Danielle James

November 1, 2016

 

Duane Hanson’s Commentary on the Human Condition

 

Duane Hanson’s life size hyper realistic sculptures of the 1970’s and 80’s depict figures held down by their own excess, overweight and overburdened by their telling props. They are caricatures of recognizable stereotypes—the weary traveler with goofy clothing and far too much luggage, the janitor looking longingly off in the distance, the shopper who can barely hold all of her bags looking frazzled but determined to find more sales. The sculptures personify a level of dissatisfaction with life—a search for fulfillment in the contemporary world through overindulgence.

Hanson created his sculptures through a “complex process of casting from live models, recreated in bronze or fiberglass resin” (Saatchi Gallery). He began with photography, taking “Polaroid pictures of the model, either sitting or standing, to find a pose that looked relaxed and credible” (Anderson). Hanson would then select a pose and begin casting. Once the models were cast, Hanson painstakingly “adorned them with every attribute of life-likeness from tiny body hairs, varicose veins, bruises, and hangnails” (Saatchi). He then dressed them in actual clothes and accessories, which he selected from thrift stores.

Hanson did not wish to merely impress the viewer with accuracy. Hanson “manipulate[d] the features of his unnamed figures to evoke generalized types like the Homeless Person, the Tourist, the Housewife and the Cowboy” (Kimmelman). By sculpting generalized figures instead of specific people, Hanson was able to offer a commentary on the human experience. For example, a sculpture of a generalized, slightly caricatured, housewife could speak to the experience of all housewives instead of just the experience of the specific human the cast was made from. When explaining his decision to depict the human form, Hanson said, “What can generate more interest, fascination, beauty, ugliness, joy, shock or contempt than a human being” (Findlay).

Most of Hanson’s figures were “inspired by working-class subjects” as a means for Hanson “to comment on the contemporary human condition” (Anderson). The introspective, “downcast, sober gazes” of Hanson’s figures seem to “reflect the sense of isolation, loneliness, and alienation that we experience in the modern world” (Anderson). These themes of isolation, loneliness, and alienation recur often in Hanson’s work, as does the theme of the person in flux. Hanson’s travelers and shoppers, overweight and dressed in bold obnoxious patterns, are caught in a brief moment of inactivity. They look startlingly solitary considering the crowds generally associated with their activities. Hanson’s blue-collar figures are captured pensive and dissatisfied, dreaming about a different reality while in uniform for their less than desired day job. All of Hanson’s figures seem to be searching for or dreaming of satisfaction.

In 2015, there was a Duane Hanson Retrospective in London at the Serpentine Sackler Gallery. There are images of several of his sculptures shown together in a huge, otherwise empty, gallery space. His Young Shopper and Lady with Shopping Bags were positioned near the middle of the room like dueling cowboys, except that their eyes did not make contact. They seemed unaware of the other’s presence, instead preoccupied with their own thoughts and purpose—isolated in resigned rumination. When describing Young Shopper, Duane Hanson said: “I like the physical burdens this woman carries. She is weighted down by all of her shopping bags and purchases, and she has become almost a bag herself. She carries physical burdens – the burdens of life, of everyday living. But initially, it’s quite a funny sculpture” (Saatchi). In the corner of the room, behind the shoppers, sits Man on a Bench, a sculpture of an old man, unnoticed by the other figures, who appears lost in his own world, “merely marking time on his way from birth to death” (Saatchi). Having multiple figures in the scene seems to add to the loneliness because there is a feeling that the figures are isolated by choice instead of circumstance.

Hanson experimented with sculptures of homeless people, motorcycle accidents, and politically charged subjects including a police officer kicking a black man and scenes of death during war. These sculptures challenge the viewer more directly—they force the viewer to play the role of helpless voyeur, forced to see people in vulnerable and difficult situations without the ability to assist. By the nature of being more confrontational, these sculptures are less inviting. We are trained to not stare at homeless people or accidents in an effort to preserve their dignity and respect their privacy, and this training holds when presented with highly realistic sculptures. The sculptures feel more narrative than Hanson’s other more famous work. There is less focus on the individual and their psyche than on the scene they find themselves in.

Hanson’s most successful sculptures are the seemingly humorous depictions of everyday people. His sculptures of tourists and shoppers depict physically large people wearing bold colors and patterns. The sculptures seem to be daring people to look at them at the same time as challenging the viewer to politely avoid staring. The sculptures provide the viewer with the opportunity to ignore the “rules of appropriate social proximity and etiquette” and “approach the lifelike sculptures and stare, visually dissecting them and transgressing boundaries otherwise respected in the everyday life” (Marinescu). The sculptures are rendered with such a high level of realism that this still feels taboo, but it feels less invasive than “visually dissecting” scenes of helpless figures in need of assistance.

Hanson’s sculptures “act as a commentary on the way social stereotypes can generate a congealed image of a person, presenting typologies, rather than individuals” (Marinescu). The viewer is given a hyper-realistic figure and a variety of “props” that the figure carries. The viewer is forced to decide their own narrative based on these clues. Just like in real life, the figures are judged based on their clothing, accessories, weight, skin color, gender, and style. This idea of “props” has come up often with my own work. I am working on a series of paintings of people (some of whom are tourists), which will form a crowd when completed. The backgrounds have been simplified to a horizon line with two tones. This takes the figures out of context, making their personal attributes and accessories the only narrative elements.

I could not ignore the similarities between Duane Hanson’s tourists and my own. I did not consciously reference his sculptures, but perhaps subconsciously I did mirror his work. Like Hanson, I depicted tourists at a moment when their attention was pointedly directed at something unknown to the viewer. Whatever has their attention is not worthy of emotion or photography, as their body language is introverted and their cameras hang limply at their sides. The figures look dissatisfied, isolated, and lonely. The similarities between my paintings and Hanson’s sculptures are much closer depending on the photo of his sculptures. Some photos square up the gallery floor, creating a two-tone gray and white background with a clean horizontal horizon.

The themes of loneliness and isolation that Hanson tackled with his sculptures are complex and can be overlooked when viewing his work, as the hyperrealism, humor, and garish patterns often steal the attention. The audience has shifted noticeably as well, with the “selfie generation” joining the crowd. The experience of the sculptures becomes much more interactive with this new group of viewers. The rules of the museum are changing in that “what was once forbidden in the museum (the photo) is now encouraged. The eyeballs of Hanson’s figures no longer look out into space, but at the viewer’s camera, along with the viewer” (Coupland). Sculptures were already more interactive than paintings—they can be circled and viewed from multiple angles, and the photograph adds an entire additional level of interaction. Coupland, writing for The Guardian, argues that Hanson’s sculptures are the most “selfie-friendly” artwork that exists. However, the “selfie” generation tends to focus on proving the experience with a quick snapshot instead of contemplating the sculptures long enough to break through the gaudy exterior.

The similarities between my tourists and Hanson’s call into question if, more than a quarter of a century after Duane Hanson created his famous Tourists II, the same issues of loneliness and isolation persist. I would argue that these themes have strengthened in the modern world of technology and social media. I have not addressed technology with my crowd series (or any of my paintings) yet, which seems like an intentional denial of reality. I think, if the technology had already existed, cellphones would definitely have found their way into Hanson’s sculptures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited

Anderson, Ruth. “Duane Hanson: Real Life.” James A. Michener Art Museum (2007): n. pag. Michener Art Museum. James A. Michener Art Museum, 14 Jan. 2007. Web. 26 Oct. 2016.

Coupland, Douglas. “Duane Hanson: ‘An Artist Tailor-made for the Age of the Selfie'” The Guardian. Guardian News and Media, 26 May 2015. Web. 26 Oct. 2016.

“Duane Hanson – Artist’s Profile.” Saatchi Gallery. Saatchi Gallery, n.d. Web. 24 Oct. 2016.

“Duane Hanson.” Serpentine Galleries. Serpentine Galleries, 2 June 2015. Web. 25 Oct. 2016.

Findlay, James. “Duane Hanson’s Archetypes of Humanity.” Bienes Center for the Literary Arts. Bienes Center for the Literary Arts, 11 Jan. 1998. Web. 25 Oct. 2016.

Kimmelman, Michael. “ART VIEW; Is Duane Hanson the Phidias of Our Time?” The New York Times. The New York Times Company, 27 Feb. 1994. Web. 25 Oct. 2016.

Marinescu, Livia. “Duane Hanson Retrospective, London.” Ghost. Ghost Magazine, 18 June 2015. Web. 26 Oct. 2016.