That One's a Sculpture

On 31^st Street, a half block east of Manhattan’s Penn Station, a figure huddles against the wall next to the entrance to the Church of St. Francis of Assisi. Its body is draped in fabric so that one can’t tell the sex without bending in close and peering up into the face. Only one hand protrudes, modestly. What separates this houseless figure from the other four I passed on that single block one morning last week is that it is a sculpture — a fine bronze by Timothy P. Schmaltz.

I must have passed by it before, probably more than once, without noticing. Pedestrians rarely slow down to look at who might be sitting against the walls. This is especially so on 31^st Street, where most of us are high-stepping it to or from commuter trains.

When I first noticed the figure, I assumed it must be a man or a woman. On this day, however, something made me stop to look more carefully. Schmaltz’s sculpture is realistic in form though slightly diminutive in scale. I stepped in closer to inspect its details. I reached out to touch the supplicant hand. The sculptor probably wanted such a response — appreciating the object while objectifying what it represents. After all, one can’t stop and stare at an actual street person, stepping back and forth to gaze intently. One certainly can’t touch that person’s skin to see what it feels like. This particular art object is unusual because it mimics live human beings who sit nearby. The juxtaposition packs a wallop. At least, it does for me.

The next day, I decided to loiter on the steps of the church and observe how others interacted with the sculpture. Many passed by, of course, but others, after doing a double take, stopped to confirm their perception. Without exception, those who stopped lingered. Several even took change from their pockets and placed it into the outstretched hand of the bronze figure.

These responses would seem to be instances of aesthetic arrest, prompting moral reflection — almost sacralizing the secular object.

In his 2014 book Rendez-vous with Art, co-authored by Martin Gayford, Phillipe de Montebello maintains that whenever a religious object is removed from its original setting and placed into a museum, it necessarily becomes "desacralized." 

Something similar, though exactly the opposite, may be happening on the sidewalk outside the Church of St. Francis of Assisi. Merely by placing a museum-quality bronze on a bustling city street, might that bronze become sacralized? Or, if its placement alone doesn’t prompt transformation, might transformation be provoked within the pedestrian who stops to look and to see?

I’m not surprised that art can affect such a fundamental change of perception. I’m just surprised whenever it does.