Carol Bove
Image credit: CAROL BOVE,
The Moon and the Yew Tree, 2019.
stainless steel, urethane paint, and up to 10 painted medium-density fiberboard forms,
dimensions variable,
Installation view, Carol Bove, March 5–August 2, Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York
Photo: David Heald.
© Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, New York
It would be an understatement to say that Carol Bove has had an unusual career. She only enrolled in art school at 29. A few short years after graduating, her first substantial body of work, ethereal drawings of women from Playboy, featured on the cover of Artforum. After this benediction the interest only mounted, though her work changed shape, and grew. This year, at 55, the Brooklyn-based artist presented her major retrospective at the Guggenheim in New York, anchored by the monumental sculptures of crumpled steel for which she’s now best known. At this scale, steel is meant to feel architectural. It’s meant to be rigid and reliable, a known entity. But Bove’s sculptures defy expectations, suggesting fragility and even movement.
Bove’s Sweet Charity (2026), the opening salvo of the exhibition, is a group of 7 towering pieces that have been variously bent, buckled and propped into place. As an American sculptor working with steel and scrap metal, there are inevitable reference points. On the one hand, there’s abstract expressionism and artists like John Chamberlain, with his assemblages of crushed automotive parts, and Mark di Suvero, who pioneered crane-assisted outdoor sculpture. On the other, there’s the immense shadow cast by minimalism and postminimalism. Yet her work doesn’t fit easily within either framework. Richard Serra, for example, might leave you feeling dwarfed and all too aware of the properties of steel; Bove opens up the possibilities. ... Subscribe to read all articles in full
