Oviedo Shopping Centre

We are surrounded by stuff. It grows into heaps and piles that is stored and used, wears out and is thrown away or moulders in corners. Most of it is rubbish but the traditional bourgeois conception of life is to distinguish between the good and the bad by acquiring quality stuff: high value is put on the craftsmanship and materials that go to make quality stuff.

The ´traditional´ avant garde artist cocked a snook at this bourgeois conception of taste, laughed at its frequent gaucherie and made pleas for a different aesthetic. This was based on the on the ´seeing eye´so that art could become more than just a collection of crafted objects and the artist´s vision became as important as the objects he left behind.

This tradition is evident in every gallery of Modern Art and, even though the story is old and the fable a little worn, I continue to enjoy it. There is something exciting about the Modern Art story. I want to look at an example of a building that expresses the conflict of the modern beautifully.

On a visit to a shopping centre in Oviedo I was struck by the extraordinary beauty of what, on the face of it, is an extremely ugly building. There is a large central space, a stairwell for the five or more floors. This stairwell is occupied by escalators, stairs and ramps so that, looking down into the pit, you are confronted by a mesh of bars painted in a nasty yellow that floats over the gray of the floors and the acid blue of the supports.

Behind this visually powerful structure is a delicate play of lights and gray tones surrounding them: the emphemerality of the twinkling seems to be saying something about the hidden spaces as well. There is constant movement. People are walking and standing on escalators, wholly dominated by this powerful structure, the minor tints of colour in their clothing swamped by the blue and yellow grid. As they disappear to the bottom layer they become less distinct and clear and then they disappear into the hidden spaces- the shops.

The experience of this shopping centre is more arresting than any work of art I have seen in a museum or gallery recently. It is visually enchanting. It entirely repudiates bourgeios notions of taste with is blue and yellow colour combination. It ought to be ´tacky´and ´nasty´ but with the effect of the hole, softening the colours, and the twinkling lights and grays, which give them an almost magical context, the experience of looking becomes delightful.

At the same time there are levels of meaning in this work- not meanings that I have put there, but meanings that arise naturally from the meditation on this extraordinary experience. The people are oblivious to the beauty of the structure and instead are attracted to the twinkling lights. Even the visual power of the yellows and blues cannot distract them from the enchantment of the ephemeral and they, therefore, become willing participants in the dance, the visual spectacle seen from above looking down or below looking up.

Not only this, but you can engage directly with the work by riding the escalators, walking the ramps or climbing the stairs. Then you can watch as the bars of yellow change in configuration around you and meditate on personal and cultural meanings. Bars mean cages; ascent and descent recall heaven and hell; the pit itself with its levels and layers recalls the vision of Dante. One is tempted to look for a guide to help question the people in various degrees of stupour or trance.

Then there is the final irony- appropriate since, in this age, irony is the defining tone of aesthetic experience- that the work refers to its own place in the history of Modernity. Within it the new bourgois searhc for objects of quality on the shelves of the stores. The commercial centre, which I have looked at as the work of art, is ignored in the quest to acquire more stuff.

Some voices may even decry the ugliness of the monstrosity that has been erected to service our appetites. However, like the best of Modren Art, this work interacts with, expresses, comments upon and at the same time remains elusive to, the world in which it exists. It is a masterpiece.