Review: Crisis Commission, Somerset House

Some of the leading names in the British art scene have made or donated works to the Crisis Commissi

Displayed in the East Wing galleries of Somerset House the opposition between the shows themes of isolation, property, security and space and its grandiose setting are set in grim opposition.

In the centre of the second room, Gillian Wearing’s Craig, a hyper-real 45cm bronze sculpture of a young ex-serviceman, stands trophy-like on a thin wooden plinth. The work’s scale creates a sense of isolation, it is emasculating, dislocating. Craig is lost in the vast space. The plinth’s transcription tells of Craig’s descent from soldier to homeless man, “Craig became homeless soon after returning from Afghanistan by rapidly spending all of his savings on alcohol. He was eventually diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder”. Commenting on the work, Wearing asserts, “I see all of my work as a portrait of people and the individual stories and experiences they go through”.

Again, a strong sense of narrative is evinced in Bob and Robert Smith’s Kite whose fraying flags trail across the gallery floor. An upturned bucket and rusting saw suggest a party that has long finished. “Help”, it reads, an explicit reminder of the need for intervention.

The fourth room is dominated by Nika Neelova’s Partings. Here, conventional architectural space is shattered. Concrete casts of the interior doors of Somerset House are taken out of context; they strain from ropes tied to a burnt timber frame, while fragments of broken wood litter the floor. No longer providing the entrance to a welcoming space, a refuge, a home, the doors instead present ominous barriers.

Further in, Yinka Shonibare’s crouching mannequin, Homeless Man, strains under the weight of a towering pile of suitcases. Though his dress is made up of vibrantly patterned, African textiles, his bent globe head betrays his burden. The hands that reach up to grasp his loads are disturbingly realistic. ‘Black, dark and piercingly cold,’ reads the swirling text, that spans the mannequin’s head, ‘it was a night for the well housed and fed to draw round the bright fire and thank God they were at home’. “The cases, stacked tall”, describes Shonibare, “weigh heavily. They represent all that is left from a previous life; any privileged person can become vulnerable at any time”.

This sense of vulnerability is shared amongst much of the work. Though, their interpretations are often radically different, the contributor’s representation of the subject is, for the most part, starkly effective. However, there are some pieces, such as Tracey Emin’s self portraits Deep Blue III & V that have less apparent links to the show’s theme. Indeed, in the 1999 documentary Mad Tracey From Margate, Emin commented, "It's pretty difficult for me to do drawings not about me and about someone else”. In light of what we know of the vast sums ammassed by today's big-name contemporary artists, it is hard to draw parrallels between Emin's situation and that of the figure of Craig.

All the work in the exhibition will be auctioned at Christie's on the 3rd of May. All proceeds will go to the charity Crisis. The Crisis Commission will be on display at Somerset House until 22 April.

Jonathan Yeo, The Park Bench. Photo: Mark Bourdillon ©
Getty
Show Hide image

Putin's vote-winning trick? He makes power personal

Representatives in the Russian parliament, the Duma, have long been unpopular. Yet President Putin is immune to voter's discontent.

A week before Russia’s parliamentary elections, the central square in Ekaterinburg – the fourth-largest city in Russia, a thousand miles east of Moscow – was packed with people, huddling close on a wet September night. They faced a stage decorated with a poster imploring the crowd to vote for “ours”, meaning United Russia, Vladimir Putin’s political party.

Yet it wasn’t politics for which thousands of people had braved the rain – it was music. During the perestroika and glasnost years of post-Soviet openness, Ekaterinburg was the cradle of the Russian rock scene. The home-grown bands Nautilus Pompilius, Chaif and Agata Kristi sang about freedom and change. Thus, this free concert to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the legendary Sverdlovsk Rock Club was bound to draw a crowd, and United Russia latched on to that.

A message from Dmitry Medvedev, the United Russia leader, praising local rock bands for their bravery “in those days when freedom was in deficit”, was read to the assembled fans. If freedom was a powerful word thirty years ago it has little impact on Russians today. Turnout in the election on 18 September was less than 50 per cent (and only 41.5 per cent in the Ekaterinburg region), a sign of the general political apathy. Before they went to the polls, it was hard to find anyone who was enthusiastic about voting.

“Why should I bother with voting? The result is clear: United Russia will, as always, win,” says Vyacheslav Bakhtin, who owns a small construction company in Ekaterinburg. He added: “Elections are the last thing on my mind. My business has been suffering for the last two years. We couldn’t even afford to go on a family vacation this summer.”

The Russian economy is struggling because of low oil prices, trade embargoes and geopolitical concerns. There have been public spending cuts, and the free float of the rouble led to currency devaluation and high inflation (7 per cent in August). Unemployment is rising and the base interest rate is 10.5 per cent.

There are many reasons for Russians to want a change in government, yet it appears that people do not see the link between their daily struggles and Putin’s policies.

Anna Mikhailova has recently returned from a tour of the Golden Ring of Russia (a circuit of medieval cities to the north-east of Moscow), where there is a stark contrast between the restored onion-domed churches and the crumbling villages.

“People live in poverty in crammed kummunalki [Soviet-style communal flats with several families sharing one kitchen and bathroom],” she tells me. “But they still talk about Putin the Saviour, standing up for Mother Russia.”

Apart from United Russia, 13 parties were judged eligible to stand, but the range of choice was an illusion. Olga, who requested anonymity for her own safety, explained. “We have one party – United Russia – a few pseudo-opposition parties, the Communists, the LDPR and Fair Russia who support Putin’s cause, and a bunch of nobodies that people don’t care about.”

Indeed, Gennady Zyuganov, who has led the Communist Party since 1993, campaigned under the slogan “Ten Stalinist punches against capitalism”. But although he criticised Medvedev, he didn’t touch Putin. The populist leader of the Liberal Democratic Party of Russia (LDPR), Vladimir Zhirinovsky, another political dinosaur, actively endorses Putin’s foreign policy.

If there is discontent among voters, Putin is immune to it. On the eve of the elections, United Russia’s popularity slid to just 30 per cent of total respondents in one poll, though it scored 50 per cent among those who said they were definitely going to vote. Medvedev’s own approval rating fell to 48 per cent. His message to the elderly that state pensions wouldn’t increase, and his advice to teachers to get jobs in the private sector if they weren’t happy with their state salaries, might have had something to do with it. Yet Putin’s popularity remained consistently high, at 82 per cent, according to independent pollsters the Levada Centre.

Alexey Volkov, a 40-year-old business manager, says he voted for the Communists. “I voted against United Russia, the apparatchiks stifling the president,” he explains. “Putin, on the other hand, is the best ruler since Alexander III [Russia’s emperor at the end of the 19th century].”

Representatives in the Russian parliament, the Duma, have long been unpopular and considered ineffective by the Russian people. Over the past 16 years, presidential power has expanded hugely. Since Russia adopted its new constitution in 1993, successive presidents have introduced legislation to stretch the office’s authority. In his first term as president, Putin acquired 219 new rights and duties, and as his successor Medvedev enjoyed an additional 114 responsibilities. These range from educational appointments to federal government decisions.

As predicted, United Russia topped the ballot with 54 per cent of the vote. Putin’s party claimed 343 of the 450 seats (up from 238 in 2011). The same four parties will form the Duma. The Yabloko and PARNAS parties, seen by voters as a token gesture of protest against the Kremlin, gained negligible support, with 2 per cent and 0.7 per cent, respectively.

It is ultimately Putin’s victory. In the eyes of the majority, he has restored Russia’s strength abroad, revived the defence industry and army, and reinvigorated the country with patriotism. The latter was accomplished via manipulation of the media, which has reinstated the West as the enemy and focused attention on foreign affairs at the expense of the social and economic agenda at home.

Still, with the low turnout, only 26 per cent of eligible Russians voted for Putin’s party. Though that was enough to tighten the president’s grip on the Duma, nationwide the elections paint a picture of a dejected Russia just beginning to feel discontent with the status quo. It is not yet enough to unseat Putin, but as the old Russian saying goes: a drop of water can cut through stone.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times