As a material for sculpture, glass is more durable
than either granite or steel. And in the hands of Robert Willson, hot molten
glass — “rich and utterly sensuous,” as described by the artist — is richly
and utterly transformed into solid, evocative, and bold forms. Willson, born in
West Texas in 1912, graduated from the University of Texas at Austin in 1934
and then traveled to Mexico the following year to study at the San Carlos
Academy of Art in Mexico City, eventually receiving a Master’s degree in Fine
Art from the University of Fine Arts, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย This sojourn would later prove to be
seminal in his development as an artist, as he met many of Mexico’s burgeoning
modernists — Diego Rivera, Jose Clemente Orozco, David Alfaro Siqueiros,
Frida Kahlo, Maria Izquierdo, Rufino Tamayo, Francisco Goitia, and Roberto
Montenegro, among others — and had the opportunity to travel to some of the
ruins of Mexico’s pre-Columbian cultures.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย This was at a time when many artists
in Mexico, as well as modern artists throughout Latin America, were searching
for their national cultural identity, their “roots.” Even among east coast
intellectuals of the United States, there was a search for a new, American identity, whereby the “Red Man”
became fashionable and the handmade was embraced. Artists and writers turned
away from Europe and looked to the indigenous. Museums, too, were quick to take
notice: In December 1931 the Museum of Modern Art presented what became the
extremely popular one-man exhibition of paintings and fresco panels by Diego
Rivera, followed in 1933 by American
Sources for Modern Art, Twenty
Centuries of Mexican Art: Olmec to Muralists in 1940, and Indian Art of the United States in 1941.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The timing could not have been more
appropriate for a young man with the desire to “re-create the honesty and power
of ancient art.” For Willson, the art of the “ancient Mexican Indians… [was]
full of force and meaning.” And he was especially interested in how the ancient
legends of native cultures were incorporated into contemporary art and life.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Another pivotal moment in Willson’s
artistic life came in 1956, when he received a scholarship from The Corning
Museum of Glass to study glass in museum collections. After studying the
history and techniques of glassmaking in Corning and several New York City
museums, Willson traveled to Venice and Murano, a city on a small island in the
Venetian lagoon where glassmakers have worked since 1291. The history of
glassmaking is almost entirely identified with the history of glass produced in
Venice, or more accurately, in Murano. The educational grants Willson received
would be critical to his oeuvre, in
that the combined experiences enabled him to produce works that synthesized the
totemic qualities of the primitive with the technologies of the modern, as
exemplified in Tribal Group: Chief, Image
Maker, Prince, Hunter (1979) and Family
Totem (1976).
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย His King and Queen (1974) may immediately evoke comparisons to the
colossal statues in front of the Temple of Ramses II. But upon further
contemplation, the delicate sugary skulls from an Oaxacan Day of the Dead
celebration or the intricate patchwork designs of an Amish quilt also come to
mind. The seated figures, seemingly wrapped in a mosaic of colored glass, push
into our space as if from behind a waterfall or some mysterious membrane. It’s
like a birth, exploding into vibrant, colored stars. Shapes and colors blur at
the edge, giving a sense of motion, like bodies moving at warp speed.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย This event, this movement, is
congealed in glass like thick, transparent, sugary syrup. But, like all of
Willson’s work, it is solid glass. Willson called glass the material of the
future, although this future is far from mechanized and sterile. It’s a future
where there is a conglomeration of cultures from the past, eschewing the
classical, the rational. For Willson, it is not representation nor grandiose
theory that moved him to do what he did. But rather, he wanted to produce an
art that had “social relevance” and one where “color [is used] to create visual
interest and to convey a joyful humorous spirit.”
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย This spirit and joy can be seen in
Willson’s playful approach to “simple” forms and colors. Of course, the idea of
“simple” quickly evaporates as you contemplate the work. There is nothing
simple about his work. It is a marriage of an extremely critical eye for
balance, color, and form, and extraordinary patience to spend many hot hours
with master glassworkers to get it just right, to give the viewer that feeling
that all we are looking at something newly emerged from nowhere — just like
the King and Queen‘s entrance from
the abyss.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Willson’s emphasis on simple form
and color, and the magical properties of glass, seem to contradict his
statement that art should be socially relevant, implying a convergence of art
and politics. But it was exactly this conscious move away from Eurocentric,
Renaissance-inspired art and toward the seemingly simple that was political.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Willson brought the “other,” the
optional, the different, to the world of art — not only in his choice of
subject matter or stylistic and conceptual influences, but in his choice of
medium, which has languished in the margins of the modern art world. This is
where he made his most political of choices.
Robert
Willson: A Texan in Venice is on display at the Corning Museum of
Glass, One Museum Way, Corning, through October 26. Hours: daily 9 a.m. to 5
p.m. Tix: $12, $6 ages 6 to 17.
Alex and Heidi
are art historians who teach at the Rochester Institute of Technology.
This article appears in Aug 6-12, 2003.
