I am always fascinated by the piece of art that sits on what is known as The Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square, London. It is a way of giving public space for an exhibit that can be viewed by so many people.
I have written about many of the other exhibits that have also sat on the Fourth Plinth. I am sure some people admire, some people ignore, and some people wonder what others have seen to merit the piece occupying this special space.
The picture shows the creation of the Lamassu made from empty Iraqi date syrup cans, which was apparently a once-renowned industry, now decimated by the Iraq Wars.
The Lamassu this piece is modelled on once sat guarding the ancient city of Nineveh, near modern day Mosul, Iraq. It was destroyed in 2015, after being safe for over 2700 years. The artist who created the work, Michael Rakowitz has entitled his work The Invisible Enemy Should Not Exist – a strong and emotive title it is too.
It was unveiled on 28 March 2018.
It certainly made me stop and take some time to look at this from a number of angles. Noting the colour formed from the cans. The style of what looks like a winged horse with a human face. It is sizeable too – apparently the footprint of the plinth is the same size as the original so that would have been impressive to see. Sadly no longer possible.
On doing a little research it is interesting to see how much the Lamassu has been used in statue, symbols and more over the centuries.
On this sunny day in London seeing this form made me stop and look at the work that had been created. Think about the destruction of the original, in a place far away from the relative safety and moderate nature of city of London.
I had taken this picture a while ago and as I often walk through trafalgar Square, I have stopped on many occasions to have another look. I usually leave feeling sadness about the Wars, destruction and loss of such an old item. I am also inspired by the work of the artist in creating something so large, from scrap metal, yet with meaning.
As I carried on my way this day I realised the artist had made me aware, made me think, yet made me realise my own discomfort, being unable to act and repair damage from the past.
I wonder what art causes you to stop and makes you uncomfortable?
My best wishes,
Peter
