Patrick Dougherty's stick sculptures grace colonial Salem, Massachusetts

Sculptor Patrick Dougherty builds his latest fanciful structures on Boston's North Shore.

<i>Summer Palace,</i> 2009, in Philadelphia
Patrick Dougherty
<i>Sortie de Cave</i> (Free At Last), 2008, in Chateaubourg, France

Peabody Essex Museum Stickworth: Patrick Dougherty
Opens May 23
www.pem.org/exhibitions

What it will be, nobody exactly knows: neither the 50 volunteers who will have happily trudged for hours through muddy woodlands north of Boston to gather tractor-trailer loads of saplings—linden, beech, Norwegian maple, depending on what the thaw has yielded—nor the artist himself, Patrick Dougherty. Only during the three weeks spent laying out those saplings, planting some, and then bending, twisting, and weaving them all together do the final, fantastical forms emerge. The work opens to the public on May 23. Dougherty, who hails from North Carolina and earned degrees in English and hospital administration before pursuing art, has erected more than 250 such sapling-based structures across the country and around the world during the last three decades. Judging from these, what ends up on the lawn of the colonial-era Crowninshield-Bentley House in Salem, Massachusetts, on May 23, might feature turrets or Russian onion domes, or look like a condensed Moroccan palace. It could resemble a softer, sway-backed version of Stonehenge, a clump of medieval thatched huts, or skinny teepees pushed askew by the wind. Dougherty’s constructions tend to have doors and windows, but they are not homes. “Seussical” is too whimsical a description; the dreamscapes are more suited to a van Gogh landscape, or even The Scream. What might add another twist in Salem is whether, and how, Dougherty juxtaposes his installation with the symmetrical, squared-off Georgian-style home and its formal front entrance. Built by fish merchant and sea captain John Crowninshield in 1727, the house is a historic site now owned by the Peabody Essex Museum, which commissioned Dougherty’s work. Whatever the resulting forms, they are expected to stay up for two years—unless nature reclaims them first.

Read more articles by Nell Porter-Brown
Related topics

You might also like

Novelist Lev Grossman on Why Fantasy Isn’t About Escapism

The Magicians author discusses his influences, from Harvard to King Arthur to Tolkien.

England’s First Sports Megastar

A collection of illustrations capture a boxer’s triumphant moment. 

Rachel Ruysch’s Lush (Still) Life

Now on display at the Museum of Fine Arts, a Dutch painter’s art proved a treasure trove for scientists.

Most popular

Why Men Are Falling Behind in Education, Employment, and Health

Can new approaches to education address a growing gender gap?

The 1884 Cannibalism-at-Sea Case That Still Has Harvard Talking

The Queen v. Dudley and Stephens changed the course of legal history. Here’s why it’s been fodder for countless classroom debates.

What Trump Means for John Roberts’s Legacy

Executive power is on the docket at the Supreme Court.

Explore More From Current Issue

A girl sits at a desk, flanked by colorful, stylized figures, evoking a whimsical, surreal atmosphere.

The Trouble with Sidechat

No one feels responsible for what happens on Harvard’s anonymous social media app.

An axolotl with a pale body and pink frilly gills, looking directly at the viewer.

Regenerative Biology’s Baby Steps

What axolotl salamanders could teach us about limb regrowth

Cover of "Harvard's Best" featuring a woman in a red and black gown holding a sword.

A Forgotten Harvard Anthem

Published the year the Titanic sank, “Harvard’s Best” is a quizzical ode to the University.