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Summer, and a chance to think new thoughts
Nicholas Cranfield on the balance that is changing at the RA
 In memoriam: the late R. B. Kitaj’s The Bells of Hell, 1961 (above) and Moses Contra Freud, 2005 (right). He was born in the United States, of Jewish descent, settled in England, and became a Royal Academician COURTESY JAMES HYMAN GALLERY, LONDON |
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ART CRITICS are much like artists; to cite Tom Phillips, after Henry James, “we work in the dark, we do what we can, we give what we have”, and “the rest is the madness of art.” Summer madness has again broken out in Piccadilly, and the 240th exhibition announces itself with the sprawl of Anthony Caro’s 1996 steel sculpture Promenade. This was created for the gardens of the Tuileries in Paris, and consists of five free-standing structures that have each been painted. They flow across the courtyard, hiding the garlanded statue of Sir Joshua Reynolds and replacing the welcome water fountains that often playfully beguile the unwary. Since the theme of the exhibition (why?) is “Man Made”, it seems apt that flowers and water are obscured by harsh mechanical shapes. I have spent years (35 or more, and counting) trying to fathom out the purpose of this annual show, which now claims to be the largest open-submission contemporary-art exhibition in the world. It would be interesting to know from the RA exactly how many works are submitted and how many accepted, as against how many artists are “invited” to participate. My sense over the past few years has been that the balance has shifted. For all that Tracey Emin may protest that all the works that she chose for the room that she has created had also to be accepted by the “hanging committee”, one is left to think otherwise. Would Vincent Hawkins, a doorman at the National Theatre, have got his work in this year (he has once before), had he not known Emin from college days and been asked by her to put two works in her room? And why would Julian Schnabel have work exhibited, since he does not even know what the Summer Exhibition is and has never been? It turns out that the only work that she would have wanted to show which was rejected was turned down only on the grounds that it was too old, and therefore did not match one criterion. There was a period, about ten years ago, when the repetition of Sunday-afternoon paintings, of Venice, of flowers, and of gardens, threatened to take over the show. It was stultifying and predictable. I found that the only, dispiriting, way to visit the exhibition was to concentrate only on those works that did not have the tell-tale red dots, indicating that they had sold. Unerringly this was a pitiable guide to all that the English regard as “delightful”.More prominence is now given to the work of Academicians themselves. Although this is not a 100-per-cent guarantee of quality, it has made for a stronger show overall.
The hanging committee has recently begun to take full responsibility for its part of the show. So we know that Tony Cragg has curated the sculpture gallery, that the RA Treasurer Professor Paul Huxley has brought in three of his own acrylic square paintings in the gallery (II) that he and Mick Moon have organised, and that Tracey Emin wanted just one of her own paintings, to show that she can paint. (RAs are allowed up to six works; Joe Public is further restricted to submit just two pieces.) This, she said, is her riposte to being largely ignored as a painter by the press at the Venice Biennale when she represented Britain. But the work, Ruined (acrylic, oil pastel, and pencil), which is owned by Elton John, may not convince. |
 Moses Contra Freud, 2005 ESTATE OF THE ARTIST, COURTESY MARLBOROUGH FINE ART, LONDON |
| There are some wonderfully successful pieces in the show. Randomly, and in no particular order, these, for me at least, include the welded-copper sculpture that I quoted from at the beginning, the trompe-l’oeil works of both Kim Meredew (a yellow formica-topped kitchen gate-leg table turns out to be carved from granite, sandstone, and limestone), the pile of black ash (Gavin Turk — I will not spoil the surprise), and the bravura of Jeff Hoons’s Cracked egg (blue) in the final room. Anish Kapoor has sent in a 2004 untitled piece that is a double cone. This would have benefited by being set higher, on a platform, to gain the full optical effect without the viewer’s straining down to it, but it is made with all his trademark sense of humour. Gritty slate forms Richard Long’s Summertime Blues Line. In the large central gallery (III), Tony Bevan’s colossal head dominates one wall, while Michael Craig-Martin has mixed words and objects in two colourful acrylic on aluminium pieces (courtesy of the Gagosian Gallery) on the next wall. I only regretted that Professor Ian McKeever’s Temple Painting (2005) had not been hung in this gallery, with his other work, rather than in the second, where it comes too soon in the exhibition to allow its full impact to be felt. The other odd splitting up comes with Ken Howard’s 2008 series of the Campo San Zanipolo in Venice; the triptych, a welcome study in morning light taken from differing distances, is among the treasures worth searching out in the impossibly crowded Small Weston Room, while the final canvas of the square with its great equestrian statue lurks in one of the last rooms (X). Whether there is much in the show that would make you jump, or would move you, there are plenty of things to make you think a thought you have not thought before. David Bowie emerges as an art-lover (in a portrait by John Bellany), and two profile portraits emerge strongly. One is carved from a mirror (Anthony Green), and the other is a shadowplay of a couple, Janus-like, who are soon to be married (Pink Narcissus, shown in gallery VIII, which is marked as containing works that might shock). Less generous thoughts came from being reminded that Malcolm Morley had won the first Turner Prize back in 1984, and from seeing the Merchant-Ivory-like sepia garden views (giclée and watercolour) by the Ottawa-based Jennifer Dickson. But any exhibition that can bring together work by Jim Dine, Louise Bourgeois, R. B. Kitaj (the show opens with Marco Livingstone’s courageous tribute to the late artist), Damien Hirst, Renzo Piano, Zaha Hadid, the late Sir Colin St John Wilson, and Barry Flanagan’s dancing hares is not one to miss. |
 Famous last word: Death, acrylic on aluminium, by Michael Craig-Martin RA, on display at the Royal Academy COURTESY OF THE ARTIST; JOHN BODKIN, DAWKINS COLOUR |
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The Summer Exhibition is at the Royal Academy of Arts, Burlington House, Piccadilly, London W1, until 17 August. Phone 020 7300 8000. www.royalacademy.org.uk |
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