New York

Forrest Myers

Sculpture Now

Forrest Myers’s was the inaugural exhibition at Sculpture Now, the Max Hutchinson Gallery’s spacious new two-story showroom. The fat steel and brass tendrils of Myers’s sculpture, like Snel-son’s pipes and cables, act to bind up an area on the floor and a volume in the room. But Myers shuns geometry; although they are connected, his tendrils delineate no clear figures. He imputes a gestural softness to his metal so that it undulates like an old swami’s trick rope. Some ends run out from the main configuration and arch off the ground inquiringly, as if they meant to go somewhere, or attach themselves to something. Myers refers to DNA in several of his jokey titles, and the lengths of metal intertwine at their joinings much like the strands of that molecule. The metaphor implies that the work is both a sculptural rendering of the material basic to the generation of organic form, and something microscopic made monumental. These implications are not, as they are in Snelson’s, inherent in the structure of the work.

Despite Myer’s apparent debt to the postwar tradition of soft-form sculpture, his basic enterprise is drawing in space. In this he joins the mainstream of formalist sculpture that passes through David Smith, so it seems only fair that I criticize his surfaces. He scratches his metal like a pattern called “Bold” in the sales brochure of one firm specializing in architectural decoration.

Alan Moore