Jonah and the Whale 1937

John B. Flannagan made this sculpture, Jonah and the Whale, out of brown stone, and you can see it today at the Minneapolis Institute of Art. I find myself thinking about the process Flannagan went through, chipping away at the stone to reveal the forms within. It’s like he’s coaxing the story out of the material itself. The texture of the stone is so tactile, you can almost feel the marks of the tools that shaped it. There's something primal about the way the figures are carved, with simplified forms that emphasize the raw materiality of the stone. And the color, that deep earthy brown, gives it a sense of groundedness and weight. Look at the way Jonah is nestled inside the whale, curled up like a fetus in the womb. There's a sense of protection, but also of confinement, like a return to the source. Flannagan's work has a kinship with artists like Constantin Brâncuși, who also sought to distill forms down to their essential essence. But where Brâncuși's work is often sleek and refined, Flannagan's has a rougher, more immediate quality. It's a reminder that art doesn't always have to be polished or perfect. Sometimes it's the imperfections that give it its power.