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拍品专文
Filled with a poignant sense of humanity and pathos, Goslar Warrior marks the culmination of an important theme within Henry Moore’s work – the male figure in the final, desperate stages of combat. Studies of the male body were rare within Moore’s oeuvre, with the artist executing just six sculptures featuring a life-size masculine form over the course of his entire career. Within this concentrated group, three focus on the subject of the warrior, a timeless theme, yet one heavy with symbolism in the wake of the Second World War. Rather than aggressive combatants, Moore’s warriors are shown in the act of self-defence – wielding no weapons, they clutch a circular shield, protecting themselves against an unseen foe. Together, these three powerful works represent an almost cinematic exploration of the heroic, defiant warrior, struck down and injured, yet fighting to their last breath.
Moore embarked upon the series of warriors in the mid-1950s, beginning with Warrior with Shield (LH, no. 360) in 1953, which was followed by Falling Warrior (LH, no. 405) three years later. According to the artist, the initial inspiration for Warrior with Shield came from a simple pebble he discovered while walking along the shoreline, the shape of which reminded him of amputated limbs. Working a piece of modelling wax into a shape that resembled the connection between the hip and upper thigh, Moore extrapolated the entire form of the fighter, adding an angular torso, arms and a leg, and imbuing the figure with a powerful sense of energy. Initially, he had planned for the man to be lying down on his back, but changed the orientation as he worked through the maquettes for the piece, so that the final sculpture showed the figure seated upright, leaning slightly back as if he has just taken a blow to his shield. Moore was excited by the dynamism and potential of the motif, writing: ‘This sculpture is the first single and separate male figure that I have done in sculpture and carrying it out… was almost like the discovery of a new subject matter; the bony, edgy, tense forms were a great excitement to make’ (quoted in P. James, ed., Henry Moore on Sculpture, London, 1966, p. 250).
In 1956, Moore began exploring an alternative variation on the warrior subject, this time revisiting his ideas around the dramatic moment the figure falls to the ground. In Falling Warrior, Moore presents the figure in mid-air, just before the moment of impact, their weight hovering slightly off the ground as they catch themselves with a forearm. ‘In the Falling Warrior sculpture I wanted a figure that was still alive,’ Moore explained. ‘The pose of the first maquette was that of a completely dead figure and so I altered it to make the action that of a figure in the act of falling, and the shield became a support for the warrior, emphasising the dramatic moment that precedes death’ (quoted in J. Hedgecoe, ed., Henry Moore, London, 1968, p. 279). There is a deliberate ungainliness to the slender, attenuated form of the man as he tumbles to earth, the subtle nuances in the arrangement of his limbs and positioning of different elements within the sculpture demonstrating Moore’s profound understanding of the human body.
Moore revisited the subject of the defiant warrior once more in 1973, realising the forceful and dynamic Goslar Warrior. Its title is something of a misnomer – rather than alluding to a particular battle or geographically specific subject, the name was retrospectively applied to the completed work in honour of the siting of one of the bronze casts in the historic north German city of Goslar. The artist had been awarded a prestigious art prize by the town in 1975, and was subsequently commissioned to produce a sculpture that would be placed in the Pfalzgarten (Imperial Palace Garden). Moore chose the present work, travelling to Goslar himself in order to oversee the installation and final setting for the piece. Stretched diagonally across its plinth, the warrior is presented as an abstracted, monumental vision of the human form, in which Moore explores an intriguing interplay of mass and volume.
Here, the wounded fighter falls on his back, losing the grip on his shield, its form balancing on its edge near his feet. This placement of the shield may have been inspired by the original plaster maquette for Falling Warrior, where Moore initially placed the defensive armament at the figure’s feet, before shifting it towards the warrior’s shoulders. By separating the man from his only means of protection in Goslar Warrior, Moore emphasises his vulnerability. Yet, the figure retains an energy and tension that suggests his inherent fighting spirit remains intact, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Twisting slightly at the waist, his head pulls upwards as if he is looking at something beyond his feet, perhaps the advance of a foe, and will make a move to regain his footing. For Moore, the addition of the rounded shield alongside the prone figure imbued the sculpture with a different energy, transforming the composition ‘from an inactive pose into a figure which, though wounded, is still defiant’ (quoted in P. James, op. cit., 1966, p. 250).
The subject of the warrior allowed Moore to engage in a legacy of sculptural imagery that dates back to antiquity. The overtones of Ancient Greece are unmistakable – the shield and the suggestion of a helmet covering his face in Goslar Warrior make it clear this soldier has nothing to do with high-tech modern warfare, but is rather an archetypal soldier who has been defeated in a battle that Homer may have sung about. Moore made his first, and only, trip to Greece in late February 1951, in order to attend the opening of his solo exhibition at the Zappeion Gallery in Athens. Deciding to extend his visit by several weeks, the artist undertook a tour of many of the iconic ancient sites, from Delphi to Olympia, Mycenae to the Acropolis, marvelling at the play of light across the temples and fragmented buildings, which remained still standing after millennia. In particular, he was struck by the theatricality and visual dynamism of the archaeological monuments, writing to Kenneth Clark from his sojourn: ‘the Acropolis is wonderful – more marvellous than I ever imagined – The Parthenon against a blue sky – the sunlight and the scale it gets against the distant mountains can’t be given by any photograph – It’s the greatest thrill I’ve ever had’ (letter to K. and J. Clark, 28 February 1951; quoted in A. Correia, ‘Falling Warrior 1956-1957’ in Henry Moore: Sculptural Process and Public Identity, Tate Research Publication, 2015, online; accessed 24 January 2026).
While Moore had forcefully denied the influence of ancient Greece as a young artist, preferring the artforms of South America and Africa, these first-hand experiences brought about a renewed appreciation for classical art within his work. Upon his return home, he delved into the wealth of source material and imagery available to him, from the Parthenon Marbles on display at the British Museum, to reproductions of ancient art within his personal library. Through the 1950s, traces of this classicising influence flooded his work, resulting in monumental figures wrapped in thin drapery that clings to their form, as well as an increasing sense of abstraction and fragmentation that may be read as a nod to the manner in which many ancient works of art have suffered damage through the centuries. The pose of Goslar Warrior, for example, simultaneously echoes the form and tension of the Fallen Warrior from the Temple of Aphaia on the island of Aegina, now housed at the Glypothek in Munich, and the wounded Lapiths portrayed in the south metopes of the Parthenon Marbles.
In this piece, Moore has refined and condensed the sense of dramatic struggle that characterised his earlier versions of the subject. He has also rendered the figure more abstract, crystallising the male form to its essential elements and eliminating descriptive detail to achieve a greater expressive force. Here, the wounded warrior is reduced to a solid, strong block articulated into a series of large, faceted planes that accentuate the sharp contours of his body, from the angular formation of the head, which in many ways echoes the shape of a helmet, to the bony set of his broad shoulders. His pose, with head raised, shoulders partially lifted off the ground, acts as a counterweight to the large rounded form of the shield, lending the sculpture an impeccable sense of internal balance. There is a power and solidity to the figure, a sense of masculinity in the weightiness of his torso, which contrasts against the slim, slender lower-half of his body, where only a single leg is delineated, shown hovering in mid-air. His cantilevered body and pronounced ribcage, seen straining outwards against the figure’s skin, lends a sense of organic energy and impending movement to the body.
In Goslar Warrior, Moore reaches the perfect balance between timelessness and modernity, the nuance and humanity of his depiction of the warrior offering a striking expression of tragic heroism, vulnerability and the powerful human drive for survival, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Cast in a numbered edition of seven, plus one artist’s proof at the Hermann Noack foundry in Berlin, other examples of the present work can be found in the collections of the City of Goslar, Germany; the City of Santa Cruz, Tenerife; and the Hyogo Museum, Kobe.
Moore embarked upon the series of warriors in the mid-1950s, beginning with Warrior with Shield (LH, no. 360) in 1953, which was followed by Falling Warrior (LH, no. 405) three years later. According to the artist, the initial inspiration for Warrior with Shield came from a simple pebble he discovered while walking along the shoreline, the shape of which reminded him of amputated limbs. Working a piece of modelling wax into a shape that resembled the connection between the hip and upper thigh, Moore extrapolated the entire form of the fighter, adding an angular torso, arms and a leg, and imbuing the figure with a powerful sense of energy. Initially, he had planned for the man to be lying down on his back, but changed the orientation as he worked through the maquettes for the piece, so that the final sculpture showed the figure seated upright, leaning slightly back as if he has just taken a blow to his shield. Moore was excited by the dynamism and potential of the motif, writing: ‘This sculpture is the first single and separate male figure that I have done in sculpture and carrying it out… was almost like the discovery of a new subject matter; the bony, edgy, tense forms were a great excitement to make’ (quoted in P. James, ed., Henry Moore on Sculpture, London, 1966, p. 250).
In 1956, Moore began exploring an alternative variation on the warrior subject, this time revisiting his ideas around the dramatic moment the figure falls to the ground. In Falling Warrior, Moore presents the figure in mid-air, just before the moment of impact, their weight hovering slightly off the ground as they catch themselves with a forearm. ‘In the Falling Warrior sculpture I wanted a figure that was still alive,’ Moore explained. ‘The pose of the first maquette was that of a completely dead figure and so I altered it to make the action that of a figure in the act of falling, and the shield became a support for the warrior, emphasising the dramatic moment that precedes death’ (quoted in J. Hedgecoe, ed., Henry Moore, London, 1968, p. 279). There is a deliberate ungainliness to the slender, attenuated form of the man as he tumbles to earth, the subtle nuances in the arrangement of his limbs and positioning of different elements within the sculpture demonstrating Moore’s profound understanding of the human body.
Moore revisited the subject of the defiant warrior once more in 1973, realising the forceful and dynamic Goslar Warrior. Its title is something of a misnomer – rather than alluding to a particular battle or geographically specific subject, the name was retrospectively applied to the completed work in honour of the siting of one of the bronze casts in the historic north German city of Goslar. The artist had been awarded a prestigious art prize by the town in 1975, and was subsequently commissioned to produce a sculpture that would be placed in the Pfalzgarten (Imperial Palace Garden). Moore chose the present work, travelling to Goslar himself in order to oversee the installation and final setting for the piece. Stretched diagonally across its plinth, the warrior is presented as an abstracted, monumental vision of the human form, in which Moore explores an intriguing interplay of mass and volume.
Here, the wounded fighter falls on his back, losing the grip on his shield, its form balancing on its edge near his feet. This placement of the shield may have been inspired by the original plaster maquette for Falling Warrior, where Moore initially placed the defensive armament at the figure’s feet, before shifting it towards the warrior’s shoulders. By separating the man from his only means of protection in Goslar Warrior, Moore emphasises his vulnerability. Yet, the figure retains an energy and tension that suggests his inherent fighting spirit remains intact, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Twisting slightly at the waist, his head pulls upwards as if he is looking at something beyond his feet, perhaps the advance of a foe, and will make a move to regain his footing. For Moore, the addition of the rounded shield alongside the prone figure imbued the sculpture with a different energy, transforming the composition ‘from an inactive pose into a figure which, though wounded, is still defiant’ (quoted in P. James, op. cit., 1966, p. 250).
The subject of the warrior allowed Moore to engage in a legacy of sculptural imagery that dates back to antiquity. The overtones of Ancient Greece are unmistakable – the shield and the suggestion of a helmet covering his face in Goslar Warrior make it clear this soldier has nothing to do with high-tech modern warfare, but is rather an archetypal soldier who has been defeated in a battle that Homer may have sung about. Moore made his first, and only, trip to Greece in late February 1951, in order to attend the opening of his solo exhibition at the Zappeion Gallery in Athens. Deciding to extend his visit by several weeks, the artist undertook a tour of many of the iconic ancient sites, from Delphi to Olympia, Mycenae to the Acropolis, marvelling at the play of light across the temples and fragmented buildings, which remained still standing after millennia. In particular, he was struck by the theatricality and visual dynamism of the archaeological monuments, writing to Kenneth Clark from his sojourn: ‘the Acropolis is wonderful – more marvellous than I ever imagined – The Parthenon against a blue sky – the sunlight and the scale it gets against the distant mountains can’t be given by any photograph – It’s the greatest thrill I’ve ever had’ (letter to K. and J. Clark, 28 February 1951; quoted in A. Correia, ‘Falling Warrior 1956-1957’ in Henry Moore: Sculptural Process and Public Identity, Tate Research Publication, 2015, online; accessed 24 January 2026).
While Moore had forcefully denied the influence of ancient Greece as a young artist, preferring the artforms of South America and Africa, these first-hand experiences brought about a renewed appreciation for classical art within his work. Upon his return home, he delved into the wealth of source material and imagery available to him, from the Parthenon Marbles on display at the British Museum, to reproductions of ancient art within his personal library. Through the 1950s, traces of this classicising influence flooded his work, resulting in monumental figures wrapped in thin drapery that clings to their form, as well as an increasing sense of abstraction and fragmentation that may be read as a nod to the manner in which many ancient works of art have suffered damage through the centuries. The pose of Goslar Warrior, for example, simultaneously echoes the form and tension of the Fallen Warrior from the Temple of Aphaia on the island of Aegina, now housed at the Glypothek in Munich, and the wounded Lapiths portrayed in the south metopes of the Parthenon Marbles.
In this piece, Moore has refined and condensed the sense of dramatic struggle that characterised his earlier versions of the subject. He has also rendered the figure more abstract, crystallising the male form to its essential elements and eliminating descriptive detail to achieve a greater expressive force. Here, the wounded warrior is reduced to a solid, strong block articulated into a series of large, faceted planes that accentuate the sharp contours of his body, from the angular formation of the head, which in many ways echoes the shape of a helmet, to the bony set of his broad shoulders. His pose, with head raised, shoulders partially lifted off the ground, acts as a counterweight to the large rounded form of the shield, lending the sculpture an impeccable sense of internal balance. There is a power and solidity to the figure, a sense of masculinity in the weightiness of his torso, which contrasts against the slim, slender lower-half of his body, where only a single leg is delineated, shown hovering in mid-air. His cantilevered body and pronounced ribcage, seen straining outwards against the figure’s skin, lends a sense of organic energy and impending movement to the body.
In Goslar Warrior, Moore reaches the perfect balance between timelessness and modernity, the nuance and humanity of his depiction of the warrior offering a striking expression of tragic heroism, vulnerability and the powerful human drive for survival, even in the face of overwhelming odds. Cast in a numbered edition of seven, plus one artist’s proof at the Hermann Noack foundry in Berlin, other examples of the present work can be found in the collections of the City of Goslar, Germany; the City of Santa Cruz, Tenerife; and the Hyogo Museum, Kobe.