Nancy Astor, Marisol with several of her sculptures (1964), photographic print (image courtesy Buffalo AKG Art Museum)DALLAS — It is difficult to say which surprises more after viewing this retrospective of Marisol and reading the associated catalog — that there hasn’t been more acclaim for her remarkable body of work, or how much early attention she did receive before slipping out of a prominent place in the art-historical narrative. This comprehensive reassessment, curated by Cathleen Chaffee for the Buffalo AKG Art Museum and currently on view at the Dallas Museum of Art, demonstrates the full force of her playful interweaving of painted and sculpted elements while also tracing the larger arc of her career. María Sol Escobar was born in Paris in 1930 to a well-traveled Venezuelan family, and spent her early years between Caracas and the United States. After settling in New York, she truncated her name and pivoted from painting to sculpture, exploring possibilities in clay and bronze before turning predominantly to wood. She enjoyed significant early success. In 1957, gallerist Leo Castelli presented her work alongside that of Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg, and gave her a solo show later that year. A succession of solo exhibitions at the Stable Gallery in 1962 and 1964, and then the Sidney Janis Gallery in 1966, drew increasingly large crowds as well as critical notice. That momentum culminated in 1968, when she represented Venezuela at the Venice Biennale and became one of only four women to exhibit work in documents. Marisol, “The Party” (1965–66) (all photos Martha Buskirk/Hyperallergic unless otherwise noted)What went wrong? Part of the problem was attention for the wrong reasons. Life led with her “Latin beauty” for a 1958 feature. Andy Warhol, whom she befriended in 1962, declared her “the first girl artist with glamour,” casting her in his Kiss and one of the screen tests that make up 13 Most Beautiful Women (both 1964). Marisol played along to promote her art, including posing within her sculptural ensembles for various photographs. But self-portraits throughout her work indicate a more complex and ambivalent navigation of self-fashioning and identity. In “Dinner Date” (1963), for instance, she presents her self-image twice, one sculpted and one painted. This paradoxical version of self-sufficiency can be read in relationship to frequent questioning about her decision not to marry and stands in pointed contrast to various depictions of family groupings. Even more striking, however, is the array of seven heads comprising “Self-Portrait” (1961–62). A list of materials ranging from wood and plaster to human teeth produces an uncanny series of faces assembled from incongruent parts. Also attached to its rectangular composite torso are six individual legs and one pair of breasts, along with two drawn or painted arms. The curatorial decision to enable viewing in the round by arranging many key works on a center island also reveals an unexpected backside, literally, via a row of five drawn and sculpted butts.Marisol, “Self-Portrait” (1961–62)Self-referentiality reaches an apotheosis in her work in “The Party” (1965–66), a 15-figure installation, each with a photographic or sculptural version of Marisol’s face. Its debut in her first solo show at Sidney Janis in 1966 coincided with a crescendo of interest in her art and celebrity status. But at least some reviewers perceived an aura of alienation rather than bonhomie. Viewed from straight on, the predominance of frontal and profile orientations in Marisol’s prescribed arrangement suggests a gathering of figures that coexist rather than interact. Back in 1958, Marisol had decamped from New York to live in Rome for 18 months. It served her well in the long run, since she returned with a clear vision for the work she produced through the 1960s. An extended period of travel to various countries starting in 1968 was less auspicious. The most consequential experience for her art was time spent in Tahiti learning to scuba dive. A subsequent Sidney Janis exhibition devoted to aquatic themes marked a sharp turn in critical reception. John Perreault, in a particularly negative review for the Village Voice, not only dismissed the 1973 show but also called for a reassessment of the “neo-sophisticated appropriation of folk-art forms” in her earlier work. Marisol’s response, found in her papers (presumably unsent): “If you call my work folk art it is only because you are prejudiced about my South American background, Folk you.”Installation view of works by Marisol, including “LBJ” (1967, background) and “The Generals” (1961–62, foreground)Indeed, one element of Marisol’s work and approach that went underappreciated is her politics, laced with a provocative sense of humor. “The Generals” (1961–62), her riff on traditional equestrian monuments, presents Simón Bolívar and George Washington awkwardly astride a horse fashioned from a barrel. Made during a period of US Cold War interventions into Latin America, it pointedly linked Venezuelan and US founding figures. At the same time, the delightfully absurd transition from blocky torsos to painted boots is heightened by castors for hooves and the sounds of a military march (composed by Marisol’s friend David Amram) emanating from within. Given the shift in critical reception, it is telling that much of the material from the 1970s onward resides at the Buffalo AKG. Apparently inspired by their prescient acquisition of “The Generals,” she bequeathed the Albright-Knox Gallery (as it was then known) all the art in her studio at the time of her death in 2016, her archives, and even the Tribeca loft itself. What emerges is a picture of an artist who sustained multiple lines of exploration. Set and costume designs for dance included collaborations with Louis Falco and Martha Graham. Works on paper extended her exploration of bodily fragmentation and reassembly via colorful drawings. Commissions for public sculpture spanned multiple continents. She would also return to wood for later figurative pieces reminiscent of her work from the 1960s. Although Marisol was initially received as a pop artist, that was never an easy fit. As this exhibition reveals, Marisol’s compelling achievements during the 1960s comprise just one chapter in a multifaceted artist’s long career. Installation view of works by MarisolInstallation view of Marisol: A Retrospective, with sculptures from the 1970s and 1980s, including “Portrait of Bishop Desmond Tutu” (1988, foreground) (© Estate of Marisol/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York; photo by and courtesy Dallas Museum of Art)Marisol: A Retrospective continues at the Dallas Museum of Art (1717 North Harwood Street, Dallas, Texas) through July 6. The exhibition was organized by the Buffalo AKG Art Museum and curated by Cathleen Chaffee. The Dallas presentation was curated by Anna Katherine Brodbeck.