I read a couple of reviews of the new exhibit of Richard Deacon works at Tate Britain. I have to say, his use of form is very intriguing.
Perhaps we should have pity on the poor writer faced with trying to describe these sculptures in words. Here is what a couple of Guardian writers came up with:
Richard Deacon’s sculptures turn and twist and coil and flow. Sometimes they are solid ceramic geometries, whose weight and density can almost be felt with the eye. Others you can see right through, as if they were lines drawn in space, or the carcass of an animal, or a boat stripped to the ribs. They can be like physical X-rays. Some are like body parts or shells. Others are more like a place, somewhere you could crawl into and hide.
I think Adrian Searle did a better job when he admitted how fruitless his task is:
There are forms here that almost escape comprehension, and which feel like spacial conundrums. In his work movement and stasis, volume and gravity, openness, closure and conjunction come together in all kinds of inventive, unexpected and surprising ways.
Here is Rachel Cooke’s description of one of the works:
Tall Tree in the Ear (1984), in which laminated wood is joined by galvanised steel and blue canvas, suggests the shapes thrown by rhythmic acrobats as they prance across the competition mat – an analogy that is, perhaps, less fanciful than it sounds.
Fortunately the Internet supports the inclusion of some pictures:
Mr. Deacon’s web site (it is a bit laborious to use but full of interesting work): http://www.richarddeacon.net/ (check out his series called Art for Other People; which are works on a scale that could fit in a living room)