'Gross Clinic' in 3-D

Students at Swarthmore College reimagine the Thomas Eakins masterpiece with cardboard, hot glue and exuberant teamwork.

December 13, 2011|By Stephan Salisbury, Inquirer Culture Writer
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  • "It's more about the feeling of the composition," Swarthmore art professor Logan Grider says, explaining his students' take on "The Gross Clinic."
  • "It's more about the feeling of the composition," Swarthmore art professor Logan Grider says, explaining his students' take on "The Gross Clinic." (AKIRA SUWA / Staff Photographer )
  • Art professor Logan Grider beholds the work of his Swarthmore College students, who produced their own version of the famous Eakins painting "The Gross Clinic." They used a week's worth of the college's cast-off cardboard boxes and containers. (AKIRA SUWA / Staff Photographer )
  • This is how Dr. Samuel Gross is portrayed in the Swarthmore sculpture. The work rises 16 feet, more than twice the size of the Eakins painting.
  • DAVID NEAL / Swarthmore College

It rises 16 feet in the air, stretching toward the skylighted ceiling of the studio in Old Tarble Hall on the Swarthmore College campus.

It is black and creepy. Skeletal fingers reach out toward anyone passing by. Beheaded bodies rise from the top and disembodied arms float near the center. A foot-long scalpel thrusts out, arming a confident Dr. Samuel Gross, the same Samuel Gross memorialized in Thomas Eakins' great 1875 painting, The Gross Clinic.

But in this Swarthmore rendering, Dr. Gross has heft and weight. He holds his knife like a weapon, and his demeanor reminds a viewer of George Washington at an unpleasant moment.

Story continues below.

Yet there is no mistaking it. This giant work of art - more than twice the size of the original, now jointly owned by the Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts - takes off from The Gross Clinic. Students have replicated, if that's the word, Eakins' imagery and composition, and blown it up into modern space.

"It's more about the feeling of the composition," said painter Logan Grider, an assistant professor of art at the college, and the man who assigned his studio-art freshmen the seemingly impossible task of rendering the Eakins masterpiece in 3-D.

In cardboard. With hot glue.

The students even had homework: Photocopying their own faces multiple times and then pasting together cutout parts to form Gross images.

The whole thing took about two weeks to model and assemble, different classes working on the same project in the morning and in the afternoon. Sometimes work done at 11 a.m. would be dismantled and reworked at 3 p.m. And vice versa.

"They moved my head!" said Temple Price, a 19-year-old from Birmingham, Ala. Price had fashioned the head of Eakins, who painted himself into the background of the original. But someone in another class had switched heads. Price looked up at his shrunken Eakins, now oddly deformed, as if shriveled by jungle voodoo.

"It's tiny," he said, "and my head was enormous. They ripped my hand off too. But I think I kept it civil."

Grider's classes benefited from studying the Eakins work in Michael W. Cothren's art history class and from being able to see the actual painting, currently on view at the academy. Mark S. Tucker, senior conservator of paintings and vice chair of conservation at the Art Museum, also visited the class and discussed his work on the painting.

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