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Lot Essay
'...You might fall into the abyss and be lost forever. In these sculptures you lose yourself in the infinite' (A. Kapoor, interview with S. Kent, in Royal Academy of Arts Magazine, Autumn 2009, no. 104, p. 43).
'The mirror's magic reduces both the depth and weight of the world into a skin that floats on the surface of the steel, emphasising the nothingness of the object itself. It is no longer the cavernous 'inside' of the piece that signifies the void; the creation of emptiness is now, like the mirror itself, everywhere and nowhere... if the mirror sucks in it also spits out - it reflects and refluxes' (H.K. Bhabha quoted in 'Anish Kapoor: Making Emptiness', Anish Kapoor, exh. cat., Hayward Gallery, London 1998, p. 25).
Emerging from the wall, Anish Kapoor's Torus is a gleaming, mercurial meniscus. Perfectly honed in stainless steel, the polished surface bends reflections; compelling the eye to move over the rhythmically undulating surface.
Created in 2002, the same year as the artist's prodigious commission Marsyas for the Turbine Hall, Tate Modern, Torus generates a similar enveloping sensation as the monumental installation. Drawing the viewer into its infinitely deep nucleus, Torus appears to open up a new world within itself, the silvery reflection imparts the cool liquidity of a pool of mercury, turning itself inside out in a continuous state of flux. The glistening surface seduces the viewer, compelling the eye to move over the rhythmically undulating surface. Named after its halo-like geometric shape, Torus is a perfectly constructed archetype of Euclidean geometry, and it is through the faultless execution of its smooth surface and the precision of its geometric form that an engulfing sense of harmony is achieved.
Reflecting an illusory reality in its brilliant, whirling vortex, Torus enters a dialogue with the viewer and the surrounding architecture. Hanging on the wall like a mirror, the polished surface catches one's gaze, evoking the most Lacanian desire to find oneself in the looking glass. The sculpture becomes intrinsically linked to the viewer, returning the gaze, altering the reflection; at certain angles the viewer's image is inverted, at another angle it disappears completely. The act of looking into the artwork to find oneself encapsulates the metaphysical exploration that is at the core of Kapoor's oeuvre. As the artist articulated, 'in the mirrored voids [space] is in front of the object and includes the viewer. It's the contemporary equivalent of the sublime, which is to do with the self - its presence, absence or loss. According to the Kantian idea, the sublime is dangerous because it induces vertigo - you might fall into the abyss and be lost forever. In these sculptures you lose yourself in the infinite' (A. Kapoor, interview with S. Kent, in Royal Academy of Arts Magazine, Autumn 2009, no.104, p. 43).
Following in the tradition of Constantin Brancusi's light-reflecting, polished bronze sculpture, Kapoor employs the mirror-like surface of Torus to transcend the physical realm, its constantly changing surface casting an aura of magic or mysticism. Just as the artist's famed void works explore infinite negative space, the mercurial Torus performs like a portal, pulling the viewer into a phantasmal space. Friend of the artist and scholar Homi K. Bhabha commented on these works: 'the mirror's magic reduces both the depth and weight of the world into a skin that floats on the surface of the steel, emphasising the nothingness of the object itself. It is no longer the cavernous 'inside' of the piece that signifies the void; the creation of emptiness is now, like the mirror itself, everywhere and nowhere...if the mirror sucks in it also spits out - it reflects and refluxes' (H.K. Bhabha, quoted in 'Anish Kapoor: Making Emptiness', Anish Kapoor, exh. cat., Hayward Gallery, London 1998, p. 25).
'The mirror's magic reduces both the depth and weight of the world into a skin that floats on the surface of the steel, emphasising the nothingness of the object itself. It is no longer the cavernous 'inside' of the piece that signifies the void; the creation of emptiness is now, like the mirror itself, everywhere and nowhere... if the mirror sucks in it also spits out - it reflects and refluxes' (H.K. Bhabha quoted in 'Anish Kapoor: Making Emptiness', Anish Kapoor, exh. cat., Hayward Gallery, London 1998, p. 25).
Emerging from the wall, Anish Kapoor's Torus is a gleaming, mercurial meniscus. Perfectly honed in stainless steel, the polished surface bends reflections; compelling the eye to move over the rhythmically undulating surface.
Created in 2002, the same year as the artist's prodigious commission Marsyas for the Turbine Hall, Tate Modern, Torus generates a similar enveloping sensation as the monumental installation. Drawing the viewer into its infinitely deep nucleus, Torus appears to open up a new world within itself, the silvery reflection imparts the cool liquidity of a pool of mercury, turning itself inside out in a continuous state of flux. The glistening surface seduces the viewer, compelling the eye to move over the rhythmically undulating surface. Named after its halo-like geometric shape, Torus is a perfectly constructed archetype of Euclidean geometry, and it is through the faultless execution of its smooth surface and the precision of its geometric form that an engulfing sense of harmony is achieved.
Reflecting an illusory reality in its brilliant, whirling vortex, Torus enters a dialogue with the viewer and the surrounding architecture. Hanging on the wall like a mirror, the polished surface catches one's gaze, evoking the most Lacanian desire to find oneself in the looking glass. The sculpture becomes intrinsically linked to the viewer, returning the gaze, altering the reflection; at certain angles the viewer's image is inverted, at another angle it disappears completely. The act of looking into the artwork to find oneself encapsulates the metaphysical exploration that is at the core of Kapoor's oeuvre. As the artist articulated, 'in the mirrored voids [space] is in front of the object and includes the viewer. It's the contemporary equivalent of the sublime, which is to do with the self - its presence, absence or loss. According to the Kantian idea, the sublime is dangerous because it induces vertigo - you might fall into the abyss and be lost forever. In these sculptures you lose yourself in the infinite' (A. Kapoor, interview with S. Kent, in Royal Academy of Arts Magazine, Autumn 2009, no.104, p. 43).
Following in the tradition of Constantin Brancusi's light-reflecting, polished bronze sculpture, Kapoor employs the mirror-like surface of Torus to transcend the physical realm, its constantly changing surface casting an aura of magic or mysticism. Just as the artist's famed void works explore infinite negative space, the mercurial Torus performs like a portal, pulling the viewer into a phantasmal space. Friend of the artist and scholar Homi K. Bhabha commented on these works: 'the mirror's magic reduces both the depth and weight of the world into a skin that floats on the surface of the steel, emphasising the nothingness of the object itself. It is no longer the cavernous 'inside' of the piece that signifies the void; the creation of emptiness is now, like the mirror itself, everywhere and nowhere...if the mirror sucks in it also spits out - it reflects and refluxes' (H.K. Bhabha, quoted in 'Anish Kapoor: Making Emptiness', Anish Kapoor, exh. cat., Hayward Gallery, London 1998, p. 25).