The Newborn, Version I

Constantin Brancusi, 1920

Alright, so this one’s small. About eight inches long. Get your face down to its level. First thing you’ll think is probably… spaceship thing. Or… some kinda droid egg. It’s from 1920 and it looks like it hasn’t even been invented yet. And be honest. If nobody was watching, you’d probably pocket it. Anyway, look at the front. It’s got one slice taken off. A flat plane tilted up. And a little curl left over at the bottom. That curl is a chin. The slice is a mouth, wide open. It’s a baby! Well… sort of. If you’ve ever held one, you know this shape. The whole head goes mouth. The guy is Constantin Brancusi. Romanian, living in Paris. One of the guys who basically invented modern sculpture. And he’s been making children’s heads for years. Around 1906, a sleeping kid. Realistic. You’d know what you were looking at from across the room. Then he just keeps going with it. Head after head, and every time, something’s gone. Neck, gone. Hair, gone. The ears. The nose. By 1915, he’s down to this. An egg with a cry coming out of it. That one he cut out of marble. This is the bronze. Five years later. Same shape. Polished like a mirror. He gives this one away, by the way. In the summer of ’27. To a woman in New York. As a present. A screaming baby. MoMA bought it off her in ’43. It’s shiny. So… get close and your own face is in the scream.

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