Mass Appeal

Male sculptors have had a bad name ever since Leonardo declared their work ungentlemanly. Now, in the splashily melodramatic Camille Claudel, which has art historians groaning, Isabelle Adjani plays the martyr/sculptress and Gerard Depardieu plays Rodin, the macho bruiser who drives her insane. This distinguished group of sensitive latter-day Rodins should put the Neanderthal-brute stereotype to rest.

Brazilian-born Saint Clair Cemin —a star of last year's 'Whitney Biennial—fashions rough-heum sculptures in clay, metal, or wood. In his tactile scramblings of biomorphic and mechanical forms, he says, "everything's equally important—materials, process, possible meanings. "

Part Paul Bunyan, part philosopher, Hanno Ahrens combines rugged chunks of salvaged timber with sleek layers of plaster. The artist, infatuated with "myths of all nations, " is planning a huge-breasted "goddess fountain" for his upcoming exhibition at the Sharpe Gallery.

Richard Phillips carefully upholsters vaguely sinister padded wall pieces in supple leather, spongy neoprene, and stretchy latex. This lanky artist who did Holly Solomon's bathroom) believes his sensual, skinlike textures create a "relationship with the viewer about desire and eroticism."—A.F.C.

A.F.C