Beyond amazing: Joana Vasconcelos at Yorkshire Sculpture Park

My last post described a recent visit to Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Some of the sculptures displayed there can be seen in traditional galleries while others are to be found in the open air, in a magnificent parkland landscape of hills, woodland, lakes and formal gardens. The undoubted highlight of our visit was Beyond, a temporary exhibition by celebrated Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos (b. 1971).

Here’s how the Park’s website describes Joana’s work:

Joana Vasconcelos creates vibrant, often monumental sculpture, using fabric, needlework and crochet alongside everyday objects from saucepans to wheel hubs. She frequently uses items associated with domestic work and craft to comment from a feminist perspective on national and collective identity, cultural tradition and women’s roles in society

Sounds a bit wild and wacky, doesn’t it? I’m happy to say that the exhibition fully lived up to its billing. Joana Vasconcelos’ creations are amazing, a true delight in a year that’s been painfully grim.

There was an early indication of what to expect as we drove up to the car park: a multi-coloured rooster towering nine metres above startled visitors. It’s called Pop Galo [Pop Rooster] and is inspired by the Barcelos Rooster (aka the Portuguese Rooster.)

I’ve never been to Portugal and the legend of the Barcelos Rooster had therefore passed me by, but research for this post tells me that it’s regarded as the embodiment of the Portuguese spirit and love for life. Always vividly coloured, the Barcelos Rooster is a cultural icon and the unofficial symbol of the nation.

In Portugal the Barcelos Rooster is traditionally rendered as a colourful piece of pottery. Vasconcelos has fashioned hers from no fewer than 17,000 glazed tiles, creating a monumental and unforgettable artwork. Stunning!

And while we’re on the subject of monumental artwork, Solitário [Solitaire], is also pretty damned impressive. Standing seven metres high, it comprises golden car wheel rims topped with a huge diamond crafted from crystal whisky glasses, all fashioned into a stridently ostentatious engagement ring.

The website explains that Solitaire shouldn’t be seen as a blingy blot on the landscape but is, rather, a piece of caustic commentary on modern societal values. It says: “representing the stereotypical ambition of our society to acquire wealth and material possessions, the work unites symbols of luxury – cars, jewellery and alcohol – which bridge social classes.” So now we know!

Joana Vasconselos was born in Paris but lives in Lisbon, and trained initially as a jeweller before becoming a sculptor. The change of direction has enabled her to develop her craftsmanship on an altogether grander scale. In her world big is most definitely beautiful, whether outdoors or in.

And moving along to one of the indoor galleries, another of Vasconcelos’ startling pieces is Marilyn, a pair of oversized silver stilettos made entirely from hundreds of stainless steel saucepans.

The work’s title references Marilyn Monroe and is, in the words of the website, “[a commentary] on social conventions [highlighting] the division between women’s traditional domestic and contemporary public roles.”

Another work to be seen in one of the indoor galleries is Red Independent Heart #3, based on the Heart of Viana, a well-known Portuguese emblem symbolising life, love, friendship, honesty and generosity. It stands over three metres high and hangs from the ceiling, slowly rotating. As it turns, expressive and melancholy Portuguese fado songs play in the background, speaking of love, loss and the conflict between emotion and reason.

The piece is made entirely from red plastic cutlery which have been shaped and manipulated until its individual components are barely recognisable.

I’m not sure how I feel about plastic sculptures – there’s way too much plastic in the world already. But let’s give Vasconcelos the benefit of the doubt, and assume the thousands of items making up her Red Independent Heart are recycled cutlery that were otherwise destined for the nearest dump.

Plastic features in another of the works that make up the Beyond exhibition. At four metres high, Tutti Frutti dominates views of the landscape in which it sits. It’s made from plastic moulds of apples, pears, strawberries and croissants – all suspended from a stainless steel frame. Portuguese children apparently use these moulds at the beach to make a local version of sandcastles.

Tutti Frutti is one of those sculptures that can’t fail to raise a smile – who can resist such garishly whimsical frivolity? But beneath it all is a serious message about modern society’s tendency towards overindulgence and superficiality. The artist proclaims that the seductive moulds beguile and captivate unwary onlookers, who fail to spot the hollowness at their heart.

Of course cynics might argue that this is a metaphor for all of Joana Vasconcelos’ work, but I say “to hell with cynics!”

And finally, take a look at I’ll Be Your Mirror. Standing over three metres high and composed of countless elegantly-shaped mirrors, this work presents the classic Venetian mask as we’ve never imagined it before.

Masks have traditionally offered a hiding place, and never more so than in this year of Covid-19. We all wear masks at the supermarket these days, and behind each I see someone just like me, lying low and hiding from the virus. Mirrors, mirrors, everywhere…

Joana Vasconcelos’ work will not be to everyone’s taste. Indeed you may find it crass, pretentious or even banal – this reviewer for one was clearly unimpressed.

I will admit that her sculptures don’t magically reveal the meaning of life. But for god’s sake, they’re fun aren’t they? And don’t we all need a bit of fun in these dark, dark days? For me these monumental pieces are genuinely joyful, they have a “wow factor” and – if you so choose – they can make you think about stuff in a slightly different way.

If this is art, then give me more. Joana Vasconcelos, you are beyond amazing.

Welcome to Yorkshire Sculpture Park

It’s been described as “Britain’s first and finest sculpture park,” an open-air gallery where works by many of the world’s most renowned sculptors are displayed in a magnificent parkland landscape of hills, woodland, lakes and formal gardens. It is a truly inspiring venture, and has without doubt been the highlight of our Covid year. Welcome to Yorkshire Sculpture Park.

Travel is one of our passions and we’ve always spent as much time as possible exploring other parts of the UK, and visiting countries on every continent bar Antarctica. However 2020 has been painfully different, courtesy of official travel restrictions and our own innate caution in the face of a cruel and unusual virus. This year we’ve not strayed far from home.

But there’s been one unexpected bonus of the Covid chaos: we’ve had both the time and the incentive to make day-trips to places within reasonable driving distance of Platypus Towers. Yorkshire Sculpture Park has been in our sights for several years, but we’ve never managed to squeeze in a visit. Finally, this year, we got around to it…and what a brilliant place it proved to be.

Bretton Hall dates from 1720

Yorkshire Sculpture Park opened in 1977 on the 500-acre (200 hectares), 18th-century Bretton Hall estate in West Yorkshire. The Palladian mansion at the heart of the estate dates from 1720. In 1948 its owner sold much of the estate to the local council, and a year later the mansion became a training college for teachers of art, music and drama.

Nearly 30 years later, in 1977, one of the lecturers at Bretton Hall College suggested siting sculpture in the estate’s grounds. The proposal was to open-up the Bretton estate landscape to the public for the first time, and provide artists with a canvas upon which to explore the challenges and opportunities inherent in mounting sculpture in a natural, open-air setting.

And thus was born Yorkshire Sculpture Park. The college is no more – the mansion is being converted into a luxury hotel – but the sculpture park goes from strength to strength.

Promenade by Anthony Caro, with Bretton Hall in the background

In addition to some permanent installations, Yorkshire Sculpture Park has a programme of world-class, year-round temporary exhibitions. Many of the pieces are displayed in the open air, while others are spread across six indoor galleries. 

Yorkshire Sculpture Park is an independent charitable trust and a registered museum. The website describes its mission in these terms:

YSP’s driving purpose for 40 years has been to ignite, nurture and sustain interest in and debate around contemporary art and sculpture, especially with those for whom art participation is not habitual or familiar. It enables open access to art, situations and ideas, and continues to re-evaluate and expand the approach to considering art’s role and relevance in society. 

SOURCE: Yorkshire Sculpture Park website, retrieved 11 November 2020

I’m all for widening participation, and our visit quickly showed us that Yorkshire Sculpture Park is working hard to deliver on its ambitions. It is a truly inspiring venture, and has without doubt been the highlight of our Covid year. In my next post we’ll take a look at a stunning temporary exhibition by Portuguese artist Joana Vasconcelos. Meanwhile, here’s some other stuff that caught my eye when we visited in September.

Buddha by Niki de Saint Phalle

Buddha, by Niki de Saint Phalle (1930-2002), is a monumental work standing over three metres high. It dates from around 2000 and is fashioned from a glittering mosaic of coloured tiles, glass, mirrors, and polished stones.

Saint Phalle was born in France, grew up in America and started out as a fashion model. She later studied theatre and acting in Paris, before giving it all up to become an artist. I’m tempted to say that if this is what a self-taught artist can achieve there’s still hope for me, but plainly I’m kidding myself. In my book, this is a decorative masterpiece.

Octopus by Marialuisa Tadei

And talking of mosaic masterpieces, what about Octopus by Italian artist Marialuisa Tadei (born 1962). Dating from 2011 and with a spread (leg-span?) of over five metres, it stands 1.3m high. The glorious beast seems to slither across the parkland, watching the visitors through twinkling, inscrutable eyes. It’s made from coloured, hand-cut glass affixed to a sturdy, stainless steel skeleton. Superb!

However Incongruous by the Raqs Media Collective

The third installation that particularly caught my eye is a rhinoceros rendered in the form of a carousel ride. It’s called However Incongruous, which sums it up nicely, a rhino wearing a yellow saddle apparently grazing contentedly on the lawn of an English country estate.

The Raqs Media Collective based its 2011 work on Albrecht Dürer’s 1515 woodcut of a rhino. The German painter and printmaker generated his creation from descriptions alone, without ever having seen the animal in the flesh. I wonder what he would have made of the Collective’s three dimensional reinterpretation of his woodcut?

Litter by Leo Fitzmaurice, and litter by a careless visitor!

The final work I want to feature on this whistle-stop tour is Litter by British artist Leo Fitzmaurice (born 1963). Its intentions are noble, to highlight the excessive debris and waste mankind discards on a daily basis. The Park’s website describes it as “a playful interpretation of rubbish bags with their handles tied in such a way that at a glance could be rabbits grazing.”

However what really made me chuckle – and shake my head sadly at the same time – was that amongst the enamelled, cast bronze rubbish bags was a real plastic bag, presumably discarded by a careless visitor. You can see it clearly in the photo above. Don’t they say that life imitates art?

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So there we have it, a brief introduction to Yorkshire Sculpture Park. Having finally – some 40 years too late – made its acquaintance, I know we will be frequent visitors in the future. We barely scratched the surface of the collection this time, and are looking forward to finding some more masterpieces scattered throughout the picturesque pastureland, woods and trees, as well as re-visiting a few old friends.

I wonder if there will still be plastic bag lurking amongst the Litter when we next pay Yorkshire Sculpture Park a visit?

Bempton Cliffs: a tale of gannets, guillemots and gurgling guts

An earlier post described how the bird cliffs at Sumburgh Head were the highlight of an otherwise miserable trip to Shetland.  Getting to Shetland from our home at Platypus Towers was a bit of a pain. The journey involved a drive of over 400 miles, followed by an overnight ferry crossing of around 12 hours. 

When we finally got to Shetland the puffins were great to see, but I do wonder why we bothered given that we have some excellent bird cliffs much closer to home.

Bempton Cliffs in the East Riding of Yorkshire

Bempton Cliffs are little more than 80 miles away from us, in the East Riding of Yorkshire.  This area of the Yorkshire coast hosts England’s largest seabird colony, and the Bempton RSPB reserve lies at its heart.  It’s always worth a visit, as we confirmed on our way back from Shetland in June. It was, to say the least, an eventful end to our long summer break.

So, for the record, here is our tale of gannets, guillemots and gurgling guts:

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We’ve left Scotland and its miserable weather far behind us, and as we walk out from the RSPB visitor centre on a gloriously sunny day our ears are assaulted by the calls of a thousand birds, and our noses detect the unmistakable aroma of a bustling seabird city.  We watch, transfixed, as squadrons of gannets patrol the towering cliffs, swooping and soaring along the sheer rock face, escorted from time to time by their loyal wing-men, the fulmars.

Squadron leader?

The Bempton area boasts one of the best wildlife spectacles in the UK.  Around half a million seabirds gather here between March and October to lay their eggs and raise their young on towering chalk cliffs overlooking the North Sea.

Gannets bang their beaks together and point them skywards to reaffirm their pair-bond

Within minutes we spot some puffins going about their business.  There are not nearly as many as at Sumburgh Head, nor are the views as intimate.  This is, however, our most successful puffin encounter ever at Bempton, and bodes well for the rest of our visit. 

Solitary puffin watching as the gannets swoop and soar

Bempton boasts sizeable colonies of razorbills and guillemots.  Most cling to the cliff face and are best appreciated through binoculars, but a few come close enough to enjoy with the naked eye.  Some of the razorbills are still sitting on eggs, but others proudly show off their chicks.

Razorbill adult and chick, with kittiwake behind

However, Bempton’s main claim to fame is its gannets.  The cliffs have the largest mainland gannet colony in the UK, boasting some 28,000 birds.  Each gannet jealously guards its own patch of rock, which it has carefully selected so it can just avoid the angry pecks of its neighbours.  Squabbles break out when a bird oversteps the mark and trespasses on a neighbour’s territory.

Gannets on the nest, and a solitary puffin

Meanwhile, other gannets swoop and dive beside the cliffs, and ride the updrafts to hang in the air just feet away from the cliff-top paths.  These are big birds, with a wingspan of over 6 feet, and when seen in large numbers flying along the cliffs or wheeling over the ocean they’re a magnificent sight.  We watch them for a couple of hours, mesmerised by their grace and elegance, and Mrs P is in danger of wearing out the shutter on her camera.

Gannets fills the sky at Bempton Cliffs

A visit to Bempton’s bird cliffs during the breeding season is a life-affirming and restorative experience.  It’s been a great day, and we round it off with dinner at a modest hostelry close to where we are staying for the night. I wrap myself around a gammon steak, and Mrs P gets up close and personal with lasagne.

The following morning, however, I awake to a gurgling from Mrs P’s guts loud enough to suggest Cuadrilla has opened a new campaign in its fracking business.  Within minutes a vile dose of food poisoning has set in.

Mrs P turns a whiter shade of pale, and spends an anxious hour locked in the bathroom. Finally she announces she’s fit enough to travel, but she has her fingers crossed as she speaks so we both fear she’s not going to make it back home with her dignity intact.  However, checkout’s at 9:30am, so we have little choice.

The 80 miles drive back to Platypus Towers is, inevitably, a nightmare, and the patient takes about three days to recover from her ordeal.

Mrs P swears she will never eat lasagne again