Raised in Hampden, Forest Hart’s life and art are inextricably woven into this wildlife haven in Monroe, where he walks every morning, on the lookout for moose and deer, otters, fishers, beavers, bobcats, eagles, and every creature that moves across and over the land. He pays attention to everything from their tracks to their minutest gestures, the flick of a tail, the distension of a nostril
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His work is displayed in museums, universities, public gardens, parks, medical centers, inns, zoos, and performing arts centers, as well as private homes, throughout the United States and Canada.
A taxidermist for many years, Hart created his first sculpture in 1984. He made it from fiberglass with bronze powder because he had no idea how to go about creating a bronze piece. It won best in show, and when the judge found out it wasn’t bronze, he said to Hart, “That’s a great piece of sculpture, but it’s plastic.” Hart says he made “plastic” sound like a swear word. So from then on, he cast everything in bronze. Over the next seven years, he created about a dozen bronzes before he transitioned to a full-time sculptor in 1991.
So taxidermy was your first artistic outlet?
No, actually I was drawing and painting from the time I was very young. And it was always animals, wildlife. I used to collect earthworms when I was three years old. I’d wash them off to get them clean and then when they went down the drain, I’d be really upset.
When did taxidermy begin to interest you?
I was 10 and my dad brought home a road-kill gray squirrel. I thought the skin was so beautiful, I skinned it out. I used up all the paper towels rubbing the fur with some cornmeal, so the cardboard tube was all that was left. I wrapped the fur around the tube. By the time I was done, I’d stuffed cotton balls from my mother’s dresser down the legs, and I’d glued the feet onto some bark and weighted them down with rocks. I thought it looked real good. Of course I didn’t know how to skin out the head, so it was headless. After a friend said, “Oh, gross, it’s got no head,” I circled a piece of bark and stuck the front of the squirrel in, so it looked like the squirrel was looking in a tree.
So you were looking for acceptable lifelike representation even then?
Well, it was the start. When I was 11, I took a correspondence course, so I got better.
How did you transition into sculpting wildlife in bronze?
It really isn’t that far. You see, I realized I could do a much better job with the taxidermy if I could sculpt the animal in clay and then make a fiberglass mold over the clay model. Then I’d pour polyurethane foam into it and I’d have a foam mannequin that the skin would go on that would fit exactly [between being a taxidermist and a full-time sculptor, Hart made and marketed these mannequins nationwide].
They’re sure not posing for you, holding still in the wild, so how do you capture the gesture and movement?
I had to learn from the animals, which is the smartest way. I also pretend I’m the animal and do something that looks exciting. You know, in front of a mirror. There’s a lot we don’t usually think about, like the deer’s tail. There’s a lot of movement there. For counterbalance, like for a rudder.
So you have to pay attention to the minutest aspects of a body?
Sure. I was watching a deer and its ears were backward like it heard me from behind. They can turn their ears in different directions to pay attention to sounds they hear.
How do you remember everything you see? It must all happen so fast.
What you can do—I’ve done this a lot in Newfoundland, working with caribou—watch one trot, and then close your eyes and your last recollection of it is the last image you saw. Open your eyes and watch again. It’s almost like taking pictures.
How much does a life-size bronze moose weigh?
Just about what it weighs in real life. Maybe a little less. About 950 to 1200 pounds.
How do you handle such huge pieces?
Well, it’s a very long process, starting with sketches. I build an armature…create a rubber mold. In the end, the mold goes to a foundry in Colorado [Lands End Sculpture Center foundry]. They’re amazing, and when I have a large piece, they will come here and help me make the mold. [They had just been at the workshop for three days as Hart created the mold for a pair of life-size eagles for Husson College.]
Is all of your work commissioned?
No, but most of the large pieces are. I also have work at Northport Landing [Gallery] in Northport, Redfield [Artisans] Gallery in Northeast Harbor, one in Massachusetts, and three in Colorado.
That’s enough.
Does every piece turn out as you expected?
Well, no. And sometimes what I love is not what sells. Do you want to see my favorite piece?
Absolutely.
Well, I’ve never sold one of them. [We go downstairs, where in this cavernously empty basement sit three poignant bronzes of a doe lying down with her fawn straddling her back. The fawn’s eyes are closed, with the head tipped back as the mother licks her baby.]
Not one, huh?
No, not one. They’re large for inside, and one rule is if someone wants to put one of my bronzes outside it had better be standing up if I want to sell it. But [and he smiles a boyish grin in which you can see that 10-year-old] I still replaced the three that were burned in the fire.
