One day, in October 1930, Alexander Calder visited the great abstract painter Piet Mondrian in his apartment in Paris. The Dutch artist had turned this small space on rue du Départ, which also doubled as his studio, into a walk-in work of art. Even his gramophone, painted bright red, had become a note of pure form and colour.
Calder was impressed by the squares and oblongs of the pictures all around. But he also asked a question: wouldn’t it be fun to make these rectangles move? With a perfectly straight face Mondrian replied that this wasn’t necessary: ‘My paintings are already very fast.’
As I walked around Performing Sculpture, the new Calder exhibition at Tate Modern, I mused on which of them had got the better of this exchange. In a free-association test, any art buff prompted with the word ‘Calder’ would immediately respond ‘mobile’. This is because his distinctive contribution to modernism was to make abstract sculpture move.
Naturally, the galleries at Tate Modern are full of Calder’s mobiles: suspended from the ceiling, rising on filigree arrangements like inverted coathangers from the floor.
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