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Art for the masses

Andrew Lambirth

Wednesday, 27th February 2008

Alexander Rodchenko: Revolution in Photography
Hayward Gallery, until 27 April

There’s a whole separate exhibition in the downstairs galleries of the Hayward. It’s called Laughing in a Foreign Language and is supposed to explore the role of laughter and humour in contemporary art through the work of 30 so-called international artists. As an exhibition, it’s a total failure. It’s not just that humour doesn’t easily translate, even in this ghastly era of globalisation, when we seem to want to reduce everyone to the same set of responses and desires. It’s also that so many of the exhibits are striving to be knowing and clever. Laughter is a sacred gift, the most wonderful release and celebration, and it’s always evident when it’s forced. Walking around this show, the spontaneous outbursts of merriment were conspicuous by their absence. Perhaps people take their art so seriously, it would be like laughing in church? Or is it simply that the exhibition is so dreary they found nothing to laugh at? Certainly, none of it brought so much as a wintry smile to my face, except Kutlug Ataman’s video ‘Turkish Delight’. In this, the male artist displays his own gifts as a belly dancer in a wonderfully deadpan performance. The age of satire is not entirely departed. As Swift wrote: ‘Humour is odd, grotesque, and wild,/ Only by affectation spoil’d;/’Tis never by invention got,/Men have it when they know it not.’ There’s altogether too much affectation here, that and trying too hard. Rather wearisome, to put it mildly.

Upstairs, the exhibition of Rodchenko’s photographs is a delight in comparison, though it scarcely justifies the houseroom. Although photography shows are very popular with museums because they’re cheap and easy to put on, and because the public seems to like them (after all, they don’t ask very much of the viewer: no thought or concentrated looking), they should be a bit more exciting than this one. I have rarely seen such an unimaginative exhibition design. I recognise the argument that Rodchenko’s photos are so good they should be seen unadorned, without the distraction of twiddly display features and too many information panels. That’s all right and correct — when you’ve got a decent or even a beautiful gallery to show the work in. But at the Hayward, any exhibition is competing with the bunker which is the building. It is not a pleasure to walk round, and I think visitors need a little more nourishing diversion than is currently on offer. Photography shows can usually be viewed more comfortably at home from the depths of an armchair with a copy of the catalogue (if it’s a good one); this is no exception. The handsome hardback catalogue (price £35) could save you a trip to the Southbank.

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