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Lot Essay
‘The tradition Chillida upholds is the tradition of the Basque country, his native land, between the sea and the mountains, the forge and the frontón’ (Ina Busch)
Created in 1976—during the installation of the artist’s iconic Peine del viento XV (Comb of the Wind XV) in his hometown of San Sebastián—Gudari Txiki (Little Soldier) is an exquisite iron sculpture by Eduardo Chillida. At just over nine inches high, it intimately scaled yet carries a monumental presence. Perched upon its tall cylindrical base is a roughly cross-shaped form, whose four leaves lift and tilt around a central circular void. It appears like a figure on a triumphal column, or a bird poised to take flight. Gudari Txiki has been held in the same private collection for more than forty-five years. Following Chillida’s award of the Andrew W. Mellon Prize, shared with Willem de Kooning, it was shown at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh in 1979-1980 as part of a joint retrospective of the two artists’ work. The sculpture has been unseen in public since.
Chillida was born in San Sebastián in 1924, and played in goal for the city’s football team before studying architecture in Madrid. He abandoned the course after five years, resolving to become an artist, and moved in 1948 to Paris. There he created his first sculptures in plaster, inspired by archaic Greek statuary he had seen at the Louvre. These early works attracted considerable attention and Chillida was included in the Salon de Mai of 1949. He returned home, however, the following year. ‘I longed for calm; I needed to feel that things were developing naturally, with the right rhythm’, he said (E. Chillida quoted in I. Busch, ‘The Catalogue Raisonné as a Virtual Space’, in I. Chillida and A. Cobo, Eduardo Chillida II (1974-1982). Catalogue Raisonné of Sculpture, San Sebastián 2016, p. 24). Outside San Sebastián he met a blacksmith who taught him the ancient techniques of the forge. Closely tied to a rich naval and agricultural heritage, ironwork was integral to the Basque spirit. Chillida would root his practice in foundations of iron, earth and stone.
Chillida made his first iron sculpture, Ilarik, in 1951. It was a tribute to the Basque country’s distinctive carved stone hillariak, or funerary stelae, some of which are over two thousand years old. The stele format—with a tall ‘plinth’ supporting a configuration of iron elements—remained important throughout his career. While Gudari Txiki follows this basic structure, its finely-wrought form witnesses Chillida’s heightened mastery after twenty-five years spent in the forge. Always crafting his own work, he hammered the ductile, red-hot metal against an anvil in order to flatten, bend and extrude it through space. To create small-scale sculptures—which formed a key part of his output—required great dexterity and skill.
Chillida worked largely by instinct, obeying the emergence of what he felt to be immanent forms within his materials. He regarded his true medium, however, as the void: the empty space in and around the sculpture, variously activated, energised or gripped by its presence. ‘The iron should only be the medium, the string and bow which help it obtain resonance’, he explained (E. Chillida quoted in I. Busch, ‘Chillida, Architect of the Void’, in Chillida 1948-1998, exh. cat. Museo Reina Sofía, Madrid 1998, p. 64). Each sculpture was an adventure into the unknown, a physical and philosophical question mark.
Following in the footsteps of the innovative Catalonian sculptor Julio González, who had established iron as an artistic medium earlier in the twentieth century, Chillida’s sculpture was also informed by a profound sense of place. His Peine del viento XV—a trio of gigantic iron structures that hook and curve through sea, sky and rock—was set into San Sebastián’s coast between 1976 and 1977. The artist’s gift to his city has become a defining image of Basque identity. With its martial title, Gudari Txiki evokes a similar sense of pride and self-assertion. ‘He (the blacksmith) was making horseshoes in a dark room, bathed in black light’, Chillida remembered of his first encounter with the forge. ‘That is more or less how I see myself as a Basque, how I see Basques in general—the Basque country is a land of black light, incomparable with the Mediterranean’ (E. Chillida quoted in I. Busch, ‘The Catalogue Raisonné as a Virtual Space’, ibid., p. 24).
Created in 1976—during the installation of the artist’s iconic Peine del viento XV (Comb of the Wind XV) in his hometown of San Sebastián—Gudari Txiki (Little Soldier) is an exquisite iron sculpture by Eduardo Chillida. At just over nine inches high, it intimately scaled yet carries a monumental presence. Perched upon its tall cylindrical base is a roughly cross-shaped form, whose four leaves lift and tilt around a central circular void. It appears like a figure on a triumphal column, or a bird poised to take flight. Gudari Txiki has been held in the same private collection for more than forty-five years. Following Chillida’s award of the Andrew W. Mellon Prize, shared with Willem de Kooning, it was shown at the Carnegie Institute in Pittsburgh in 1979-1980 as part of a joint retrospective of the two artists’ work. The sculpture has been unseen in public since.
Chillida was born in San Sebastián in 1924, and played in goal for the city’s football team before studying architecture in Madrid. He abandoned the course after five years, resolving to become an artist, and moved in 1948 to Paris. There he created his first sculptures in plaster, inspired by archaic Greek statuary he had seen at the Louvre. These early works attracted considerable attention and Chillida was included in the Salon de Mai of 1949. He returned home, however, the following year. ‘I longed for calm; I needed to feel that things were developing naturally, with the right rhythm’, he said (E. Chillida quoted in I. Busch, ‘The Catalogue Raisonné as a Virtual Space’, in I. Chillida and A. Cobo, Eduardo Chillida II (1974-1982). Catalogue Raisonné of Sculpture, San Sebastián 2016, p. 24). Outside San Sebastián he met a blacksmith who taught him the ancient techniques of the forge. Closely tied to a rich naval and agricultural heritage, ironwork was integral to the Basque spirit. Chillida would root his practice in foundations of iron, earth and stone.
Chillida made his first iron sculpture, Ilarik, in 1951. It was a tribute to the Basque country’s distinctive carved stone hillariak, or funerary stelae, some of which are over two thousand years old. The stele format—with a tall ‘plinth’ supporting a configuration of iron elements—remained important throughout his career. While Gudari Txiki follows this basic structure, its finely-wrought form witnesses Chillida’s heightened mastery after twenty-five years spent in the forge. Always crafting his own work, he hammered the ductile, red-hot metal against an anvil in order to flatten, bend and extrude it through space. To create small-scale sculptures—which formed a key part of his output—required great dexterity and skill.
Chillida worked largely by instinct, obeying the emergence of what he felt to be immanent forms within his materials. He regarded his true medium, however, as the void: the empty space in and around the sculpture, variously activated, energised or gripped by its presence. ‘The iron should only be the medium, the string and bow which help it obtain resonance’, he explained (E. Chillida quoted in I. Busch, ‘Chillida, Architect of the Void’, in Chillida 1948-1998, exh. cat. Museo Reina Sofía, Madrid 1998, p. 64). Each sculpture was an adventure into the unknown, a physical and philosophical question mark.
Following in the footsteps of the innovative Catalonian sculptor Julio González, who had established iron as an artistic medium earlier in the twentieth century, Chillida’s sculpture was also informed by a profound sense of place. His Peine del viento XV—a trio of gigantic iron structures that hook and curve through sea, sky and rock—was set into San Sebastián’s coast between 1976 and 1977. The artist’s gift to his city has become a defining image of Basque identity. With its martial title, Gudari Txiki evokes a similar sense of pride and self-assertion. ‘He (the blacksmith) was making horseshoes in a dark room, bathed in black light’, Chillida remembered of his first encounter with the forge. ‘That is more or less how I see myself as a Basque, how I see Basques in general—the Basque country is a land of black light, incomparable with the Mediterranean’ (E. Chillida quoted in I. Busch, ‘The Catalogue Raisonné as a Virtual Space’, ibid., p. 24).