Why Wieħed really matters

It would be grossly shortsighted, if not altogether misleading, if one were to consider Austin Camilleri’s public art installations as being, even remotely, conveyors of cheap sensation. 

There is no denying that his works demand serious attention as they address tangible concerns of society, both local and global, provoke reactions, edify the intrinsic qualities of the aesthetic and raise the bar. They do all this and more. Yet, they never enamour sensation. For art, true art for that matter, is anything but. It remains, essentially, an expression of the people to its people.

Camilleri’s latest artistic offering – a remarkable sculpture, simply called Wieħed’ (One) – chosen with three others, following a public call, represents two bronze horses, of daunting height and robust composition, conjoined at the head, forming a combined torso, with feet rearing magnificently towards infinity.

It stands aloof, firmly on two feet, hooves being the only point of contact pinning the sculpture to the earth beneath it, overarching the saltpans at Xwejni. 

Camilleri knows the place, intimately and profoundly. As a child, he joined his late father for long walks, spent afternoons with him dabbling with saltwater slush, witnessing sunsets, scouring the arid pathways, hills and silent alleyways, leading to that sacred promontory where Wieħed stands today. With time, Camilleri’s own breath, skin and pulse became ‘one’ with the wave-beaten terrain. As a result, Wieħed required no plinth, no commemorative attributions nor any artificial lights. It could stand alone. Besides, Camilleri was convinced that the stars would radiate upon his equestrian endowment, cosmically.  

Spanning across his artistic pilgrimage, Camilleri has long been in conversation with nature. His interventions were the outcome of an intimate, almost spiritual engagement with the natural habitat, rather than an irreverent encroachment or trespassing. Some works inspired admiration, others tepid consternation but never condemnation. One recalls his gilded Stones (1999) temporarily implanted at City Gate, Valletta, and all across the archipelago, mesmerising visitors and raising the quintessential question (rock-stone); his three-legged Żieme, which sought to highlight the inherent fragility of power; his Disgħa – a series of nine poetic verses from nine different poems, inscribed on construction sites, quarries and cliff edges, destined to live and vanish in accordance with the dictum of ‘time’, his Leiva (2022), a figure populating the right of passage and the transience of being. 

Wieħed, since its conception, and similar to the examples cited here, was intended primarily to be site-specific, where a definite space or location, transforms into a physical component of the work itself, merging with its immediate natural surroundings, interactively, first in a candid confession of bonding and, second, transient, allowing time to overcome.  

In art, placing a bronze artwork in a site-specific natural environment upholds the deliberate interaction between permanent human-made form and ephemeral natural processes, transforming the artwork from a static object into an “environmental event”. This approach hastens the patina’s chemical reaction to local environmental conditions, the contrast or harmony of the material with its surroundings and the conceptual dialogue between industrial, human-centric creation and organic decay. 

Site-specific art has roots tracing back to prehistoric times. Stonehenge, in Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire and the Moai statues on Easter Island are deeply connected to their locations. These historical works emphasise the longstanding human interest in creating art that coagulates with its environment. Such an approach to art challenges traditional conceptions of sculpture as static objects and emphasises the relationship between art, space and viewer, fostering a deeper connection with the environment and community.

The rationale lies in the intentionality of the artist to merge the artwork into the local ecosystem, ensuring the sculpture “belongs” to its space, often acting as a focal point that enhances the natural, untouched elements. Rather than being an isolated decoration, the artwork morphs into a symbol of permanence as against transience.

In the case of Wieħed, while many materials deteriorate when exposed to nature’s elements, bronze is exceptionally durable, often chosen to represent timelessness, resilience, or a “lasting legacy” that stands in contrast to the transient, changing landscape.

I followed with great attention the raucous, and, at times, impassioned reactions which Wieħed generated across the media spectrum. It was a mixed bag, confirming one fundamental matter – art matters for those who are sensitive to it. And when true art speaks, those witnessing the performance, react invariably.  

As many must have done when Bruno Catalano erected his Les Voyageurs in the Marseille-Fos port in France – those two enigmatic sculptures, half invisible or suggested, standing on the seashore, implanted to evoke memories, and parts of themselves, which every traveller leaves behind when seeking distant shores. Or the gigantic Scallop, created in 2003 by British artist, Maggi Humbling, on the beach near Alderburgh, Suffolk – a tribute to composer Benjamin Britten, who walked daily along the stretch of coastline across Thorpeness.

And, not least, the erstwhile Little Mermaid, basking atop its waterlocked rock as the symbol of Copenhagen for over a century.

It is within this perspective that Camilleri’s oeuvre assumes the status of a bestowal, whereby the sculpture, once married to a public space, becomes property of the people, enters their daily life and participates in their collective memory. His public interventions, in Sicily, Ramallah and Woerden, to name a few, follow the same pattern and have become tightly knit in the daily life of those that inhabit them.

Finally, a word on cultural and artistic awareness-raising. Great artists like Camilleri – one of Malta’s finest – deserve deference and respect, not insensitive and puerile keyboard flourish, for their lifetime commitment to elevate public cultural patrimony and contribute to the aesthetic fabric of these islands, both locally and abroad.

They do not deserve to be ‘flamed’ for introducing concepts which enrich our cultural standards but may not be clearly understood by those who denounce them, without reflection.

The affliction of frivolous insult towards artists whose sole purpose is to brighten up our existence is both unfortunate and intolerable. Anyone who had the pleasure to visit Camilleri’s impressive Nozze di Cana or the Deposizione at the Santuario della Madonna delle Lacrime in Syracuse; the powerfully haunting Via Crucis at the Santwarju Ġesu Ħniena Divina, Naxxar; or the new architectural/sculptural entrance at the President’s San Anton Palace, Attard can attest to his prowess and deserved international profile, something he strives to downplay. 

Wiehed remains an immensely revelatory work of art. It is bound to foster deeper insights into what connects people with their territorial identity and how all this impacts their historical consciousness and their core values, both as a people and nation.

John Paul Grech is a former ambassador.