Nature seems to be a key link between the sculptural artists exhibiting at Tate Modern in recent months where Maria Bartuszova, Magdalena Abakanowicz and Cecilia Vicuña have all been exhibitors. I suppose it’s also worth mentioning that another common link is that they are all women and this may well have something to do with the sensitivity and nuances of themes explored in their art. 

Over a couple of visits, I’ve managed to see all this work and found much of it really quite moving.

Cicelia Vicuña (b.1948) is both a poet and an artist and has been exploring an ancient communication system of South America, the quipu, for several decades. Woven together from organic materials, her sculptures hang down for the full height of the Turbine Hall. Intricate and very beautiful weavings and knots are made up from unspun wool, plant fibres and soft rope, all in their natural, pale colour. Tied in are found objects, some of which have been collected from the banks of the river Thames in a collaborative project with local Latin-American women.

Sound adds to the experience with indigenous music and recordings of nature as well as Vacuña’s own singing.  Her intention is to promote thinking about the destruction of the forests, the impact of climate change and violence against indigenous people.

Working in the most delicate way, casting with plaster, Maria Bartuszova (1936-1996) takes 3D form to a whole new place (for me). She has created forms from the natural world - rain drops, eggs and the human body. She has used her breath, water and gravity to form the plaster into organic shapes that are beautiful to look at and leave you marvelling at how she has managed to create something that married fragility with such impactful form. It was the sort of exhibition that you wanted to move around in very slowly and, once you were at the end, start all over again to make sure you hadn’t missed anything and to ‘fix’ it visually in your memory.

Where Magdalena Abakanowicz (1930-2017) contrasts hugely from the artists above, is her use of immensely strong colour. However, these are colours that are all dark and warm; browns, brick reds, rusts and yellow ochre form a palette that is incredibly rich. Also, her woven, textile sculptures are much more robust; too soft to be described as solid but they have great substance. 

The exhibition shows clearly how Abaknowicz’s work transformed from weavings initially designed to hang on a wall into three dimensional sculptures, some of which could probably be better described as installations. This sense comes from the groupings of large sculptures, floor to ceiling, and placed in such a way that you can walk amongst them and feel the almost interdependence they have on each other. It’s not unlike walking through a wood of large, mature trees and the catalogue talks about her interest in ‘the forest’s ability to provide shelter.’

In relation to my own practice, I found it interesting how she had used collage as part of the process for creating the 2D work and the Tate curation allowed the viewer to compare the collages with the final works in fibre with all their shape and texture.

Again, this was an exhibition to move through slowly, allowing yourself to fully experience the impact of the works, their placement and the references to nature.