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DEBORAH BUTTERFIELD (b. 1949)

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When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents. When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents.
Echo198626 x 107 x 76 in.(66.04 x 271.78 x 193.04 cm) steel and tin
Provenance
Edward Thorp Gallery, New York
Private Collection, acquired from the above
Exhibition
New York, Edward Thorp Gallery, Deborah Butterfield, 1986
Literature
Michael Brenson, “Review of Edward Thorp Gallery’s Deborah Butterfield show,” The New York Times, December 12, 1986, C28 (highlighted)

175,500

When a horse lies down, it is because it feels safe, which, for Deborah Butterfield, is a way of saying that it is okay to make ourselves vulnerable. "Echo", constructed in ways that respect her foraging skills and ability to weld metalwork, does not adhere to a traditional portrayal of a horse but instead reveals something of its essential nature. Constructed from pieced-together steel sheets, some rippled, others folded or crimped, it is a piece that bears the mark of time, aged to a rust-brown patina, imperfections celebrated rather than concealed. Butterfield's deliberate choice of materials and their treatment adds depth and character, transforming Untitled, Echo into more than just an equine representation — it reflects the rugged beauty and the resilience of the animal it represents.
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