May 13, 2008
Adrian Searle on Richard Serra in Paris
Guardian art critic Adrian Searle visits the Grand Palais to see Richard Serra's exhibition in that venue's new "Monumenta" series of solo exhibition. An excerpt:
How sudden and decisive these steel plates feel, as if they had been stabbed into the concrete floor the moment we walked in. It takes a while to apprehend how mysteriously they choreograph the space, and our movements through it. As much as Serra deals with gravity, mass, weight, presence, a sense of the commanding and the impending, he also deals with duration, mental space and the unfolding of the physical experience in time and distance. But with the midday sun streaming through the roof, the whole space is a dazzle of light and shadow. It is difficult at first to comprehend what I am looking at: the walls, the floor and Serra's steel planes are zebra-striped in a camouflage of light and shadow. It feels like being trapped inside the gears of a solar clock. The iron art nouveau stairs and balcony writhe on one side. Later in the afternoon, when the sun is off the roof, the tension between the sculptural elements and the building reveal themselves and intensify. The skin of oxide on the milled corten steel softens to a grayish purplish glow. People down the other end of the building seem tiny, like the far-off figures in a Canaletto. Somewhere on the floor, dancers are rehearsing. Couples amble or walk apart pensively. Parents take photos of infants propped against tons of steel. Voices echo from far away.
The piece rambles on, with a quote from Serra about "when Obama becomes president," mentions the New Museum's "Unmonumental exhibition," and discusses how Searle's relationship to Serra's art has changed as he aged. To read the rest, click here.