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Lot Essay
“Few artists have pushed drawing to such sculptural and even architectural extremes as Richard Serra.” (R. Smith, “Sketches From the Man Of Steel,” The New York Times, April 14, 2011, n.p.)
Richard Serra’s large-scale work, T.W.U. #1 is a striking example of the breadth of his artistic process. He has described works such as these as “the most direct, conscious space in which I work” (R. Serra, quoted by L. Borden, "About Drawing," in Richard Serra: Interviews, Etc. 1970-1980, 1977, p. 76). While Serra is known principally as a sculptor, often of large-scale steel structures, drawing’s essential place in his oeuvre was acknowledged in 2011 when a major retrospective of his graphic work was held at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and The Menil Collection, Houston.
T.W.U. #1 consists of long rectangular forms of black paintstick smeared upon paper. Serra began using crayon-like paintsticks in the 1970s, eventually melting these down into bricks that could be used with two hands. The contrast between the substantial, visceral quality of the waxy paintstick applied by the artist and the ephemerality of the supporting medium creates a dynamic composition that appears to exist spatially. Indeed, the title refers to a public sculpture that Serra created for downtown Manhattan in 1980. T.W.U. comprised of three thirty-six-feet-high Cor-Ten steel plates that leant against each other. It was named in honor of the Transport Workers Union, whose members were on strike when the work was installed outside the Franklin St. subway station in Tribeca. But, although the drawing reflects the soaring verticality of the sculpture’s steel forms, T.W.U. #1 is an autonomous work of art. Like all of Serra’s drawings, it is not ancillary to, and nor did it function as a preliminary study for, his sculptures. Serra has described how his drawings are often a way for him to re-see and more closely understand his already-constructed work but emphasizes that, like many other Post-Minimalist artworks, they are not in any way representational.
The work recreates the intense physicality of T.W.U. and, importantly, its kinetic spatiality, creating an entirely new work in the process. Two layered rectangles recall the parallel forms of the sculpture, while the seam where they interlap, the most densely worked part of the composition, intimates the third steel plate placed at right angles to the other two. The texture of the paintstick and its intensity of color give the work a tactile quality, urging the viewer to touch. As with his sculptures, here Serra’s interest in bodily engagement with the artwork is evident. The dense materiality of T.W.U. #1 draws the viewer up to and into the work to explore its texture and depth of color more closely, and then the overall composition and scale implores withdrawal to once again study the drawing in its imposing entirety. This sense of movement is aided by an openness of form, with speckles of paper showing through the mass of paintstick, just as there are smudges and splashes of black throughout. In its raw power and rejection of representation, T.W.U. #1 allows a remarkably tangible insight into Serra’s complex working process.
Richard Serra’s large-scale work, T.W.U. #1 is a striking example of the breadth of his artistic process. He has described works such as these as “the most direct, conscious space in which I work” (R. Serra, quoted by L. Borden, "About Drawing," in Richard Serra: Interviews, Etc. 1970-1980, 1977, p. 76). While Serra is known principally as a sculptor, often of large-scale steel structures, drawing’s essential place in his oeuvre was acknowledged in 2011 when a major retrospective of his graphic work was held at New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and The Menil Collection, Houston.
T.W.U. #1 consists of long rectangular forms of black paintstick smeared upon paper. Serra began using crayon-like paintsticks in the 1970s, eventually melting these down into bricks that could be used with two hands. The contrast between the substantial, visceral quality of the waxy paintstick applied by the artist and the ephemerality of the supporting medium creates a dynamic composition that appears to exist spatially. Indeed, the title refers to a public sculpture that Serra created for downtown Manhattan in 1980. T.W.U. comprised of three thirty-six-feet-high Cor-Ten steel plates that leant against each other. It was named in honor of the Transport Workers Union, whose members were on strike when the work was installed outside the Franklin St. subway station in Tribeca. But, although the drawing reflects the soaring verticality of the sculpture’s steel forms, T.W.U. #1 is an autonomous work of art. Like all of Serra’s drawings, it is not ancillary to, and nor did it function as a preliminary study for, his sculptures. Serra has described how his drawings are often a way for him to re-see and more closely understand his already-constructed work but emphasizes that, like many other Post-Minimalist artworks, they are not in any way representational.
The work recreates the intense physicality of T.W.U. and, importantly, its kinetic spatiality, creating an entirely new work in the process. Two layered rectangles recall the parallel forms of the sculpture, while the seam where they interlap, the most densely worked part of the composition, intimates the third steel plate placed at right angles to the other two. The texture of the paintstick and its intensity of color give the work a tactile quality, urging the viewer to touch. As with his sculptures, here Serra’s interest in bodily engagement with the artwork is evident. The dense materiality of T.W.U. #1 draws the viewer up to and into the work to explore its texture and depth of color more closely, and then the overall composition and scale implores withdrawal to once again study the drawing in its imposing entirety. This sense of movement is aided by an openness of form, with speckles of paper showing through the mass of paintstick, just as there are smudges and splashes of black throughout. In its raw power and rejection of representation, T.W.U. #1 allows a remarkably tangible insight into Serra’s complex working process.