beatrice hoffman

modernist and cubist sculptors of the 20th century ( Archipenko, Brancusi etc)

The Spectator, David Blackburn 2012

It’s a common misconception that the artist gains catharsis through his creativity. Aristotle defined catharsis as the purgation of an audience at the end of a play. The audience, having engaged with the drama, expels its pent-up emotions and finds a state of peace.

Beatrice’s sculpture provokes a similar transformation in its viewers. The change is not passive. The figures, lines and shapes ask questions of the
viewer, questions that strike at the heart of human experience, intelligence and emotion.

Take Hoffman’s Etruscan Couples, of which there are two contrasting types. The first couple’s hands and arms are entwined, suggesting a deep bond. Their heads touch together and are inclined skywards. Their torsos conjoin to form one solid rank. These two figures stand united against the world, resolute in their combined strength — the embodiment of solitude and determination. And they speak overwhelmingly of love, be it sexual, filial or the love between close friends.

They contrast with their fellow Etruscans, whose body language is more awkward. The second couple are familiar rather than intimate. They drape an arm around each other’s shoulders, but the gesture looks hesitant. That sense is augmented by the large gap between their bodies, their uneasy posture and the inclination of their heads away from one another.

The viewer knows and understands the Etruscans’ differing moods. No relationship is without its uncertainties; equally, love can be so strong as to tempt Fate to wreck it. We empathise with the two couples in the instant of their triumph or adversity.

“Little Goddess” shows the figure of an imposing woman. She might have been confident in another walk of life or culture, for she is beautiful without being pretty. But she is embarrassed by her height and size. Her head is bowed. Her eyes are downcast. She does not know what to do with her arms: they are wrapped around her stomach, with her restless hands clawing at her forearms and elbows. Her balance is shaky, the consequence of her having placed one foot on top of the other.

The figure is distressed, even fearful. There are clear feminist overtones here. The sculpture makes a firm political point, but in a subtle way that encourages other interpretations. You can look at her and recall when you were uncomfortable in your own skin, and emerge grateful for your greater self confidence.

Hoffman’s abstract work provokes reflection, too. It emphasises the physical world without referring to the human body. The sequence titled ‘Waves’ is particularly arresting. The waves are not explosive; instead, they are balanced — like a distant breaker rolling steadily towards the shore, where its full potential will be spent in a few seconds.
It is a short leap from seeing potential in nature to imagining it in mankind. Success ebbs and flows, one’s zenith is short, and nothing can stop the march of time. Yet there is always the unknown, the blank space between the curves of Hoffman’s waves, for solace against life’s depressing certainties. You feel better for having looked at these sculptures and thought about them; it is a cathartic experience.

"Walking Forwards" in front of the main entrance of the Northampton Hospital

Since 1990 I teach in (art) colleges, schools (mainstream and special), day centres, galleries and run courses from my studio for adults and children. Since 2015 I run "Sculpture Workshops Oxford" with several well attended classes a week