Becca (1965) by David Smith now resides on the second floor of the Modern Art wing, but she once stood atop the roof (for the exhibition David Smith on the Roof), just like Maelstrom from my previous posts. Aside from recognizing the sculpture from photos I'd seen online as I passed it, I never paid any more attention to this big hunk of metal standing like a sign in the center of its respective space.
Today, however, something about the glowing lines of light on its surface reeled me in. I noticed that multiple layers of these reflections with different brightnesses give its shiny surface the appearance of depth, despite its flat surface. The reflecting lines move and dance as you view the piece from different angles. From the side, Becca is more waif-thin than Kate Moss in her heyday — a stark contrast to the width of the sculpture when viewed from the front. This interesting juxtaposition and the movement created by the burnished surface make Becca an exquisite piece.
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