by Callan Latham, Admin Assistant
Lester Raymer incorporated found materials and up-cycled objects throughout his works. Bits of cut-up tin cans, the beads from broken necklaces, tines of a metal rake—you name it. They blend into the work, are part of it. Some of Lester’s works, though, more wholly camouflage their material. They are ceramic where they are thought to be iron. Wood where they are thought to be copper. Fabric where they are thought to be wood.
After seeing a multitude of carved wooden figures throughout the studio—often of the devotional sort, depicting saints and various figures from the catholic tradition—you don’t really expect to find a surprise hidden among them. But there are quite a few surprises in Lester’s body of work. I would even argue that surprise is an integral element in his art, and not just materially speaking.
This figure of Mary and the infant Christ is a particularly joyous surprise. Surrounded by other examples and iterations of the mother and child, this particular statue stands unassumingly at the edge of a dark-lacquered table. What do you think, I like to ask guests as they lean in closer, she is made of? This is an immediate betrayal of the surprise—no, her body is not carved of wood. She is something else. Her face, serene and almost resigned, as well as her hands and the young Christ she holds with them, are all made of wood.
However, her body began as a wire armature. Mirroring the papier-mâché process, Lester then draped fabric over the wire, and dipped it all in some sort of plaster, glue, or gesso. As it dried, he manipulated the fabric by hand to give it almost a flowing, windswept appearance. He likely used other objects to create some of the angles and impressions in Mary’s clothes, as well. Once it dried, he added paint to the surface. The base is set on a foundation of wood, painted in the same, almost rough texture as her clothing. It is all meant to look like wood. And it successfully gives that impression. I still have a hard time believing it is anything else.
The cherry on top is Mary’s hair. Cascading in soft ringlets down her shoulders, we have another surprise waiting for us. Her hair is made of yarn. I enjoy the fact that her body, her hair, her clothes, are all softer than the viewer first expects. Yes, it has all been hardened into stiffness, but there is such wonder in the fact that what she is made of is lighter, softer, more delicate than expected.
I think what’s interesting about other examples of statues made from fabric, plaster, and related materials, is that many of them are made to look like their source material. They are not necessarily made to be anything other than what we understand them as. This Mary statue is not the only example of Lester’s experiments with material like this, but it serves as a fine example of the creativity Lester consistently displayed.
In order to make something look like what it is not, one must understand what defines that original material in the first place. It shows a deep knowledge across many forms and materials, a mastery of many crafts. It makes me wonder about Lester’s thoughts behind this process. Were these exercises in craft? A revel in the joy of making? A clever trick? The indulgence of an artist whose life’s passion was in the creation of art for the sake of art?
These questions are worth asking, but at the end of the day, it is also worth it to just step back and appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship of it all. I also invite you, as you visit the museum, to look more closely at the pieces around you. And then look even closer. There might be more to that object than meets the eye.
