HVT Stories
—February 6, 2024
SHAPED BY PURPOSE
Words by Matthew Rudnicki, photography by Katie Palatucci.
Every guest who visits Hotel Vermont is invited to explore the establishment’s thoughtfully crafted public spaces, from the warmth of its living room-inspired lobby (complete with blazing hearth) to the solitude and tranquility of its delicately manicured garden patio. When one passes through Juniper—the hotel’s celebrated onsite eatery—and onto the restaurant’s outdoor terrace, guests are greeted by more than just picturesque views of Lake Champlain. Squarely centered in the hotel’s brick-laid rotunda stands a triumphant piece of art; a towering sculpture of oxidized bronze that features two organic forms frozen in dance.
The piece is titled Toulouse, and its creator—celebrated Vermont artist Richard Erdman—has a desired effect in mind for those who take in his work. “I hope you feel something,” he offers, smiling, “and then you start thinking about it.” This order of events—a visceral reaction followed by gradual introspection—is impossible to avoid when confronted with the majesty of Toulouse, a piece as playful as it is poignant. Its two central characters are fluid, undulating shapes that simultaneously drive toward the earth while reaching for the heavens, a joyous choreography that defies its density and mass. Toulouse is nearly eight feet tall and weighs 1,400 pounds, but one suspects it may meander off at any moment, strolling into the distance.
The feeling of being in the presence of Toulouse is immediate and distinct, as if wildly contrasting elements were being harmonized in real-time. It’s a sensation embedded in much of Erdman’s work and one of the reasons Hotel Vermont founder Jay Canning sought out the acclaimed artist. When the two met at Erdman’s studio in Williston to discuss a potential commission, Canning was immediately drawn to a small model in the artist’s showroom, a maquette created as a 3D visualization for a potentially larger sculpture. Erdman and Canning were both excited to bring the model to life and immediately began searching for a complimentary piece to sit with Toulouse. They settled on Reclining Form, an elliptical sculpture to be cast in bronze, smaller in scale than Toulouse but equally as evocative
The feeling of being in the presence of Toulouse is immediate and distinct, as if wildly contrasting elements were being harmonized in real-time. It’s a sensation embedded in much of Erdman’s work and one of the reasons Hotel Vermont founder Jay Canning sought out the acclaimed artist. When the two met at Erdman’s studio in Williston to discuss a potential commission, Canning was immediately drawn to a small model in the artist’s showroom, a maquette created as a 3D visualization for a potentially larger sculpture. Erdman and Canning were both excited to bring the model to life and immediately began searching for a complimentary piece to sit with Toulouse. They settled on Reclining Form, an elliptical sculpture to be cast in bronze, smaller in scale than Toulouse but equally as evocative
If Toulouse is the gregarious host of Hotel Vermont, holding court and keenly aware of the central stage it occupies, Reclining Form is its subdued sibling, more concerned with introspection than bold expression. The egg-shaped sculpture is mounted along the southern side of the hotel property, nestled within a bed of flowers on the garden patio. It’s harder to spot than Toulouse, and that’s precisely the point. The slower, settled vibration of Reclining Form is meant to invite reflection, relaxation, and—ultimately—rest, one of the cornerstone offerings of any respectable lodging. The shape of Reclining Form instantly conjures a sense of ease, its broad limbs curling softly around an empty oval frame as if it were in the midst of embracing itself. It’s a gesture in progress, yet we can feel the invisible portions of this cocoon as physically as the bronze strokes we can observe. The warmth it exudes is measurable, inviting those who commune with it to pause and ponder the moments of respite that are so integral to a balanced life and a restored spirit.
As Toulouse extends outward, Reclining Form pulls inward. As one invites celebration, the other summons contemplation. The two pieces are clearly arranged to complement each other on the grounds of Hotel Vermont, and while each embodies a unique sense of duality, together they create a grander scale of balanced contradiction, one that is not only emblematic of Erdman’s work but the Vermont spirit he embodies as well—something the artist is always eager to express.
“It’s a very unique and special feeling to me to be a Vermonter,” he shares. “I’m so proud of Vermont. I’ll never be anything but a Vermonter.”
To understand Erdman’s passion for the state, one must travel back to his formative years in Dorset, where his parents ran an inn on land replete with untamed forest and trout ponds—a wonderland for curious children. It was an idyllic environment that seemed drawn from the stanzas of a Robert Frost poem, complemented by what Erdman describes as a “traditional Yankee upbringing.” And while freedom and nature were guides for him and his siblings, his parents ran an organized and regimented household, equally emphasizing the importance of education and physical activity. Their encouragement to balance play with responsibility, to focus on their studies and sports equally, became a fundamental discipline that governed his young life and—eventually—his art.
But what was truly foundational to the development of his character and subsequent focus as an artist—so wonderfully clear in hindsight—was his physical proximity to marble. As fate would have it, Erdman was raised at the foothills of the oldest marble quarry in the United States. By chance, or luck, or some form of divine osmosis, he would soon dedicate his life to this noble stone after spending his childhood immersed within Dorset’s mines, sneaking into quarries on the weekends to go swimming and exploring with friends. An understanding of the geological processes that create marble gave Erdman a profound awareness of time—he could touch and taste what millions of years felt like. Later, as his mother—a passionate lover of art—began to share her troves of illustrated resources with him, Erdman soon discovered that Michelangelo— whose masterpieces you could count on two hands—had a finite amount of time to create his works. There were only so many pieces an artist could get to, regardless of their skill or ambition. Once again, with marble as his mentor, a distinct awareness was gleaned that allowed Erdman to recognize and internalize the fleeting nature of time.
Soon after graduating from the University of Vermont, Erdman—who had, at this point, chosen to devote his life to sculpture—found himself in Carrara, Italy, home to the most exquisite marble quarries on the planet. Tucked into the foothills of the Tuscan Alps, it is here that Michelangelo sourced his pure-white marble for David, and where many of the world’s most famous sculptures originate. As Erdman worked to establish his understanding of the craft, a lifechanging opportunity presented itself that would allow the young artist to take his place among the generations of sculptors that preceded him.
In the early eighties, just as his career began taking shape, Erdman was approached by PepsiCo and commissioned to create a piece for the Donald M. Kendall Sculpture Gardens located in Purchase, NY. It took him and a dedicated team nearly two years to complete a monumental composition called Passage, which stands 25 feet high, 16 feet wide, and weighs 450 tons. Passage, a conceptual labyrinth that resides at the entrance of the renowned gardens, was received enthusiastically and holds the record for the largest sculpture ever carved from a single piece of travertine—a similar stone to marble, but more durable. It’s an accomplishment that fully established his career and allowed the artist to freely define his future. Soon enough, Erdman began to split his time between Carrara and Vermont, considering the Italian mecca a second home.
The entire experience is documented in the 1985 short film Passage: A Richard Erdman Sculpture, allowing us to observe the young artist as he embarks upon this life-changing journey. What is strikingly apparent, just moments into the film, is how calm and level-headed the sculptor is, despite the enormity of the task before him. Considering his lack of experience at this point, the composure with which he carries himself is extraordinary, even as a massive stone cutting reveals a hairline fracture, rendering it useless. Erdman remains centered. Not dissociated, not arrogant, not aloof…but grounded. Settled as the stone he’s shaping.
Compare this to more recent footage of the artist (see the 2022 short Richard Erdman: A Profile) and you quickly understand that very little has changed. Erdman’s manner, tone, and spirit are near-identical to what we witnessed in Passage—as if the young, unassuming artist in Carrara were plucked from those historic quarries and deposited in the Green Mountains of Vermont forty years later. Sure, there’s a full shock of grey hair now, but none of us are immune to the effects of time. Not even stone. And certainly not bronze. What is truly special, and what so few of us get to experience, is the sense of knowing that comes naturally to Erdman, an acceptance of purpose that’s remained steadfast over decades.
There’s a certain Vermont pragmatism that some of this can be attributed to, but at the core of Erdman’s work is the palpable sense that we all have access to this level of stillness; the capacity to maintain a steady hand at the tiller when we are shaped by purpose. Erdman has been led down a remarkable path by simply allowing what was destined to express itself through him. That is the gift of his art. And just like the dancing bronze forms of Toulouse that joyously defy their physics, or the curves of Reclining Form that openly embrace theirs, we are all invited to search for and align with the forces that conspire so nobly in our favor.