Over the past four years, Nina Levy has invited
twenty-eight individuals to sit for portrait sessions where the subject's
head is modeled in clay. Following the session, Levy makes a mold
off the clay and then cast a hollow positive in either polyester resin or
Hydrocal, which is subsequently painted with oil. Relating to, yet
distinctly standing apart from the artist's uncomfortably expressive
full-figure self-portraits, these works expand Levy's primarily subjective
subject matter in an exploration of both objective realism and the complex
psychology between self and other.
The artist relates a story about an individual she refuses to
identify who had been scheduled for a portrait session: "He
called nervously the day before the appointment and asked if it was
necessary that he take off his clothes. I was astonished, as it was
clear from my first discussion with him that I was working on a series of
heads." Although anecdotal, this story has a great deal to say
about the way we feel when under close scrutiny. Traditional
representation always involved the artist spending time with his or her
subjects, with, in the case of sculpture, tools and hands caressing the
sitter's likeness. Since photography has become the overwhelmingly
singular media for portraiture, the roles of artist and model have often
become more distant, particularly since the model usually doesn't
participate in the image as it is being made. The fact is key for
Levy, who considers her portraits to be collaborative projects, where the
subject participates in a way that goes beyond the obvious act of
representation.
Most of Levy's sculpture involves self-portraiture that deals
with exaggerated states of self-exposure. For example, in the
site-specific work Headlong (1990), a nude, larger that life-sized
artist hurls her even larger head off the top of a building. These
portrait heads, by contrast, expose the artist in a different way, forcing
Levy into often-intense social situations with individuals who are chosen
primarily for their distinctive physiognomy. It should be noted that
all of the portraits thus far are people from the art world- artists,
curators, gallerists, or private dealers. This choice of subjects
from the artist's milieu underscores the social nature of the portrait
series so far. Levy's project is unusual in her choice of media,
uniquely standing apart from others who have documented the art world,
such as painters Chuck Close and Jim Torok, and photographers Arnold
Newman and Timothy Greenfield-Sanders.
If the adept modeling of each head creates a physical likeness, the
material is truly animated by Levy's painting. More painterly, and
thus more expressionistic than most of the artist's other work, the
surface treatment makes some subjects gaze intensely out into the world,
while others seem withdrawn into thought. Strangely, all of the
heads are smaller than life size. Levy relates the narcissistic
tendency of subjects of portrait sculpture to think that they have a
"fat head" if they are represented at full scale. The
smaller scale also creates the sense that the subject is further away,
slightly negating the intimacy that comes with any close
examination. The viewer's relationship with these portraits eerily
parallels the negotiation of intimacy and privacy that exists in all human
interactions.
Levy has approached the modernist dilemma of how to present small
sculpture without the need for a plinth by using several strategies that
reinforce the individuality of her subjects. Instead of
deciding on a point on the neck, shoulders, or upper torso to truncate
each sculpture (the device used in traditional three-dimensional
portraiture) the artist has chosen to end each piece by gently rounding
off the bottom of the head. The benefit of this solution is the
emphasis placed on each head as a "complete" object, whole, not
a fragment or part that has been severed from a body. To add even
further complexity to this situation, Levy decided to hang each portrait
at the actual height of each subject, creating a paradoxical situation
where she both references and negates her subject's missing body.
These works are not photo realistic, such as the sculpture of Duane
Hanson and John De Andrea, nor do they reference the hyperreal world of
Hollywood special effects, as does the work of artists such as Ron
Mueck. Instead, Levy has taken a traditional handmade sensibility
and translated it in a way that reflects a contemporary awareness of the
human gaze. Levy's portraits, slowly rotating in space, are free to
either turn towards us or away, reminding us that we always exist in
relationship to others.
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