by Leo Kent

Tate Modern

12 February -17 May 2009

In most circumstances art should stand on its own devoid of context and then be judged. But not so with Constructivism, so entangled is it with the Russian Revolution and infused with the communist ideals of the two main protagonists of this movement, Rodchenko and Popova that it would be totally redundant to gaze upon their art in isolation. It is particularly pertinent that one of the key proponents of the movement, Liubov Popova (1889-1924) was a woman. Here we see the Bolshevik ideal of equality of the sexes coming into fruition.

Branching out of and away from the Suprematist movement and its ringleader Malevich, Constructivism concentrated on a new form of abstraction that considered line and spatial dimension. Popova, in her Painterly Architechtonic series of 1917, poured wood dust onto the canvas in order to bring out the three dimensional quality of these paintings. In the first room are a few examples of these powerfully hypnotic paintings that seemingly draw you into their spatial depth.

When you reach the second room, Rodchenko starts to replace his rich tones contained neatly in squares and triangles with multiform tones merging into each other. However this seems a momentary blip as he reverts to deconstruction, oddly enough considering the name of the movement, to lines and circles made with the aid of compasses and rulers. In theses paintings the colours become fewer and less varied. The title ‘Black on Black’ may invite the sniggers of the wary of modern art, sounding perfect for a satirical piece, but it is incredibly effective, manipulating the minutiae of  black tonal variation to bring out a real feeling of depth and height.

In room seven and eight you see the examples of work from the 5×5=25 exhibition of 1920. It is only when you get to this room that you suddenly realise that there were other artists such as Petranova and Exter in movement. Petranova’s work seems largely reminiscent of Duchamp’s early cubist paintings such as Nude Descending the Stairs from eight years earlier. It is also in this room that we see the easel being put aside as the Constructivists came to reject art for arts sake. Rodchenko wanted to make art practical, applying it to the textile industry, state propaganda, theatre and film. Perhaps he missed the irony that theatre and film are in themselves art forms. It is once you enter room nine that you see this manifesto put into practice with an array of their art used in industry. An endless line of state propaganda posters merge into one when at this point you may start to lose interest in the exhibition, not only because you lose respect for Rodchenko and Popova who were happy to be used to help promote state propaganda, but also because you are overloaded with examples.

There is also a sketch by Rodchenko which he did after being commissioned to design newspaper kiosks. The Constructivist ideal of practicality and functionality that united the separate modernist movements seems undermined by the frankly ludicrous sketch of a square kiosk piled upon with various angular shapes that mount up sky high but seem to serve no purpose.

The last room- you have to give it to the Tate Modern for trying -is a construction of one of Rodchenko’s designs for a worker’s club that abandoned bourgeoisie comfort for cold function. There is a row of backbreaking chairs at a reading desk. It is a rather odd spectacle to see members of the public sitting in these contraptions reading the papers as if they were in a public library. In a corner there was also a couple quietly playing chess. They must have had a lot of time to kill. It was a Sunday after all.

While the exhibition is well worth the £9 entrance fee, showing an extensive collection of Rodchenko’ and Popova’s collection that chronicles both careers it is laid out a touch soberly losing somewhat the sense of turbulence and tragedy the artists went through, including Popova’s premature death of scarlet fever in 1924.

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