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Planning cock-up on Trafalgar Square's Fourth Plinth Planning cock-up on Trafalgar Square's Fourth Plinth
(5 months later)
The Fourth Plinth would be no fun without a bit of fuss and bother; and in its eight year history as the site of a rolling programme of temporary new sculpture it has certainly offered plenty of that. The empty plinth in Trafalgar Square, in the purlieus of the National Gallery, has hosted Marc Quinn's marble sculpture of a disabled woman, Alison Lapper Pregnant; Elmgreen and Dragset's boy on a rocking horse, their gentle takedown of the idea of equestrian sculpture; and, perhaps most joyfully, Antony Gormley's One and Other, when members of the public were able to adopt the plinth for their own for an hour at a time, and it became a surreal stage for ordinary and extraordinary exhibitionism for the summer of 2009.The Fourth Plinth would be no fun without a bit of fuss and bother; and in its eight year history as the site of a rolling programme of temporary new sculpture it has certainly offered plenty of that. The empty plinth in Trafalgar Square, in the purlieus of the National Gallery, has hosted Marc Quinn's marble sculpture of a disabled woman, Alison Lapper Pregnant; Elmgreen and Dragset's boy on a rocking horse, their gentle takedown of the idea of equestrian sculpture; and, perhaps most joyfully, Antony Gormley's One and Other, when members of the public were able to adopt the plinth for their own for an hour at a time, and it became a surreal stage for ordinary and extraordinary exhibitionism for the summer of 2009.
So the planning objection registered by the Thorney Island Society to the erection of a vast royal-blue farmyard bird in Trafalgar Square this July does no more than add to the gaiety of the nation. In fact, Katharina Fritsch's big blue cockerel promises to be no more peculiar than any of the previous incumbents, but the Thorney Island Society – named for the island on which Westminster Abbey was founded – begs to disagree. The society, which calls itself a "watchdog on local planning issues" finds the proposal "to be totally inappropriate; however fanciful and dramatic it might appear to be … We cannot see any logical reason for the proposed sculpture to be placed on the fourth plinth. It is unrelated to the context of Trafalgar Square and adds nothing to it but a feeble distraction."So the planning objection registered by the Thorney Island Society to the erection of a vast royal-blue farmyard bird in Trafalgar Square this July does no more than add to the gaiety of the nation. In fact, Katharina Fritsch's big blue cockerel promises to be no more peculiar than any of the previous incumbents, but the Thorney Island Society – named for the island on which Westminster Abbey was founded – begs to disagree. The society, which calls itself a "watchdog on local planning issues" finds the proposal "to be totally inappropriate; however fanciful and dramatic it might appear to be … We cannot see any logical reason for the proposed sculpture to be placed on the fourth plinth. It is unrelated to the context of Trafalgar Square and adds nothing to it but a feeble distraction."
Which actually seems to suggest to me that Fritsch is doing her job: the stock-in-trade of the venerable Düsseldorf-based artist is what Tate curator Jessica Morgan has called the "unnerving, apparitional quality" of Fritsch's sculptures which, with their matt, powdery surfaces seem to have arrived from quite another world. I'm afraid there is no "logic" about it, and wouldn't it be dreary if there was. Elephants, Madonnas, outsized apples, mice, men in bright suits: the kind of sculptural creatures created by Fritsch do indeed appear "fanciful and dramatic" and "unrelated" to their contexts. That seems to me to be the point. Art is not always meant to fit in: more often it's about disruption and, yes, distraction.Which actually seems to suggest to me that Fritsch is doing her job: the stock-in-trade of the venerable Düsseldorf-based artist is what Tate curator Jessica Morgan has called the "unnerving, apparitional quality" of Fritsch's sculptures which, with their matt, powdery surfaces seem to have arrived from quite another world. I'm afraid there is no "logic" about it, and wouldn't it be dreary if there was. Elephants, Madonnas, outsized apples, mice, men in bright suits: the kind of sculptural creatures created by Fritsch do indeed appear "fanciful and dramatic" and "unrelated" to their contexts. That seems to me to be the point. Art is not always meant to fit in: more often it's about disruption and, yes, distraction.
I can't help feeling that there's something else to it, too: the cockerel is the national symbol of France – and perhaps, there is something especially delicious (or annoying, depending on your perspective) about the Gauls making a small, discreet invasion (courtesy of a German artist, at that) in a square sacred to Britain's greatest naval victory of the Napoleonic wars. But still: let's not overthink it. It's a big, blue, funny, weird, surreal bird in Trafalgar Square. It's going to cheer us all up. Katharina's Cock, as I'd like to think of it, should be a hit.I can't help feeling that there's something else to it, too: the cockerel is the national symbol of France – and perhaps, there is something especially delicious (or annoying, depending on your perspective) about the Gauls making a small, discreet invasion (courtesy of a German artist, at that) in a square sacred to Britain's greatest naval victory of the Napoleonic wars. But still: let's not overthink it. It's a big, blue, funny, weird, surreal bird in Trafalgar Square. It's going to cheer us all up. Katharina's Cock, as I'd like to think of it, should be a hit.
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