Kasia Fudakowski’s sculptural practice provides a totally independent view of artistic production in a social context. Both her sculptures, which often hover somewhere between figurative and abstract, and her sculptural practice-related performances and videos refer to her interest in the theory and philosophy of humour. Fudakowski focuses on the immediate, tense relationship between artist and audience, on patterns of expectation, representational ideals, theatricality, and the interpretation of objects as identities. Her fascination for the tremendous critical potential for humour as a comment on human failure, especially when it comes to social systems, is a crucial feature.
In ‘Where is your alibi, Mr Motorway?’, Fudakowski’s first solo show in Belgium, the artist forces her works into a courtroom context. In a statement referring to the new work, Fudakowski says: “…mixing modern international criminal justice and more medieval, village-orientated forms of assessment, the theatre of the courtroom drama is merged with the in-between-televised-boredom of international tribunals. One object is standing trial. The sculpture, formally known as G.S.O.H. henceforth to be referred to as ‘Mr Motorway’, is the defendant. He is the only previously existing work to be brought into the space, and he spins upon a turning podium, his thin little arm, pathetically pointing to everything else around him. Amongst other things he points to the evidence cabinet, which hangs somewhere between wall and ceiling, displaying ‘evidence’ which seems decidedly homemade… He points to the medieval-style line-up table. A wonky looking leggy construction with a collection of veneered faces, that warp anthropomorphically out of the knots and cuts in the wood. He points to the imposing courtroom architecture, the quickly assembled benches; boxlike, rigid and always wood. His arm sweeps on, above the salt-dough that hangs from the barriers, stuck together with fiddled fingers, and marked with traces of public boredom (names and curses scratched into the wood). And all the while he spins, the soundtrack/transcript of the show/trial seeps relentlessly out of the black room. A film establishing the laws of the land using stumbling animation, fumbling audio and momentary flashes of visual evidence fills the screen. Here the horror emerges from the comic. A system of sentencing based on evidence moulded from salt dough, justice on the basis of sporadic knots in wood, a jury of extras picked from the gathering crowd, a legal system based only on local precedents, judgment as a public’s ‘series finale’ gift to itself…. The danger is that the system might well fail the system itself.”