Mark Wallinger’s ID – A Conversation (Part Two).

On May 1st, Richard Guest & I visited Mark Wallinger’s show  ID  at Hauser & Wirth London W1. Afterwards, we discussed the show by email. The following is the result of several weeks’ electronic toing and froing. Here is Part Two – you can read Part One here.

 

My accidental version of Shadow Walker in Lisson Grove – the twins in the camo trousers I was surreptitiously trying to photograph cropped off at the head!

My accidental version of Shadow Walker in Lisson Grove – the twins in the camo trousers I was surreptitiously trying to photograph cropped off at the head!

David: Ever Since and Shadow Walker left me pretty cold I have to say, but there are a couple of things that make me scratch my head. Shadow Walker is on a screen resting on the floor, leaning against the wall. It was shot on a phone of some sort I think, it is very poor quality footage anyway, and it’s vertical). Ever Since is the reverse – very high quality and projected directly onto the wall. Leaning stuff has been everywhere recently..so maybe I am tired of it, but is the slipshod presentation of Shadow Walker a little studied – do you really feel any spontaneity looking at it or is Wallinger tying to be too clever by juxtaposing all these disparate idioms?

As soon as we move into the North Gallery we are (if we had been going round the right way) greeted by Ego which is a pair of peeling inkjet prints ‘shot on an iPhone’ we are told. They are stuck on the wall any old how, with blu-tac or similar it looked like. Again there is a massive and deliberate contrast between this and the standardised size of the Id paintings which seem to have the correct production values for H&W. Does this contrast work for you, and does it seem to be a clue to unlocking Wallinger’s approach?

Ego – Gallery tour in progress...we hung back.

Ego – Gallery tour in progress…we hung back.

Richard: Wallinger could be trying to be too clever, but I prefer to think he’s problem-solving, without regard to aesthetics – finding the most direct way to express what he wants to say and going with it (the resulting object is what it is, its aesthetic a part of the message). For me there’s a freshness to this show, which could not have been achieved if it had been all paintings or all videos (But in answer to your question, I don’t feel any spontaneity looking at Shadow Walker, more a wave of ennui crashing over me).

Yes, I think there is a clue in Ego to what Wallinger is doing. He is an artist, regardless of media or technique, who understands that everything he makes has an intrinsic aesthetic value, in part based on what it looks like and in part what that appearance “means”. (To a certain extent, I think he sends up his role as an artist) Ego, for example, would mean something quite different had it been painted. He’s clearly alluding to Michaelangelo’s Sistine Chapel (and possibly the opening title sequence of The South Bank Show), but the image was made in the quickest way possible and reproduced without fuss. Ego carries an idea as much as any of the other work in the show, so its appearance may be lowly in comparison with the Id paintings, but its worth as a statement is equal. Do you like it as a work?

David: Honestly, it’s only because I am talking to you about it that I have even stopped to think about it. It is not just ephemeral but scruffy…slapdash and proud. You are completely right I think to suggest that the method of production is integral to the meaning, but whether it really is produced without regard to ultimate aesthetic impact is hard to say. Outside the gallery context this work would just be two pieces of paper – within it, it feels like a deliberate old-school provocation. It is almost Dadaist in character and Wallinger must know that. It is the key work of the show I think, but I have difficulty with it . I am curious about its conception…but it seems to forestall my scepticism by referencing the most famous and sublime depiction of creation (and by implication artistic creation) while simultaneously seeming to disrespect it by casually presenting it as a second-hand experience.

Ego installation view …appropriately shot on a blurry phone.

Ego installation view …appropriately shot on a blurry phone.

It’s all a bit too cool for me. It is very far from the impulse that first drove a cave dweller to pick up a piece of burnt charcoal and draw a horse on the walls of a cave. It falls into the category of comment rather than expression. Problem solving is a very positive way of looking at it. For me it is part of a sub genre of critical commentary in an artistic medium. Is that unfair?

Richard: As far as Wallinger’s method is concerned, I’m not so sure it is that far removed from the Paleolithic decorating impulse – the cave dwellers would have used a quick and convenient method to convey their message, with the materials they had at hand, I think, without regard to aesthetics (because they were in the process of inventing them).

For me, Ego represents the shortest route from conception to creation in the show. It appears to be a joke, but it’s a complex one:

  • Wallinger unfairly compares the craft of his work to that of Michaelangelo
  • (whilst simultaneously daring the gallery to sell inkjet prints of photographs he took on his phone)
  • and makes light of the fact that he has spent little time crafting the finished work (once he’d had the idea, he surrendered it to a mechanical means of production)
  • he asks the question, “where do the ideas for my art come from?”
  • and answers it, “from me and my accumulated knowledge of art” (both hands are his)
  • and finally he invites the audience to laugh at the shoddiness (and cheek) of it all
  • and asks, “have you got the guts to buy this?”

What I found really interesting about it as an image was that in it Wallinger has black dirt under his fingernails and the Id paintings are all black – does this suggest we can date Ego to the same period? Did he produce Ego in a creative rush after finishing a particularly satisfying Id painting (if so that makes his joke even funnier)? Do you think he achieved personal satisfaction from executing any of the Id paintings, or was his approach to them as conceptual and cool as it appears to have been with Ego?

David: That is as good an all round picture of how Ego functions as we are going to get, I think. But what it tells me is that if Mark Wallinger is anything to go by when we look around we no longer do it with our eyes, but with our iPhones; and what we see is not life in the raw, but a series of references – images quoted from the past. As if only by looking in the mirror of Michelangelo’s Creations can we correctly place our own. Our ability to directly experience things is compromised by our knowledge of art and our insatiable image capturing technology. There has been a Fall – a loss of innocence and there is no going back. This robs art of its primal power of redefining how you look at something on its own terms as if for the first time. It is always doing so as part of a network of critical references, and each work is merely an inflection of this ongoing critical environment. In a way it’s like the block chain security devised by Bitcoin where each transaction is recorded onto an ever-growing chain of verified transactions. If an incoming transaction does not have all the previous ones attached it will be rejected. Works of art in the critical canon have to absorb and reflect all previous works and critical positions: if they do not then they cannot be verified critically and cannot sit within the canon. They are in outer darkness critically and commercially. Meanwhile the critical canon becomes ever more bloated, unwieldy and impenetrable.

Read Part Three here

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Mark Wallinger’s ID – A Conversation (Part One).

On May 1st, Richard Guest & I visited Mark Wallinger’s show  ID  at Hauser & Wirth London W1. Afterwards, we discussed the show by email. The following is the result of several weeks’ electronic toing and froing.

Superego 2016 Stainless steel, glass mirror, motor 350 x 160 x 160 cm / 137 3/4 x 63 x 63 in Photo: Alex Delfanne

Wallinger’s Superego 2016 Stainless steel, glass mirror, motor 350 x 160 x 160 cm  Photo: Alex Delfanne

David: Firstly let me confess that I don’t know much about Mark Wallinger or his work apart from the copies of the Stubbs horse paintings which I prefer to the originals but consider pretty pointless. What (unusually) made me want to see this show were some reviews of it that I saw. I didn’t read them too closely but the fact they reached me in my bunker caused me to think that Hauser and Wirth are trying to reshape the critical landscape that art inhabits in a way that hasn’t been done (in London at least) since White Cube thrust itself upon us about fifteen years ago, and in a way that say Anthony d’Offay or the Lisson gallery have in the past. Is there a bit of a curatorial turf war in progress and is Mark Wallinger a pawn or a player? Or should I just be looking at the work?

Richard: I can see H&W as a hipper D’Offay (a gallery I used to love). Not sure what MW’s role is, but the exhibition’s an interesting one. The works I think of when I think of MW are Ecce Homo (1999) (a human-sized Jesus on the fourth plinth in Trafalgar Square), State Britain (2007) (a recreation in Tate Britain of peace campaigner Brian Haw’s anti-war protest display outside Parliament) and a video work called Angel. They were all conceptual works to a certain extent, but ones that had a strong emotional effect.

Shall we talk about the work in the order we saw it?

David: Well, the show comprises just six works (although one is a series of paintings) sparsely occupying the two pristine HW spaces on Saville Row. The first piece we saw in the South Gallery was Superego (2016) which is essentially a large mirrored triangular prism mounted on a rotating pole about three metres off the ground in the centre of a large bare room. I was watching it for a little while before it dawned on me that it was a replica of the famous Scotland Yard Sign with mirrored faces. The mirrors reflect only the room, and first I read it just as an optical toy, but then when I remembered where I had seen the shape before and it assumed another meaning in my mind (and probably only in my mind). The blankness of the mirrored facets reflecting the empty gallery although defining the motion in a hypnotic way seemed to imply a mindless automaton –  a machine efficiently ruling an empty world, indifferent to the futility of its task. Is this some kind of comment about the Met Police or is Wallinger just appropriating and abstracting a familiar shape in a way derivative of Jasper Johns’ Flag? (Amazing how much contemporary art seems to owe to that piece – much more than to Duchamp or anyone it seems to me).

Richard: Wallinger likes to play with British (pop cultural) icons – he displayed a shiny, super-reflective, Tardis at the Hayward Gallery in 2009 (Time and Relative Dimensions in Space, 2001). In that case, it looked as if Doctor Who’s police-box-shaped time machine was dematerialising in front of the viewer. The police again…

My gut feeling is that Wallinger is taking the Johns route, which coincidentally (or not) brings with it a certain amount of wry comment (in the 1970s, to the little kid me, the revolving sign, when seen on TV news, communicated the idea of law and order, and the authority (and possible omniscience) of the police. And did it succinctly. Who else had a revolving sign in the UK at the time? – it was positively space age!).

So with Superego, Mark Wallinger has stripped the object of its crime-fighting power and presents us with what? A deliberately dumb object. A symbol of authority transformed into a decorative object. Where Superego differs from Johns’ Flag is that the flag is in an ongoing relationship with the nation it represents. Wallinger’s Superego is time-locked to a certain extent; I feel like there is a definable demographic who would “get it”.

Definition:

superego

suːpərˈiːɡəʊ,-ˈɛɡəʊ,sjuː-/

noun

Psychoanalysis

noun: superego; plural noun: superegos; noun: super-ego; plural noun: super-egos

  1. the part of a person’s mind that acts as a self-critical conscience, reflecting social standards learned from parents and teachers.

“the father is the model for the superego”

Of course, it may just be a revolving mirror, ha ha.

In any case, I like how big it is, and the fact that it seems, initially at least, not to be saying anything. Is it the odd-man-out in the exhibition?

David: Maybe it is just an image of our superego as the police force of the mind, tirelessly reflecting society and its values back at us. It could be that literal. It’s hard to say if it’s the odd one out because MW seems keen to avoid any deliberate pattern to his work – at least in appearance – but there is a Freudian theme to the titles in the show. There is a sentence in the gallerist blurb which made my heart sink as I read it : “Wallinger utilises Sigmund Freud’s terms id, ego and superego in an interrogation of the psyche, the self and the subject”.  Oh dear. I don’t know how much clinical weight Freud’s definition of levels of consciousness still carries as a description of the mind but in art they seem to be familiar labels. Too familiar, perhaps. But we are getting ahead of ourselves: we came to id and ego after superego in the North Gallery, so once again we are going round an exhibition backwards, but we seem to like it better that way!

Found myself driving by one of the roundabouts on the A10, close to Orrery’s location. I did not find my muse here though…

Found myself driving by one of the roundabouts on the A10, close to Orrery’s location. I did not find my muse here though…

As it was we came to the three video works next. For me the most persuasive of the three pieces was Orrery (2016) – four journeys around a roundabout made at different times of the year shown on four screens where the viewer was in the middle. It was quite a neat trick to turn the commonplace experience of driving around a roundabout into a description of the cosmos but the other two video pieces – a filmed shadow walk and a static tableau of a barber’s shop – were less successful for me.  I think we both have reservations about video in galleries, or maybe just short attention spans…did these work for you?

Richard: Yes, I liked Orrery and its air of flat artlessness (it made me feel nostalgic for video art in the Eighties (specifically the late night spot on our local ITV channel, which I watched religiously).

Ever Since (2012), the static tableau of a barber’s shop was interesting for having no discernible action taking place, and at first I thought it was one element of a video installation – Shadow Walker being the other part. There was a nice tension in the room between the static image of one and the relentless motion of the other. I liked the mystery of Ever Since. Seen in isolation, Shadow Walker reminded me of a lot of boring (not in a good way), handheld video made in the Nineties and 2000s). Watching someone’s (Wallinger?) shadow as they progress along a street from the perspective of a handheld camera quickly pales as a viewing experience. I’m sure this is the point, but I was impatient to get away from the video after a couple of minutes. Having said that, Shadow Walker creates a nice bit of visual noise, which destabilises the exhibition and keeps me interested in what Wallinger chose to show.

…(Part Two to follow)…

To Be Perfectly Frank – The Movie

selfportraitauerbach-largeJust back from a screening of Frank, a new documentary portrait of Frank Auerbach by his son, film-maker Jake Auerbach at King’s Place.

It was a simple format – Frank was shown a video of his retrospective in Bonn (the same show now at Tate Britain) and he talks about the paintings and issues arising.

Overall you are left with the sense that Frank is one of the few people who has not wasted his time on Planet Earth. He has pursued the ostensibly pointless diversion of painting with an obsession that endows it with extraordinary intensity and unique value.

The seemingly limitless choices of creativity seem like a paradise to those of us who live within walls prescribed by quotidian exigencies. We are constrained by our lives, but to paint without restriction imposes its own harder discipline. Frank has accepted that servitude gladly and we are given the benefits of his dedication when we look at his paintings.

In the film, Frank is illuminating about the process behind his paintings but in a way that mystifies it more. There are some things that cannot be explained – they have to be experienced. When paintings ‘work’ they are precious vessels that share life experience between people over thousands of miles, over centuries. The difficulty of attaining this goal causes Frank to ruthlessly revise his work until it does: a process that can take years for a single picture.

Frank abandoned a career as an actor in favour of painting. This seems almost unbelievable given his apparent reticence to talk about his work or appear on camera. His stance seems almost the obverse of Andy Warhol who seems to have been shy in the extreme in his private life and the reverse in his artistic one. Frank may have kept the art world at arm’s length, but he knows exactly how long his arm is…

His work is the embodiment of the tension between the Old Masters and Contemporary  Art, yet it belongs to neither. It goes its own way. Stick to your guns, Frank!

To Be Perfectly Frank

Frank Auerbach at Tate Britain Millbank London SW1

Miles Richmond at Messum’s Cork St London W1

Frank Auerbach Head of JYM 1984-5

Frank Auerbach Head of JYM 1984-5

The Frank Auerbach show at Tate Britain is a very classy retrospective hung by the artist and long time Auerbach cohort Catherine Lampert (depicted in some of the pictures). It does not follow the usual pattern of a retrospective: although chronological it doesn’t really attempt to show linear artistic development. Rather it shows evolving treatments of the same themes (sometimes the exact same ones) over a lifetime’s work. And at Tate Britain rather than Tate Modern it eschews the ephemeral trendiness of the latter for a more enduring relationship with the past.

Auerbach is famous, slightly notorious in some ways, for his extreme work ethic – seven long days a week in the studio. But a relatively small output – a couple of dozen paintings a year. This show is a core sample of that intense output, showing the same sitters and views from the 1950s to today. There is no fat on it. Now well into his eighties he has not let up at all, rather the reverse – still a lot of painting he needs to do, he says, and he is more reluctant than ever to leave the studio. So what’s my excuse?

Frank in the Studio - a good day at the office...

Frank in the Studio – a good day at the office…

Sometimes I think Frank’s painting is Impressionism gone mad, sometimes it seems more like Expressionism gone sane. It is the tension between and synthesis of the two that makes his work so compelling. Everything in the work comes from observation of the subject, but he is building a pictorial equivalent of the subject through dynamic interaction with paint not an illustration. Some people just never get this. That’s just the way it goes. Yet to some he is a stubborn reactionary for whom other postwar ‘developments’ in art simply never happened.

In the years 1945-53 the gears of the world were still turning and the seeds of the future being sown despite the exhaustion following the war. Pol Pot was studying engineering in Paris and in Minnesota, the four year old Bob Dylan was singing ‘Accentuate the Positive’ at a family gathering. In London, Frank Auerbach was attending David Bomberg’s drawing classes .

Miles Richmond - Ronda Landscape

Miles Richmond – Ronda Landscape

Miles Richmond - Self Portrait

Miles Richmond – Self Portrait

Bomberg had by this time turned his back on the aggressive modernism of his youth and returned to painting from life. Also there was Miles Richmond, whose work is also on show in London at the moment. Lesser known, and much more redolent of Bomberg, there is nonetheless a lot of energy and interest in Richmond’s work. It just has not forged a new vision in the way that Auerbach’s has. And I think that has a lot to do with the extreme commitment that Auerbach makes to every painting and the despair that he accordingly feels when it falls short – as all paintings inevitably do. But that only reinforces his determination to carry on. And as he is a very introspective, even insular artist who very much goes his own way oblivious to the rest of the art world, this internal conflict between energy and rational despair gives his hand its unique quality. So many artists today, almost all of them in fact, are desperate to avoid the ‘hand’ of the artist being apparent. It is not Duchampian, Warholian, Johnsian, empirical – they would maintain. But that is because their hands are weak.

Lucien Freud in bed under an Auerbach drawing (Daily Telegraph)

Lucien Freud in bed under an Auerbach drawing (Daily Telegraph)

The Original Piss Artist

Keith Arnatt at Sprüth Magers 7A Grafton Street W1

Keith Arnatt Artist's Piss

Keith Gets Sprüthed Up… Keith Arnatt Artist’s Piss

I was quietly thrilled (in my totally undemonstrative way) to find an exhibition of Keith Arnatt (1930-2008) at the Sprüth Magers gallery in Grafton Street yesterday. Long a favourite of The Eyeball, I can only hope this show leads to more recognition for this under-appreciated artist.

The paradox is that Arnatt is under-appreciated and over-appreciated at the same time. The central theme of his work in this show is the question of how to remove himself from the work. His signature piece Self Burial (1969) is on show alongside The Absence of the Artist (1968) and Portrait of the Artist as a Shadow of his Former Self (1969-72). The more he fights against the cult of artists’ personalities, the more he builds his own. Or at least fascinates by enigma of his withdrawal.

Keith Arnatt's Self Burial

Keith Arnatt’s Self Burial

This uncomfortable conflict and the sceptical, sardonic tone of Arnatt’s work anticipates Punk and its iconoclastic battles with the Music establishment a few short years later. But Arnatt is not posturing – his work is genuinely self-effacing as well as self defacing. He could find, indeed actively sought, subject matter in the slightest or most benighted places. From conceptual denial (Is it Possible to do Nothing as my Contribution to this Exhibition) to his Artist’s Piss. The latter surely an acerbic response to the discreet continental poetry of Piero Manzoni’s Artist’s Breath.

The gallery itself is understated – not too large, or pretending to be a museum. When I have been in the past it has been showing other minimal and sometimes quite difficult work in an approachable and sympathetic environment. Which is rare. I went into the gallery looking for Keith Arnatt. He wasn’t there, but actually… he was.

Mirror Plug (1968)

Mirror Plug (1968)

London Art Odyssey #1 Down the Hackney Road

HackneyRoad_01

Smile! You’re on the Hackney Road.

So many times we hear lip service paid to the concept of art outside the gallery. Usually from artists and gallerists who want to expand their ego or their selling space for nothing. But sometimes there are naturally occurring efflorescences of art in the real world. Driving down the Hackney Road, which is not somewhere I  used to go that often, I was amazed at the variety of street art. There are murals, painted hoardings and all sorts of other official and not so official graffiti. I decided to go back on foot and take a closer look. The trip along it on foot took me about twenty minutes from Shoreditch High Street up towards Mare St. It is one of those well trodden routes of London which are continually changing like a river bank as life flows along them. I did not see any actual galleries in the Hackney Road, but there was a lot to look at, and the pictures inspire you to look at other things around as if they were art too…better than most exhibitions in fact.

Not Dürer...

Not Dürer…

These artists know each other I am sure, but I don’t know who they are at all and I quite like that. I am instantly freed of the burden of trying to remember their names and contextualising their career.  Although I feel slightly like I am looking at their work like a zoologist would at the mating rituals of an exotic insect. What has been created – and I doubt it will last forever – is an amazing visually rich environment in the scuffed urban landscape.

There are themes that recur: a sort of ironic take on consumer culture, giant comics particularly science fiction ones, a sort of vaguely anti-capitalist paranoia, a little art history but the images are diverse and spontaneous – what’s more they are unafraid. They have nothing to lose – so unlike what is inside art galleries, where reputations and valuations around art brands are effectively straightjackets of style and we are fed an institutionalised version of innovation.

Hackney Road

Hackney Road

The ephemeral nature of painting on a hoarding frees the mind – this work feels honest and uninhibited, but because the practitioners have experience it is not unsophisticated. The Hackney Road painters are probably artists away from the street art too, but I suspect that the on-street work is the most true and expressive because it is a direct form of communication to people who will actually see it as they pass by -all sorts of people,  not the self selected elite who choose to go to an art gallery. In their ‘real’ work I bet these artists are one way or another hidebound by the conventions of the art world in whichever area they have gravitated to, by trying to please that audience.

Here today, covered by Father Ted tomorrow...

Here today, covered by Father Ted tomorrow…

Distressed walls provide a natural aesthetic – it looks real because it is real. In a gallery that level of decay always feels false, but here it feels true. The flyposters, adverts and signs add – they are not just noise in the signal as they would be normally. The paintings compete on level terms with ads and signs and are integrating art into the area in a way no gallery could. There are little ‘site specific’ touches and  a lot of detail, so much detail in fact that I only spotted it when going through the photos afterwards. There is an amazing layering at work too, graffiti and overpainting are an integral part of the organic decay and rebirth that ties the work to the place. Some images have so much in them that even now I can’t spot it all –

 

MinervaSt_01

Minerva Street, corner of Hackney Road and details following

MinervaSt_02

Minerva Street

MinervaSt_03

Minerva Street

You can start to look at all things as if they were art. This beautiful bit of road painting was my favorite…

20 -20 vision in the Hackney Road

20 -20 vision in the Hackney Road

The Golden Donut Award

Anish Kapoor at the Lisson Gallery, 52-54 Bell Street

...and the award goes to...

…and the award goes to…

Anish Kapoor has become one of the most established British Artists of today. A bit of an irony since he started as an ‘outsider’ to the art establishment of the 1980s.

But that was a time when merely being from a different ethnic group sufficed to make you seem an ‘interesting’ artist; apparently we did not expect people with Indian heritage to be making European style contemporary art back then. Although he was obviously not the first, he did synthesise the two cultures quite neatly. His use of loose pigment in bright colours on top of simple geometric forms displayed on the floor was fresh and appealing. The pigment recalled an Indian tradition, the forms a more modern kind of minimal European one.

Classic 1980s Kapoor. Image: Tate

Classic 1980s Kapoor. Image: Tate

The work was not overly intellectual or emotionally involving, but carrying just enough of the right kind of artistic baggage to be let into the Fine Art club. It was instantly recognisable and marketable – he became one of the golden stars of the Lisson Gallery pantheon, the success of whom made Nicholas Logsdail seem the Svengali of the minimal. Much art at the Lisson is very ‘cool’ in tone – detached and ironically self aware.

Spin the clock forward thirty years to this new Lisson Gallery show and there is something new on offer. Paintings of resin and silicon. Meant to suggest meat, flesh and blood they hang on the wall thick and overpoweringly heavy and red. The dense physicality of the resin stretching across these huge works does have impact: almost defiling that clean and ordered space. For contrast there are a couple of more familiar mirror surface curved forms and a couple of stone floor sculptures – very smooth and cool.

New work does not meat expectations...

New work does not meat expectations…

But it is all about the meat paintings. I say paintings, but really they are reliefs. They are not successful – they fall between various styles. Imagine a similar work done by Ron Mueck or the Boyle family – it would be rivetingly hyper-real. Or imagine it done by Leon Kossoff – it would have the full emotional impact of flesh riven from the bone. Or even dear old Damien Hirst. He would leave us in no doubt about the reality of the situation, or the sensual high to be had by examining the decay of our flesh.

There is none of this. The blurb invokes Rembrandt, Soutine and Bacon, it should not. These works are neither a visceral realistic recreation of meat nor an imaginative equivalent. The colours are wrong – too simple to be real and yet somehow to descriptive to be painterly. Instead we are faced with something akin to a slasher film which has no plot, and hopes that buckets of fake gore will do the trick. Some weak minded punters may get a cheap thrill, but even for them I suspect that feeling will fade real quick. You can’t condemn an artist for trying something new, but I don’t think he will be remembered for this work.

The qualities of the resin beguiled him into making this leap, but on their own they cannot support it – Kapoor would love to regard himself as a painter, but he has been too cool to get his hands dirty up to now, but now it is too late.

He appears very interested in surfaces. He is a superficial artist – in the best possible sense. He allows the surface more prominence than other sculptors. His form merely allows the surface to display its properties – colour, reflection, absorption and so on. A while back I met a fabricator who had worked for him when I was teaching a 3D modelling class. I remarked that some of the sculptures at his previous Lisson show (this was in 2007) looked like a Maya primitive object with one or two vertices pulled out and then carved or cast on a large scale in a material with a gorgeous surface. He agreed, and said that was pretty much the case. But in a way this allows the simple forms to speak, and that is all to the good.

Some say his work is spiritual, but I would say that it is – to me anyway – blank. Perhaps my spiritual life is void, but I would suggest any spirituality seen in this work is a cultural overlay brought by the viewer. Who cares though, when the surfaces are this delicious?

you can see the centre of the universe from here.

You can see the centre of the universe from here.