Edwina Sandys
08/01/2005
In the beginning it was just me and my art. I started sketching and painting in London in the early 1970s. I worked solely on my own projects, for my own pleasure, from my own compulsion, with no thought of who might see or even buy my work. Then I started showing in galleries and, like an actor who needs a stage, started to enjoy the rush that a little success, a little public exposure, a few sales gave me.
Little did I realize that these were the first steps in my journey to realizing that art and entrepreneurship often go hand in hand. In 1979, while living in New York, I was invited to create three monumental pieces for the United Nations Year of the Child, to be located at UN centers in New York, Geneva and Vienna. This commission was both theme specific and site specific. It had to satisfy UNICEF, financial sponsors, physical site requirements, the public and the artist.
The United Nations is exciting because it is a world stage. It is also a hybrid creature. There are numerous committee meetings and procedures to deal with—mountains of paperwork. Money is frequently a problem; financial sponsors are rigorously vetted and sometimes found wanting. Patience is the watchword.
Whereas bureaucrats hold back from making decisions, entrepreneurs like to move things along. What a refreshing contrast it has been to work on commissions for large corporations, the utter bliss of working with one powerful CEO who, in a split second, can say, “Yes.”
Some people think that working for a corporation might hinder my freedom as an artist, compromise my work, somehow take the “purity” out of it. But I have had very good experiences working with corporate clients. I rather like to call them patrons, a noble word that recalls Lorenzo de Medici and his relationship with Michelangelo. Entering into a dialogue with a client about his needs and desires can force you to consider new subjects and materials, and look at things from different perspectives.
Arboreal Aesthetic
In 1989, Dick Mahoney, the CEO of Monsanto at that time, invited me to design a monumental sculpture for the company’s refurbished headquarters in St. Louis. This was my first big adventure in the corporate world. He jotted down a few words and phrases about how a sculpture might symbolize his company and his aspirations for it.
Because Monsanto employed many people in various places doing many different things, I decided that linked trees would make a good image, which comprised many parts that made up the whole, as many trees make up the forest. I called it The Branches of Promise.
When Dick received my sketches with suggestions for various
materials—marble, bronze, steel—he called me, clearly elated. “Great design,” he
said. “Do you think it would be good made in glass?” “Fabulous,” I replied. “But
you would have to fabricate it.” He wanted the sculpture in glass because
Monsanto made a product called Saflex, a laminate principally used in automobile
windshields. Thus began a different sort of client/artist collaboration.
Dick had made the decision to build the sculpture but wanted his colleagues’
support—and he wanted me to win them over. “Here’s a wonderful opportunity for
group participation,” I mused. “Can you get hold of six tall stepladders and six
tall men? And we’ll need a photographer.”
In short order, a full complement
of ladders and men (top brass included) was assembled in a circle in front of
the main entrance. “Could you be really kind, all of you, and stand on the top
of the ladders with your arms outstretched, and holding hands and pretend to be
trees?” I asked. “We need to study the ideal height for the sculpture as it will
look against the building and the skyline.” They looked to their boss who gave a
barely perceptible nod, and up they went. The photographer quickly recorded this
precarious moment, and soon the human trees were back on terra firma. The
pictures in the company newsletter were hilarious.
The sculpture was
dedicated right on schedule. My work on this project was relatively easy.
However, the technical side of fabricating the 12 15-foot panels of laminated
glass edged with stainless steel and then transporting and erecting them on site
was a masterpiece of engineering, teamwork and, above all, corporate
leadership.
Edwina Sandys is a sculptor whose monumental works can be found at five United Nations centers and in private, corporate and museum collections.