|
A. Calder
National Gallery, Washington |
Most
of Calder's constructions are not imitative of nature; I know no less
deceptive art than his. Sculpture suggests movement, painting suggests
depth or light. A "mobile" does not "suggest" anything: it captures
genuine living movements and shapes them. "Mobiles" have no meaning,
make you think of nothing but themselves. They are, that is all; they
are absolutes. There is more of the unpredictable about them than in any
other human creation. No human brain, not even their creator's, could
possibly foresee all the complex combinations of which they are capable.
A general destiny of movement is sketched for them, and then they are
left to work it out for themselves. What they may do at a given moment
will be determined by the time of day, the sun, the temperature or the
wind. The object is thus always half way between the servility of a
statue and the independence of natural events; each of its evolutions is
the inspiration of a moment. It may be possible to discern the
composer's theme, but the mechanism itself introduces a thousand
personal variations. It is a fleeting snatch of swing music, evanescent
as the sky or the morning: if you miss it, you have lost it forever.
Valery said of the sea that it is a perpetual recommencement. A "mobile"
is in this way like the sea, and is equally enchanting: forever
re-beginning, forever new. No use throwing it a passing glance, you must
live with it and be fascinated by it. Then and only then will you feel
the beauty of its pure and changing forms, at once so free and so
disciplined.
"The Mobiles of Calder" by Jean-Paul Sartre