Ofili good show!

Tate Britain’s retrospective of Chris Ofili’s work stands as a reminder of his unique style and just how likeable Ofili is as an artist. Throughout his career, Ofili’s art has retained a slightly kitsch aesthetic that expands on his long running interest in black (particularly African) culture as well as racial stereotyping within Western culture.

Ofili was catapulted into the limelight in 1997 with the appearance of his work in Charles Saachi’s infamous _Sensation!_ exhibition. He later went on to win the much coveted Turner Prize in 1998 – despite the controversial incorporation of elephant dung within his works.

The seven rooms of the exhibition categorically display Ofili’s career to date, beginning with his early 90s work created soon after a visit to Zimbabwe, during which time his interest in the relationship between art and nature flourished. When asked in 1999 about his interest in elephant dung, he said it was “a way of raising the paintings up from the ground and giving them a feeling that they’ve come from the earth rather than simply being hung on a wall.”

The use of elephant dung as well as pornographic images within often religious-based imagery such as The Holy Virgin Mary (1996) has led to yet more controversy surrounding the artist. However, his popularity over the years has undoubtedly overshadowed his critics and his selection as the first black representative of Britain at the 50th Venice Biennale in 2003 stood to verify what a fundamental role he now has within the contemporary art world as a black artist.

The most unexpected aspect gleaned from viewing his complete works at once is how dramatically his style has changed. Ofili’s early works tended to be large- scale statement pieces, often depicting solitary, caricature-like figures. His subjects ranged from women lounging seductively (at times explicitly) flanked by blossoming flowers, to twilight trysts within jungle scenes or God-like symbols surrounded by stars. He primarily mixes media such as fabric, resin, elephant dung, mapping pins, paint and glitter to create vibrant, layered compositions bursting with energy.

However, at times Ofili’s dazzling aesthetic overshadows more poignant subjects. For example, ‘No Woman, No Cry’ is his interpretation of the repeated images in newspapers and on television of the mother of Stephen Lawrence (a black youth killed in a racially motivated attack), crying desperately at the loss of her son. Within Ofili’s image, the tears that fall down the face of the woman are made up of newspaper cut outs of Lawrence’s face. In room three of the exhibition is an installation known as ‘The Upper Room’, It is made up of twelve canvases depicting rhesus macaque monkeys in various colours. Each individually spot lit, they rest on resin coated dung balls. The thirteenth golden monkey holds pride of place at the end of the room. The long, dark corridor by which one gains access to the room adds to the anticipation of the piece and the dark brown design of the room itself alludes to more private, ceremonial happenings.

The last two rooms of work are very different, almost unrecognizable from his previous style. In them, Ofili works on large canvases with only dark blue and black paint. His scenes are more overtly religious, such as ‘Iscariot Blues’ – and his paintings have more of a sense of subtlety. Interestingly, Ofili comments that these unassuming works, with their neutral aesthetic, display qualities that he has learned to appreciate over time. These last works have a very transitional quality and it would be to say that Ofili is at present between styles. We see experimentation with very dark compositions juxtaposed by vibrant neon drawing one’s attention to single points on the canvas. His figures have also become more sinister; images such as ‘Death and the Roses’ are suggestive of his move to Trinidad and seem to blend island folklore with biblical narrative.

The interview with Ofili screened at the very end of the exhibition really gives insight into the thoughts of the man himself. Ofili speaks slowly about how he feels that he used to try and convey a message through his art but now he lets the art speak for itself. As the camera follows him around the island, he seems to draw inspiration from everything he sees. He speaks fondly of a new idea he is formulating about Trinidadian men who keep tropical birds. He likes the tenderness with which the men treat the birds and the way they take them to work with them like companions. Ofili mutters the words “Birdman Birdman” (perhaps a potential title for a painting to come) as if having momentarily forgotten the presence of the cameras. As an artist, Ofili is bursting with exuberance, yet he seems pensive, perhaps unsure of his next move. This exhibition is a rare public opportunity to see Ofili’s full portfolio, and provokes anticipation for the next instalment of his oeuvre – an instalment not to be missed.