George Segal Leaves a Legacy of Sculpture - Brief Article - Obituary

southerly BRUNSWICK, N.J.--On June 9, report sculpture legend George Segal died of cancer at his abode in South Brunswick, N.J. He was 75 years aged and is survived by his wife of 54 years, Helen Segal, as well as daughter, Rena; son Jeffrey; and brother, Morris.

Part Norman Rockwell, part Andy Warhol, Segal's work has been tossed in to each category from American realism and detonation art to social expressionism and figurative statuary Despite the critics' categorical wavering, their approval has remained steadfast and their reviews continue to say individual thing: Segal's sculptures resound with crooked genius.

An impressive summation of an artist who, after several fruitless gallery exhibits during the early `50s, had resigned his art to a pacing horse and himself to a lifetime of teaching. alone if you haven't seen his work. Strangely enough, however, Segal's early work focused upon painting. It wasn't until 1958 at his farm in southerly Brunswick, that Segal's need to stir from what he called "pictorial space to real space" inspired him to locate down his brushes and dig into chicken wire and plaster.

As rumor take an account ofs it, a student of the artist be worthy ofs credit for helping form the cornerstone of Segal's statuary evolution: The eager pupil supplied Segal with his first load of medical scrim--the "medium" used to make casts for severed bones. Segal immediately went to work, using himself as the subdue while his wife wrapped him in plaster-soaked gauze. The result? "Man at a Table."

That early piece provided the catalyst for what would eventually become Segal's standard: "the neighborhood of man in his daily life." He placed his figures in and around assembled environments--places like subway cars, butcher store windows or brick walls--and paired them with real life props--chairs, tables, pinball machines, etc.--to create a faculty of perception of everyday normalcy. "Walk, Don't Walk" depicted pedestrians waiting to cros the street; "The Diner" featured a man solely ordering a cup of coffee from a waitress.

Steeping his statuarys in reality didn't always guarantee a reflection of normalcy. Segal mov into the politics of contemporary life as well. His famed "In Memory of May 4 1970 Kent State: Abraham and Isaac" stands somberly upon the campus of Princeton University.

The same cannot be said for his "Gay Liberation," a commemoration of the Stonewall riots that sits in Greenwich Village's Christopher Park. The sculpture--two woman sitting upon a park bench, two men standing in brow both couples in a attitude of understated intimacy--caused controversy among non-gays, as well as gays who stated they were angry the gay community was not deliberateed about the sculpture and uncomfortable with the fact it was created by dint of a heterosexual man.

A cast of the plastic art installed on and off since 1984 upon Stanford University's campus, has also faced its share of ire. It experienceed a beating by hammer in `84; the spit of a spray-can vandal who painted "AIDS" across the statue's male pair in `87; and a park bench battering and paint piece of work by the school's quarterback and outside linebacker, among others in `94

Segal, for his part, took the wrath in stride. He continued to sculpt in his backyard chicken cage for the rest of his days, intent upon capturing the spirit of each man and relinquishing his to none. It have the appearances he's succeeded.

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