A Very Happy Chicken

What has Waldemar Januszczak gone and done this time? Nothing, apparently. Yesterday’s Sunday Times Culture supplement extended an olive branch to Tate Britain, not from the beak of a pristine white dove but from the beak of a chicken, as Januszczak reviewed the new folk art exhibition at Millbank.

The Sunday Times Culture. 15/06/14. Pages 18 & 19.

I have seen this exhibition advertised on the tube but I haven’t visited it yet. I know very little about folk art but it did not strike me as an exhibition that Januszczak would find awe-inspiring. Januszczak, during his Curtis witch-hunt in April stated that the ‘Tate Britain’s obvious problem is that it no longer connects with its audience’ and to be honest I am not sure that this exhibition strikes mass appeal; it is a niche genre.

Januszczak, on the other hand, loved it. Dredging the kindest adjectives from the lake of his mind he writes a coherent and uplifting review of an exhibition which ‘takes us on a notably airy journey through the Sherwood Forest of native creativity.’ He notes that ‘times change, and so do aesthetic dynamics’, perhaps suggesting an acceptance of the direction of Tate Britain under Penelope Curtis. This exhibition is ‘lovely’, ‘carefully colour-coded’, ‘inventiveness, a belief in effortless skill’ and ‘Judging by this delightful and beautifully presented tribute, it is, essentially, a happy language driven by important communal understandings.’

Confused by such a heart-wrenching review, it is like reading about a child experiencing its first memorable Christmas. I am pleased that Januszczak has kissed and made up with Tate Britain but I think I need someone to throw a glass of fresh water in my face to really believe it.

Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2014

Having handed in my MA dissertation the day before, in a blur of confusion and angst, a formatting crisis and a 2.30am printing session, my mother and I set off for the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition on Friday (mildly hungover from dissertation celebrations).

Stolen Thunder II by Cornelia Parker

For anyone in yearly attendance of the Summer Exhibition, you will agree that one needs a couple of days to process the vast display and sheer volume of work hung floor to ceiling. A million different themes and subjects, mediums and colours, this exhibition is not for the faint-hearted. You can do little to prepare yourself for this overwhelming but incredible collection.

This year felt far more cheerful and witty than previous years with work such as Stolen Thunder II by Cornelia Parker, a play on last year’s Stolen Thunder I, which was a play on the red sales dots showing the popularity of an original print.

Work No. 398: ‘Assholes’ by Martin Creed

Work No. 398: ‘Assholes’ by Martin Creed in the Lecture Room was another jovial piece. I researched Creed’s Work No. 227: The Lights Going On and Off for a lecture Penelope Curtis is delivering next year at the National Gallery and I didn’t really understand the significance of such a simple piece. It is not until Creed talks about his work in interviews that realisation hits. Art has the potential to fill a space, to be all-consuming, you can be locked in a room with it and unable to escape it, it is power. Creed does not only work with visual art but also works with music. In an interview by Mikel Toms, Creed explains that music is an interesting medium for art as you are able to watch it being produced; it takes you on a journey as the symphony unravels. Painting however, only allows you to see the finished product; in many ways the process is irrelevant. The Lights Going On and Off was a visual piece of art, it was making sculpture like a piece of music. It filled a room and provided a journey through a changing space, like music filling a car from a stereo.

Assholes is nothing like The Lights Going On and Off, it is simply ‘assholes’ spelt out in white neon lights, placed centrally on a white-washed wall, unassuming and happily offensive. However, around every letter is a sort of aura, it is its own energy. For some reason this piece would not work in another colour. The light is pure and fantastical, phonetically spelling ‘arseholes’ to give the reader the same northern dialect as the artist himself. Light, like music, fills a room. If this room was dark it would be the only artwork that could be seen and it would reflect off of the entire space in varying degrees. This art is another of Creed’s all-consuming, inescapable pieces providing a journey no matter how crude.

Tom Philips’ After Henry James.

Cake Man (II) by Yinka Shonibare

Other pieces included Cake Man (II) by Yinka Shonibare, a wonder in textile as well as contemporary sculpture. This piece is in every child’s imagination, there is something magical about it. It is the precarious balance of colour and height. Everyone wants to be the hero by catching the cake at the top of the pile which is mid fall. It was good to see an overlap of literature and art with a quote from Henry James’ The Middle Years in Tom Philips’ After Henry James.

Finally, Joe Tilson exhibited several similar pieces on Venice, although they were not curated together but separated to different rooms. Stones of Venice San Nicolo Dei Mendicoli Venusia depicts a small twelfth-century church in the centre dedicated to St Nicholas, originally used for worship by poor fishermen. The church is surrounded by a coloured tile effect. It brings the classical Venice, in the form of early architecture, in conjunction with the modern tourist, surrounded by colourful stalls displaying jewellery and clothes. The different orientation of the tiles on this piece remind me of the cramped shops of Venice down tiny streets, the never ending crowds of people brushing past you and the colours made in the water by the surrounding buildings.

Stones of Venice San Nicolo Dei Mendicoli Venusia by Joe Tilson

If you have the stamina and the concentration, the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition is a fantastic exhibition of contemporary art. You may even pick up a piece to take home as prices vary between £40 and over £600,000.