Art of darkness

The East Anglians; Subversive Spaces: Surrealism and Contemporary Art
Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts, Norwich, until 13 December

He favours winter dusk to shoot his subjects, and although some see this exhibition as more about people than about farming, among the best images are empty landscapes. A track of water-filled ruts recedes into the mist along the side of a tree-fringed field; a solitary telegraph pole accentuates the isolation of fog, paradoxically articulating the gloom; a dead fox hangs from barbed wire; a corrugated-iron barn crouches low to the earth against a pale-blue sky.

Of the photographs of people, the reed-cutter in ear-flaps, blue boiler suit and waders has rapidly become a favourite, answering as it does an expectation of how past meets present. (The bundles of reeds in the background resemble old-fashioned stooks, while the clothing is more contemporary.) A group of images of livestock sales gives an opportunity for the faces of those who work the land to be juxtaposed in animated colloquy. Two old boys with a scarecrow in a Brussels-sprout field feature in one of the biggest photographs. Form is not overly defined in these images, it slips easily into moody indistinctness, which suggests that they are meant to be read from a certain distance and not studied close-to. One of the most poignant is of 99-year-old Eric Wortley, whose family has farmed this land for generations, sitting at home beside his fire. Portrait of an endangered species indeed.

In the downstairs gallery is a touring exhibition organised by Manchester University’s Whitworth Art Gallery in its last port of call, after showing for the summer at Compton Verney. Surrealism was all right at the time — 70 or 80 years ago — but its grim and pernicious shadow has extended for far too long. Contemporary art’s fascination for it is more a sign of poverty of imagination and inner resources than ‘artistic dialogue’. In a society where advertising has been dominated by surrealist strategies for the past 20 years (at least), even the outer limits of shock tactics are wearing a little thin. Pranksters of the unconscious (though mostly all-too-conscious), the dear old surrealists have served their turn — again and again and again. Their wide and uncritical popularity today is a sure sign of the unthreatening nature of their imagery in a world inured to atrocity and sensationalism.

That said, there are some enjoyable exhibits in Subversive Spaces. Still on the subject of photography, there’s fine work by Brassai and Dora Maar and a group of beautiful though awful photos by Eugène Atget of ragpickers, from which rises the fetid stench of harboured lives. There’s a film of a chap trailing around with a door on his back, recalling the 1976 performance when three Leeds arts graduates wandered Norfolk with a pole strapped to their heads, subsidised by the Arts Council. Francis Alÿs on film playing the railings with a drumstick is nicely evocative of the first world war and childhood, and there are classic paintings by Tanguy, de Chirico and Magritte. Probably the most subversive work is Tony Oursler’s video installation ‘The Most Beautiful Thing I’ve Never Seen’, which manages to unsettle through its blatantly sexual approach to aesthetics. Quite entertaining for a wet afternoon but don’t expect enlightenment or real darkness.