In ancient Athens, the agora was the open space where the Athenians used to congregate to discuss affairs of the state at the dawn of democracy. The openness of the space symbolised the democracy. Philosophers divulged their thoughts to the public, performers expressed themselves through their art and business was conducted without any fear.
Noel Attard’s constructivist sculptures
The fact that the Athenian agora also housed the temple of Hephaestus, the god of metalworking, adds another layer to the exhibition as metal is the material of choice for most of Noel Attard’s sculptures.
The sculptor is well known for his constructivist approach to sculpture, relying on two contrasting characteristics of metal – malleability under certain conditions and hardness. It is a medium which yields to high temperature and focused pressure, properties which Attard exploits to enclose space within the finite volume of his creations.
Attard is one of a very few contemporary Maltese artists who use the constructivist technique.
The Russian artist Vladimir Tatlin (1885-1953) was one of the first to assemble a sculpture from diverse elements, rather than patiently chipping away marble, stone or wood to ease out a sculpture. Spanish sculptor Julio González (1876-1942) and later on British artists like Kenneth Armitage (1916-2002) and Anthony Caro (1924-2013) embarked on a constructivist approach. These British sculptors inspired many followers, among which Malta’s own Toni Pace (1930-1989) who studied in the UK under Caro himself. One can affirm that Pace introduced this way of doing sculpture in 1960s Malta.
Constructivism adds an architectural layer to sculpture, as is evident in Attard’s collection of works. He sometimes adds a layer of fabric, thus further enclosing the metal frame of the sculpture within established parameters. This contributes to a Bedouin ‘makeshift’ tent-like dimension as volume is trapped under a safety net. These creations are agoraphobic and give the illusion of fragility, they need cover to hide away from the openness of the exhibiting space, the agora where noisy discussion can be held.
These metallic skeletal carapaces, plus the shrouding fabric, evoke creatures shedding off their skin. They might elicit comparisons with German artist Gunther von Hagens’s morbid sculptures where human corpses appear to shed off their skin to reveal what lies beneath – an exercise in arresting deterioration and a comment on human mortality.
Alternatively, one can regard Attard’s sculptures as agoraphobic organisms desperately hanging on to their skin, in order to be sheltered from the elements out there.
Agoraphobia invites us to investigate this irrational fear which can just boil down to the existential distress of being exposed and judged
Kevin Sciberras’s sacred spaces
Kevin Sciberras is a poet of space and volume, masterfully capturing an aura of silence and introspection in places of worship and edifices of certain architectural distinction. This time round, he explores garages and public subways, that are generally considered to be undignified and utilitarian. However, Sciberras has added an introspective narrative, endowing the architecture with a mysterious but not necessarily claustrophobic chromatic aura. One is reminded of Marcel Proust’s words as the Maltese artist is “an inspired and prolific poet, who never refuses to spread beauty to the humblest places”.
The steps connect the enclosed space to the great outdoors, and to joys and sorrows of life. These subways, passageways although they behave like sanctums, are like chambers of suspended reality. One can find peace away from the overwhelming cacophony that one encounters upon exiting. They are tunnels underneath the car-clogged roads, away from the collective impatience, expressed through the honking of horns and abusive language. Only a muffled murmur of this unholy uproar reaches these cool depths, safe havens from the agoraphobic hell above.
Musty old cellars, wartime shelters and other hideaways have their own intriguing aromas. One also comes across this when one goes in old, forgotten wayside chapels – that aromatic smell of old candles, sweet incense, hushed echoes and dim light. Although not shrouded in utter darkness and stark silence, one is driven to meditation and to talking in whispers as if ghosts of old haunt the place and one is averse to disturbing their slumber. A similar penumbral light and brooding mood filter through in this collection of Sciberras’s paintings. In some cases, it is a trickle of honey-warm sunlight, in others it is the cold metallic mercury waft of fluorescent tubes.
Underground garages are intended to pack cars in a finite space. Unlike the subways which invite one to cross beneath busy car-infested roads to safely see to one’s chores, garages preclude most human activity. Their raison d’être is to offer a temporary refuge to vehicles from the road. Subways invite motion as they provide connectivity between two points, garages provide rest as they are terminals in a journey. Sciberras acknowledges their ‘sacred’ and hushed quality, as metaphors for life itself.
Edvard Munch’s fear of the great outdoors
The artist who portrayed agoraphobia so eloquently in his oeuvre is Norwegian Edvard Munch. His vivid expressionist palette screamed out the agony and the angst that was torturing his soul. He exorcised this fear of wide-open spaces; he ‘un-romantacised’ the dramatic landscape of his country as he regarded it as too overwhelming and belittling.
His predecessor, Caspar David Friedrich, glorified this belittlement as he wondered on humanity’s role in the great scheme of things, amid the soul-lifting beauty of vast natural expanses of his mother country, Germany.
In her critical essay for the exhibition catalogue, Hannah Dowling states that both Maltese artists approached the theme of agoraphobia drastically differently from Munch. She remarks: “Rather than depicting the emotional state of the victim, their works evoke a confrontation with the space which triggers it.”
Agoraphobia invites us to investigate this irrational fear, which can just boil down to the existential distress at being exposed and judged.
Agoraphobia is hosted by the Volunteer Centre of St Bartholomew Street, Rabat, Malta. It runs until December 11. Log on to the event’s Facebook page for opening hours. COVID-19 restrictions apply.