On Exhibit
Star Pointer

More than 70 feet high, Star Pointer dominates the skyline along the downtown Sarasota bayfront, from a distance competing with buildings 100 feet or more in height. Sculptor John Henry’s inspired choice of a sensuous shade of lipstick-red acts as a foil to the blue of the sky and draws our eye to scan the form of the sculpture. Henry knows that sculpture is primarily about scale, and his work satisfies all the criteria of this three-dimensional medium. He has positioned five massive rectangles of steel in a composition that is elegant, solid and stable. Although massive and static, his arrangement of steel actively engages and animates the space it occupies. And while it commands attention from afar, Star Pointer’s greatest impact is when standing under it and looking up through it. Henry’s craftsmanship is exquisite. It’s difficult to detect exactly how he has joined the elements of the structure together, and yet it’s obvious this sculpture is a feat of engineering. As our eyes course the long planks of metal gleaming in the brilliant sunlight, we imagine returning in the dark of evening and discovering a new star at the end of our visual journey.

Star Pointer is on view as part of the Sarasota Season of Sculpture.—Mark Ormond

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In Town
Jeanne Phillips brings “Dear Abby” advice to new generations of readers.

It takes a lot of experience to dole out advice to millions of readers every day, but Jeanne Phillips learned how at her mother’s knee. Pauline Friedman Phillips was Abigail Van Buren for years before passing the torch to her daughter; and Phillips’ aunt was advice columnist Ann Landers, so Phillips comes by her skills naturally. She’ll speak at the Junior League of Sarasota’s Legacy Luncheon Feb. 25 at Michael’s on East.

Q. You started helping your mother with her column while still a teen, right?
A. I did it to earn my allowance. When I was 14 she would hand me a stack of letters to answer, and if she approved what I wrote, they would run; if not, she’d hand them back to try again. It was not strange to me; it was an assignment, and I learned from it.

Q. And you took to it right away?
A. From the time my mother walked in with a letter from a man who said, “I have a daughter with a weight problem, and she’s depressed. Can you help?” I said, “Cut out the hamburgers and fries, get out of the bedroom and exercise”; and, finally, “I know you can do it, I have faith in you.” A few weeks later we got another letter saying she took the advice and was doing better. I knew I had helped someone.

Q. Did you ever consider another career?
A. I turned my hand to interior design for a while. But after my first marriage I gradually became more immersed in the column, especially when my mother began exhibiting signs of Alzheimer’s disease. Let me tell you, we were the poster family for denial on that. But eventually you do have to face up to what’s going on. I talk to Alzheimer’s support groups often now.
One of the great things about my mother was that she told me early on, “There’s never a question I won’t answer for you.” There was never a book in the house I couldn’t read. She told me the facts of life when I was six.

Q. Are the problems your readers ask about today different from decades ago?
A. People are more outspoken today, especially on subjects that used to be taboo, like homosexuality and interracial dating. But my column is all about human relationships—with husbands, wives, in-laws, kids—so some things don’t change. Kids still want the same things: to be accepted, to establish relationships with their parents. Sometimes they feel their parents are too busy. I tell them, “You need to talk to your mother, tell her how much you need her.” Or possibly there’s an aunt, a grandmother, the parent of a close friend to talk to.

My readers are my friends. I don’t consider my column a monologue, I consider it a dialogue. And I do follow up with people after the initial contact.

Q. Do you plan to carry on the Dear Abby tradition indefinitely?
A. I’ll do this as long as I can. I feel so deeply honored that people allow me to continue the work my aunt and mother started. It’s a responsibility, but it’s not a burden. If I’m drained at the end of the day, I go to my husband’s arms, or he’ll take me out to dinner. There will always be a need for Dear Abby.

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ART

Selby Gallery. Ruinations, on view Feb. 7, consists of Berryville Tree Piles and Structures by Tom Nakashima and “ruined” artifacts by Leslie Fry. It’s followed by Interiors/Exteriors, Feb. 15 through March 19, which presents paintings and works on paper by New York abstractionist Melisa Meyer and installations by Brenda Brown. 359-7563.