different from that I have had with other types of art, and I imagine that something similar must happen to those of us who want to get closer to an artistic creation.
At first, the variation between bi-dimensional work and spatial work already makes a difference. Through spatial work we have many possibilities, from sculpture in its most ancient concepts, to installations with or without projections in closed or open spaces, then on to the interventions in both big or small extensions of open spaces, as in land art. Spatial work includes the spectator as part of itself with much more decisiveness. At times you feel surrounded, you are looking at one part of the work knowing there is another behind, and this, at times can even create the anxiety of feeling observed. As if the sculpture was always looking at you, and you can never fully take it in. Moreover, even the smallest of sculptures obliges you to move around it, if you want to view it completely.
Within the various possibilities we have with spatial work, very different experiences also take place. To think of a big installation of land art and a discreet sculpture inside a hall, we are already presented with very diverse concepts of fulfilment and perception. Getting back to sculpture in its most classical structure, that is to say, a piece perceived by looking at it while you are encircling it, here we also find that the relationships produced are very varied. The Spiders by Louis Bourgueaus are works of great size which prevent you from seeing them from above unless you are in an urban or architectural situation that allows you to be on a higher level than the work itself. The spiders, however, are more than willing to place you inside/ underneath them. Therefore, this sculpture turns out to be an installation. You can stand inside or underneath, turn around, look up and to the sides, and although there is a lot of room between the legs to escape quickly it is hard to avoid the feeling of being trapped. The first approach is expressionist, it is after that, you begin to wonder about its meaning, its symbol.
In Heaven or hell by Luc Huijbregts, both the expression and wondering about its meaning happen at the same time. I want to quickly stand in front and find the face. Even though the sculptures are independent, it always seems there is a certain viewpoint from which it is ideal to look at the piece. For this reason, the head on the other side is especially disturbing and unexpected. It is not the face I am looking for, but the expression, the condition which reveals that expression, or the ultimate question, is it a head that doesn´t care what the face says or a head that obliges me to turn it round? Is it because the added elements (five keys) are more important than the face?
From what Luc Huijbregts tells us, his sculptures are carved from lime wood. Once the shape and volume come into place, he works on the texture as if it were the skin of the piece. The result he gets gives us a sense of touch without touching. He finally applies the colour and inserts corresponding elements depending on the work. This completes the perception of his work, whose author is recognised at first sight.
When observing his work we simultaneously experience both visual perception and a sense of touch. It doesn´t mean that the sense of touching his work is what we “see”, but we do “touch” each sculpture with our eyes and figure out “a sense of touch”, even though it isn´t the same as with our hands. All of this is achieved through a combination of colour and texture with the volume and characteristics of the shapes.
Visibly everything is very formal, but then its contents begin to emerge. I have made up a story that should more or less coincide with that of the author; I am a spectator and I have created my own version of his work. Now I can entertain myself by consulting the elements which can help to put myself in the same narrative as the artist. There is catalogue, titles and a layout. As we are before a collection for an exhibition, I come to realise that in its entirety the works aren´t “items” contributing to a quota, but are grouped together in epigraphs, which compose the overall feeling. I realise I have done something similar to what Cortázar suggested to us in Rayuela.
The need to find a plot is directly related to the difficulties in carrying out an aesthetic perception. Perhaps the answer is in that relationship we search for in the work. Without any doubt, our appreciation of the work is affected by each of our circumstances and the communication we establish with art is a result in which all these aspects are unavoidable. We often see how the public asks about the meaning of the work; J. Fabrellas reminded us of what S. Sontag said about the need for an erotics of art. We worry too much about looking for an understandable explanation of the simple conclusion of scientific ideas, when we should be more interested in the enjoyable complexity of the work. We have to learn to court art.
In order to do this, we must worry about our feelings when contemplating the work and through this we reach an understanding. The obsession to discover the author’s explanation before having had a closer look at the work, is like a loving relationship with onlookers which could turn out to be unnatural.
This contact with the work needs time. As far as Roots and branches is concerned, we will have to start with the skin in order to get to the soul. For a sculpture (or any other art form) to captivate you, you have got to conquer it first.

Isabel Moreno Montoya