The Man of Steel

At 64, Mark di Suvero is arguably the greatest American sculptor of his generation. He’s managed to lead a heroic and principled life without seeming obnoxious. Although born in Shanghai, he grew up in San Francisco and thus counts as a California artist.

How curious, then, that the present outdoor installation of six massive works, dubbed “Di Suvero/Orange County,” constitutes his first major West Coast exhibition. Its location on the greens of Town Center Park at South Coast Plaza puts the work close by the Orange County Performing Arts Center, so it’s pretty easy to find. On top of that, the contrast between the sleek, calculated corporate pastoral of the setting and Di Suvero’s funky monumentality makes the sculptures’ humanity that much easier to appreciate.

Historically, Di Suvero belongs to the generation between Abstract Expressionism and Minimalism. His nearest predecessor was David Smith; his most prominent inheritor, Richard Serra. Their art is largely about itself.

Although Di Suvero’s steel I-beam girder constructions are unmistakably abstract, they also absorbed the spirit of Assemblage and Pop. If you listen to them with one ear, you hear a Miles Davis riff. Tune in the other and there’s Bob Dylan’s nasal twang about changin’ times. It’s also possible to pick up echoes of Stan Kenton, Kerouac and Clark Gable. In short, Di Suvero has a lot of vectors, but they’re all big, romantic, American and achieved with simple means.

Most of the present group play variations on a structural theme. Three I-beams are braced against one another, forming a kind of open pyramid. Beams continue upward beyond the point of juncture, a bit like a schematic Native American tepee. At the crossing, Di Suvero suspends a couple of massive interlocked flat steel rings. At this point he avoids getting slick by having the circles look as if they were cut out by a giant gnawing mouse.

Three pieces are painted loud industrial red. Viewed flat-on they look predictable, boring and programmatic. The problem goes away when you walk around them because they’re asymmetrical. Circling causes them to move optically like models assuming various poses. “Aesop” is most uncharacteristic and absorbing.

Two clusters of mass are joined by a single horizontal that both links and separates them. They’re yin-yang opposites, one of interlocked circles, the other of pyramids. Walking around the work causes a sense of hostile entities stalking one another while being held apart. The work is at once tense and funny.

Most sculpture invites viewer movement but in Di Suvero’s work--like that of Alexander Calder--motion is central and very often real.

“Olmaia,” for instance, is the smallest and most offbeat of the group. Fashioned of lustrous brushed stainless steel, its fundamental ring structure is bent and otherwise modified into something suggesting the fusion of an ornate saddle and a samurai’s horned helmet. The whole thing swivels on its vertical support. Pushing it around is good for one’s morale. The piece is very heavy but so well-balanced it’s easy to budge. Makes a fella feel strong. Put that all together and, paradoxically, it adds up to an animated sensation very like that induced by Picasso’s best sculpture.

“Scarlotti” is the most dynamic work, and, at 60 feet in its longest dimension, the largest. For an abstract artist, Di Suvero is extraordinarily adept at evoking realistic imagery. In this piece, the rusty steel pyramid frame is tilted so far all members angle in the same direction. The resulting gesture resembles nothing so much as a really ornery mule sitting on its haunches. Rings dangle from what would be its head, suggesting the bit hanging from its mouth. It’s really odd to come away from an formal sculpture that leaves a latent image of an Oldenburg.

To discover reasons why Di Suvero’s work can have this effect, a trip over to the Orange County Museum of Art is a good idea. OCMA organized the show. Pieces were selected by its curator, Bruce Guenther.

The museum houses an additional small sculpture and an exhibition of Di Suvero’s drawings. They’re unusually germane because the artist doesn’t make preparatory models. That means he goes straight from sketches to full-size execution.

Given that, the drawings are almost astonishingly loose. Planning is certainly apparent, but some look like Zen calligraphy, others resemble stick-figure layouts for realistic figures. One evokes a praying mantis, another ‘50s kids doin’ the boogie.

Di Suvero is a Beat generation crossroads figure, idealistic, funny, gifted and courageous. No one who looks carefully at the work will be surprised to learn that this is a guy who went on working after his spine was broken in an elevator accident or exiled himself to Europe to protest the Vietnam War.

* “Di Suvero/Orange County,” Town Center Park, South Coast Plaza, Costa Mesa, and Orange County Museum of Art, 850 San Clemente Drive, Newport Beach; through Sept. 27, closed Mondays. (714) 759-1122.