Casting a Dark Democracy

Casting a Dark Democracy

11 November, 2008
by: Katuschka

Sculptor Tim Shaw's much lauded show Casting a Dark Democracy at Kenneth Armitage Foundation was a traumatic experience for me.  Firstly, the site of the gallery is so obscure that I thought I was knocking on a random person's door.  Upon entering, the curator said she needed to turn everything on and suggested I start in the basement.  After descending into historically the creepiest room in any home, I found myself at the doorway to a Victorian cellar that Jack the Ripper would have found cosy.  I waited about ten minutes for some non-existent lights to be turned on (as I found out later there was some low-lighting, but this didn't detract from the overall crypt-keeper effect) and eventually decided that it may damage my intrepid reporter image if I were to run out screaming like the little girl I am.

Luckily there were no skeletons tucked away: in fact there was a smart plinth supporting the sculpture Tank on Fire, one of the many pieces inspired by images of the Iraq war.  This is an intricate, chaotic, detailed view of soldiers escaping from an exploding tank, full of fury and fear. Casting a Dark Democracy takes its cue from the media, notably the controversial imagery of Abu Ghraib prisoners, and extends the propagandist pornography of violence into a more sophisticated and tangible idea, from a platform where it is more acceptable to be biased.

Tucked away in a side room is a creepier mixed-media sculpture depicting ravens feeding on carrion.  This exhibition's surroundings are fairly unprepossessing, and it would make for popular viewing in a larger venue, but its psychological impact is better served by meandering darkened rooms and claustrophobic spaces where the images are inescapable.  With horrific torture methods practiced on both sides of the war, including water-boarding and being thrown into a darkened cave with a ‘human dog', Shaw immerses the viewer in the experience, hammering home the meaning by recreating every iota of fear.

On the second level is an unsettling piece called Middle Earth which looks like a melting, Lord of the Rings pin-ball table (of course..), but acts as a build up to Shaw's pièce de résistance, which accounts for the overwhelming scent of oil in the room.  Casting a Dark Democracy, is an enormous, almost religious sculpture of one of the most enduring images of an Abu Ghraib prisoner.  It is a sensationally powerful piece - Shaw engages you visually and physically with a sand floor and oil filled shadow at the statue's feet.  The work is so imposing that the image creates a truly lasting impression: with obscured features and a confrontational stance, Shaw conjures up a boogeyman with the added eeriness of being mired in truth.

Shaw's other stand-out sculpture is Man on Fire, a strangely serene image of a running soldier engulfed in flames. It bears the legend 'What in the hearts of men inspires this hate?', an apt, Miltonian query part of the answer to which lies in a black puddle downstairs, and part of which you are made to pause and question.  Shaw, like some psychotic genius, has created a sadistic playground into the dark heart of conflict, through which we are implicated, by fear and by recognition.  Shaw has tapped into the adage 'you think you know but you have no idea' and used it to involve the viewer directly. 

I told the curator when I was about to leave and she asked if I wanted to look around again as she had forgotten to put the sound on, I wasn't sure if my frayed nerves could handle it.  A fantastic exhibition, but not one for the faint hearted like me.  An interesting side-note is that in a previous exhibition Shaw's sculpture of the Grecian mythological figure Silenus was attacked by a man with an iron bar yelling 'you're worshipping the wrong God'.  Perhaps he was simply a religious nutcase, or perhaps Shaw's creepy aesthetics were too overwhelming. And if there is any greater endorsement for his work then, perversely, that would be it.

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Katuschka