BEFORE visiting Tate Liverpool's new exhibition, This is Sculpture, it might be worth undergoing a complete fast of all things aesthetically pleasing. Because, with two floors of more than 100 works from the gallery's national collection, the show is gluttony for the eyes.

​

Standing in a dramatically transformed space on the first floor is the internationally renowned artist and curator Michael Craig-Martin, who is also known for his output of famous students, including Damien Hirst and Julian Opie.

The usually plain white walls are a vivid magenta and there are some of the world's most famous works of art dotted around the floor.

​

"There's an idea that white is a neutral background. It's fine as a background, but it's not neutral.

When you use yellow or magenta, nobody can say it's neutral," explains Craig-Martin, who is guest curating his own section of the exhibition. Outspoken designer Wayne Hemmingway and his 22-year-old son, Jack, and theatre director Tim Etchells, will also oversee areas of the gallery.

​

There is certainly nothing impartial about Craig-Martin's choices, but, by presenting the works in such a bold way, he encourages a response from those looking at them.

This environment is as meticulously controlled as a government science lab, yet it doesn't feel so. Instead, the interlinked galleries roll freely out in front of the viewer like a continuous landscape.

With the plinths matching the walls - magenta, yellow or turquoise, depending on the room - the art works appear almost suspended in mid-air.

And, for every piece, there is a way of viewing it that ensures no other piece of art can be seen in the background - a complicated puzzle to solve, given the number of works he has managed to pack in without the gallery feeling overcrowded.

​

"It didn't take so long to work out," says Craig-Martin simply.

"I'm used to doing it.

"I want there to be different perspectives. You can look at a piece of sculpture on its own or in relation to the others around it.

"But you should also be able to stand at one end of the gallery and enjoy the different works spread out in front of you."

 

The artist was given full access to the Tate's national collection.

While he was familiar with some of the works he chose for the exhibition, such as Salvador Dali's famous Lobster Telephone and Marcel Duchamp's Fountain (a porcelain urinal), others were not as he had expected.

One is Russian sculptor Naum Gabo's Head No.2, a nearly 2mtall steel construction that looks as delicate as sugar-paper.

​

"It's wonderful, isn't it," exclaims Craig-Martin, who made his name as one of Britain's first conceptual artists. "I love the way that it hits you the moment you walk in the gallery." Nearby is Alexander Calder's Standing Mobile, resembling a 3-D version of a detail from a Miro painting, which he found among the Tate's list of works and wanted to see in reality.

His choices are carefully positioned next to works with similar or contrasting features, revealing elements of the pieces that visitors may not spot if they were stood in isolation.

​

"Here, real objects are used to make a sculpture," he explains, indicating Marcel Broodthaers's Casserole and Closed Mussels, a cast-iron pot piled high with shells.

"So, on the wall, I've put a painting of a real object (Andy Warhol's Black Bean 1968 picture of a Campbells Soup can)."

 

It's a concept that sounds awkward when described in print, but in real life seems much less self-conscious.

Craig-Martin is keen for viewers to enjoy the works without being aware of the complicated curatorial decisions behind their display.

​

"They should respond naturally and might not realise that I have put works together to create a dialogue," he explains.

"But, by certain sculptures being placed next to one another, it will make people think about things they may not otherwise have noticed.

"I have tried to make an exhibition exactly as I make my own work - to please myself. You make it as interesting as you can, and hope for the best that other people share your interest."

 

One of the boldest works is Craig-Martin's own creation - a wall-sized line drawing, which incorporates the word sculpture with sketches of everyday objects.

He has had pieces displayed at Tate Liverpool before. His An Oak Tree was included in the Albert Dock gallery's opening exhibition in 1988.

A glass three quarters-full of water, sitting on a shelf, it shocked visitors for its impertinence, not least because the artist insisted that he had transformed the glass into an oak tree without changing its physical properties.

​

"A lot of people have mentioned that work to me," he says with a quiet smile. "They seem to be taken by it."

 

Challenging people's preconceptions about art has inspired Craig-Martin's many students and followers of his work, and it's something he hopes to achieve with the new exhibition.

"I would like people to come here and be completely taken aback, particularly if they have seen the pieces before," he says.

"Curating is like playing with beautiful toys, and with this exhibition I have been given the whole toy box."