Sculptor John Hanna: A generous legacy in stone, as well as among people
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Stefan Hard/Times Argus |
Toolbox
By Anne Galloway Times Argus staff - Published: January 9, 2009
John Hanna came east in 1972 to find stone. At first he turned to marble, carving the soft rock with hand tools in a Winooski cellar. Before long he discovered the rugged gray granite of Barre, thanks to a chance encounter with legendary sculptor Frank Gaylord. Soon he found himself working as an apprentice in the older man's studio.
Hanna became part of the small cadre of Barre sculptors, and in the 1980s set up his own shop and established a reputation for fine figurative works. In 2002, he became chief sculptor for Rock of Ages.
The real measure of his stature as a sculptor, however, is this: On Dec. 5, his colleagues paid tribute to Hanna in a gathering at his home in what became a farewell party. A week later, he died at age 61 after a two-year battle with early onset, atypical Alzheimer's disease, diabetes and ataxia, a neurological disorder that results in loss of muscle control.
This Saturday afternoon the Barre community will have an opportunity to honor Hanna's memory, his commitment to preserving the city's heritage and his sculptural legacy at Studio Place Arts.
The exhibit was planned months ago, and Diane Hanna, his wife, had hoped John would be present for the retrospective exhibition of his personal works. The show, which will be up for only six days, will now serve as a kind of extended memorial service.
It is a fitting tribute for a man who in his quiet way made significant contributions to the city and the granite industry.
"It's been on my mind for well over a year to do something for John," said Karen Lane, the head of the Aldrich Library and curator of the exhibit at SPA. "He embodied the spirit of positive community energy, and he was a quiet presence who kept things rolling.
Hanna, who served as president of the Barre Historical Society, was the driving force behind the restoration of the Old Labor Hall and the Nickels Block, the building that now houses Studio Place Arts. He was also instrumental in the creation of the first exhibition of granite carvers' work displayed at the T.W. Wood Gallery in 1989.
"It's hard to lose someone like him," Lane said. "We will deeply miss him always."
The retrospective features 16 works Hanna made for himself in wood, resin and stone. In addition there will be portfolio photographs of his monumental and cemetery carvings, and candid shots of Hanna at work with Frank Gaylord and in his own shop.
Most of the sculptures are female nudes that show Hanna's artistic range. He makes ripples in pink granite pooling around the knees of the figure in "Clean Jean" appear as soft as water; he enigmatically and subtly disfigures a beautiful sculpted head of a woman by flattening her forehead and nose – the title is "Face on Glass" – and he brings grief into sharp focus in "Crying Woman" by balling up the woman's nude body into a tight fetal position.
His first major work, "Fat Lady," which he carved by hand when he first came to Vermont, is front and center in the exhibition. The nude, carved in white marble (whether it was from Carrera or Vermont is in dispute) is indeed obese, but Hanna makes this fat lady sing. Her face is held high and exudes a beatific serenity; her body too, though made up of many folds, is also beautiful. She sits atop a kind of pedestal, a stool really, and her arms clasp her knees as if she is leaning forward to brace for an awe-inspiring revelation. This fat lady could be one heckuva female Buddha for all we know.
She was a real person in fact, an art instructor who inspired Hanna to develop his talent as a sculptor, though her naked physical presence was created in the mind's eye of the artist.
Hanna's fascination with the female body started early childhood when, according to his wife, Diane, he drew comic book characters as nudes (he hid them under his bed so his mother wouldn't see them).
There are also several sculptural portraits of two famous Olympic gymnasts: Olga Corbett and Nadia Comaneci. This seems like an anomaly, but as it turns out, Hanna was a serious gymnast (and wrestler) in his youth. (Diane says that when he broke his leg in college he walked to class once on his hands.)
Hanna's two satirical pieces in the exhibition are powerful examples of his ability to concentrate big ideas in small complex sculptures. In "American Pie," he carves up the U.S. economy into different export markets: car, plane, tractor, widget and computer manufacturers. A burnished first place ribbon highlights the sense of betrayal underlying the piece. The sculpture was carved from imported black granite.
"Shame" examines Islamic culture after the 9/11 attacks. In this re-creation of the sacred Islamic stone, Kaaba, Hanna rends the smooth surface of the polished black rectangular cube with jagged lines cutting across the top and back of the piece.
Another departure from his preoccupation with the female figure is his rendering of the Hindu god Ganesh in pink granite. The many-armed god-elephant is sculpted in fine detail, perhaps reflecting Hanna's early devotion to Hindu religion. Though he later became a devout Catholic, he and Diane married in an ashram in New York in 1981. Diane returned to her roots in the Catholic Church as well.
This may help to explain why, after nursing his wife through a kidney transplant in 1991, he decided to go to India twice, where he helped to construct temporary hospitals for Indians who needed cataract surgery.
Hanna also spent much of his life sculpting religious iconography, much of it based in Catholicism, and being the honest, devoted man that he was, I wonder if he needed to believe in what he sculpted in order to bring his creations to life. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing that for sure, I can only surmise it from his legacy. Such a legacy is more than most people can hope for.