Emma Murphy
Hauser & Wirth Gallery: 23 Savile Row, W1S 2ET
November 27th 2014 - January 10th 2015
Hauser & Wirth Gallery: 23 Savile Row, W1S 2ET
November 27th 2014 - January 10th 2015
The potential for rot lurks precariously close to the surface in Met Tere Huid/Of Tender Skin, an exhibition by Ghent native Berlinde De Bruyckere, on show at Hauser & Wirth London until January 10th, 2015.
Consisting of both sculptural and wall based works, De Bruyckere anthropomorphises her fleshy works in an abject representation of attraction and disgust. Constructed from layers of wax, pigment, cloth, metal and wood, the luscious surfaces of the Belgian's sculptures are as fascinating as they are repellant. The limbs – reminiscent of both human and tree – create a basterdised hybrid, an unsettling amalgamation of animate and inanimate. These dark, earthy assemblages are stained with pigment, as if blood runs deep through their fleshy core.
Consisting of both sculptural and wall based works, De Bruyckere anthropomorphises her fleshy works in an abject representation of attraction and disgust. Constructed from layers of wax, pigment, cloth, metal and wood, the luscious surfaces of the Belgian's sculptures are as fascinating as they are repellant. The limbs – reminiscent of both human and tree – create a basterdised hybrid, an unsettling amalgamation of animate and inanimate. These dark, earthy assemblages are stained with pigment, as if blood runs deep through their fleshy core.
Of Tender Skin comprises of three, standard white cube rooms, each filled with wall-based works and a solitary sculpture inhabits the floor. It is the furthest room, in the recesses of Hauser & Wirth, where the most beautifully balanced and harmonious display can be found. After Cripplewood 1, 2013-14 comprises of a structure made of wood and metal, wax, leather and cloth - an assemblage reminiscent of a workers bench or rudimentary morgue slab. A hulk of wax and fabric, evocative of flesh, bone and sinew is stretched out on top, presented as a hunting trophy already stripped bare of its tender skin. The meaty looking mass is held in place with thick leather straps, as if it is under constraints from escape. Four individual structures hang from a nail on the walls, surrounding this offering. Something equine echoes through their oval form of wood, cloth and wax - a saddle and horse leg look to combines in yet another precarious balance of living and dead.
Many of the pieces in this show pay homage to De Bruyckere's success at 2013 Venice Biennale. Her immense tree inspired assemblage Kreupelhout-Cripplewood, 2012–2013 occupied a darkened and deliberately gloomy Belgian pavilion. Constructed from a cast of a fallen tree the artist stumbled across in the French countryside, De Bruyckere rescued it from inevitable decay. Transporting it to her native Belgium and to the old boys schoolhouse she now calls home, the artist cast the hulking tree out of wax, fabric and wood. Noble prize winning author and co-contributor to De Bruyckeres practice, JM Cotzee tells us in the accompanying catalogue to the Biennale, "Cripplewood, is not dead wood[…] but something in its genes, some bad inheritance, some poison, twists its bones." Ringing true of arthritic hands or Rickets inflicted bones, the uncomfortable juxtaposition of plant and animal, painfully contorted forms is perpetually present throughout this show.
Images courtesy of Hauser & Wirth London
Many of the pieces in this show pay homage to De Bruyckere's success at 2013 Venice Biennale. Her immense tree inspired assemblage Kreupelhout-Cripplewood, 2012–2013 occupied a darkened and deliberately gloomy Belgian pavilion. Constructed from a cast of a fallen tree the artist stumbled across in the French countryside, De Bruyckere rescued it from inevitable decay. Transporting it to her native Belgium and to the old boys schoolhouse she now calls home, the artist cast the hulking tree out of wax, fabric and wood. Noble prize winning author and co-contributor to De Bruyckeres practice, JM Cotzee tells us in the accompanying catalogue to the Biennale, "Cripplewood, is not dead wood[…] but something in its genes, some bad inheritance, some poison, twists its bones." Ringing true of arthritic hands or Rickets inflicted bones, the uncomfortable juxtaposition of plant and animal, painfully contorted forms is perpetually present throughout this show.
Images courtesy of Hauser & Wirth London