Life in motion exhibition at Liverpool Tate review

One room. Two artists with seemingly nothing in common. Born in

different centuries and reared on different continents. One a man, one

a woman. But both of them possessing a powerful and timeless devotion

to their own suffering that shocks, startles and seduces the viewer.

Tate Liverpool has treat us yet again with an unexpected yet seamless

curative combination…

Upon entering the exhibition the first thing that stood out to me was

the dark purple and blue painted walls, which seemed a strange choice

at first but later grew on me. The colours perfectly complimented the

beige of Egon Schiele’s paper and the crisp black and white of

Woodman’s photographs. White walls would have only served to pale the

delicate and light quality of both artists’ works. The exhibition

space was fairly small but then again so were the pieces. Most of

Woodman’s works were no bigger than postcard size.

The works themselves were a boundary pushing display of twisted bodies

and expressionistic melancholic sexuality. Woodman’s photographs were

ghostly self-portraits showing a brave amount of flesh for a woman in

the 1970s, for her it was not about the nudity but about the

simplicity of the naked form. She did not want to distract from the

diaristic emotion of the images. The theme of her photography cannot

be described in words, you simply have to look and understand the

terrifying emotions of such a turbulent young woman.

Everyone always says that Egon Schiele’s work is shocking, even in

modern times, with its display of both male and female genitalia and

sex acts. But I did not find it shocking; I found his work to be

incredibly beautiful. He has a unique vision of the human body and it

inspires many an artist, from Bowie to Tracey Emin. His entire life

long body of work was inspired by his two great obsessions: sorrow and

sex. His anguish displayed through bruised, writhing bodies and his

lust displayed by… well... sex.

I’m sure that most readers are aware of the work of Egon Schiele and

Francesca Woodman and as a photography student myself I have studied

both artists (particularly Woodman) in great detail. And standing

before the works that I had seen many times before was somewhat

underwhelming, the commercialisation and glorification of art somewhat

cheapens the real deal. My own knowledge caused me to miss out on the

exciting flurry of galvanisation caused by seeing new art. The

exhibition left me uninspired, which is a great shame.