significant other
true to form Illustration by Tom Bachtell for The New Yorker ©2009
Don Gummer shapes his own career in Constructivism
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The towns and villages of Litchfield County have attracted an uncommonly large number of people with stellar careers in the creative arts. They are, if you will, thick on the ground—poets, painters, authors, actors, historians, essayists, playwrights, directors, and so on and so forth. All of them breathing inspiration into the area’s culture and that of the nation and the world. Some gain fame, others simply artistic (and financial) success while living under the radar. Don Gummer, a sculptor with his home and studio in Salisbury, deserves inclusion in this celebrated group because—uniquely—much of his work derives from a movement, or genre, known as Constructivism. Born in Russia just before the Bolshevik Revolution, the movement gathered strength and adherents worldwide. It captured Gummer’s imagination, during his student years, for its novel use of industrial materials—metal, wood, wire, plastic, even glass—in the sculpting of non-representational, three-dimensional forms. The “architectural characteristics” of Constructivist works also appealed to Gummer’s sensibilities. “Putting his own unique stamp on the genre, Gummer manipulates abstract shapes creating new and intricate forms in order to express his ideas,” says art critic Peter Plagens, who has called Gummer a “lyrical Constructivist.” In the process, his works have won critical acclaim and solo exhibitions at galleries and museums in many countries. They have found their way into private collections; and, notably, civic groups and corporations have awarded Gummer with commissions for large-scale sculptural installations. Now, take a breath. As if all of this weren’t enough to put Gummer on something of a pedestal, there’s a bit more you should know about him. For more than thirty years, he has been married to actress Meryl Streep: happily intertwined in bringing up their four children in the rural outskirts of Salisbury. We met with him there recently—in a large airy studio overlooking a lake on their property. Tall, steely-eyed but soft-spoken, Gummer has the build, stance, and handshake of, well, a Constructivist. > Opposite page, left to right: “Passages,” 1993, cast bronze on concrete base: 9’ x 5’ x 4’, sculptor’s collection. “Primary Separation,” 2005, stone, steel, wire: 45’ x 15’, permanent installation at MassMoCA. “House of Music,” 1993, stainless steel: 15’ x 14 ’ x 12’, permanent installation at Hibicki Concert Hall, Japan. Top of page: Surrounding Gummer’s wife, Meryl Streep, are their children—upper right, Henry (29), musician and actor; center right, Grace (23), off-Broadway debut in 2008; bottom, Mamie (26), actress; left, Louisa (18) student at Vassar.
What are the ideas, the starting points, for your pieces? I’m always after a new angle, a new direction that’s within the context of what I’ve previously done. There’s an organic nature to the flow of ideas—for large geometric forms, flat, grid-like structures, spirals, earthworks and of course for the drawings I’ve always done. Each thing I do I can imagine doing in another way, another scale, or in different materials. You put a couple of ideas together—and that’s a beginning. Once you add a third, you have direction. It can take you wherever.
talked my way onto the Onassis project. It was a meaningful experience, working with construction materials and getting a feel for how architecture comes to life. It helped enough so I could do drawings and sculpture in a little studio I had found. When the tower was finished, some friends and I started a small contracting firm doing interiors in the city. All the while, I was really plugging away at conceptual art in a variety of forms using all sorts of materials. I guess I was beginning to get some recognition.
like magic, I found a message saying that the deals were done. Long story short: We moved in on Halloween 1985—the day of the Salisbury Town Hall fire—and have lived here happily ever since.
Got some favorites? That’s like asking which kid you like best. I’d rather mention a few that I think are successful in their settings. There’s a 1995 piece, in stainless steel, called “House of Music” outside a concert hall in Japan. Another is a fountain made of cast bronze and stained glass done in 2002 for Villa Duse in Italy. And right up the road is “Primary Separation,” a work that had its origins more than 25 years ago and was finished for installation in 2006 at MassMoCA [Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art] in North Adams. There’s a large civic-center installation in my hometown of Indianapolis—local boy makes good, I guess.
What’s on your artistic horizons? Oh, the whole world of art is my playground; I’m doing rather a lot of painting and I keep modeling objects to explore their potential for large-scale development. I just keep trying to climb the ladder. Architecture tends to inspire me. For example, a Japanese guy I knew at Yale had designed what will be the tallest wooden “skyscraper” ever built in Tokyo. And I’ve been asked to do a sculptural form—in some amazing wood from northern Japan—that will stand 30 or 40 feet high right next to the tower. Part of the “green” movement, my structure will ultimately have plants growing on its different levels.
Is any of your work in New York? Yes, I’ve had commissions for sculptural installations. One was at the Seagram’s Building forecourt on Park Avenue and another in Dag Hammarskjold Plaza near the UN; they were up for only a limited time—but got my work noticed. And over on Fifth Avenue if you craned your neck to look at the Olympic Towers, I actually helped build that structure in the early 1970s.
Change of subject: when and why did you and Meryl settle here? Let’s see. In 1979, just after our first child was born, we had a summer place in Millerton. Meryl knew the area quite well and I didn’t. Then, as time went on, we finally decided to find a permanent home in the region. Our goal was to raise the family in an attractive rural setting, surrounded by nature.
How did that fit into your career? It was, in fact, an important part of the learning curve I’ve been on ever since growing up in Indianapolis. I went to the Herron Art Institute there, then to the Boston Museum School, where I majored in sculpture and got my BFA. Next came a fellowship that allowed me to travel through Europe and Africa and finish up with graduate work at Yale. I emerged with an MFA and the urge to start doing my own thing in New York. Well, you have to earn some money, so I
How come Salisbury? Here’s where the story gets interesting. Early in 1985, sitting in a tent overlooking the Rift Valley where Out of Africa was being filmed, I was browsing through a copy of The New York Times Magazine someone had brought over—and spotted an ad for what looked like an ideal property in Salisbury. So I grabbed a flight to the States, drove straight from JFK, and made an offer on the spot. Then, after putting our place in New York on the market, I zipped back to Nairobi where,
Anything else? Yes, I’m working on what people might call a headstone. It’s for where our great friend Natasha Richardson was buried not long ago. It will be a memorial to her; not sentimental—but heartfelt and hopefully symbolic of her life and artistry. The only thing traditional about it is that it will be made of stone. I’m off to an assignment in April: at American Academy in Rome—teaching, studying, filling my head with sights and sounds and my heart with the company of my wife.
Does all that differentiate you? Who knows? The goal, really, isn’t to look over your shoulder but to be true to yourself. To tell the truth as you see it. I don’t go for something “off the wall” just to impress; maybe I should. My work is concerned with dimensions—size, scale, shape, angles, curvature, and time. Many of my commissions are meant to be seen (maybe even studied) from different angles and viewpoints. The idea is to make them relevant not just to their surroundings—but as works of art in and of themselves.
42 litchfield magazine march / april 2010
How did you and Ms. Streep meet? It was in 1978, through her brother— who was a good friend of mine—I got this little job of soundproofing the loft Meryl had. If you’ll recall, I led two lives at that time. Anyway, we met when I was on the gig—and the rest is history.
How do you want to be remembered? As a good father and husband. As having set the kids on the track of their own careers. That matters most. Maybe I’ll be known for daring to tell truth as I see it through art and sculpture. n Tell us what you think: editorial@morrismediagroup.com