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Tord Lager
reviews back
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It is a plain fact, though
one not always recognised as such, that no matter how much
it might appear to shift in style and interest over an
extended career, an artist's work will always come
together in the end, all of a piece from first to last.
The hand may grow more subtle, the eye more knowing and acute: the
informing, underlying sensibility remains the
same.
Over the intervening years
it might seem that his work has by now become utterly
different. Gone is the particular reference, the observed
image, gone the smooth impersonal sophistication of technique. But is that really to say that the hand is any
the less sophisticated or the eye less critical? More to
the point, is that to say imagery and formal interests
have changed? Certainly the figures are still there,
though now creatures of the educated imagination, schematic, formalized and
conventional, in the sense that Picasso's "Demoiselles" are
conventional.
Lager has clearly long since turned away from immediate contemporary concerns to embrace a broader sweep of
modernism. His work of 1990s is redolent in particular of
early cubism and its immediate antecedents, not in any
merely affective or dependent way, but by positive
critical choice. It remains entirely personal to him. And
does it matter that he has thus distanced himself from
the currency of the avant-garde? The surface is scored and scraped, leaving the history of the painting in the paint. The image are tentative, exploratory, ambiguous in their realization. The space is shallow, frieze-like, theatrical, with the figures it contains disposed separately along is as though on a stage before the curtain. And yet for all the differences, we are back with those alienated figures of 30 years ago, with their backs turned towards us in a row, back to the shadowy, ambiguous figure in the doorway. Though so very different, it is all of a piece. London, February 1997 Rune Borell Rune Borell 1995 |