This post was published first in the Chimaera site,
by Ugo Bardi
Chimeras have affected modern art in various ways
as described in another
page of this site. Some contemporary artists have sculpted or painted their
own interpretation of the myth; for instance Arturo Martini with his rabid and angry
male Chimaera. Others, as Annette Messager
and Thomas Grunfeld, have been called “Chimeras” their pieces, even though their work
may have little to do with the ancient myth. A different
case may be that of an artist who has not explicitly mentioned (or not even
thinking of) chimeras, but in whose work we can find chimeric elements
nevertheless.
Anne Shingleton, British artist living
in Tuscany, is such a case. As
far as I know, Ms. Shingleton never sculpted a Classic Chimaera. Yet, there is
something in her art that deserves a note on a site which deals with chimeras.
First of all, what is exactly a
“Chimaera”? If we intend it as a juxtaposition of animals: goat, lion and
snake, it is a pointless exercise in the anatomy of the impossible. But the
fascination with the concept goes well beyond the anatomy mix; it has to do
with the message. The Chimaera is not a freak; it is a symbol. As such, it
carries meaning
for those who can read it.
The ancient used animals or mixtures of animals to carry their message;
a feature of ancient art which has persisted through the middle ages in Europe.
It was lost with the Renaissance, when artists
purposefully turned away from the previous, medieval, models to reinvent everything
again. Renaissance artists thought they were returning to the Classical
tradition of Greek and Roman art, but what they were doing, instead, was to
develop an original and never seen before way of painting and sculpting. A way
that had man as practically the only subject
worth depicting. Animals had no place in the finely painted and sculpted pieces
of Renaissance artists. This attitude has remained with us to this date.
The very conception of Shingleton’s
art makes a clean break with the Renaissance tradition. It goes back squarely to
a world of art closer in conception to that of the ancient artists who
sculpted or painted those magical creatures that in some cultures are called
“chimeras”. Anne Shingleton rarely shows human beings in her work. She shows to us animals; to be more exact creatures which are anatomically
animals, but which are no pointless exercises in anatomy. They carry a message,
they are symbols for something deeper.
So, Shingleton’s flute playing mantis of
the “Wedding Sonata” is a perfect rendition of a real mantis, but it is much
more. It is a singing mantis, a pensive mantis, a mantis who is thinking about
the meaning of the whole universe and who, like us, cannot find a logical reason
for it to exist. Virgil defined the classical Chimera as “vain”, and this term
applies perhaps also to this mantis, apparently so happy to be eating her
companion.
A deep meaning is apparent in
several of Shingleton’s works. In many cases we see animals,
frogs, insects and – often – cats; all sculpted or painted with loving care and
attention to the details, but all carrying a meaning that goes well beyond the
anatomy, well beyond the pure naturalistic representation of the creature.
Our remote ancestors were surrounded by
animal spirits; entities which shaped human life as benevolent spirit guides
or, at times, as tricksters and evil spirits. Over time, the artificial
environment in which we live has caused the spirits to fade away. Anne
Shingleton has this ability: the capability of communicating with the spirit
world. Maybe it is something that she has inside, maybe it is the fact that she
lives in a Tuscan farmhouse in the middle of the Chianti region. Whatever the
case, her work is a precious gift for all of us. Chimeras may be a bit silent
nowadays, but they haven’t gone away for those who can still hear their voice.
Anne Shingleton was born in Salisbury in 1953. She studied zoology, but she turned professional painter, etcher and sculptor. She has been living in Tuscany since 1980.
