Tag: Conceptual Art

Rachel Whiteread at Tate Britain review *****

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Rachel Whiteread

Tate Britain, 25th September 2017

If you take even a passing interest in contemporary British art you are probably aware of Rachel Whiteread, and you may well have seen some of her work. Even if you are not interested, or are firmly in the nihilistic, hater camp that thinks this is all bollocks (a diminishing minority I am pleased to say), you will have heard of her. In the early 1990’s the “popular” press got it another one of their pathetic lathers about her work House, in East London, which helped her win the Turner Prize. The “controversy” was then comically ratcheted up as Tower Hamlets council proceeded to knock it down, thereby getting us arty-farty, liberal types in a tizz. Thus proving the whole point of public art – engagement.

You might also remember her project Monument for the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square, a resin cast of the very plinth on which it is set. A perfect transparent mirror image. I seem to recall it was one of the more loved of the commissions in this most public of locations, but that might just be me.

You are also likely then to be aware of her making process which generally involves complex casting in a wealth of materials at a range of scales. Her chosen subjects are normally mundane, sinks, bog rolls, windows, doors, even rooms and buildings, but what she achieves is mesmerising.

For me this exhibition is a must see. It encompasses some her earliest work from the years following the Slade through to the exhilarating resin casts of doors and windows from the last few years. I gather she started as a painter but shifted to sculpture thanks to Richard Wilson. Thank goodness for that. Mr Wilson is concerned with with the nature of architectural space, and with creating striking ways of seeing this space, and it is pretty straightforward to read the thread through to Ms Whiteread. If you ever get a chance go see 20:50, Richard Wilson’s installation of sump oil. It will take your breath away. Or if you turn up early for some gig or other entertainment at the 02 walk east along the river until you see a bit of ship otherwise know as Slice of Reality. Or look out for Square the Block at the bottom of Kingsway or stop for a moment to admire the giant “wing”, Slipstream, before you enter the purgatory of Heathrow’s Terminal 2.

Sorry back to RW. I think Closet is the earliest work in the room (the gallery has been opened up to encompass all the works in the exhibition). This is a plaster cast of the interior of a wardrobe encased in felt. No immediate aesthetic attraction for me but it opens up the possibilities that RW has subsequently mined from the idea of “negative space”. That is the space around and, more importantly, inside the subject. Often explored in two dimensional images through the Modern age but less so in sculpture (though Bruce Naumann and other US minimalists/conceptualists had kicked off the exploration). Obviously casting is a fundamental part of the sculptural process but as a means to an end not usually the end. And this is what makes RW so important and interesting, especially when compared to other British artists of her generation who are a little more “shouty” and a little less insightful than RW in more opinion.

Next door to Closet is a plaster cast of a dressing table which is more interesting, as not only does the material itself have more appeal to me, the stimulus to eyes and brain as you try to unravel the “reversal” of the space gives far more pleasure. This carries through to the rest of the early works” sinks, baths, beds and furniture. They both are, and are not, what they purport to be.

Around the corner is a vitrine of 9 hot water bottles (and similarly shaped objects like enema bags!), another common subject for RW, and here we see the dimension that the variation in materials brings, resin, plaster, aluminium, wax, concrete and rubber. These are termed Torsos. A seemingly obvious process, with seemingly obvious subjects and seemingly obvious materials is transmuted into an homage to classical sculpture and the Renaissance masters who worshipped their forebears. There is also something of the womb about them. So we see the “concept’ become the subject and finally the object. Absolutely thrilling. Trust me.

In Room 101 and the floorboards cast in resin next to it further dimensions of RW’s art are revealed. Room 101 is a plasticised plaster cast of a room in BBC Broadcasting House where George Orwell worked and which was allegedly the inspiration for the eponymous space in 1984. So lots to chew on there in addition to the effect of the reversal of the space on a much larger scale than other subjects in the exhibition. Whilst there is a cast, Chicken Shed, in the garden in front of the Tate, and we have materials relating to the planning of RW’s more monumental outdoor works (definitely read up on these) ,we can only imagine what they look like but Room 101 helps. Next door the light falling on the resin floorboards emphasises the grain of the wood with every mark, scratch and knot evidence of time passing.

Nearby there is another fascinating large scale work in a cast of some library bookshelves. The detail of the pages from the books is intriguing as the spines are positioned inwards on shelves. So the shelves turn the knowledge inwards but we are not shut out. Imagine this on a much larger scale. That would be a sight to behold. And that is why I want to see the Holocaust Memorial or Nameless Library in Vienna which is exactly that.

The coloured objects and boxes along the back wall and far corner (relative to the entrance) of the exhibition room are less successful in my view, (along with the papier mache architectural fragments where are definition and detail is lost). Turning toilet roll cardboard tubes into things of rare chalky beauty is a masterly achievement, but, overall, the “fact” of the process, and any beauty in the form and function of the object (in contrast to the architectural subjects), is less visible to me. These pieces were produced after RW had completed Embankment for the Tate Modern Turbine Hall which had a mixed public and critical response I understand. I never saw it so can’t comment but the photographic record, conjuring up an ice palace, looks pretty groovy to me.

In contrast the mighty cast Untitled (Stairs) is exactly that, mighty. Like the floors on show the wear and tear of use sing out, but the reversal of the space is somehow less interesting, or maybe too familiar from the works of Escher and others. This is not true though of the wall of doors and windows, the most recent works, and for me the very best of RW’s work on show here. There are just beautiful. Especially the coloured resin casts. Seeing “through” the windows echoes their purpose. I couldn’t take my eyes off the resin doors, especially the two “antique” subjects from the C17 and C18 century, with the light casting shadows and reflections through on to the wall behind them. Mind you I do like old doors.

So when you finally tear yourself from these works, pass through the room of works by other artists curated by RW, which show the association with other British conceptual sculptors of an earlier vintage who also weren’t prepared to sacrifice aesthetic appeal in their work. RW has followed a clear and identifiable artistic journey but the link bank to the first generation of US minimalists and US/UK conceptualists is strong.

Then make sure to see Untitled (One Hundred Spaces) in the solemn Duveen Gallery. 100 coloured resin casts of the “internal” space of little side tables arranged in, I think, random order. Like tiny sentinels, ice cubes, soaps, sweets or children’s toys. A “terracotta army” of plastic. A New York panorama. The pastel colours echo the use of plastic in modern consumer goods. Yet the colours are faded, the opacity compromised, creating an air of melancholy. Sad, baby tables. Or rather the insides of sad, baby tables. I think I better stop there.

The exhibition goes on to 21st January next year. If a quick glance at pictures of her work leaves you cold then maybe you are excused (though I still think you are missing out) but if you have even the vaguest interest please check this out. The best exhibition in London this year (so far)? For me yes. If you crave colour, emotion, passion then this may not cut it. If you like simplicity, volume. form, function, detail – if you are in touch with your inner ascetic – then pop on your sharpest threads (all black was a favoured look on my visit) and get down to Millbank.

PS. I note on Wiki that Ms Whiteread spent a little time working at Highgate Cemetery fixing lids on time damaged coffins. I cannot think of work that would have bettered informed her art.

John Latham at the Serpentine Gallery review ****

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John Latham: A World View

Serpentine Gallery, 17th March 2017

in recent years I have had a growing fascination with the “pure” Conceptual Art (only capitals will do here) of the 1960’s and 1970s and the way it appears to have come to influence chunks of today’s artistic discourse. This is from the perspective of an amateur observer/consumer so I have no idea about the theories that lie behind it, how it is taught in art schools and who owns or buys this stuff, but I have sought out opportunities to see some of it and feel compelled to investigate further.

It makes sense to me to distil art down to the concept that lies behind it and I am strongly drawn to minimalist artistic out put (in music as well as “art”). I am not a maximalist which I think is why most of the Western art canon from the C17, C18 and C19 leaves me cold. I just can’t be doing with acres of flesh and frocks and gods and classicism and rich folk. I like the straightforward where looking doesn’t give me a headache. If I walk through a “national” collection I will pay close attention to the Flemish, Dutch and Italian “primitive”, the Dutch Golden Age portraits and still lifes, then ignore everything until some of the Impressionists and post Impressionists appear, then again be selective about the C20 until the really minimalist stuff appears. Oh and then most contemporary stuff also leaves me cold.

Now I gather that the UK and US fellas (usually blokes) who first came up with the Conceptual wheeze (Sol LeWitt, this bloke Latham, Art & Language, Fluxus, John Cage and so on) were not entirely enamoured of the kind of minimalism represented by the likes of Donald Judd, Agnes Martin, Elsworth Kelly, Frank Stella, Carl Andre and so on so I must be careful not to get by -isms in a pickle. But there is something for me in this Conceptualism I think.

The Conceptual Art in Britain 1964-1979 exhibition last year at the Tate Britain turned out to be a cracking insight into what I found interesting and in some cases less interesting about Conceptual Art of this era. The bit where the theorising disappears up its own a***hole, and I fear there are a lot of these, are hard to handle. The pointless simplicity or hopeless naivety of some of the “concepts” can also be frustrating. It is all well and good preaching that artistic endeavour should seek to criticise its own ecosystem (though to me a bit pointless as it is axiomatic that a) artists go to art school and b) that artists only exist when public or private patrons are there to “own” the art), as well as explore the relationship between art and society/culture, but if the best you can come up with is a neon light sculpture saying bash the rich then in my book you need to try harder.

And there are also an awful lot of wry, one note visual jokes in Conceptual Art. Oh and a lot of junk scattered on the floor or glued on the wall.

Then I see something where the idea and the making process is interesting and thought provoking and multi layered and where the result has some sort of aesthetic beauty (for me). And that really. really works for me. Not in the way that peering at a van Eyck does but still a comparable rush.

And this exhibition of John Latham’s output has all of this for me with very little of the “tough to bear” stuff that this simpleton can’t fathom. I confess the theory stuff, “least” events and “flat time” was well beyond me but the works, the one second spray paintings, the burnt books, the roller blind paintings, the land art, were all fascinating. And the way in which his ideas have gone on to influence a current generation, communication and language in art, the interaction of art with science and philosophy, the role of chance, intervention and the role of the artist in government, was an eye opener.

So no need to swallow all the potentially pretentious, brain aching stuff and nothing ugly to look at just a very condensed introduction to a fascinating character in a lovely space. And some thoughts to take away. Take a look if you are in the vicinity. It’s on until 21st May. It’s free. Oh and wander along to the Serpentine Sackler Gallery next door. There are four artists whose work is directly informed by John Latham. I wasn’t sure about 3 of them but the video of Tania Bruguera describing what she is up to in Cuba both artistically and politically is inspiring.