Mrinalini Mukherjee's latest exhibition at the Royal Academy in London has left this reviewer underwhelmed. The show brings together a range of works by the Indian artist, including her iconic sculptures and watercolours. However, it is the sculptures that prove to be the real highlight of the exhibition.
Mukherjee's use of tightly woven natural fibres creates a hallucinatory yet sharply observed response to nature. Her work is full of echoes of the Indian landscape and, in this case, India's skies. If a bird can become an ogre in her fantastic imagination, a flower can grow into a fat, sprawling, bloodied excrescence and a tree transmute into gold.
But what really sets Mukherjee apart is her ability to draw deeply on her culture but transcend the local. Her art is international, not local. Given her rise to brilliance in the 80s, it's tempting to see her as a magic realist. She mingles modern India's history with surrealism, dreams and fantastical images of an intense national landscape.
Unfortunately, Mukherjee's art is consistently undermined by the mediocre works that surround it. The exhibition tries to give her some company from lesser artists, but it feels like they're trying too hard. The result is a gallery space that's more chaos than cohesion.
One particular sculpture, Adi Pushp II, stood out for its grossly shaped, triffidian plant that blossoms with erotic suggestiveness. It's consciously, smartly rooted in India's religions and art and leaves all the other artists in the deep shade it casts.
The show's curatorial decisions are puzzling. Why include watercolours by Mukherjee's "circle" when her own sculptures are the real stars? The result is a show that feels like it's trying to put on a good face rather than showcasing some truly remarkable art.
Despite this, Mukherjee's art remains as meaningful and accessible today as it was in her lifetime. It's a testament to her genius that she can evoke statues of seated Buddhas and sages with contradictions both spiritually calm and sensually violent. She transcends the local and speaks to something universal.
In short, Mrinalini Mukherjee's exhibition at the Royal Academy is a must-see for anyone interested in contemporary art. It's a shame that the surrounding mediocrity lets down what could have been a truly outstanding show.
Mukherjee's use of tightly woven natural fibres creates a hallucinatory yet sharply observed response to nature. Her work is full of echoes of the Indian landscape and, in this case, India's skies. If a bird can become an ogre in her fantastic imagination, a flower can grow into a fat, sprawling, bloodied excrescence and a tree transmute into gold.
But what really sets Mukherjee apart is her ability to draw deeply on her culture but transcend the local. Her art is international, not local. Given her rise to brilliance in the 80s, it's tempting to see her as a magic realist. She mingles modern India's history with surrealism, dreams and fantastical images of an intense national landscape.
Unfortunately, Mukherjee's art is consistently undermined by the mediocre works that surround it. The exhibition tries to give her some company from lesser artists, but it feels like they're trying too hard. The result is a gallery space that's more chaos than cohesion.
One particular sculpture, Adi Pushp II, stood out for its grossly shaped, triffidian plant that blossoms with erotic suggestiveness. It's consciously, smartly rooted in India's religions and art and leaves all the other artists in the deep shade it casts.
The show's curatorial decisions are puzzling. Why include watercolours by Mukherjee's "circle" when her own sculptures are the real stars? The result is a show that feels like it's trying to put on a good face rather than showcasing some truly remarkable art.
Despite this, Mukherjee's art remains as meaningful and accessible today as it was in her lifetime. It's a testament to her genius that she can evoke statues of seated Buddhas and sages with contradictions both spiritually calm and sensually violent. She transcends the local and speaks to something universal.
In short, Mrinalini Mukherjee's exhibition at the Royal Academy is a must-see for anyone interested in contemporary art. It's a shame that the surrounding mediocrity lets down what could have been a truly outstanding show.