Exhibitions 3
Phillip King (Bernard Jacobson Gallery, 14A Clifford Street, London Wl, till 28 November)
Flight of invention
Andrew Lambirth
The current exhibition of new sculpture by Phillip King (born 1934) is his first com- mercial showing in London for six years, and his first one-man show with Bernard Jacobson, who now represents him exclu- sively. We haven't seen enough of King's work recently in England, so this arrange- ment is to be welcomed, particularly as the new show of polychrome mixed media sculpture is so impressive.
The display consists of 16 small solid sculptures, floor pieces or on plinths with black reflective bases, made from painted cast aluminium or a mixture of plastics, clay, steel and Japanese paper. The general effect of the gallery is crowded and bright with colour. These new works are hand- painted in rich reds and purples, in silver and gold and bronze, with greens and blues and yellows splashed vividly on. They oper- ate on the cusp of garishness, only prevent- ed from tipping over by King's sensitivity and expertise.
King has long been interested in surface colour — the skin of the sculpture — but whereas once he would have favoured a uniform staining, today there is much more evidence of application in terms of brush- marks and drips. The colour is non-natural- istic, but then so are the forms, for King employs a dynamic brand of organic abstraction in this work. Forms are strung out, as if on a spindle, or piled up — at first sight almost higgledy-piggledy, but with a robust intuited logic. The process is an additive one, often involving many differ- ent elements. King will happily model or carve, mould or cast: he refuses to be restricted to one technique or a single material. Several of these new works, all of which were made this year, incorporate moulded nao-paper. 'Ghost Catch' is per- haps the most inventive example of this, with the moulded Japanese paper bringing extra planes or screens to the body of the piece, and diversifying the textures yet fur- ther.
The floor pieces are marginally less suc- cessful than those on plinths, perhaps because of their size: they would look bet- ter bigger. The exceptions are the wonder- fully chunky and contained, 'Epiglotic', and `Yellow Dip', both cast in aluminium. Much of their effectiveness resides in care- ful choice of material. A polystyrene ver- sion of 'Yellow Dip' which I saw last year simply didn't have the same presence. One of the plinth pieces, entitled Denicheue, brings together some of King's recent ceramic forms with the new paper overlay- ings. Another, concise and remarkable in its composition, is called 'Do You Hear Me?' Looking like a space-age broadcast- ing system, it consists merely of four ele- ments locked together with brilliant economy.
The show represents a period of singular productivity for Philip King. The new work has weight but also lucidity. It is eclectic. Here you will find imagery that is autumnal and tree-stumpy, or urban and industrial. King is happy to use scaffolding rods to make 'Red-Erect' live up to its name; equally he will employ elsewhere those lit- tle wire cages which prevent the wrong sort of leaves from jamming your guttering. What he does is to transform the objects he appropriates, and reconcile them into a powerful new unity as his own sculpture. King's greatest asset is the strength of his imagination: the main impulse behind this new exhibition is a real flight of invention.
Philip King is a major British sculptor who has never been accorded the fame or critical attention he deserves. Although recognised internationally, and celebrated more abroad than at home (his last major retrospective was at Forte di Belvedere in Florence last year), there is no easily recog- nisable King trademark. He is always ready to break the shackles of habit, to experi- ment with new materials and reject ways of making that have hitherto proved perfectly satisfactory. He is a great innovator and, though this is good for his art, it makes him difficult to assess and thus to pigeonhole. The protean are rarely popular in England.
In addition, King's ideas can be compli- cated, and his manner of expressing them can verge on the awkward — in the sense of being challenging and therefore uncom- fortable. But in the long run Philip King's career is without doubt a more rewarding model than the smooth trajectory of the successful establishment artist who rises and rises, more or less without trace.
Epiglotic, 1998, by Phillip King
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