Frank Gehry’s Hidden Menagerie: Beyond the Buildings
There’s something profoundly moving about discovering an artist’s lesser-known works, especially when that artist is a titan like Frank Gehry. We know him for his architectural marvels—the Walt Disney Concert Hall, the Guggenheim Bilbao—but what happens when you strip away the steel and glass? What remains is a man utterly captivated by the natural world, particularly its creatures. Personally, I think this is where Gehry’s genius truly shines. His recent exhibition at Gagosian Beverly Hills, a posthumous tribute, reveals a side of him that’s both intimate and wildly imaginative.
The Fish as Muse: A Perfect Form?
One thing that immediately stands out is Gehry’s obsession with fish. Not just any fish, mind you, but fish as a symbol of perfection. Deborah McLeod, a close friend and curator of the exhibition, notes that Gehry saw the fish as the ‘perfect form.’ But what does that even mean? In my opinion, it’s not just about the sleek curves or the fluidity—it’s about the emotional resonance. Fish, in Gehry’s eyes, embody movement, life, and a certain untamed elegance. This isn’t just a whimsical fascination; it’s a philosophy that bled into his architecture. Bilbao’s Guggenheim, with its undulating titanium waves, is essentially a fish in building form. What many people don’t realize is that this connection between nature and structure is what made Gehry’s work so groundbreaking. He wasn’t just designing buildings; he was crafting living, breathing entities.
Light, Emotion, and the Unexpected
A detail that I find especially interesting is Gehry’s use of light in his fish lamps. These aren’t just sculptures; they’re interactive experiences. The LED bulbs, carefully selected by Gehry, scatter light in ways that mimic the play of sunlight on water. It’s as if the fish are swimming through beams of light, casting shadows that dance on the walls. This raises a deeper question: Can art truly come alive through light? From my perspective, Gehry’s answer is a resounding yes. His fish lamps aren’t static; they’re dynamic, changing with the angle and intensity of the light. It’s a reminder that architecture and art aren’t just about form—they’re about how we experience them.
The Bear, the Patron, and the Power of a Request
Now, let’s talk about Bear With Us, a 7-foot stainless steel masterpiece that’s both imposing and oddly tender. What makes this particularly fascinating is its origin story. A patron saw a small bear-shaped award Gehry designed and said, ‘I wish this was full-size.’ And Gehry, ever the obliging artist, made it happen. This piece isn’t just a sculpture; it’s a testament to the relationship between artist and patron. It’s also a study in contrasts. While the fish lamps are about internal light, the bear is about external reflection. The sunlight bounces off its facets, creating a dazzling display that feels almost alive. If you take a step back and think about it, this duality—internal vs. external, fluid vs. rigid—is a microcosm of Gehry’s entire career.
The Legacy of Kindness
What this exhibition really suggests is that Gehry’s legacy isn’t just in his buildings or sculptures. It’s in his humanity. McLeod recalls his commitment to pro bono work in low-income communities and his warmth toward the artistic world. Personally, I think this is the most underrated aspect of his life. In an industry often criticized for its elitism, Gehry was a beacon of accessibility and empathy. His buildings weren’t just for the wealthy; they were for everyone. This raises a deeper question: Can architecture be an act of kindness? From my perspective, Gehry’s work proves that it can.
The Future of Gehry’s Legacy
As I reflect on this exhibition, I can’t help but wonder: What’s next for Gehry’s legacy? Will his lesser-known works gain the recognition they deserve, or will they remain in the shadow of his architectural giants? One thing is certain: McLeod’s dedication to keeping his memory alive is both admirable and necessary. ‘I want his legacy to be vibrant,’ she says. And I think she’s onto something. Gehry’s art isn’t just about the past; it’s about the conversations it sparks today. What many people don’t realize is that his exploration of form and emotion is more relevant than ever in a world increasingly dominated by AI and digital design.
Final Thoughts
This exhibition is more than a tribute; it’s a conversation starter. It invites us to see Gehry not just as an architect, but as a storyteller, a naturalist, and a humanist. Personally, I left the gallery with a newfound appreciation for the man behind the buildings. His fish, bears, and crocodiles aren’t just art—they’re windows into his soul. And in a world that often feels disconnected, that’s something truly special.
Frank Gehry may be gone, but his spirit—his curiosity, his warmth, his genius—lives on. And that, in my opinion, is the greatest legacy of all.
Frank Gehry is on show at the Gagosian in Beverly Hills from 14 May until 27 June.
