Art in another dimension

It might help to come with a little background when looking at a work by Miroslaw Balka.

It might help to know that the artist is Polish; that he often uses the scale of the human body, specifically his own, in order to produce work that has a conspicuous lack of human presence; that he uses materials resonant with the weight of European history.

The use of soap, for instance, might naturally lead you to think of death camps. Still, much of it remains hermetic. Just don't expect clues in the titles: 18 x 60, 270 x 449 x 12, are simply the work's dimensions.

Here things rotate mechanically, like items in a window display. Worn leather footballs are skewered on a rope that hangs from the ceiling, turning slowly. You have to read the notes to discover that the balls are like ones used for remedial exercises in hospital.

A wall, with a cut-out space for a door, is covered in white foam sheets, like part of a padded cell, while a twisted rope made of hair is the only thing in the main gallery that's stationary.

One work upstairs does have a title. Dead End. The room is empty, though fresh cement has been applied to the walls.

But again, material is important: it isn't cement, but ash.

To describe Balka's work is to reduce it to its manifest parts, as indeed Balka himself does. It relies on mood, an inchoate feeling. And you've got to meet the artist at least half way.

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