Tag Archives: adaptives

Franz West, 6 Adaptives for Rolls Royce Silver Shadow (2007)

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On some level you may already be offended. You don’t need to be a total petrolhead to find the addition to this prestigious bonnet to be something of a defacement.

Let’s be honest, it lacks the easy romance of the flying woman usually found on the prow of a Rolls: The Spirit of Ecstasy by Charles Robinson Sykes.

Sometimes called Emily, this stainless steel form (with 24-carat gold plating optional) has a really great backstory: a clandestine love affair and a disaster at sea are both involved.

Austrian sculptor West has pretty much dumped on that. He made six of these turd-like accessories for the luxury car market: one for every day of the working week.

Irony alert: if you are a Rolls Royce customer you probably don’t need to pull a full week’s shift. And yet, this work feels only indirectly political. It is too playful for that.

What’s more, given that it is one of the Austrian artist’s adaptive pieces, we can perhaps only grasp the work by getting behind the wheel joining in with the consumption of luxury.

But it should be noted the car belongs to Norwegian collector Erling Kagge; it is unlikely he lets just anyone test drive one of the jewels of his personal collection.

In his book about buying art, Kagge relates how, when he bought this piece, he was surprised to find the car thrown in with the deal. It was itemised merely as a plinth.

But a weird thing happens when the three dimensional graffiti above the grille throws the viewer’s attention back onto the aesthetics of said plinth, four wheels and all.

Good taste can take a holiday. West once called his adaptives, “a potential attempt to give form to neurotic symptoms (according to Freud the foundation of culture)”.

We think we know what neurosis leads to the acquisition of a big, powerful car. Let’s just say that the pictured adaptive is the least phallic in the range.

The rest come in a range of colours, including flesh, and cruising round town with your insecurities in full view, rather than simply your wealth, must be quite therapeutic.

West’s piece can be seen in Love Story: Works from Erling Kagge’s Collection, at the Astrup Fearnley Museum for Modern Art in Olso, until 27 September 2015.

Photodiary: Franz West at The Hepworth Wakefield

This was my first visit to The Hepworth and I was blown away by a) the David Chipperfield building and b) the setting by the River Calder. Here’s a view from one to the other.

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We were here for the biggest every show at the gallery and the UK’s first major survey of work by Franz West. The Austrian artist walks a thin line between the abject and the appealing.

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Curators and directors took the brave move to show West alongside the presiding genius of this part of the world. His raw plaster heads might be said to belch and heckle the nearby Hepworths.

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This was my favourite piece in the show. It’s just a chair, you might point out, and not a very solid one. But I love the spirit of making do and improvisation. It’s a chair built from hearsay.

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This below also tickled me. For reasons best known to the artist, the bottle is wearing a silver mac. Jokes, of the sort which fellow Viennese Freud might have chewed over, abound in this show.

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This wall mounted installation was called Personale (1995/7), a cluster of works by other artists. That is, I believe, French Shower by Jason Rhoade, but navigation was an issue.

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Beyond the television set you see a handful of West’s much acclaimed ‘adaptives’. Visitors are encouraged to pick these up and explore their weight and dimensions. Radical, huh?

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This was just one ingenious element in a much bigger installation with a title translating as pork chops. Like I say, West really does go in for Mitteleuropean drôlerie.

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And below you can see Parrhesia (2010) a group of talking heads enjoying some ancient Greek democracy. But “I am a sculptor, not a hewer of ideas,” said West.

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So despite his extensive self-directed reading, Wittgenstein and, yes, Freud were not chief materials for this iconoclastic sculptor. Plaster and scrap, on the other hand, were.

In other words he only changed the face of modern sculpture by rolling up his sleeves. As a hopeful hewer of words, the more I think about this show, the better it gets.

Franz West: Where is my Eight? can be seen at The Hepworth Wakefield until 14 September 2014. Read my review on The Arts Desk.