Human beings are complex creatures; the epitome of contradiction. Fragile and sensitive, yet strangely unwilling to show it, we hide behind a veil of strength and confidence to avoid being hurt, unaware that this self-imposed denial wounds us more than it protects. We train the mind to remain calm, centred, and composed in any situation or under any internal or external stimulus, rejecting the idea that we are, by nature, made to feel and express ourselves — not to be unshakable. And despite all our efforts to remain that way, expressionless, we forget that we are easily betrayed by a factor we often omit from the equation: our own body.
Avoiding eye contact when uncomfortable, fiddling with our hands out of nervousness, clenching our jaw in tension, or breathing quickly in moments of pleasure — the body is an open book for those who care to read it closely. And this exhaustive reading of the human body, whether in fragments or as a whole, is the cornerstone of Carole A. Feuerman’s expressive pursuit. Now, Rome’s Palazzo Bonaparte hosts the first major anthological exhibition in Italy of the American artist: Carole A. Feuerman. La voce del corpo (‘The Voice of the Body’), on view through September 23.
“From 1964 to 1967, I attended the School of Visual Arts. I made paintings and drawings to pay my tuition. That came easily to me, but I longed for something deeper,” Carole said. Thus, inspired by the artistic currents of the 1960s and ’70s — movements centred around fidelity to the body as a communicative medium, alongside the rise of hyperrealist pop — Feuerman began creating a succession of rawly authentic sculptures. The artist explores the body on every level: from tattooed skin and candid expressions to fragmented forms. These partial-body sculptures stand out in Feuerman’s artistic trajectory for their poetic meaning: this is not a diminished body, but one that underscores how completeness is not a prerequisite for significance.
At the same time, in Feuerman’s work — particularly those pieces capturing the social tensions of the 1970s — the body takes on a political dimension. Sculptures like Lace Panties and Hand on Bra, both from 1977, present the female body as a bold statement of the right to bodily self-determination. By transforming eroticism into a tool of liberation, the artist reaffirms her independence.
“What impacted me most was the struggle faced by women artists during that time,” she says of her early work. “I wondered whether it would have been easier to get a gallery to show my work if I’d been a man. Despite progressive social change, the art world dismissed my work as unserious, reluctant to invest in it. Yet I remained deeply committed to my art. Many critics and members of mainstream society responded negatively to the explicit nature of my sculptures, seeing them as provocative or obscene. That tension mirrored the ongoing battle between traditional values and growing acceptance of sexual expression. My works aimed to depict female sexuality not as mere objectification, but as a celebration of human experience.”
For Feuerman, the body has a voice: it reveals inner states, bears witness to struggle, offers commentary on society, and reflects the human condition. It is a body that feels — and that experiences the world through the immediacy of the senses, allowing it to perceive facets of reality beyond the reach of rational thought.
The exhibition La voce del corpo by Carole A. Feuerman is on view through September 23 at Palazzo Bonaparte, Piazza Venezia 5, 00186 Rome, Italy.
