.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
.jpg?w=1)
Lot Essay
"Carving is interrelated masses conveying an emotion; a perfect relationship between the mind and the colour, light and weight which is the stone, made by the hand which feels. It must be so essentially sculpture that it can exist in no other way, something completely the right size but which has growth, something still and yet having movement, so very quiet and yet with a real vitality."
—Barbara Hepworth
In 1959, Hepworth returned to carving in white marble and alabaster, materials that had been central to her oeuvre in the 1930s but that she had only used sparingly during the following two decades. At the point at which Hepworth produced Godrevy, she had begun to work in bronze, brought to monumental realization in works such as Single Form, 1961-1964, United Nations Building, New York. Working simultaneously in bronze, wood and stone, she continued to pursue the concept of "truth to materials," a pioneering movement in British sculpture in the 1920s and early 1930s, when both Hepworth and her contemporary, Henry Moore, came of age as artists. In essence, "truth to materials" required the sculptor to let the nature of their chosen material—its surface, its density, the overall shape of the original block—dictate the final form of the work. Soft stones such as alabaster or marble, or resin-rich woods such as lignum vitae, can be carefully carved to "reveal" their curving, liquid inner forms; hard stones, on the other hand, demanded to be cut at angles, incised with sharp lines; and everything should keep a trace of where the sculptor started from, the rough-hewn block, whether in the form of uncarved areas or heads and legs bent and distorted to follow the limits set by the quarryman. "Direct carving is the heart of sculpture," this remark was made passionately by the artist as she handled reflectively a piece of marble at its early stage of shaping, expressing the core of the artist's creed. Clay or plaster was too responsive, too unresisting ("I hate modelling"), had too little character of its own to be subjected to the craftsman's will. Wood and stone, on the other hand, provided resistance, substance, their own inherent forms and tensions. "I believe that the understanding of the material and the meaning of the form being carved must be in perfect equilibrium." The artist is never overborne by the material nor the material wholly subdued to the formal vision (see M. Merchant (intro.), exh. cat., Marlborough Fine Art, London, 1982, p. 5). Geometric yet organic, Godrevy, reflects Hepworth’s interest in exploring the tension between solid mass and empty space. Carved from a shimmering block of white alabaster, its form is both abstract and resonant with references to landscape, a sense that is enhanced by its gentle, yielding curves, circular indentation, and deliberate incisions. Cornwall provided a vital source of energy and inspiration for Hepworth’s work: "Here I can slowly travel to a nearby hill and, with larks singing above and the distant sound of sea and wind and voices carrying from faraway farms, a distant figure is a monument, whilst I myself am cradled in the anatomy of landscape"(quoted in P. Curtis and A.G. Wilkinson, eds., Barbara Hepworth: A Retrospective, exh.cat., Tate, London, 1994, p. 83).
—Barbara Hepworth
In 1959, Hepworth returned to carving in white marble and alabaster, materials that had been central to her oeuvre in the 1930s but that she had only used sparingly during the following two decades. At the point at which Hepworth produced Godrevy, she had begun to work in bronze, brought to monumental realization in works such as Single Form, 1961-1964, United Nations Building, New York. Working simultaneously in bronze, wood and stone, she continued to pursue the concept of "truth to materials," a pioneering movement in British sculpture in the 1920s and early 1930s, when both Hepworth and her contemporary, Henry Moore, came of age as artists. In essence, "truth to materials" required the sculptor to let the nature of their chosen material—its surface, its density, the overall shape of the original block—dictate the final form of the work. Soft stones such as alabaster or marble, or resin-rich woods such as lignum vitae, can be carefully carved to "reveal" their curving, liquid inner forms; hard stones, on the other hand, demanded to be cut at angles, incised with sharp lines; and everything should keep a trace of where the sculptor started from, the rough-hewn block, whether in the form of uncarved areas or heads and legs bent and distorted to follow the limits set by the quarryman. "Direct carving is the heart of sculpture," this remark was made passionately by the artist as she handled reflectively a piece of marble at its early stage of shaping, expressing the core of the artist's creed. Clay or plaster was too responsive, too unresisting ("I hate modelling"), had too little character of its own to be subjected to the craftsman's will. Wood and stone, on the other hand, provided resistance, substance, their own inherent forms and tensions. "I believe that the understanding of the material and the meaning of the form being carved must be in perfect equilibrium." The artist is never overborne by the material nor the material wholly subdued to the formal vision (see M. Merchant (intro.), exh. cat., Marlborough Fine Art, London, 1982, p. 5). Geometric yet organic, Godrevy, reflects Hepworth’s interest in exploring the tension between solid mass and empty space. Carved from a shimmering block of white alabaster, its form is both abstract and resonant with references to landscape, a sense that is enhanced by its gentle, yielding curves, circular indentation, and deliberate incisions. Cornwall provided a vital source of energy and inspiration for Hepworth’s work: "Here I can slowly travel to a nearby hill and, with larks singing above and the distant sound of sea and wind and voices carrying from faraway farms, a distant figure is a monument, whilst I myself am cradled in the anatomy of landscape"(quoted in P. Curtis and A.G. Wilkinson, eds., Barbara Hepworth: A Retrospective, exh.cat., Tate, London, 1994, p. 83).