Walking into "The Art of the Brick" at Discovery Times Square was a bit like walking into Mickey and Minnie’s house at Disneyland. Everything was plastic, coated loudly in bright red, yellows and greens, and everything felt obvious. Titled “Renditions of Famous Works,” we found the 3D Lego interpretations of "The Scream," "American Gothic," and a seemingly pixelated replica of the "Mona Lisa" (4,573 pieces) almost humourous. Educational signs explaining the artwork’s history captioned the various masterpieces chosen by artist Nathan Sawaya. Following that was the sculpture garden, which again had replicas of famous works: The Great Sphinx of Giza, a Moai statue of the Easter Islands. Though the exhibition was named CNN’s “Top 10 Global Must-Sees,” I was afraid our visit was starting to resemble an elementary school trip.
But as we entered the following room, titled “Metamorphosis,” our perceptions changed. Upon seeing "The Swimmer," a strong desire to understand the process of construction had us leaning dangerously close to the sculpture. How was fluidity translated so well through rigid pieces of plastic? But leaning close was not something the exhibition called for—like a pixelated image it only gets blurrier the closer the examination.
In an introductory video, Sawaya explains that he does it because it’s “fun” for him. We can tell from the abundance of works in the space—altogether two stories, seven rooms, more than 50 works, and billions of Lego bricks—that someone is definitely having a lot of fun. But the Danish toy has been on people’s minds more so in the recent months, from the near-record breaking success of the blockbuster The Lego Movie to The Simpsons doing a Lego special in upcoming seasons.
We all remember getting the crucial extra brick pieces at Christmases, our parents cursing when they stood on a piece of bumpy plastic with their bare foot, and the constant toss up between demolishing a castle you labored hard on for days for pieces needed to build a new boat house for the pirate man. But it’s not just nostalgia that has welcomed the resurgence of the colorful bricks. It is the application of them in different areas of art, while revisiting the use of them as a medium of communicating the notion of thinking outside the box. It is the encouragement to go further than the instructions on the pamphlet, to use them as basic, unattached, unbiased elements of construction and build something that is original and authentic to you, however you like it. That is perhaps why it was so loved and critically acclaimed as a toy—it upholds creativity.
Although the toys are being given new interpretations, they remain timeless. Sawaya’s use of Lego highlights his skill and technique that can achieve endless possibilities of shapes and sizes, and overcome its angular rigidity to create curves and fluidity. This medium is orderly and restrictive—Sawaya uses mostly rectangular pieces and only the classic colors that are manufactured by the Lego company. Having these limitations makes it easier to see the where and how the bricks join. In other words, the sculptures give the feeling of being made, painstakingly and patiently, by the tireless hands of an artist, instead of manufactured toys of a massive corporation. Ironically, in this instance the limitation gave way to individuality.
In a similar vein, The Lego Movie’s application of the bricks channeled a sense of playfulness that encouraged weird, mutant creativity. The movie’s hero, Emmet, an average construction worker with
But as we entered the following room, titled “Metamorphosis,” our perceptions changed. Upon seeing "The Swimmer," a strong desire to understand the process of construction had us leaning dangerously close to the sculpture. How was fluidity translated so well through rigid pieces of plastic? But leaning close was not something the exhibition called for—like a pixelated image it only gets blurrier the closer the examination.
In an introductory video, Sawaya explains that he does it because it’s “fun” for him. We can tell from the abundance of works in the space—altogether two stories, seven rooms, more than 50 works, and billions of Lego bricks—that someone is definitely having a lot of fun. But the Danish toy has been on people’s minds more so in the recent months, from the near-record breaking success of the blockbuster The Lego Movie to The Simpsons doing a Lego special in upcoming seasons.
We all remember getting the crucial extra brick pieces at Christmases, our parents cursing when they stood on a piece of bumpy plastic with their bare foot, and the constant toss up between demolishing a castle you labored hard on for days for pieces needed to build a new boat house for the pirate man. But it’s not just nostalgia that has welcomed the resurgence of the colorful bricks. It is the application of them in different areas of art, while revisiting the use of them as a medium of communicating the notion of thinking outside the box. It is the encouragement to go further than the instructions on the pamphlet, to use them as basic, unattached, unbiased elements of construction and build something that is original and authentic to you, however you like it. That is perhaps why it was so loved and critically acclaimed as a toy—it upholds creativity.
Although the toys are being given new interpretations, they remain timeless. Sawaya’s use of Lego highlights his skill and technique that can achieve endless possibilities of shapes and sizes, and overcome its angular rigidity to create curves and fluidity. This medium is orderly and restrictive—Sawaya uses mostly rectangular pieces and only the classic colors that are manufactured by the Lego company. Having these limitations makes it easier to see the where and how the bricks join. In other words, the sculptures give the feeling of being made, painstakingly and patiently, by the tireless hands of an artist, instead of manufactured toys of a massive corporation. Ironically, in this instance the limitation gave way to individuality.
In a similar vein, The Lego Movie’s application of the bricks channeled a sense of playfulness that encouraged weird, mutant creativity. The movie’s hero, Emmet, an average construction worker with