Generally, being reminded of your
impending death is a pretty depressing event.
You don’t expect to leave a reminder of your oblivion with a warm,
serene, and comfortable sense of calm. However,
this is what you get when you visit Sam
Jinks: Body in Time, currently on show at the Rockhampton Art Gallery.
I was lucky enough to meet with
Sam as the exhibition was getting its final touches before the opening. Our conversation meandered, covering a
multitude of topics, and it became clear that the gentle, human touch emanating
from his exquisite sculptures are a product of the artist’s contemplative and
focussed nature. The thing that
surprised me most from our discussion was the fact that he does not consider his
work hyper-realistic, even though the overwhelming majority of the descriptions
of his art place it in that category. He
went on to explain that although he was capable of it and has done so in a past
life working in the film industry, he doesn’t feel that he needs to ‘take it to
the nth degree’ to allow the works to have the level of impact they require. Amazing, considering that, to me at least, the
works look like they could open their eyes at any moment.
As you enter the room, you’re
drawn to the large, anatomic exploration of the artist’s face on the far wall
titled Calcium Divide (2011), and
before you know it, you’re surrounded by bodies, whole and in fragments. None of them seem overly gruesome or
off-putting, due to their unnatural scale, either too big or too small to be
actual human parts. And even the more visceral
portions of bodies don’t feel like viewing a corpse. The room has both a cool, scientific feel,
and genuine, human warmth to it.
The level of detail and care
taken to make these works look like realistic representations of people is awe
inspiring. ‘Organised imperfection’ is
the term Jinks himself used when describing the complexity and beauty of the
human form. It also became clear
throughout our meeting that producing and presenting these works is almost a
compulsion for him. That it can provide
a certain catharsis through completion.
This need to make bodily objects to meet his exacting, analytical
standards comes through to the viewer in a way that makes you alert, but not
alarmed.
When you scan the room you realise
that you’re surrounded by slices of life, literally and metaphorically. Pre-birth all the way through to acceptance
of mortality, and death itself is present in the room at once. Most of the works are presented in a way so
that you are at matching eye levels, making the experience very intimate. We’re used to seeing diagrammatic life cycles
of frogs and butterflies, but to be physically surrounded by a human life cycle
is a very humbling experience.
Strangely, these works don’t seem
to dredge up massive emotional responses, something that is intentional on the
part of the artist who said, ‘I’m not trying to tug at people’s
heartstrings’. His making process of
trials and tests of materials and effects, coupled with the clean, almost
taxidermy-style presentation of the works actively reduces the emotive
response, leaving you with serene, contemplative feelings of appreciating our
short but beautiful existence.
We all know that each visitor to
the exhibition will approach and read the works in their own way, but I’m quite
sure the joy of life, the spectre of death, and awe at technical brilliance
will be present in a vast majority of those readings.
Sam Jinks: Body in Time is on exhibition at the Rockhampton Art
Gallery from 24 November to 27 January 2013
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