Science is a tempting but dangerous subject for artists. Keith Tyson's new exhibition is called Supercollider, the nickname of the CERN particle accelerator in Geneva. The trouble is, it's hard to believe Tyson got beyond chapter one of the popular physics book he picked up at Borders.
All that collide here are halfbaked ideas, shopworn aesthetic - or anti-aesthetic - strategies and dull epigrams. Tyson's attempts to evoke the wonders of the universe include a sphere that changes colour (at least this is pretty), a big, tedious revolving machine with pieces of meteor stuck to it, a massive painting of the "infinite cellular blanket" that resembles a jokey version of the last days of 1960s art, and a 12-part drawing that can be arranged in any order called A Night in a Billion.
Chance and the infinite unlikeliness of existence is his heavily stated theme. He labours the point with a leaden overexplicitness that leaves you marooned in the literal and obvious. At least at the Science Museum you might learn something.
Ah, but that's it, you see. Tyson's real point is the mysterious nature of everyday life and the helplessness of the individual. His vast drawing Supercollider is an epic of randomness, of all the possible events in any given moment, from the trivial to the cosmically grand, with an emphasis on the futility of human effort. Science is just a language in which to explore the pointlessness of it all. But better jokes have been made along these lines - instead of snoozing over Stephen Hawking he might want to try Douglas Adams.
Witless, clumsy and ugly, this exhibition is the opposite of what we are told a classic equation should be. It doesn't much resemble art, either. Tyson has obviously been struck by Marcel Duchamp's belief in the artistic value of chance. His "game" Random Tangler is a clumsy second-hand version of one of Duchamp's chance-based artworks, without the grace, lightness or poetry.
Tyson used to claim that his works were devised by a computer he had constructed called the Art Machine. That was some sort of explanation for the unevenness of his art. This time it's human error.
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