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Upon entering gallery three at Soapbox to view Charles Robb's recent exhibition, I was greeted by the sight of a flayed human figure, on a hospital bed, with legs spread and sick grey genitals sadly stating a 'maleness' without defence. This life-size, realistically painted sculpture which had been meticulously crafted in clay and then cast in fibreglass, lay next to a generically white computer, a cursor flashing patiently on the otherwise empty screen. With every muscle tense, the figure 's 'agony' immediately vanquished any thought that this was a 'corpse', thus making the work even more uncomfortable-here we were witnessing not the aftermath but the event of death itself.
Alongside the obvious discomfort (read: shock) invoked by the figure, the viewer was also aware of the uncomfortable meeting of figurative sculpture and the readymade. The fact that the bed upon which the sculpture lay was a real hospital bed confused the nature of the work and made the figure 'monstrously lifelike'. 1 Through this collision of genres Robb's work spoke not only of the alienation of the senses in a world of technological communication, but also of the continuing sensual distancing of visual art, post minimalism. 'Sculpture' experienced eternal death-throes on the bed of the readymade, while we, the audience, stood at a safe distance to observe the spectacle.
This drama (or, tableau, as Robb refers to it) took place on a raised, square platform, covered with anonymous grey tiles which were reminiscent of a hospital floor. A sign instructed us not to walk on this platform, drawing attention to its function as a stage. The theatricality of the work was reinforced by the pitiful clenching of the figure's hands