Thinking Sculptures | continued
Ron Mueck | In bed 2005 (detail) | Mixed media, ed. 1/1 | 161.9 x 649.9 x 395cm | Purchased 2008. Queensland Art Gallery Foundation | Collection: Queensland Art Gallery | © Ron Mueck / Courtesy: Anthony d’Offay, London | Photograph Natasha Harth | | View full image
Thinking Sculptures | continued
Solitary thinking figures have been a recurring subject in Ron Mueck’s practice. Ghost 1998; Seated woman 1999; Standing man 2000; and In bed 2005; are key examples. The figures in these works all appear to be thinking about something: each is captured in a moment of solitary reflection, eyes open but focused inwards, apparently disengaged from the world around them. Each, however, has the uncanny ability to communicate to the viewer a far richer and more complex picture of what is taking place inside the subject’s head than the unqualified idea of ‘thinking’. As Heiner Bastian wrote of Ghost, ‘the sculpture . . . perfectly reflects the psychological state of embarrassment, shame, discomfort and withdrawal’.3 Most importantly, it does so without narrative elements guiding us to this conclusion. The insight we have into this thinking subject’s mind is due entirely to observable physical characteristics of her face and body.
The monumentally scaled middle-aged subject of In bed sits with her knees drawn up beneath the bedclothes; only her head and arms are exposed. Posed in a reclining position and with her eyes at 150.0 cm high (approximately eye level for the average standing adult), viewers are given the ideal vantage from which to study her expression and to think about what she’s thinking. She is stripped of any context that might suggest the events that have led to her present situation, yet we have a clear impression of her mental state. Her hand partially covering her mouth and her upwards gaze focusing on nothing in particular, her slumped posture, slightly furrowed brow and countless other nuanced details are masterfully orchestrated to sharply convey the subject’s ponderous and moderately troubled state of mind. We could go further, in fact, and analyse particular elements of her body language — the direction of her glance and involuntary covering of her face with her hand, for example, suggesting the formation of an image in her mind that she is not altogether comfortable with. Significantly, this reading of In bed does not rely on reference to a social type — a ‘worrier’, for example. The feeling that we have access to the tenor of the subject’s thoughts starts with the artist’s virtuosic study of body language but is ultimately brought about by a process of identification and transference. Our initial shock at the sculpture’s viscerally naturalistic appearance and monumental scale is subsequently tempered by the prosaic nature of the subject — her resolute ‘everydayness’ — and our identification with what is taking place. We recognise ourselves frozen in similar moments of solitary introspection. [next page]
