A neon glow is juddering through Tate Britain’s Duveen Galleries. Cerith Wyn Evans’s new sculpture is a storm of monotone rays, dominating the natural daylight, arrogantly filling the space with artificiality.
The new commission is the journey of an electrical pulse in artistic form. The sculpture starts with a single hoop of neon tubing, shifting into a more complex pattern of loops and star shapes… and then: bang! All hell breaks loose. Suddenly that pulse becomes a writhing chaos of shattered lines, interlocking tubes and splintered geometric shapes. It’s like a thousand streetlamps bursting apart, freeze-framed at the moment of explosion.
Take a pen, hold in a tightly balled fist, and scribble viciously on a sheet of paper – this is the neon version of that. It’s like watching an airplane take off, calm control followed by a thrust and combustion.
It’s not all random, obviously. As you walk under the suspended lighting, patterns emerge: cones, triangles, ovals. There’s a rhythm to this mass of electricity. You can hunt for its historical roots (Marcel Duchamp is an obvious one), you can dig for meaning, but this sculpture can and does exist as pure aesthetics and pure experience. Follow the visual rhythm, be taken on a journey of light, and you’ll end up swimming in a neon sea you won’t want to get out of.
@eddyfrankel
