Sculpture has tended to receive short shrift in this country. There have been few commercial galleries specialising in sculpture and the emphasis has been on painting rather than three-dimensional work. The esteemed Royal Academy has only ever elected three sculptors as its resident – discounting Lord Leighton, who was best known as a painter, although he also created memorable sculptures, one of which is included in the current exhibition Modern British Sculpture.
Given the background, this new show – the first for some 40 years – is therefore doubly welcome. In the event, the result is a mixed bag. The early part, which looks at the way artists in the early decades of the 20th century, wanting to break away from the academic approach typical of the 19th century, looked to a variety of cultures and materials for inspiration, is clearly and intelligently argued. The later decades, with their eclectic mix of concepts and ideas is more problematic. There are no clear threads, no linear argument and, although each room seeks to identify key moments in changing attitudes, the result confuses rather than clarifies.
Asserting the artist’s debt to ancient cultures, one room is devoted to sculptural fragments that include a highly abstract Sumerian bird form some 4,000 years old, a sinister Easter Island head in basalt, an Indian figurative relief of a Mexican reclining figure carved in stone. Placed among these tasters and looking perfectly at home is work by modern sculptors, including Eric Gill’s finely carved phallic-looking female head.
One of the stars of the exhibition is Jacob Epstein’s monumental figure Adam, carved in alabaster, the naked body with giant genitals in a state of arousal. It displays desire and directness in both attitude and technique, giving the carving an almost shocking vitality. Few artists at the time had the nerve to exploit the physical vigour and virility of carving or to represent sexuality in such a direct way. Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth flirted with sexuality, such as in Moore’s Snake, but it is in a highly coded form. Fearlessly, Epstein courted controversy and carried out Adam for himself. However, even in commissioned work, he had no hesitation in depicting explicit male and female nudes on public buildings to cries of outrage from the establishment.
The obsession with making, so vital to sculptures in the early part of the previous century is not entirely lost in later work, as “fabricators” took over the task of making objects in collaboration with the artist. A perfect example of hands-off is Damien Hirst’s Let’s Eat Outside, consisting of two linked vitrines that hold a life-size abandoned barbecue and a table at which the meal has been served. But this is a desolate scene that is abandoned to thousands of flies that feed on the remains of the food before dying on a fly-zapping machine. It is life and death in an endless cycle.
Rebecca Warren’s modelled clay fragment of a caricatured pair of legs connected by a vagina has a deliberate fragility that calls on the work of Helmut Newton and Robert Crumb. Equally intriguing is Bill Woodrow’s witty Electric Fire with Yellow Fish. The fish, cut from the reflecting metal behind the electric element and painted yellow, swims silently behind the protective cage of the fire.
While questioning what is sculpture (are installations sculpture?), what is “new” and the role of sculpture today, Modern British Sculpture raises timely and pertinent issues. While offering no answers, it makes fascinating connections and insights.
Modern British Sculpture, accompanied by a thoughtful catalogue continues until April 7
