Saturday 4th October - Tate Britain

Our visit to the Tate Britain was driven initially by the follow-up task we had to complete, which was to write a short review of one of several predetermined exhibitions. Of personal note were Phylidda Barlow's dock and the Turner Prize Gallery; however, my favourite display was not actually part of the brief, but a long-term showcase of art history sponsored by BP. In particular I enjoyed the more modern section of work from the 1960s and 70s, including such pieces as Hockney's Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy, which I found aesthetically far more enjoyable than many of the other exhibitions we were allowed to work with.

Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy, by David Hockney. The bright colours and well-realised lighting give the piece a very calm, warm look, and the clear yet not hyper-realistic characters do a good job of conveying their appearance in an appealing and compelling style.

For the brief I decided to focus on dock, as I couldn't really connect with any of the work in the Turner Prize exhibit on any meaningful level. dock was more interesting initially purely on a visual level, as the towering structures make an impact the moment one enters the room. Walking around, underneath, through and inbetween each sculpture creates an immense sense of scale, inspiring a feeling of awe in keeping with the expected reaction to large monuments or buildings. However, this feeling is somewhat diluted, intentionally, as closer inspection reveals these towering creations are nothing more than timber, plastic, and other common refuse materials. These are used as a counterpoint and contrast to much of the other highly polished and developed sculptures in the Tate Britain, and refer back to the chaotic, industrial environment brought to mind by the title dock. 

 The first piece encountered in the dock exhibition. Its sparse nature and spread out construction allows for unique appreciation from various angles unapproachable by traditional sculptures.

I enjoyed the raw, untamed style present in this exhibition, and the jumble of materials and constructions made for interesting viewing that maintained freshness and variety from every angle. In particular I enjoyed a piece shaped (to my mind) like a cresting wave, made from various poles and pieces of driftwood. The sensation of movement and danger created from standing under a still piece was incredible, and unlike any reaction I had experienced from sculpture before. The physical interactivity with which one could climb inside, underneath or around each piece made for unique appreciation for the constructive work that goes into each piece, and while the obstructive nature of the large work meant that navigating the exhibition could be restrictive it also created a sense of being guided by the artist around the architecture of this wasteland city. I found the showing as a whole engaging and thought-provoking, and certainly successful in challenging the form of traditional architecture and the stereotypically neat and refined pieces that make up the majority of the body of this medium.

A view from underneath one of the exhibits. The claustrophobic, oppressive sensation felt being inside the piece was impressive, especially considering how open and full of gaps its construction actually was. Each piece of wood is clearly carefully considered before being placed such that they form a tight-knit lattice that creates a very solid structure without being wasteful with material.