What does it mean to be human? Antony Gormley and the sculptors' answer.
What does it mean to be human? This question has probably accompanied humanity since its beginnings. It is an expression of a defining human characteristic: self-reflection. Writers, philosophers, and theologians have been grappling with it for centuries – as have artists, who formulate their answers not in words but in images and sculptures.
The works of British sculptor Antony Gormley focus precisely on this question. An exhibition at the Royal Museum of Fine Arts in Antwerp prompted me to reflect on his work. Gormley explicitly invites viewers to develop their own interpretations. I have heeded this call. The following thoughts are therefore not an art historical interpretation, but my personal engagement with the exhibited sculptures.
Overshooting the target – wanting too much and thereby losing sight of what's essential.
Having one's back against the wall – experiencing situations where there seems to be no way out.
Wanting to go through a wall with one's head – acting against all reason and yet not being deterred.
Being trapped – but by what or by whom? Often it's not walls, but thoughts, fears, or expectations.
Devastated – moments when strength and hope seem lost.
Put on ice – excluded, discarded, isolated, or emotionally frozen.
Gormley's sculptures impressively show the vulnerable side of being human. They speak of pain, failure, loneliness, arrogance, and inner conflicts. These experiences are undoubtedly part of life.
However, being human also means love, hope, creativity, joy, pleasure, and happiness. These aspects are, in my opinion, distinctly in the background in Gormley's work.
Other sculptors place different emphases. Auguste Rodin, with works like "The Thinker," shows the reflective human, and with "The Kiss," the power of love. Constantin Brâncuși, who worked for a time in Rodin's studio, created a very different, reduced yet intense depiction of human connection with his own interpretation of "The Kiss." In Stephan Balkenhol's work, we encounter people standing, walking, or even dancing – quite naturally and in the midst of life. Finally, an artist from the past, Antonio Canova, embodied grace, beauty, and success in his marble sculptures.
Perhaps that is precisely the strength of sculpture: each artist illuminates a different aspect of being human. It is the diversity of their works that conveys a more complete picture of what makes us who we are.
In closing, I was reminded of a beautiful hymn from a Flemish hymnal. The third stanza reads:
"To be a human on earth in this world means to accept death, peace and strife; the days and the nights, hunger and thirst, the questions and the fears, sorrow and suffering."
Being human always encompasses both: light and shadow, joy and pain.