In the first of an occasional series exploring the powerful connections between art, politics, progress and humanity, Liz Walker explores the work of English sculptor Antony Gormley, and one of his antecedents, Alberto Giacometti.

The human figure has, of course, been a major subject and source of inspiration since the dawn of the thing we choose to call Art.

The depiction of the figure in painting and sculpture has meant very different things in different times and places from the earliest cave paintings to the present day. We have naturally used the human body as the means by which we measure our place in the world and our relationship to everything around us which we can see and are part of, and to invoke, placate and worship the things that we might imagine. Art has been used throughout history as an expression of religious belief or as a weapon in promulgating belief, as a luxury commodity or as a tool of the state, and it is well known that one of the first measures of a totalitarian state is to repress free expression in the visual arts, music or literature.

Only comparatively recently, in the past 150 years, have artists managed to break free of the restraints  of church and state in order to find their own path. This is not to say that what has gone before has no value or has no beauty – that would be nonsense. All artists stand on the shoulders of those in the past and although our idea of what is beautiful may vary from person to person and culture to culture we must strive to understand, now more than ever, what an artist is trying to say and how he or she expresses their ideas. Looking at and thinking about a piece of visual art can help us give form to ideas we have about ourselves, our society, our place in the world and the whole interesting problem of being alive.

As socialists we have a natural inclination to find out about and try and make sense of the world around us. We should - and do – strive to find out what is happening and even more importantly why things are as they are in a challenging and changing world.  An understanding of history, politics, science and the arts can lead to a well rounded approach to the problems we face in society today.

However, when trying to find a response within ourselves to a piece of art we should not necessarily expect the work to relate directly to politics or to conform to some personally held idea or ideal, for then there is the danger that it will descent into a piece of propaganda. In relation to the human figure Alberto Giacometti and Antony Gormley are two artists whose work gives us a lot to ponder on, as their attempts to deal with issues which touch on the individual alone or as part of society invite us to examine our own feelings and responses to the human condition.

Giacometti was a Swiss artist (b. 1901, d. 1966), who was associated with the surrealist movement and existentialism, and is best known for his long, stretched out figures, which are sometimes alone or sometimes standing or walking in

un-communicating groups.

He would first make the figures in clay or plaster then cast them in a mould into bronze. The ‘Walking Man’ was made in 1960 and is a bronze measuring 183cms. His figures wear no clothes and carry no possessions and quite often their gender is unspecific (fig 1). Giacometti’s hands on approach, in which he would press the clay onto a metal armature (support), resulting in a very rough, textured surface gives his figures great immediacy, almost as though they had been created from the earth, like some kind of primal Adam. But this is no Garden of Eden.

fig 1

There is a devastating sense of isolation in his work. The ‘Walking Man’, although so seemingly full of purpose in his striding motion seems to evoke a feeling of loneliness and that we come into and leave this world with nothing.  Even in a group of his figures there is never any connection between them. This may be an expression of existentialist despair or a reaction to the horrors and displacement endured by people in the second world war.

This nightmare of non-communication and isolation seems just as current today and is taken up, to some extent, in the work of Antony Gormley, possibly the UK’s best known living sculptor.

Gormley, who initially did a degree in Archaeology, Anthropology and History of Art at Cambridge, spent three years travelling in India before returning to study at the Central School of Art, Goldsmith College and the Slade school of Art. Throughout his career he has used the medium of sculpture to explore the relationships between figures and the spaces and places they inhabit. Gormley uses his own body as a starting point, an archetype, which he can manipulate to express his ideas.

The technique which Gormley employs is an arduous one for the artist and quite different from the approach used by Giacometti.  He first assumes the position he wants the figure to be in and is then totally wrapped by assistants in scrim (a kind of loose weave sacking material) dipped in liquid plaster. When this has set he is cut free from the womb like structure and the resulting empty plaster mould has lead and fibre glass cast into it to make the piece of sculpture.

He does this time and again for each different position of figure he needs. He emerges each time like a butterfly leaving behind a chrysalis which is the starting point for the birth of an idea.

Initially, his work seemed to be about man’s struggle to find meaning individually about his existence and potential for change or growth as in ‘Land, Sea and Air’ II (1982) and ‘Learning to think’ (1991). (figs 2 and 3)

fig 2		fig 3

However, latterly he appears to examine how forces in society could lead to the breakdown of the connection of human beings to each other and to their assumptions of their place in a world where traditional industries and communities are rapidly breaking down.

‘Critical Mass’ (1998), which is a piece set in a former industrial manufacturing site (fig 4), has obvious references in its title and setting to some idea of science and technological change. However, its title can also be read as an ironic one in which the masses are far from critical about the destruction of their livelihood and way of life and are for the most part (apart from one figure at the open door in the distance), unable or unwilling to engage with what is happening, and are lying down and taking it without a struggle.

fig 4

Of course, Gormley’s best known piece is ‘The Angel of the North’. It is instantly recognisable against the Tyneside skyline and is probably the UK’s most famous and popular work of public modern art, seen by an estimated 90,000 people every day (fig. 5).

fig 5

The sculpture was built small local shipbuilding firm following Gormley’s design and instructions. It was assembled using traditional industrial techniques of ribbing and welding in a type of steel called Cor-ten which naturally oxidises to give a rust-like appearance.

It stands on the site of a former colliery in an area which was once a centre for coal mining and other industries like ship building which supported many vibrant working class communities.

Although seen by many as a kind of sentimental guardian angel, again, the work seems laden with pain and irony. The rusted appearance of the piece reminds us that the skills of the people of the area are now left unused and likely to decay. Its wings are fixed and rigid and it is unable to take-off. The Angel stands like the one set to guard the gates of Eden after the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the garden, and also reverberates with allusions to crucifixion, a memorial to the death of the area’s industry and a people sacrificed on the altar of capitalism.

On a more positive note, the uprightness and strength of the figure, bound together with its ribs of steel gives us hope that by standing together in unity a society can be forged which defends and values workers and their communities rather than destroying them.

Liz Walker