Skarstedt London is delighted to announce On Ugliness: Medieval and Contemporary, a rare convergence of paintings, sculptures and photographs spanning the twelfth century to the present day. Taking its title from Umberto Eco’s seminal publication On Ugliness, this curated presentation examines the grotesque as a universal theme, tracing its evolution across a millennium of artistic output. Four medieval stone heads form the crux of this exhibition, their contorted faces- ranging from grimaces to sneers- serve as a touchstone throughout art history and play a formative role in contemporary interpretations of the grotesque.
The exhibition features work by George Condo, Nicole Eisenman, Jameson Green, Martin Kippenberger, Barbara Kruger, Jacob de Litemont, Pablo Picasso, Stefan Rinck, Pensionante del Saraceni, Cindy Sherman, Thomas Schütte and a selection of unknown artists working between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries.
Although the grotesque has been dismissed and deplored by various critics over the past millennium, it remains a recurrent fascination, continuously re-imagined by each generation. As a result, its etymology is in constant flux. Some argue that the grotesque is a collective tool for conceptualising difference and change, while others see it as a means of liberation, freeing the artist from earthly constraints. Regardless of the motif or iconography, the grotesque reveals aspects of the world that elude comprehension, therefore our experience of the genre should result in bafflement.
The most prevalent expression of the grotesque is through metamorphosis or hybridity – a motif discovered in the Roman Emperor Nero’s Villa Aurea upon its excavation in the fifteenth century. The ornamental scenes, later dubbed grottesche (‘from a cave’) captivated artists from Raphael to Pablo Picasso, who revelled in hybridity - first understood through his early proto-cubist works. During this period, he experimented with fragmentation and metamorphosis as exemplified in Tête de femme (1908), an exquisite drawing inspired by African and Iberian artefacts. Similarly, Nicole Eisenman explores corporeal distortion in Maquette: Sketch for a Fountain (Reclining Figure) (2019), where the figure’s exaggerated limbs merge into an amorphous whole. Whilst not traditionally beautiful, Eisenman imbues a serene reverie into the figure, originally conceived for a body of water.
George Condo and Jameson Green embrace metamorphosis, using it as a vehicle for anthropological exploration. Condo’s self-declared 'psychological cubism' dissects the human psyche through fragmentation and distortion, revealing its most sensitive aspects. In Study for Metamorphosis I (2006), the protagonist possesses an undeniably human spirit despite her animalistic appearance, while the compositional techniques pay homage to portraiture masters like Rembrandt and Velazquez. On the other hand, Green’s Head Study #26 (2024) is morphed beyond recognition, using an imagined hybrid creature to confront the challenging themes of racism and corruption.
The grotesque is deeply rooted in art history, yet it defies the ideals of harmony, proportion, and beauty. This is epitomised by Thomas Schütte’s landmark Wicht series (2006), a collection of twelve grotesque heads, of which one is featured. The bronze head, mounted high on a steel console, explores the complexities of the human condition, recalling the distorted medieval stone heads included in this exhibition. Often tucked under roofs, cornices, or atop columns in ecclesiastical buildings, these grotesque heads contrast with the serene saints and apostles that adorn the same spaces. Their exaggerated expressions lend them an air of irreverence, prompting James Lingwood to compare Schütte’s Wicht figures to ‘gargoyles looking down from the sides of medieval cathedrals.’[1] While their original purpose remains uncertain, some scholars interpret them as marginal jokes, lightening the solemnity of religious settings, others view them as caricatures or evil spirits. Regardless of intent, they have been described as ‘the most original physiognomic inventions of the art of the Middle Ages.’[2]
Stefan Rinck’s small-scale contemporary carvings engage with this same grotesque tradition, echoing the hybrid, exaggerated forms of the medieval heads. Carved from natural materials like sandstone or diabase, Rinck’s sculptures mimic the rough-hewn textures of their medieval counterparts, instilling a sense of permanence in his creations. His practice also draws on medieval illustrated encyclopaedias known as bestiaries, which catalogue real and imaginary animals, further rooting his work in the visual and conceptual language of the Middle Ages.
During the medieval period, expressive faces were linked to sin, while an ordered, expressionless face reflected discipline and morality. Conversely, Renaissance and Baroque artists sought to capture the essence of the individual, often at the expense of beauty. With the rise of humanist philosophy in the fourteenth century, the artistic focus shifted from the divine to the human epitomised through an exceptionally rare portrait of King Louis XI of France (circa 1469), attributed to Jacob de Litemont. King Louis XI’s profile is starkly contrasted against a dark background, with his regal status signified by a rich red velvet robe. Nevertheless, his face is unidealised, marked by a crooked nose, heavy features, and baggy eyes. Devoid of flattery, this harsh portrayal reflects the period’s tendency to depict sovereigns with a ‘disarming and intimate sincerity.’[3] The shift towards naturalism intensified in the seventeenth century with Caravaggio’s radical use of live models and violent scenes. Followers like Pensionante del Saraceni (active in Rome circa 1610) emulated his work, particularly in A Boy Being Bitten by a Freshwater Crayfish, embracing his aptitude for theatrical, violent imagery.
The transition towards naturalism paved the way for social satire, as seen in the works of Martin Kippenberger, Cindy Sherman, and Barbara Kruger. Developed in the nineteenth century, it remained a potent force in fine art and popular culture, influencing Kippenberger’s sardonic critique of the artist and art market. His provocative sculpture Fred the Frog Rings the Bell (1990) depicts a crucified frog, his alter-ego, externalising the existential anxiety of exhibiting one’s work. While Kippenberger’s grotesque satire reflects personal turmoil, Sherman and Kruger use unsettling imagery to explore identity politics. In Untitled #140 (1985) from the Fairy Tale series, Sherman transforms into a pig, exposing what lies behind a polished façade. The self, she suggests, is a stage, shaped through metamorphosis. On the other hand, Kruger’s Untitled (Striped 2) (2019) overlays a disturbed male face with declarative statements, using monumental scale and advertising techniques to expose the power structures behind identity, desire, and consumerism.
Each work on view simultaneously delights and disgusts, confronting the viewer with distorted faces, surreal imagery, and hybrid forms, oscillating between the hellish and the carnivalesque. On Ugliness highlights the power of the grotesque to defy artistic conventions through exaggeration, fragmentation, and metamorphosis—an enduring genre that has captivated civilisations throughout history.
[1] J. Lingwood, quoted in Public/Political: Thomas Schütte, Germany 2012, p. 157.
[2] C. Little, Set in Stone: The Face in Medieval Sculpture, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, p.5.
[3] J. Dupont, ‘A Portrait of Louis II Attributed to Jean Perréal’, The Burlington Magazine, 1947, vol. 89, p. 236.
