My freedom comes from creating imaginary beings that live in a world of infinite possibilities. I work in my garden – a living theater for inanimate and animate bodies. Densely planted lavender, golden cosmos and quince grow among sculptures of sphinx sentinels, dryads, and watchful birdwomen. Within the tall-hedges benign female deities reign while goldfinches feed on sunflowers and humans drink coffee. Figures morph with animal, architecture, and vegetal forms; plants become bodies with fleshy petals and pods.
Working with ancient processes, I feel connected to centuries of the hand-made. I model hybrid bodies with wax or clay. I either fire clay, or make molds and cast the sculptures into bronze or concrete. I choose materials that feel good in my hands; the malleability of earth clay, the melting and cooling of wax, creamy plaster turning solid, the weight and flow of bronze, the stony hardness of concrete. I’m devoted to intricate detail and complexity to make the imaginary feel real. For instance, I’ll blend the veiny texture of leaves seamlessly into many delicate hands that become hair on a head that sprouts a tiny columned Greek temple.
I savor the surprise results from collaborating with the garden. The ever-changing compost pile gives me a stage to photograph cut-paper figures interacting with dahlias, peonies and smoke-tree leaves. I dig into its glorious rot and make forms to pour plaster into, resulting in rough earthy textures. Pruned branches and roots become potential body parts. Sculptures in various materials are left outside to witness how they endure over decades. I run rose and lily blooms through the press to embed their petals and juices into paper, then draw/collage into the residue with ink and old to-do lists.
I make sculptures that are strong enough to live in public spaces and be touched, climbed upon, crawled into by humans and animals – or sculptures small enough to be hand-held. I strive to make environments that feel timeless – a space where any thing or any body could happen – a zone between dreaming and waking.
Nature and the body are Leslie Fry’s subject, studio and material. She creates in a lush Vermont garden where her sculptures of guardian sphinxes and flying bird-women live amidst lilacs, songbirds, raspberries, and mint. Working with centuries-old sculpting processes, she models hybrid bodies out of clay and wax, then casts in bronze or concrete. Rooted in ancient world mythologies, Fry’s figures morph with animal, architecture, and plant life. Bronze bird-women wear sneakers and boots; a ceramic daisy becomes an eye; an Ionic column and Empire-style gown merge fluidly into solid concrete. Her drawings, ephemeral installations with plants, and permanent public sculptures evoke splendor and ruins from imaginary realms.
Leslie Fry is a U.S./Canada dual citizen whose childhood took place within Montreal’s historic architecture and a Vermont mountain village. Among numerous honors and fellowships are Yaddo, Pollock-Krasner, Kohler Arts/Industry, and the Vermont Governor’s Award for Excellence. Permanent public sculptures include the beloved Colossal Acorn Head at Tufts University. Fry’s drawings and sculptures have been exhibited and collected internationally; venues ranging from a French chateau to a Florida nature trail to a South Korean sculpture park.
