Identical, the new survey of Bruce Nauman at the Nasher Sculpture Center, gathers seventeen mixed‑media sculptures that hang like a macabre mobile. Polyurethane foam taxidermy molds of coyotes and foxes dangle from thin wires, weighted with hammers, nails and other mundane objects. Plaster casts and silicone replicas echo the same arrangements, turning the ceiling into a forest of suspended bodies.

The effect is deliberately unsettling. Nauman, a longtime disciple of Marcel Duchamp’s conceptual turn, wants the viewer to feel that sudden “huh?” that forces a second look. By using industrial casting rather than hand‑carved forms, he removes the artist’s hand from the object, letting the strange choreography speak for itself.

The animal silhouettes invoke a quiet memento mori. Their stillness, the weight of the metal implements, and the broken fragments of plaster suggest loss and violence, resonating with the recent death of Nauman’s wife, Susan Rothenberg. Yet the pieces are restrained compared with his earlier, more aggressive work, hinting at a softened, reflective tone.

A set of silverpoint drawings, executed by Nauman before the sculptures, offers a rare glimpse of his hand, while a newspaper‑style handout reproduces photographs from a 1980 Dallas installation. These ancillary materials enrich the main display, reminding visitors of the artist’s long‑standing dialogue with Minimalism and the institutional context of his practice.

For viewers willing to linger, Identical rewards the initial shock with a subtle, intellectual meditation on material, mortality and the limits of artistic personality—a taste that, once acquired, proves deeply satisfying.

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