For more than 20 years Judith
Hoyt has parsed the human figure in metal and mixed media. Beginning with
a salvaged scrap of metal, wood, a book, or other material with a history,
she fashions solitary or paired figures, often with a surprised or pensive
mien, She is a metallist to the extent that fabricated metal forms provide
a ghostly surface on which opaque paint is sparingly applied. The scale
is intimate, even in the large wall pieces. Tightly clustered on the studio
wall their dialogue buzzes with the silent hum of human voices. To share
space with them is to hear their cacophony of silence.
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Figure with Red Face,
2001
mixed media
25 1/2 x 6 x 3/4" |
Other Self,
2001
mixed media
23 1/2 x 12 x 1 1/4" |
Although academically trained with a BFA in Printmaking from SUNY New
Paltz, Hoyt remains outside the "academy" in her worldview.
Working intuitively, she identifies with visionary or so called Outsider
artists and seems to embody Ken Johnson's commentary on California assemblage
artist George Herms: "[T]he central event around which each work
revolve[s] is the quasi magical transformation of waste into art....The
redemption of refuse through art may be read as a metaphor for accepting
unlovely aspects of the self Hoyt's work retains a craftsman's "hand"
and arefined intimacy often missing from conventional assemblage. Like
sculptors Alison Saar and the early Ellen Driscoll, Hoyt fastens metal
directly onto a wooden substructure with tiny brads or metal rivets. Her
recent jewelry is now as fully realized as her earlier wall mounted works.
She exclusively makes brooches, so the body becomes both the backdrop
and the partner the figure carries the figure, like the image born on
the torso of Other Self. They're like sketches or figure studies, not
in the least perfunctory, but more like a snapshot than a studio portrait.
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Mystery Oil (brooch).
2002
found metals, copper
3 5/8 x 2 5/8" |
The human face has never been more expressive than in these archetypal
forms with their somber mouths and prominent noses. They're never cute
or generic, frequently uncertain, always deeply human. The colors, too,
are silenced, "lifeless colors, the color of ashes, [which] are used
in religious habits to signify mortification, mourning, and humility."'
Some are toothless ghosts of indeterminate gender. Elongated necks raise
heads above non existent bodies; squat necks disappear into hunched shoulders.
Deformed but never repellent, these solitary creatures invite our empathy
for the times when we too feel bewildered, unattractive, or alone. And
though Hoyt has been working with the figures for decades they seem perfectly
suited to a post 9/11 world.
Hoyt has succeeded in resolving the fundamental contradiction for women
artists dealing with the figurethat of being both object and maker. Figure
with Red Face and Woman with Blue Green Hat recall her series "Women
in Housedresses" of a decade ago. Even the smallest brooch is imbued
with authenticity and sympathy. Female bodies are never objectified. They
live in an America without cable TV or cosmetic surgery. Some figures
appear genderless, rather like the way our youth oriented society has
unsexed the aged. Since they have no hair, they have no sexuality either,
no power, no vital force. The absence of gender identity leaves us free
to concentrate on the unifying and human emotions of isolation, abandonment,
contemplation, confusion.
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Woman with Blue Green Hat,
2003
mixed media
36 x 11 x 3/4" |
As a woman artist, Judith Hoyt has created women who are neither menacing
nor nurturing, not sexually alluring, but merely solitary. She frequently
chooses to represent androgyny, thus avoiding identifying traditional
postures of masculinity or femininity. indeed, she has succeeded in "exposing
the instability of gender itself as a continually shifting, fundamentally
unstable scaffolding of socially articulated roles and visually and psychically
determined identities." She neither supports nor subverts the existing
social order, but seems to inhabit some timeless place outside mainstream
society, looking, instead, deeply inward.
Marjorie
Simon is a metalsmith and writer based in New Jersey.
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