The Kitsch Statue

The Sea-Side Aesthetic

St Pancras Station reminds me of my childhood holidays. I remember the seaside gift shops; those purveyors of mantelpiece knack-knacks: a miniature seagull, say, or a miniature lighthouse. The resort was identified by loopy writing around the plinth: 'A Souvenir from Filey', 'A Souvenir from Scarborough', or 'A Souvenir from Bridlington'. I enjoyed the irony: turning it over, one invariably saw 'Made in Hong Kong' stamped on the base. In my loft, I still have one or two Sino-Yorkist souvenirs. Save for the loopy writing, a miniature lighthouse from Filey, made in Hong Kong, was identical to a souvenir from Bridlington, made in Hong Kong, and also to a souvenir from Scarborough, made in Hong Kong.

St Pancras Station also reminds me of Sunday's colour supplements, in the back of which one will find advertisements for package holidays, wines of distinction, trousers and blouses of sartorial averageness, and . . . sundry sculpture, ornament, figurine and the like. A cutesy ballerina, perhaps; a Little Bo-Peep; a decorative plate commemorating the Queen Mum; a cottage-shaped teapot.

If we put the statue that obtrudes in St Pancras into a shrinking machine, we'd have a very nice pee wee not unsuited to a seaside gift shop or colour supplement. I refer to the embracing male and female giants. Officially this statue is called the Meeting Place, but colloquially it is the Embracing Lovers or the Lovers' Statue or just the Lovers. I would like to render an opinion on this matter; for I believe that serious artistic objections may be raised.

I should say before venturing any further - although my argument will doubtless be misrepresented anyway - that I exculpate the bas relief that circumnavigates the plinth. The artist thankfully avoided: 'A Souvenir from St Pancras' in loopy script. (I cannot ascertain what is written on the base.). Rather, the bas relief is a remarkable piece of perspectival illusionism. The craftsmanship astonishes; the sublimity stupefies. To some degree this bas relief redeems the gigantic excrescence above it. In fact to a large degree it elucidates the mistake.

My gut response to the embracing giants is one of irritation; and I have tried to rationalize this it at an intellectual level. I will cite my minor objections first. The giants have slightly sinister faces, more so with the man. In style they clash violently with the bas relief. They are inappropriately sized: one's perspective is either too close or too distant. They are overly literal: the finest art communicates at an emotional level, as cursory comparison with Rodin's The Kiss quickly demonstrates. And they are unconnected with St. Pancras Station - excepting in a banal sense, that lovers meet and part there. In this regard, Sir John Betjeman - captured nearby in an exquisite state of dynamism - is properly apposite.

My biggest objection though, is the 'kitsch crux': the statue expresses and excites easy sentiment; it makes no intellectual demands in doing so; and worse, it tries to deceive the viewer into believing he feels something deep and serious, when it is shallow and fatuous. Aesthetic merit requires an emotional distinctness, in which observers identify artworks with the artist; whereas kitsch traffics in cheap sentiment that is everybody's. True artworks disregard our wants and needs; kitsch is contrived to charm, to flatter and to ingratiate. We identify an opera with the composer; unless it is a soap opera, in which case the author is irrelevant to us.

For these reasons, I prefer the title 'Kitsch Statue'.

I am happy to enjoy kitsch as kitsch. I have schmaltzy ornaments of my own: one of them is a smiling cat, sporting a bright-orange bowtie. I also enjoy the works of Jeff Koons, the garishness of which I read in a knowingly ironic, humorous and winking way - as a pastiche of (or even homage to) kitsch. The gewgawed giants, on the other and lamentable hand, are passed off as artistically serious and profound. They have of course received approbation from many members of the public. But these idolaters would, if they came across a miniature version in a seaside gift shop, perceive only cheesy bric-á-brac.

I gather that miniatures of the Kitsch Statue are indeed available commercially. They will sit nicely on the mantelpiece, alongside a cutesy ballerina. 

(c) cufwulf

cufwulf@aol.com