A striking collection of creations by Huma Bhabha awaits you as you approach her new exhibit at the Barbican in London. Four formidable figures, which resemble ancient giants with their rough, dark surfaces—crafted first from cork and then cast in bronze—tower above. One giant skull looms, sporting pincers and a menacing row of teeth, resembling a scene straight out of an apocalyptic sci-fi film. “It feels like they just stepped out of an elevator and appeared right here,” Bhabha notes warmly.
She is in the midst of installing her works alongside ten pieces by Alberto Giacometti, marking the first public display of his work in the UK since 2020. The vibrant L-shaped space on the second floor provides a panoramic view of the lush greenery of the Barbican Estate.
Bhabha first encountered Giacometti’s art while studying as an undergraduate at the Rhode Island School of Design. Years later, his book became the first purchase she made from her initial earnings as an artist. “I was definitely nervous about being in the same space as Giacometti,” she admits as we sit on the terrace, reflecting on her work. “But our pieces seem to share a connection, making it enjoyable to be alongside each other.”
The exhibit, “Meet: Giacometti,” highlights the shared sensibilities of both artists—there’s a roughness, an urgent functionality in their surfaces. Their fragmented and torn body parts evoke a sense of ruin in a stark reality. “Giacometti’s art reflects his experiences and the turmoil of his era, which resonates with me. The world feels heavy with loss. The extent of artificial destruction can be quite crushing; it’s tough to escape from.”
Though their responses to existential fears reveal an interconnectedness, the outcomes differ significantly. Giacometti’s pieces exude a sense of vulnerability. Both artists utilize traditional sculpture poses—standing, sitting, reclining—but infuse them with unconventional expressions. Giacometti’s words linger: “I don’t carve people; I carve solitude.”
While Bhabha acknowledges Giacometti’s influence, she emphasizes, “I’m not trying to replicate another artist’s work. His influence is more ingrained in me; I might think of him when shaping a nose, or creating a head, or opening up a chest cavity.”
Growing up in Karachi, Pakistan, Bhabha was encouraged by her parents to pursue art after moving to the United States. Initially a painter and printmaker, she began to combine found objects into three-dimensional art in the 1990s. “Even today, I’m still collecting pieces from varied places, feeling as if they’ve always belonged together.”
Thirteen years into her New York journey, Bhabha and her husband—artist Jason Fox—relocated to Poughkeepsie, seeking a more affordable lifestyle. In her early days there, she worked as a taxidermist finisher for two years, which deeply influenced her artistic practice. “The dioramas and the way they constructed armatures had a lasting effect on my work. I adapted techniques for crafting with materials like chicken wire and wood.” She also began collecting skulls and bones destined for disposal, elements that continue to feature in her current works. “They found my collection of such things intriguing.”
“I’ve been gathering items for a long time without directing my search. I’m constantly fascinated by chunks of wood and rusty metal,” she explains. “In America, I discover a wide array of treasures.” This eclectic mix includes traditional bronze, plaster, terracotta, and clay, all contributing to a contemporary rhythm in Bhabha’s art. Her first pieces for the Barbican exhibit incorporated abandoned black rubber boots from her initial home in Poughkeepsie. She added shortened legs sculpted from foam spray—painted in varied skin tones—creating figures that seem to emerge from a rising plexi platform, with carpet remnants from her childhood in Pakistan lying beneath. “It’s about a deep sense of love.”
“My work is very emotional,” says Bhabha. Her piece titled Special Guest Star rests on a sloping platform, portraying a body that appears to be reclined or emerging from the ground, featuring deer antlers and a tucked vintage T-shirt. Inspired by Jasper Johns, one paintbrush represents a vagina, while scrap tin from roofs forms slippers. “I aim to create my own language.”
A large sitting figure, resembling Dimitrios’ mask, nearly collides with the low ceiling, its clay legs mirroring Giacometti’s pockmarked textural style. Two plastic bags occupy the vacant space where a chest should be. “Initially, I saw them as breasts, but they could represent lungs too.” There’s a hint of humor, yet Bhabha embraces the grotesque. “I don’t deem grotesque as negative; it’s just fine!” The mask-like visage derives from a mold of another work, an integral part of how Bhabha’s pieces evolve unpredictably in relation to one another.
Cinema is another significant inspiration for Bhabha, particularly the handcrafted special effects from 1980s horror films. “I’ve always relished sci-fi and horror—perhaps I have a high tolerance for them. It’s a genre I’ve treasured throughout my life.” This hybrid monster form she creates merges intense desires with dark humor, gradually accumulating layers of materials. It makes for a striking viewing experience. “You might find it scary or confrontational, but there’s a compelling attraction. I want you to feel drawn back to it. That connection is vital to me.”
