Dear Anish,
At a recent dinner hosted by an investment bank at a west-end hotel I had an interesting conversation about the nature of your work. At the dinner that included people of assorted occupations and interests, I was sitting across the table from a banker who read my name card and asked me what I thought of your works at the recent exhibition at the Royal Academy of Arts. It wasn’t the first time that the similarity of my name to yours has prompted such a question. The query was probably half in jest but in certain measure it was out of curiosity. It could have been a banker’s jousting for intellectual one up man-ship or plain humour. Whatever the reason, I found myself forced to think about the meaning of your work, to interpret it as a critic to an audience of about half a dozen people sitting around me. I always find such questions regarding the meaning of a work of art quite trying.
When I had gone to your exhibition, I never felt the need to search for any meaning in the exhibits and quite enjoyed just being there, feeling what I felt as I went through the sculptures. Faced with what I took to be a bit of a challenge at the dinner, I explored what interpretation I could present. I wasn’t trying to force meaning onto your work, it was being forced onto me. I had a playful time at the exhibition, as I imagine most people did. I went in blank; expecting nothing, knowing nothing. The only work by you I had seen before this exhibition was Marsyas in the turbine hall. At the Tate I had only felt a sensation of a moulding of space, certain claustrophobia as I went up the escalators and a certain regaining of control and perspective as I looked up at the overwhelming sculpture from the floor. As I walked out and away from the exhibit and gathered my emotions reflecting on what my senses had felt, I remember thinking that the sculpture had at first glance blasted my original perspective as I entered the hall, then confused and confronted my senses as I walked around it, looking at it from different aspects. The overall impact if I could call it that was of re-configuring the space and making me aware of my perspective or the limitations of it.
At the Royal Academy of Arts too as I walked in and saw the Tall tree and the Eye, it had a certain celebratory, welcoming cheerfulness about it. Through the many mirrors rising at different angles from the ground all the way to the top, not only was the courtyard reflected onto the viewer but also as you walked closer, the same tree felt like a cctv observing the viewer as it seemed to focus all angles like various cameras onto the observer. Apart from the sheer size, the many myriad perspectives seen in the many mirrors, felt like 'big brother's' watchful eye. It seemed to suggest splitting of sight and better understanding the limitations of it. The distorting of space by perspective; and the distortion of perspective by space. There were several different interpretations and emotions as I walked through the exhibition. It offered a pretty child like experience so far as interacting with the exhibits was concerned. The desire to stick a finger into the Svayambh, or the part repulsive part scatophilic intrigue of the many faeces like moulds or the inherent seduction of yellow were all more than anything else, playful temptations. Either the size, the scale or the presentation of these commonplace things of everyday life made adults look at these things with the same intrigue that children experience as they feel their way through innocence towards experience. Only that here the interaction was taking adults from experience towards innocence. A kind of attempt at regaining paradise or moving from intellect to feeling.
Whatever meaning or interpretation one might have found in the exhibits was probably quite specific to the observer. I did not seek meaning in it and I don't think it had a lasting impact on me either. What it did was reinforce some of the feelings I have already had. In 'Shooting into the corner' I saw the diminished role of the empire. The fear instilled by the canon was reduced to a splash within the walls of a room. Despite the choice of the deep red colour of the wax it wasn't threatening. None of this is what anyone else may have felt, they may have had entirely different takes from it. The one thing that sticks to me in all the works is the method of deconstructing perspective through convex and concave mirrors, inverted images, tall tree and the eye; or the disorientation of perspective as you enter the turbine hall, by the sheer size of the sculpture – and then moving on to experience the various aspects, spatial, chromatic, angular. The artist deconstructs more than dominates as you enter and then leaves the mind free to interpretation or experience through thought or emotion but above all through sensory perception.
Everyone's experience of it is different, everyone's perspective going in is their own, and everyone's take from the exhibits is their own too, except that the desire to understand or contextualize or make sense of the exhibits is overpowered by the scale and size of it, leaving the senses to rule the intellect.
Given that most of your works are set in urban spaces, one is tempted to feel that the sculptures are designed with the urban observer in mind. The observer’s pace of life and urban intellect driven approach to experience forces them to compete with the artist for meaning and interpretation in his works. The desire to interpret, understand and explain is inherent in the audience. The manner of defeating that intellect first to free the senses and remove the ego from the experience of the artwork is to me key in your work. The method could be the scale of the exhibit that dwarfs perspective or the many myriad aspects that make you question the uniqueness of your own perspective. The artist’s perspective isn't what his view is but that he is the medium through which to experience the existence of plurality of aspect. He merely creates an environment where people contextualize their points of view within an expanse of views. It liberates by unlocking senses from preconceived perceptions, by dwarfing your viewpoint at times or distorting it. It prevents you from imposing your mental constructs on your senses and puts your senses first.
Simply put it allows you to play. I played wholeheartedly, and am now forced with this meaning that I never sought to find. I tried explaining this at the dinner, but I was probably only half successful as most of my audience was distracted by the fine white wine and mouth watering Moules Marinières that appeared on the table! It turns out fine dining has the same effect on grown ups as fine works of art. I enjoyed both.
- A Kapoor
