Abstractions, Limited

My hair is grey, but not with years.

--Byron, The Prisoner of Chillon

Ordinary people, before & after the prisoner of Chillon's day, have had little difficulty visualizing the look of men imprisoned by oppressors. Stories and pictures--from Dachau to the trial of Cardinal Mindszenty--keep the human image fresh: men of flesh & blood, sometimes vacant-eyed and shuffling, with faces white from lack of sun.

At Manhattan's Museum of Modern Art last week, an interesting new version of the political prisoner made its appearance: the abstract artist's. The occasion was an exhibit of models by eleven U.S. prizewinners in a world-wide sculpture competition on the theme of "The Unknown Political Prisoner'' (TIME, Feb. 4, 1952). The work of the prizewinners had qualities much admired in modern sculpture: sophistication, reticence--even imagination. What most of it notably lacked was any kind of human compassion. The abstractionists, in fact, seemed to be having a hard time with their big human theme.

Mobilist Alexander Calder saw his "prisoner" as two black triangles pierced with a spear. Philadelphia's Wharton Esherick used a pair of leaning monoliths to convey his idea. Others showed a tiny figure trapped, fly-like, in a conical web of wires; shapeless wooden chunks joined by metal bars; a writhing metal mass with sharp edges and a pair of protruding wings. Only one winner gave his prisoner a human form.

A jury of five museum men had picked the eleven to represent the U.S. in a grand prize ($12,670) competition to be held in London this March. Among all the 199 U.S. entries, they announced, "the abstract [sculpture] was what the jury considered the most vital." The New York Times had another word for the show: "Disappointing."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.