Alexander Calder

Seeing a piece by Calder is always a fresh and delightful experience. His work is not really “around that much.” Unlike the work of some of the recent, super-popular artists like Warhol, or Koons, or Basquiat, whose work seems to show up every time you turn a page, or click a link, you sometimes go a little while before you find a Calder in your path. Then, when you do, the love affair starts all over again!

Even though his pieces are economical, they combine a long list of positive features. They have a deft and surprising sense of balance. They’re spare without being ascetic. They are elegant, but surprisingly playful. Initially, they appear light, almost flippant. But they are also deeply serious, involved in some of the critical formal issues of modern art.

His pieces, of course, are best seen “in the wild,” set in a home or a landscape, where they were intended to live. But, even when his pieces are immobilized in a vitrine, in a dramatically lit museum setting, their mischief and whimsy comes through.

Of course, Calder’s work is best known as the large outdoor steel constructions that sprout on museum lawns, or modernist town squares. But, often, his most enjoyable work is no larger than a shoebox, with a few wires and shapes put together with the simplest of means. His work can be like a trip to the zoo. In one setting, there is the huge, threatening rhinoceros, with its mass and heft. Then, a little farther on, there is the pool with the cute little otters, jumping and splashing, curling every which way, pouring all their energy into simple, joyful play.