NATIONAL GALLERY until 24th November
SAINTS ALIVE
SAINTS ALIVE
 |
| 2013, Mixed media; 282 x 76 x 86 cm,
Michael Landy, courtesy of the Thomas Dane Gallery, London
/ Photo: The National Gallery, London
|
Should
I - or should I not - take my young grandsons to see this exhibition? On the
one hand, it's not likely that they will get to see Jean Tinguely's hilarious
and mesmerising mechanical sculptures any day soon in this country. This Swiss
kinetic sculptor is best known for work which cobbles together junk, is
dangerous, is fun, and critiques the excesses of our society. In 1984 when
Landy saw Tinguely's work in the Tate he loved it. 'Everyone had smiles on
their faces’.
Now
as Artist-in-Residence at the National Gallery Landy has had the chance to
build seven kinetic sculptures representing seven stories of popular saints. (What is it about the number seven - it's
everywhere in folk tales and rhymes?) They're made from recycled machinery,
broken children’s toys and unwanted junk, and casts from details in the
National Gallery's paintings. The number of visitors at any one time is
restricted so that everyone has a chance to pull the levers, wrench the wheels and
stamp on the foot pedals to get each machine going. It is not a silent show: it
screeches and rattles and howls. It is visceral and theatrical in a way that
painting cannot be. It's great fun.
What's
not to like? Well, St Apollonia is said to have been tortured by having her
teeth pulled out. Here she keeps raising pliers to her face, chipping away at
the plaster. She destroys a little more of herself each time, reminding us that
martyrdom is often embraced with fortitude rather than avoided at
all costs. St Jerome beats his chest with a rock, rather than sitting mildly in
some peace-laden library with a dozy lion, the way he's usually shown. Most
disturbing of all is a story taken straight out of St John's Gospel where St
Thomas's finger is shown repeatedly trying to probe the wounded torso of Christ.
What's
not to like about these cartoon characters? I respect the power of myths,
believing that they can speak the unspeakable, reaching parts words cannot
reach. Laura Cummings (see Guardian review below) writes of the show as 'a tremendous
event that seizes the viewer, involving us in a spectacle of passion,
conviction, suffering and belief driven both literally and mechanically by
violence. Their true subject, in this respect, is awe'.
Are
my grandsons ready for this? The answer is very probably.
You may be able to find Adrian Hamilton's perceptive article Heavenly Bodies 20 September 2013 in the inewspaper.
This
MOMA link www.moma.org/collection/object.php?object_id=81174 describes one of Tinguely's works as:
'composed of bicycle wheels,
motors, a piano, an addressograph, a go-cart, a bathtub, and other cast-off
objects...the machine was set in motion on March 18, 1960, before an audience
in the Museum’s sculpture garden. During its brief operation, a meteorological
trial balloon inflated and burst, colored smoke was discharged, paintings were
made and destroyed, and bottles crashed to the ground. A player piano, metal
drums, a radio broadcast, a recording of the artist explaining his work, and a
competing shrill voice correcting him provided the cacophonic sound track to
the machine’s self-destruction—until it was stopped short by the fire
department'.
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