Jonathan Anderson curates ‘A Composition’ exhibition for Frieze Week in London

The title itself is pretty much a giveaway – ‘A Composition’ means various pieces arranged artfully to form a new whole with a narrative of its own. The thing is, it has not really been established whether ‘A Composition’ is intended to remain solely the title of the current Frieze Week exhibition or become a regular keyword for the whole Pimlico space, which is nearing the end of its first year as a curated space.

Either way, Anderson’s idea of a composition is apparently not a static one. A separate room has been arranged to display the titular work, ‘A Composition’ – an installation of five Murano glass wind chimes by Cerith Wyn Evans, hanging from the centre of the ceiling. Anderson is said to have been actively involved in the process, including picking a treasure-like dark green case for them himself. The room is boarded up with off-white panels intersected by other works by Evans – four katagami screens (Nos. 19, 21, 23 and 9), made from layers of thin mulberry paper bonded together with persimmon lacquer, and two ‘Leaning Horizon’ neons. Pro tip: one should look at the chimes while standing at the far end of the room, so that the light has the chance to pass first through the store’s window glass (which faces west-southwest – best in the afternoon), then through the screens and disperse into various rays. As a result, some will end up absorbed by the off-white panels; others will merge with the neon rays, while still others will shoot through the glass chimes and bounce back. For synesthetes, this is when they hear the chiming sounds.

To quote Anderson, ‘Cerith makes you look at things differently’; indeed, the same space does look different when hit by light from different angles, and the question arises whether it is the form that is the art or the light show that unfolds. Or maybe it’s the dialogue between them. Or everything at once, as we do seem to be way past defining things by a single category.

If applied to the whole space, the ‘composition’ at the Pimlico store is rather a living thing, breathing with the visitors’ gasps as they walk through the space and see ‘one thing roll into another’, as a creative working closely with Anderson puts it.

As part of the Frieze Week exhibition, new pieces have been brought in by other regular collaborators – Hirai’s ceramic pieces, which pay tribute both to her dramatic take on wabi sabi and to Anderson’s own tradition of collecting ceramics; Stephenson’s canvas, which might evoke a bit of Surrealism, a bit of early Renaissance studies of perspective, only to reveal that it is something intrinsically hers altogether; and five anthropomorphic sculptures by Corbett, which seem more than capable of deforming the space around them. The similarities – or rather, references – to human bodies, combined with the work of other artists Anderson has named among his favourites, such as Barbara Hepworth, Paul Thek, Anthea Hamilton, Kira Freije and Liz Magor – some of whose works are also on regular display at Pimlico – do seem to provide pretty solid proof that the man is kind of obsessed with the human form, particularly how it expands and constricts in a dialogue with the space around it. And, on a side note, that is how he does fashion.

Anderson’s efforts to keep art and insular crafts alive and as close to everyday life as possible – while sometimes tweaking a thing or two – make the Pimlico space quite a weird yet addictive hybrid between a museum and a bazaar (albeit a chic one): sculptures, paintings, blankets, coffee cups, trowels and forks, and obviously, clothes and bags.

Being the curator he is, Anderson has dedicated the ground floor almost entirely to the artists. Even if there’s a piece or two from the current JW Anderson collection, they are here to complement the whole tapestry rather than take centre stage – just as one might expect. There is something undeniably personal, if not intimate, about the whole ‘thing’, and it does feel like stepping into Anderson’s home and being introduced to his latest or favourite finds, which he is so proud of. At some point, this feels more like sharing than curating.

Another line that feels deliberately blurred is the one between art and craft. In this space, there seems to be another unit by which the value of the works is measured: human engagement. This could be literally quantified by the number of times a piece was formed and shaped by human hands, as well as by the hours visitors spend contemplating it. The final meaning of a piece is a complex affair involving the artist, the curator and the visitor, or rather their moods at the moments when each played their part and brought something of their own to the table.

That being said, Anderson and the collective he has built around Pimlico seem to be doing quite well at keeping everybody on their toes. It hardly gets more limited-edition than this: two powerhouse names creating 30 wind chimes, with not a single one more or less up for grabs during one of the most coveted days on the contemporary art calendar. The thrill obviously neither starts nor ends with Frieze Week. For example, earlier this year, just like that, Hirai brought in two moon jars – each bearing marks of her rather spirited creative process and still warm from firing. Similarly, no one really knows when Stephenson will bring in a new canvas, or what will be on it. And every single time, the space adapts, transforms and evolves as pieces come, stay or go.

And maybe that’s what the dialogue between art and fashion is all about – giving each other space, literally and figuratively.

The exhibition is presented in partnership with The Platinum Card® by American Express. It will be open to the public from 15 to 21 October, 10 am–6 pm.

JW Anderson, 105–107 Pimlico Road, London SW1W 8PH.