In a city where one wrong move can spark a riot, even the modern art world is not immune to chaos. Tony Cragg, a renowned sculptor and Royal Academician, has seen his fair share of controversy over the years. Yet, he remains committed to his craft, which has taken him on an incredible journey that spans over five decades.
One restless night, a new idea strikes Cragg. He works it up in his studio and sends it off to the foundry, ready to be cast in bronze. Finally, the moment arrives to unveil his latest creation to the world. However, when the first visitor walks through the gallery doors, Cragg is met with more selfies than a social media influencer's dream come true.
"I don't have a problem with that," Cragg says with a hint of resignation. "People respond in different ways." It's a characteristic that has defined his career, marked by both acclaim and criticism. His 1988 Turner Prize win was a major milestone, but it also sparked debate about the value of modern art.
Cragg's views on audio guides have become infamous. He believes they disrupt the direct dialogue between an artwork and its viewer, imposing an external narrative that can stifle creativity. "If you have a picture on a wall," he argues, "it doesn't matter what the artist's intention was. The person comes with their education, background, and abilities – and responds to what's in front of them."
Despite this critique, Cragg has built a team of roadies who help him transport his sculptures from one venue to another. It may seem extravagant, but for an artist who has spent decades honing his craft, the process is almost meditative.
Cragg's early work tackled pressing issues in Britain, including the miners' strike and police clashes in Brixton. His use of motifs like the crown jewels and union flag reflects a complex relationship with nationalism and identity. While he acknowledges that isolationism can be detrimental, he also recognizes the weight of history that hangs over many nations.
In recent years, Cragg has explored themes of existential crises and the search for meaning in an increasingly digital world. His latest works – tall, abstract forms that seem to buckle or twist like a wounded creature – are a testament to his ongoing quest to push boundaries and challenge perceptions.
As we speak, Cragg's mind is already racing with new ideas. "I hate holidays," he confesses. "Twenty-five years ago, everybody needed a holiday. I spend a lot of time in Scandinavia – it's perfect for me, a studio by the ocean." For an artist who has spent his life exploring the intersection of art and everyday life, it's no surprise that Cragg finds inspiration in the most unexpected places.
As we leave Lisson Gallery, Cragg reflects on the evolution of contemporary art. "Now, everywhere you go has its own gallery," he observes wryly. In Britain alone, there were once just a handful of galleries showcasing modern art. But it was not always without controversy. Even in France, where art is revered as a national treasure, some collectors would throw food at modern installations if they didn't meet their expectations.
Cragg's journey to success has been anything but smooth. He has faced criticism and skepticism along the way, but he remains undeterred. For him, art is not just about aesthetics – it's about making life more livable. "Art makes a difference," he insists. "It can change people's lives." And as we part ways, Cragg's sculptures still linger in our minds, a testament to the power of creativity and the enduring quest for meaning in an uncertain world.
One restless night, a new idea strikes Cragg. He works it up in his studio and sends it off to the foundry, ready to be cast in bronze. Finally, the moment arrives to unveil his latest creation to the world. However, when the first visitor walks through the gallery doors, Cragg is met with more selfies than a social media influencer's dream come true.
"I don't have a problem with that," Cragg says with a hint of resignation. "People respond in different ways." It's a characteristic that has defined his career, marked by both acclaim and criticism. His 1988 Turner Prize win was a major milestone, but it also sparked debate about the value of modern art.
Cragg's views on audio guides have become infamous. He believes they disrupt the direct dialogue between an artwork and its viewer, imposing an external narrative that can stifle creativity. "If you have a picture on a wall," he argues, "it doesn't matter what the artist's intention was. The person comes with their education, background, and abilities – and responds to what's in front of them."
Despite this critique, Cragg has built a team of roadies who help him transport his sculptures from one venue to another. It may seem extravagant, but for an artist who has spent decades honing his craft, the process is almost meditative.
Cragg's early work tackled pressing issues in Britain, including the miners' strike and police clashes in Brixton. His use of motifs like the crown jewels and union flag reflects a complex relationship with nationalism and identity. While he acknowledges that isolationism can be detrimental, he also recognizes the weight of history that hangs over many nations.
In recent years, Cragg has explored themes of existential crises and the search for meaning in an increasingly digital world. His latest works – tall, abstract forms that seem to buckle or twist like a wounded creature – are a testament to his ongoing quest to push boundaries and challenge perceptions.
As we speak, Cragg's mind is already racing with new ideas. "I hate holidays," he confesses. "Twenty-five years ago, everybody needed a holiday. I spend a lot of time in Scandinavia – it's perfect for me, a studio by the ocean." For an artist who has spent his life exploring the intersection of art and everyday life, it's no surprise that Cragg finds inspiration in the most unexpected places.
As we leave Lisson Gallery, Cragg reflects on the evolution of contemporary art. "Now, everywhere you go has its own gallery," he observes wryly. In Britain alone, there were once just a handful of galleries showcasing modern art. But it was not always without controversy. Even in France, where art is revered as a national treasure, some collectors would throw food at modern installations if they didn't meet their expectations.
Cragg's journey to success has been anything but smooth. He has faced criticism and skepticism along the way, but he remains undeterred. For him, art is not just about aesthetics – it's about making life more livable. "Art makes a difference," he insists. "It can change people's lives." And as we part ways, Cragg's sculptures still linger in our minds, a testament to the power of creativity and the enduring quest for meaning in an uncertain world.