Adrian Searle's 30-Year Art Odyssey: From Vermeer to Venice Biennale
After writing about art for the Guardian for 30 years, Adrian Searle steps down as chief art critic, offering a vivid reflection on his career. He admits that summarizing what he has learned is challenging, but he can vividly recount what he has seen. Critics, he notes, are among the most unreliable narrators, as memories blur quickly even for eyewitnesses.
The Intimacy of Vermeer and the Chain of Exhibitions
Searle recalls Vermeer's 1670-71 painting Woman Writing a Letter, With Her Maid, which makes him feel privy to intimacies despite withheld details. This experience forms part of a chain in his imagination, linking past to present. It began with a Goya exhibition at London's Royal Academy in 1963 when he was 10 or 11, an event that has never left him. Other pivotal shows include Édouard Manet at the Prado in 2003 and polychrome Spanish sculptures in the National Gallery's The Sacred Made Real in 2010.
Memorable Installations and Global Art Events
Over the decades, Searle has attended numerous Documentas in Kassel, Manifestas across Europe, and countless Tate Modern Turbine Hall commissions. Venice Biennale visits have blended into a watery blur, and art fairs are too many to recount. He highlights unique experiences, such as a DIY exhibition on wasteground in Glasgow and Roger Hiorns' crystal-clogged council flat near Elephant and Castle.
Unforgettable moments include Pipilotti Rist's underwear on a washing line at Hauser & Wirth Somerset in 2014 and going nose-to-nose with Fiona Banner's jet fighter at Tate Britain in 2010. Gregor Schneider's 2004 Die Familie Schneider, with its eerie terraced houses and unsettling incidents, remains ineradicable in his memory.
The Blur Between Reality and Imagination
Searle questions whether he saw a lone orchestral conductor in housing projects or if it was from a painting by Noah Davis. Emily Jacir's 2001-03 project Where We Come From, documenting journeys in Palestine, blurred lines between imagined and real, sticking with him as a powerful story.
Immersive Experiences and the Art of Looking
He has boated on a flooded sculpture deck at the Hayward Gallery and spent a night on a motorised bed by Carsten Höller. Some shows feel like yesterday but happened 20 years ago, while recent reviews fade quickly. Journeys and random encounters often prove as memorable as the art itself.
When deadlines loom, Searle confesses uncertainty about rating shows, relying on the material to guide him. Reviews of Anni Albers' weavings, Richard Serra's sculptures, and Steve McQueen's film Grenfell almost wrote themselves, with the latter being a profound act of witnessing.
Personal Growth and Critical Insights
Early in his career, Searle didn't understand Cézanne, even faking enthusiasm for a 1996 Tate retrospective. Over time, he has learned to let art engage on multiple levels, as with Turner prize-winning artist Nnena Kalu's work, which snared him unexpectedly in Bradford.
He rejects becoming a reactionary critic, valuing openness over table-thumping. When asked about his methodology by a Polish critic, Searle admitted he doesn't have one—he just looks at the art and hopes the writing comes, often making things up along the way.
Changes in the Art World and Enduring Favorites
Over 30 years, the art world has ramped up in money, glamour, and yachts, though none for Searle. He jokes about missed betting opportunities on Turner prize predictions. Artists like Cézanne have grown on him, though some aspects remain challenging.
He advises sticking with artists you don't initially get, as they often return for reevaluation. The art world has shifted from needing explanations of installations to embracing immersive experiences, like Tino Sehgal's dark room performances, which he found more engaging than Yayoi Kusama's Infinity Rooms.
The Consistency and Change in Art
Searle notes that some artists change without improving, while others improve without changing. Figures like Philippe Parreno or Steve McQueen demonstrate astonishing diversity while remaining true to themselves. Even consistency can be deceptive, as seen in Georges Seurat's seascapes at the Courtauld Gallery, which become more unnerving with prolonged viewing.
Now, Searle prefers quiet rooms with Goya sketches or Seurat drawings, acknowledging that while art may seem unchanged, the viewer evolves. Art, he concludes, always changes and always stays the same, a paradox that has defined his three-decade journey.
