You don’t typically expect wood to be tongue-in-cheek. But that’s the mastery of war veteran and sculptor H.C. Westermann, who managed to create wooden sculptures that seem playful or satirical at times. His genius with wood and other materials is evident in the Art Institute of Chicago’s “H.C. Westermann: Anchor Clanker,” curated by Giampaolo Bianconi, Dittmer Associate Curator at the museum. (The anchor was Westermann’s choice for his signature.)
Tucked in a gallery hugging the Ryerson and Burnham Library on the second floor, the show displays seventeen of Westermann’s sculptures, which the museum reports is the largest display of his works in Chicago in over twenty years, thanks to a 2023 donation from the Estate of Alan and Dorothy Press and their family. It’s an astonishing collection of Westermann’s works, showcasing his genius with wood and other materials.
One of his more engaging pieces is “Untitled (Second Peanut)” (1973), which plays around with our expectations about wood and high art. It’s one of two pieces where he carved a peanut shell, a humble and fragile object that he’s putting on a literal pedestal. On top of that, the peanut is carved from the low-cost pine wood, whereas the box underneath the peanut is made from walnut wood, which is more highly prized. It’s a masterful piece, showing Westermann’s command of the wood, while also raising questions about what we should value.
Another humorous and timely piece, “Hutch the One Armed Astro-Turf Man with a Defense” (1976), is Westermann’s objection to the removal of grass from the Astrodome in Houston, Texas for AstroTurf. The sculpture depicts a man, covered in AstroTurf, with a wooden boxing glove head and a wooden hand. It’s missing an arm, referencing the “shoddy workmanship” per the card. The work feels even more timely today as we debate the place and necessity of artificial intelligence in the art world.
While some of his sculptures feel playful, others are much more serious. As a veteran, Westermann has several pieces expounding on the repercussions of war on people and land. For instance, “Rotting Jet Wing” (1966) shows a jet wing encased in a glass box. Unlike the other pieces in the exhibition, this work feels understated and almost mundane; the jet wing seems as if it is wrapped in a shroud. The wall tag explains that it’s Westermann’s commentary about the Vietnam War and its “flagrant disregard for both land and life.” He’s taken away all the bombast and glamour of war and is exposing death and destruction at the center of it.
Once you’ve finished with the main exhibition, head to the Ryerson and Burnham Library downstairs, since there is another of Westermann’s sculptures and some of his ephemera.
Overall, the exhibition demonstrates Westermann’s virtuosity. I can only hope that there may be an even larger show of Westermann’s work in the not-so-distant future.
“H.C. Westermann: Anchor Clanker” is on view at the Art Institute of Chicago, 111 South Michigan, through May 17.
