Already a subscriber? Log in
Cerith Wyn Evans’s serene promenade up the Regent’s Canal with Susan Stenger was more obtuse but no less fabulous. She rode with him in a stubby blue barge, playing her woody, ghostly flute. They came cruising alongside the weeping willows towards an audience-packed bridge beside the geometric netting of London Zoo’s aviary. Above the bridge one of Wyn Evans’s white neon signs misquoted a line from James Merrill, ‘So, I came to know what the japanese (sic) puppets taught us, namely, what it means to be moved….’, aiming to be viewed as much by the birds as the humans. There was Wyn Evans’ typical emphasis on wit, but the texture of the performance had soul too, the setting modern with a whisper of the occult. Stenger’s sounds ramped up as they sailed under the bridge, and Wyn Evans, remaining in the shaded bows, waved just once to the few who could see him from the lower towpath, before donning his wide-brimmed hat and … staying hidden.
Isabel Lewis at Frieze
Far less retiring, Isabel Lewis’s An Occasion as she called it, was directly sensual and relied on dialogue with the crowd, who sipped free beers on vintage furniture. While DJing she used the bass to deliver palpable vibrations, laughing to one woman, ‘It always feels good to feel those vibrations down there’. She was using sound and other senses to prompt people to feel the ambience of objects around them (the density of the concrete floor, the radiance of the plants). That Lewis did all this without instigating an immense audience cringe – despite her persistent eye contact – was near miraculous.
A similar attention to how art feels through the body made the regular Sculpture Park (in the English Gardens beside the Frieze tents) rather good this year. There were disappointments: seeing another of Yayoi Kusama’s Pumpkin(s) on a verge seemed a lazy choice following her over-exposure and appearance here last year, but these smudges were drowned out by successes. Martin Creed’s video Work No.732 was glorious shown 10-feet-tall between a towering fir tree and a red-berried holly-bush. It’s easy for a moving image to claim our attention, but still this work was beautifully placed, and wittily curated, opposing a contemporary spin on the neo-classical nude by Reza Aramesh, and Work No.732’s techy presence rubbed perfectly up against its neighbour, a wicker hut with primitive faces on each wall.
Martin Creed’s Work No.732
Gabriele de Santis’s giant emoticons looked as surreal as could be in front of the historic Regency houses beside the park – an unattainable effect in a white cube. Richard Nonas’ series of boulders in pairs, titled Wedge, subtly echoed the vertebrae of Matt Johnson’s neighbouring Baby Dinosaur, and tempted more than one visitor to sit on the artworks. For many the centrepiece appeared to be Small Lie by KAWS; this giant slumped cartoon character, encased in dark wood parquet, towered above the trees proving too good a photo opp for many to resist. Not Vital’s globular HEAD (Mao) provided equal entertainment as local teenagers stopped to take distorted selfies in its mirrored surface before leaving it to reflect its leafy surroundings.
Also by Kasia Maciejowska
Latest
Comments
Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just $5 for 3 monthsAlready a subscriber? Log in