Art

The Next Four Years of The Fourth Plinth

Charlotte Simmonds | Thursday 17 February, 2011 14:06

January’s unveiling of the winning sculptures proposed to occupy Trafalgar Square’s Fourth Plinth put an unpleasant taste in my mouth, the likes of which I have not experienced since I accidentally used my flat mate’s toothbrush.

Occupying one of the four corners of the formidable forum in front of London’s National Gallery the podium, originally slated for a likeness of King William IV, has stood disused since the plan proved unpopular and under-funded. In a remarkable act of ‘going with the times’, we decided not to cling to tradition and rather to embrace the new. Over the last decade the city transformed this would-be sore thumb into a showcase for the best in modern sculpture, holding biennial competitions commissioning artists to fill the plinth.

Now, London has here a highly admirable and unique situation as contemporary objects create a provocative juxtaposition amid London’s gilded austerity. And yet, with the good news came the natural concern that such a fabulous opportunity would almost certainly be squandered; that Art, plus Pubic Space, plus Politics, plus Tourist Dollars etc would ensure nothing too exciting made it to the top. But, surprisingly, whoever was on Plinth duty at the time managed not to botch things up, for a while at least. Back in 2005 there was Marc Quinn’s provocative yet dignified Allison Lapper Pregnant. The nude sculpture of his friend, (a woman born with chromosomal Phocomelia), sat oddly out of place beside the flawless physicality of Nelson and Co. It was the perfect confrontation. Two years later, German architect Thomas Schütte offered up Model for a Hotel (rumoured to be for pigeons). Triumphant in its own right, the dazzling coloured-glass structure held its ground against the formidable buildings that enshrouded it.

Then we had Antony Gormley’s much hyped One and Other, an ambitious act of ‘living sculpture’ in which thousands of participants each took to the Plinth every hour, at all hours, for twenty four hundred hours straight. It was, like the Plinth itself, a concept so inspired that perhaps it was destined to disappoint from the beginning. I mean, when you put everything in the hands of spontaneous and unplanned performance you can plan on getting the good with the bad. I myself visited on numerous occasions, only to be treated to a spectacle of unrehearsed rambles, crowd-pleasing group photos, and a lot of standing around. Other features like an ever-present support staff and a truly prehistoric lift carting performers on and off added a decided lack of spontaneity to the whole affair.

The BBC summed it up pretty when they referred to Gormley’s hundred-day project as “2,400 people taking [the plinth] for an hour, with some standing naked.” Yes, some people did get naked. But if public nudity were the most profound thing we can glean from such a grand undertaking, then calling One and Other progressive would be a bit of a stretch.

Currently on the perch you’ll find Nelson’s Ship in a Bottle by Yinka Shonibare. It’s a slightly cliché construction (I mean, its Lord Nelson’s ship… in a bottle…) with some redeemable kitsch qualities. It has an all-ages nostalgic appeal, looks great when the sun hits from behind, and the creator has some pretty interesting comments about colonialism and diversity to accompany it but still.

Last week the highly anticipated line-up of not the next two, but the next four years atop plinth-topia has been revealed. And the works that will carry glorious London through some “exceptional” times, including the Olympics and a Royal Wedding, well see for yourself in this video over at the BBC”.

First up is the ambiguously titled Powerless Structures Fig. 101, created by Danish/Norwegian artistic duo Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset. Considering the piece comes from an ongoing continuum of sculpture (most of which far superior to this), it’s unfortunate that Figure 101 lacks the wit and boldness that usually characterizes their work. It features a very bronze, boy riding his very bronze, very Harrods catalogue rocking horse. I’m not really sure what else to say. It’s a simple piece and there is merit in simplicity, don’t get me wrong. But there’s something in the paper cut-out quality of the horse, the expressionless stupor in the child’s face that makes this work exceedingly dull. Who is this caricature supposed to represent? What worldly insight can we glean from such a work? Attempts are made to enlighten us; first Michael points out the beyond obvious resemblance the work bears to traditional statues featuring men on horseback. Then silence. Hang on, so are you guys trying to say something about traditionalism, or the formulaic and self-aware pose oft assumed by those put on a pedestal?

Speaking resumes, and Ingar highlights themes of youth and the ‘heroism of growing up’. Wait, wait, what? So is this intended then to make a statement about universal experiences of childhood? Or the naivety of the young? Or the tendency of the individual to fetishize grandeur? God, it’s like pulling teeth. Ending with the ultra-ambiguous statement, “life is about more than victory and defeat. It’s about the smaller things.”

Once that one comes down, we’ll have Katharina Fritsch’s big blue Cock, which could easily be renamed “Rooster with an Obvious Title”. The inspiration for this piece comes pretty readily from the celebrated tradition of pop/post-pop art found in the work of sculptors such as Claes Oldenburg or Jeff Koons. It belongs to that niche of contemporary art, which relies on an overdose of colour to shock the viewer into appreciation. Mass appeal usually ensues. It’s a tactic that works here. Cock is definitely a brilliant, if not slightly too trendy shade of blue. But what does this piece have to offer beyond the obvious? Not much apparently. Mumblings of a faux-taboo criticism of male posturing keep floating around in the press, but Ms. Fritsch prefers a discussion of construction materials when given her chance to clear the air. Later in print, she discloses her hopes that the work will be “a chance to inject some colour into the square”. Wow, I’m sorry Fritsch, but Andy Warhol already did Technicolor farm animals forty years ago and elements of your previous work have been much more inspiring. To a lot of people this isn’t going to look like edgy social commentary so much as something they once bought at Urban Outfitters to step up their dorm room.

The thing that stings the most is that there are just so many fabulous sculpture artists out there, creating innovative and gorgeous works that astound and, most importantly, provoke thought. And this stuff is not hard to find. The recent Newspeak: British Art Now exhibition showcased some talented British sculptors including the absurdly marvellous works of Steve Bishop and the rough hewn surrealism of Alexander Hoda. Look around small galleries and you’ll probably find better; Rachel Kneebone’s deliciously Baroque figures (on display at The White Cube) look positively Bernini inspired next to that kid on his rocking horse.

Even the other artists included on the shortlist seemed to care a bit more about tantalizing our senses. Another double act, Allora and Calzadilla, put both heads to better use and designed a working ATM that could be inserted at the base of the plinth. When accessed, said ATM would activate a monstrous pipe organ sitting atop and subsequently blast music throughout the square, a variable symphony to announce that personal monetary transactions were currently underway. Why haven’t we got one of these guys on the ball? All right I get it; it’s certainly easier to face the syrupy niceties of ‘childhood as heroism’, or to wink approvingly at cheeky undertones of ‘male posturing’ than it is to face uncomfortable issues like flagrant materialism or dirty sex.

But…wait a minute… isn’t that what contemporary art is about? The bits that make you a little uncomfortable? Wasn’t that why we all gathered round last year, because we hoped that one of those Plinth-toppers would be outlandish, outspoken, stirring, stimulating, or (gasp) naked? Whether it’s impossible to look at or unbearably beautiful, it is the extremes of reaction that make a work exhilarating. Oscar Wilde once rightful asserted that: “diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.” Would either of these projects dare to describe themselves with such a loaded group of adjectives? And more importantly, why don’t they aspire to?

Perhaps it could be argued that the works I have mentioned are not beautiful, that Structures or Cock have a more universal appeal as aesthetic objects. But does this not question the nature of beauty itself? Is the bland but attractive form truly more beautiful to experience than the cathartic rush of an unexpected vision?

However dull the art council’s selection may be, these two works could have at least been slightly redeemed had their makers been a touch more enthused when given the chance to speak for themselves. In most situations you can get away with anything as long as you confidently and articulately justify it. Go ahead and stick your urinal on a pedestal or your shark in formaldehyde, just make sure to do it with some passion. Unfortunately this seems to be the ingredient that, coupled with a lack of creative ingenuity, has left these projects reeking of the uninspired.

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