Some Critics Hammer On Statue

It's the piece we love to hate. "Hammering Man," the hulking black form that towers in front of the Seattle Art Museum, seems more to mock the working man than to honor him, as artist Jonathan Borofsky has said he intends. The ultimately pointless activity of hammering endlessly up and down, hitting nothing, is a poignant analogy to much of our working life.

Museum director Jay Gates says he gets regular mail for and against the piece. Personally, he likes the whimsy and playfulness he sees in the sculpture. Its scale and sinuous outline undeniably work well in front of the museum. But my admiration is tempered with regret.

I understand that SAM exists to show us art from around the world. Nevertheless, I'm disappointed that a Northwest artwork wasn't chosen as the new museum's signature piece.

I also understand that no matter what was chosen to stand in front of the museum, it would have drawn sniping and criticism. That seems inevitable with public art. And the bigger the piece, the stronger the criticism.

"Hammering Man," 48 feet tall, has drawn particularly scathing fire from Seattle artist Selma Waldman, who wrote a 39-page diatribe titled "Nailing Hammering Man: An Embarrassment of Large Mass" (Open Hand Publishing, $5). She writes:

"Borofsky's motorized metaldoll was selected by Seattle's panel not because it was a unique work of art honoring working men and woman - not because it had authentic power and aesthetic integrity - but because Jonathan's gargantua-in-silhouette was an immediately familiar convention by a conventionally `famous' international artist.

"Like power brokers everywhere, the local and international brokers who picked Borofsky for the choice SAM commission selected the `going thing' - motor, skinny body, and all."

I'm curious how the piece will survive the winds that sometimes channel up University Street from Elliott Bay. "Hammering Man" is big enough and flat enough to act as a mighty sail. This is Nervous Nellie talk, I know. Deep steel bolts hold the 13 1/2-ton steel bulk securely in place. The alternative doesn't bear thinking about.

Except now and then . . .