Anish Kapoor
It’s clear from his major retrospective at the Hayward Gallery that Anish Kapoor shares Time Out’s fondness for the colour palette red and black. Although, it must be said, his shades have smarter names: Alizarin Crimson and Vantablack. The latter absorbs 99.965% of visible light, holding the world record for the darkest manmade substance, and Kapoor has purchased the exclusive rights to use it (to the consternation of some of his art world peers).
It's quite a privilege to have a solo show at the Hayward Gallery. Very few artists have been invited back for a second: Kapoor’s last exhibition here was in 1998, long before Chicago’s ‘Bean’ was commissioned, before he won the Turner Prize, and before he became one of the world’s most celebrated sculptors.
Nearly thirty years later, this show gathers together many of Kapoor’s greatest hits: concave mirrored surfaces that turn the world upside down; hulking great sculptures caked in thick crimson oil paint, resembling bodies turned inside out. The opening room is dominated by a monumental new work that looks like a bicycle pump has been taken to a Babybel. The jacked-up crimson PVC form bulges against the Hayward’s brutalist concrete, wedged so tightly into the corners that it looks as though, with the slightest nudge, it might pop.
The depthless voids come next; a roomful of works where Kapoor’s Vantablack is put to the test. What appears to be a deep fissure carved into the wall is, in fact, nothing more than a crack-shaped...
