In her lecture at the end of term, artist Linder Sterling relayed her first encounter with the work of Barbara Hepworth; she visited Hepworth's St Ives garden at night, experiencing the sculpture through touch before she revisited them again in daylight. It was Linder's account of the large bronze, stone and marble structures that I recalled when I walked around 'Sphere with Inner Form',1963, and indeed, when I saw the ubiquitous 'do not touch' sign on the plinth below. Perhaps influenced by, and certainly in agreement with her experience, I found myself wanting to touch the sculpture and feel the metal for myself. I imagined that it would be cool to the touch, smooth but not flawless and evocative of the landscapes by which it was inspired. I think in many examples of sculpture, using touch would make the encounter far more powerful and meaningful; we use it so much in our everyday lives that it seems strange to exclude it from our experience of artworks in galleries.
(Barbara Hepworth sculpture seen in Manchester Art Gallery's 'Sculptural Forms: A Century of Experiment' exhibition)
This encounter in Manchester has fuelled a lot of subsequent consideration about the 'do not touch' rule. It also comes in contrast with my visit to the Imperial War Museum North, where there were many interactive activities (things you could touch, smell, try on etc.). Undoubtedly, involving other senses would make viewers more engaged with the work as well as giving them a deeper understanding of the sculpture before them. It also raised thoughts about how art is often exclusive to those who can see. As someone with poor vision and a heightened awareness of how precious sight is, I am conscious that people with impaired vision are prevented from encountering many pieces of art. It would benefit people so much if they were able to experience works through touch.
I know that some objects must have restrictions, if fragile or old; however, this notion of ageing and transient work reminds me of something I read in the book 'Encountering Eva Hesse', whose latex works have greatly disintegrated. In an interview with Doug Johns, Hesse's collaborator and technician, it was said how the works should be felt and experienced fully, the beauty of the materials is not only in its visual aesthetic, but its texture. He recalled Hesse's delight at experiencing the works as they had just been made, handling them and learning them through touch.
The placement of contemporary works in the gallery's collection display was the other main thing which I took from the visit. One example of this was a Grayson Perry pot which was placed in case surrounded by classical paintings. I have never had the opportunity to see his work before so it was a particularly interesting encounter, heightened by its placement in this particular room; I came to realise how Perry's work has a mischief to it, on a quick first glance it is a piece of ceramics familiar to the historical part of a gallery, but it is not at all what it might at first seem. I stood looking at the work for quite a while, finding all the newspaper clippings and references to modern culture that made it at odds with the surrounding canvases. I was very interested to see the amount of people who walked past the cabinet without stopping to investigate its intricacies, and I wondered how many of them saw it as a contemporary artwork, and how many as a classical vase.
This idea of having to look closer is something that also came up with the works of Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos, who had a major exhibition at the gallery. In an online interview she said "I like to create a space for discovery, a first moment where you capture what is obvious in the piece, where you can consume it in the first instant. But as you come closer, you discover there’s more to it and you start to deconstruct it." Vasconcelos had works displayed throughout several rooms in response to works in Manchester's collection. Although largely I did not like the boldness and extravagance of the fabrics, the interaction between them and the space was really interesting and something I would want to examine as a reference for my own work if I develop it to be site-specific.
This way of working, creating a dialogue with older works, reminded me of Michael Landy's 'Saints Alive' show at the National Gallery last Summer. In both cases, I think the contemporary works create new interest around the classical, making them more accessible to people and revealing a new way of looking at them.
One particular work of Vasconcelos' that I wanted to explore in more depth were the lions in the entrance hall of the gallery. I read in the exhibition catalogue that this was an action of feminizing a masculine symbol. Vasconcelos covered the lions, which are often associated with strength, power and masculinity, with decorative crochet; this made me think of my fishing wire experiments and how feminine and masculine ideas are juxtaposed. I still really like the idea of using the fishing wire, with its masculine associations with the fishing industry and knitting, a traditionally female occupation. I liked how the artist addressed something that is not often questioned; one does not often view lion statues with any mind for gender equality, but the art did make me question how feminine symbols fare in the everyday semiotics of our culture.
