Princeton as a sculpture garden

Many Princeton students fail to realize that these sculptures are the works of prominent artists like Alexander Calder and Richard Serra, who epitomize contemporary sculpture of the mid-20th century. The preeminence of these works is perhaps most evident in the sculpture that is mistakenly deemed a Picasso. It is a cast of a smaller Picasso sculpture, but the fruit of the labor of Norwegian-born Carl Nesjar. (Though it is titled “Head of Women,” it looks more like an angry bird.) Though this statue is unsightly to some, it, too, embodies the direction of art at the time of its construction, much like the architecture of nearby Spelman Halls.

The plaza in front of Firestone Library is littered with contemporary statues amid the antiquated architecture of the buildings around them. Though I maintain that the chapel’s architecture is excessive, it is complemented by the more modern statues like Jacques Lipchitz’s “Song of the Vowels.” This sculpture, along with the “Picasso,” is part of a collection of sculptures that were donated in memory of John Putnam Jr. ’45, a Princeton student who was killed during World War II. (The majority of sculptures on campus are from the Putnam collection.) All of the Putnam scultpures are by well-known contemporary sculptors.

Other sculptures interact with the times more actively. If you’re looking for it, you’ll find “Abraham and Isaac” in a nook behind the chapel on your way to Washington Road. It has two expressive figures: Abraham, standing above the bound and kneeling Isaac, ready to sacrifice him with a knife. A placard with the Bible story is attached to the chapel wall. Even as a biblical depiction, this sculpture indeed interacts with the time of its construction, perhaps controversially: “Abraham and Isaac” was sculpted by a Princeton professor in memory of the 1970 Kent State shootings, in which students protesting the Vietnam War were shot by members of the Ohio National Guard. According to the University Art Museum’s guide, Kent State University refused to accept the sculpture on the grounds that it was “a politically volatile depiction of a murder of a younger man by an older one.” As a result, the sculpture sought refuge on its maker’s home campus.

Some students believe that this statue was relegated to the periphery of campus for a good reason. When approaching this statue from McCosh, Isaac’s kneeling and Abraham’s knife convey a rather unseemly act. As the art museum’s guide suggests, it “offers a powerful comment on the darker dimensions of patriarchal authority.” Regardless of this statue’s controversy, it is a true reflection of its time, at least in respect to what it was intended to memorialize.

The sculptures themselves are modern with hints of the past, very much like the campus is old-fashioned in architecture with modern touches of sculpture. For example, the large mild steel sculpture in front of Prospect House is inspired by Michelangelo’s “Moses.” The two protrusions on top are representative of the horns on Moses’s head in Michelangelo’s statue.

Though we mostly pass by the sculptures without notice, they contribute greatly to our campus environment. The “Public Table” outside East Pyne Hall is a common spot for precepts and groups of kids to hang out. Other sculptures serve as playgrounds for all the children (and squirrels) on campus. More importantly, however, they function to modernize campus — I would even go so far as to say they apologize for the architecture of the chapel. In this way, modernity is not confined to the part of campus east of Washington Road, but is very much a part of Princeton life as a whole.

Monica Greco is a freshman from Brooklyn, N.Y. She can be reached at mgreco@princeton.edu.