There is a new survey exhibition of the work of Hans Josephsohn (1920-2012) in New York, this time at Skarstedt gallery on 79th Street in Manhattan. This one closes on Oct. 28. It will most likely be as ignored as the Swiss sculptor’s previous solo exhibitions in the U.S., which is a shame—for us.
Josephsohn’s work discomfits even its art world champions because it does not fit any obvious or comforting mold. Almost everything he did has a prehistoric, dug-up aura, but it would be misleading to think this was the point. Nostalgia tinged with archaism was far from the artist’s intentions. The work might also seem old school or academically conventional, as some sculptures fall into traditional formats like portrait heads and reclining nudes, but a lot of what Josephsohn produced is not quite in any immediately recognizable genre. The sculptures’ composition of reworked, patched, and encrusted surfaces is derived from their initial realization in plaster. The colors, a combination of closely mottled rich browns and grays, are products of brass casting meeting the oxygenated atmosphere, accompanied by Josephsohn’s supervised adjustments of the patinas in the foundry.
