Tim Scott
Tim Scott, Spring 2009, pp 104
Tim Scott doesn’t tell stories with his sculpture—he makes poetry. Whether it’s vibrant sheets of coloured acrylic or slabs of unglazed clay, Scott lets the medium speak first. Michael Fried used the word “syntax” when discussing the work of Anthony Caro, Scott’s teacher from 1955 to 1959, and the same term is used by David Moos in his apt discussion of the connections between Scott and Le Corbusier in the generously illustrated catalogue that accompanied two 2008 exhibitions of Scott’s sculpture in Toronto: “The 60s, When Colour was Sculpture,” at the David Mirvish Warehouse at Pacart, and “House of Clay,” at Corkin Gallery.
Scott goes way back. He was included in the trailblazing 1966 exhibition “Primary Structures” at the Jewish Museum, and has long been held in high regard by artists, critics and collectors (namely David Mirvish and Lewis Cabot, as can be seen in the exhibition at Pacart). But there has been a relative drought in the exhibition of his work in North America for the last 20 years or so; the main reason for this is logistics—it takes a warehouse to display Scott’s sprawling works from the 1960s, and expert care to resurrect them.
Mirvish deserves applause for the dedication he has demonstrated in organizing this monumental celebration of Scott in Toronto. It all began with Mirvish’s decision to purchase—or, better said, rescue—Scott’s Sestina (1967), a 25-foot-long expression of colour as sculpture (in steel and aluminum) that had been hiding for decades in storage. Sestina needed TLC and Scott came to Toronto to help with the restoration efforts. While in Toronto last September, Scott continued work on his House of Clay series, which he had started in Yorkshire that spring. These recent sculptures by Scott are fleshy and inviting, as well as modest in scale and appearance, suggesting the artist’s maturity and long-nurtured love of the nature of his chosen materials.
About 40 years separate the featured works in these two exhibitions, but they are connected by their shared suggestion of openness. Mirvish has installed discreet pseudo-grandstands to allow for elevated vantage points from which to view the soaring forms that slice through the warehouse space. Corkin Gallery has also supported the sense of openness in Scott’s work, by displaying the clay works on low-key but high-style tables, which stand at a perfect height for exploring the works from all angles. With both bodies of work, the eye (and the body, in the case of the 1960s work) is invited to travel in, out and around each sculpture.
It has been 30 years since David Mirvish organized an art exhibition and this fabulous three pronged effort (two exhibitions and a catalogue) is a success. Mirvish has always known how to put on a good show.
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