Osborne Samuel have supported Art Miami since it started over 30 years ago. Sadly as you know this year Art Miami has been cancelled. Although an online version of the art fair will be brought to you by www.artsy.com we decided to share with you directly the range of sculptures, paintings and prints which we would have brought to the show. So we have created an interactive catalogue for you to browse through. It isn’t the same but even so we hope you will enjoy taking a look. CLICK HERE
Mother and Child: Round Form, 1980
19.7 x 11 x 13.6 cm.
Signed and numbered from the edition on the back edge of the bronze base
Edition of 9
Private Collection, New York (acquired directly from the artist)
Private Collection, New York (and sold: Sotheby’s, New York, November 13, 1996, lot 314)
Private Collection, London (acquired at the above sale)
Jeanne Frank Gallery, New York
Private Collection (Acquired from the above on March 17, 1997)
Private Collection, London
Alan Bowness, ed., Henry Moore, Complete Sculpture, 1980-1986, vol. 6, London, 1988, p. 51, no. 789, illustration of another cast pl. 38
Dimensions include the artist’s bronze base
A cast from the edition is owned by the The Yale Center for British Art, USA
Reviewing Moore’s eightieth-birthday exhibition at Fischer Fine Art, which juxtaposed recent sculptures with those from the 1920s and ’30s, John Glaves-Smith drew attention to the persistence of the rounded female figures. Even in the interwar period, when women – deprived of calories, then taking up tennis and hockey – strove for the boyishly svelte silhouette of the ‘flapper’, Moore’s figures remained ample, replete with curves. ₁ The most salient exception would be his post-war Mother and Child (1953), a tense pairing in which the child appears to peck, ravenously, at its mother’s breast. In this composition, the mother strains away from the child, her waist attenuated, her head serrated in defence.
Mother and Child Round Form (1980) demonstrates the persistence of Moore’s monumental vision. The female figure is non-sexualised, seeming to exist only in relation to the child, whom she regards intently. The composition centres on the child, its mother arguably providing little more than a context: a support. To this end, the female figure is largely devoid of non-essential detail. There is the merest indication of breasts, and hands to clasp. Legs, lacking purpose, are truncated, while weight sediments towards the cushion of the mother’s lap. The effect is far from stolid, however. As almost invariably with the subject of mother and child, Moore imbues the composition with timelessness and universality.
₁ John Glaves-Smith, ‘Exhibitions: Henry Moore’, Art Monthly (September 1978), p. 19.
Mother and Child: Circular Base, 1980
13.3 x 11.5 x 11.5 cm.
Signed and numbered from the edition at back of bronze
Edition of 9
The Artist, May 1981, from whom acquired by
Private Collection, New Zealand
Private Collection, U.K.
With Berkeley Square Gallery, London, 2003, where purchased by
Private Collection, U.K. by whom gifted to the present owner
Private Collection, U.K.
Osborne Samuel, London (Formerly Berkeley Square Gallery)
Alan Bowness, Henry Moore: Volume 6, Complete Sculpture, 1980-86, London, 1999, p.37, cat.no.790 (ill.b&w., another cast)
Rome, Vigna Antoniana, Henry Moore, 1981
Ravenna, Moore, Sculture, disegni e grafica, 1986 no.13 (illustrated)
Height excludes base.
A cast is owned by the Henry Moore Foundation, Perry Green, UK
Though a pervasive theme throughout Moore’s oeuvre, the artist created more images of the Mother and Child in the final decade of his life than in any other period of his career. Moore wrote in 1979: “The ‘Mother and Child’ is one of my two or three obsessions, one of my inexhaustible subjects. This may have something to do with the fact that the ‘Madonna and Child’ was so important in the art of the past and that one loves the old masters and has learned so much from them. But the subject itself is eternal and unending, with so many sculptural possibilities in it—a small form in relation to a big form, the big form protecting the small one, and so on. It is such a rich subject, both humanly and compositionally, that I will always go on using it” (quoted in A. Wilkinson, ed., Henry Moore: Writings and Conversations, Berkeley, 2002, p. 213).
Oil and wax on linen
120 x 200 cm.
Signed and titled verso
£18,000 (exclusive of taxes)
“Edging West” an exhibition of new paintings and ceramics at Osborne Samuel Gallery 28 November to 20 December 2019
Signed, titled and dated verso
‘Quench’ is inspired by the deep yellow lichen growth on the coastal paths and cliffs. It is a joyous celebratory colour, there is a deep rhythm and sense of movement in the way that lichen grows, clinging to the rocks and surviving in such extreme weather. The analogy and symbolism is also important here, but more so is the deep beauty in something so small presented large. We the viewer, are made small in comparison in order to explore this world visually.
First Stairs, 1991
49.5 x 24.8 x 24.9 cm.
Stamped with the artist's monogram, reference number C111 and numbered at the base of the stairs
Edition of 9
Private Collection, USA
D. Farr and E. Chadwick, Lynn Chadwick Sculptor: with a Complete Illustrated Catalogue 1947-2003, Farnham, 2014, pp. 406, no. C111, another cast illustrated.
Caracas, Galeria Freites, January – February 1993
‘I thought I’d contrast the movement of legs going up and down stairs, so you get the legs, the knees bending one way, then the other way … I was really thinking, ‘How else can I do these curious figures of mine? How can I do them? What shall I do with them? … How can I use the human body? What can I do with it?’₁
Chadwick’s comments regarding the ‘stair’ series both reveal and deflect. They address his persistent motivation to push the figure in new directions, yet spread a pall over any specific spur for the imagery. He had begun in 1990 to make what would become one of the last tributaries to his welter of late, mainly female, figures. Taking the prop of the stairs – solid, open-tread or spiral – he examined the particular movement of a figure ascending or descending. Knees bend, muscles tense, sometimes the torso inclines forward and the buttocks appear to sway. The motion can be more or less elegant, accordingly. Each figure’s clothing, whether a sophisticated above-the-knee shift dress, or one that appears too tight for comfort, frames and modifies its bearing.
In First Stairs (1991), Chadwick presents a pair of figures moving in opposing directions. They are not doubles, but they create an effect of mirroring, brushing shoulder to shoulder. Perhaps adolescent, they appear long-backed, slender, demure; inexplicably charged with silence.
₁ Lynn Chadwick, Artists’ Lives, quoted in Michael Bird, Lynn Chadwick (Farnam: Lund Humphries, 2014), p. 169.
Watcher VI, 1961
95 x 35 x 30 cm.
Signed, dated and numbered. Stamped with the Burleighfield foundry mark.
Edition of 8
Private Collection, Europe
Osborne Samuel, London
Dennis Farr and Eva Chadwick, Lynn Chadwick, Sculptor, with a Complete Illustrated Catalogue 1947-2005, Lund Humphries, Aldershot, 2006, cat. no.349, illustrated p.180(another cast)
Michael Bird, Lynn Chadwick, London, 2014, no. 5-16, illustration of another cast p. 122
Marlborough Fine Art, London, Nov-Dec, 1961
In 1959 Chadwick began working on an iconic series of sculptures: ‘The Watchers’. These mysterious creatures stand in majestic isolation, even when they appear in triads. All marks of the individual have been removed from the figure, to create an image that is neither human nor animal, neither male nor female. Writing about The Watchers, Herbert Read dubbed Chadwick’s unique aesthetic as “the new image of man”.
Lynn Chadwick was interviewed by Cathy Courtney for the British Sound Archive and she asked specifically about ‘the Watchers.’
Chadwick answered, ‘it is my way of saying the same thing as the Easter Island figures are saying…. They’re not in any way, representative of anything. They are just shapes….. You see, the Easter Island things …. have this great intensity of … message, as it were and I wanted to do the same thing….. All I was aware of was that they ….satisfied me that I had done what I wanted to do, I wasn’t trying to do anything specific but it was just this way of having this intense feeling.’1
In 1959, Chadwick began a series of over forty sculptures titled Watcher. The earliest maquette angled its block-shaped head inquisitively, its torso curved in a gentle, questioning arch. More characteristically, the Watchers would appear erect and level headed, their gaze directed resolutely ahead.
Watcher VI (1961) was conceived in the same year that Chadwick began work on the group of three monumental Watchers, a cast of which was sited in Roehampton, overlooking the modernist architecture of the Alton Estate, by the London County Council in 1963. Like them, it inhabits a rectangular profile, upright and self-contained. Yet within this simplicity of profile there is abundant detail, subtly reinforcing the stance: no plane is left unconsidered. The head bears traces of horizontal seams, layered as a dry-stone wall. The torso is articulated with diamond facets. This particular Watcher twists its head, slightly: a receptor stilled in observation.
1.Michael Bird, Lynn Chadwick, London, 2014, p.112
Minimum footprint of legs at base 28.5 x 25 cm (11 1/4 x 10 in)
A study for the ‘Watcher’ series of 1961, executed in ink and watercolour on paper, is held in the collection at the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge.
Other ‘Watcher’ sculptures in public collections, include the Berman Museum, Pennsylvania, the Sprengel Museum, Hanover and the San Diego Museum of Art.
Yellow Autumn from a Terrace, 1948
Oil on canvas
52.1 x 107.2 cm.
Signed 'Hitchens' (lower right); further signed and inscribed 'IVON HITCHENS/Greenleaves Lavington Common/Petworth Sussex/Yellow Autumn/from a Terrace' (on a label attached to the stretcher)
The Leicester Galleries, London, 2 February 1962
Private Collection, U.K.
Osborne Samuel Gallery
Woodland became a key feature of Hitchens’ paintings from the early 1940s onwards, following the family’s move to Lavington Common, Sussex, after his studio in Belsize Park was badly damaged by a bomb. This was a turning point for the artist, having escaped London to the seclusion and tranquillity of the countryside and surrounded by nature, his work took on a fresh spontaneity that is particularly evident in this painting.
Peter Khoroche noted:
“About Yellow Autumn from a Terrace -there is a note in IH’s Despatch Book, under Summer 1949, to the effect that certain pictures from the Leicester Galleries were transferred to the Leger Galleries at this time. Among these was Yellow Autumn from a Terrace. So we can be sure that it was painted before Summer 1949. I think ‘ca.1948’ would be a reasonable guess as to when it was painted.”
Taking a horizontal canvas, often propped low in front of him, Hitchens worked in the open air from landscapes hemmed close by foliage, bracken and the dank mass of water. He had moved to Greenleaves, six acres of woodland in Lavington, Sussex, following the bombing of his London studio. Never finding a reason to leave, he continued to paint its seasons, finding infinite variety where others might hardly register change.
Hitchens frequently drew analogy with music to describe his approach to painting, referring to the instruments in the ‘ painter’ s orchestra’ , a picture’ s rhythm and harmony, or the notation of tones and colours necessary to its ‘ visual music’ .1 Yet if his canvases are scanned, in the same way as musical scores, the attentive viewer soon notices that Hitchens’ calligraphic strokes are precise rather than bravura , the balancing of tone to unpainted canvas as calculated as that of an experienced orchestrator.
In Yellow Autumn from a Terrace , Hitchens creates a foreground scaffolding of tree trunks, arched brambles, shrubs, the suggested curlicues of ironwork, letting the eye find its own way towards chinks of cerulean-grey. As Christopher Neve wrote,
“…nature seemed to consist to [Hitchens] more of spaces than of objects, and it often appears that he instinctively drew the air and light that vibrates in the interstices of the view rather than the view itself.”2
1. Ivon Hitchens, Statement in Ark (1956), based on notes made a decade earlier.
2. Christopher Neve, ‘ Ivon Hitchens: Music’ , in Unquiet Landscape: Places and Ideas in 20th Century English Painting (Faber, 1990), p. 139.
Sleeper Black, 1997
Etching, Aquatint & Drypoint
97 x 193 cm.
Signed and inscribed `EA', a proof aside from the numbered edition of 50, of which only 20 were printed.
D. Krut, William Kentridge Prints, Johannesburg and Iowa, 2006, no. 68.
“The print marked Act IV, Scene I from the Ubu Suite provides the compositional motif that Kentridge expounds upon in the large Sleepers, a series of 4 prints published in 1997. The artist, Ubu, lies naked on a table suggestive of hospital beds, mortuary slabs, dissecting tables or torture chambers. There is nothing sexual or voyeuristic about this portrayal of the male nude (the artist again) who exists rather as an asexual figure of suffering and resignation, an interesting counterpoint to the tradition of the reclining female nude in western art. South Africa gained its independence under Mandela in 1994, and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission began its arduous process of confession and healing. Kentridge was working on large-scale charcoal drawings of Ubu at this time and in order to bring a sense of the body abused, damaged and humiliated into the drawings (in accordance with the histories revealing themselves on the radio every morning in the TRC broadcasts), he rode over the paper on a bicycle, flagellated the paper with a charcoal-impregnated silk rope and invited, “children and cats” to trample upon and desecrate the image. To carry these marks onto a plate through printmaking, Kentridge used a range of materials and objects and pressed them into a soft ground painted onto the giant Sleeper plates, leaving footprints, scrapes and scratches.
This extract is taken from Kate McCrickard’s essay, “William Kentridge Prints” which was commissioned by Edinburgh Printmakers to accompany an exhibition of Kentridge’s work, curated by David Krut, that was shown during the Edinburgh Printmakers’ Festival from July to September 2007.
Sleeper – Red, 1997
Etching and aquatint with drypoint printed in black and red, on wove paper
97 x 193 cm.
Signed and inscribed 'PP' in pencil, aside from the edition of 50
Edition of V
107 Workshop, Wiltshire
D. Krut, William Kentridge Prints, Johannesburg and Iowa, 2006, pp. 66, 68-69.
In 1996 Kentridge embarked on a series of etchings to coincide with the centenary of Alfred Jarry’s Ubu Roi. In Ubu tells the Truth Kentridge transposed Jarry’s spiral-bellied comic anti-hero with the figure of a naked man based on photographs of Kentridge performing the part of Ubu in his studio. The series was the basis for a theatre production written and directed by the artist, Ubu & the Truth Commission (1997), which in turn was the genesis of The Sleeper prints.
‘I had worked on a series of messy drawings of a naked man, sometimes enclosed by the white Ubu line drawing, trying to get some feel of the theatre production in them. With the first set of drypoints I had used a thumbprint and printed the heel of my hand to suggest the flesh texture. With the large drawings one has to pull shape and texture into the drawing on a larger scale. I wheeled a bicycle across the paper, hit it with charcoal-impregnated silk rope, invited children and cats to walk over it, spattered it freely with pigment. The Sleeper prints used a range of materials and objects placed on soft ground to try to effect the same damage upon the paper’ (William Kentridge, in: William Kentridge Prints, David Krut Publishing, Johannesburg and New York, 2006, p. 66)