Anselm Kiefer: II Mistero delle Cattedrali.

Koestle-Cate, Jonathan

Anselm Kiefer

II Mistero delle Cattedrali

White Cube, London

9 December 2011-26 February 2012

Since the exhibition of Anselm Kiefer's latest body of work opened at the sumptuous new White Cube gallery in Bermondsey, I have returned several times, drawn above all to one painting which, amidst an impressive collection of commanding images, is especially compelling. Entitled simply Tempelhof it presents an interior view of Berlin's decommissioned, now defunct airport, which reappears several times in this exhibition as a central motif. As an architectural figure it marks a return to the formidable buildings that featured in many of his iconic images from the 1980s of monumental architectural schemes developed under the Nazis. The now-desolate edifice of Tempelhof similarly offers a series of resonant allusions entirely in keeping with those that have preoccupied Kiefer throughout his career. Originally the medieval site of the Knights Templar, during the early years of National Socialism it was massively expanded, projected to become the communications hub of the Third Reich's glorious new 'world capital' of Germania. Later it became the scene of the celebrated airlift into a divided cold war city.

Born in 1945, Kiefer has always claimed that his biography mirrors that of his country as it emerged from a kind of year zero following the terrible destruction of World War II. As the nation concentrated on its physical reconstruction, Kiefer attended to its mythical and historical rehabilitation, mining the past for his sources, from the earliest tales of German unity against a Roman invader to the dark days of the war, resolute in his conviction that only by confronting its collective guilt could the German people find absolution. Since reunification that harrowing focus has shifted. Nevertheless, in this latest substantial survey of 20 paintings and sculptures, themes and motifs that have populated Kiefer's canvases for decades are again in evidence, as is his penchant for monumental scale, admirably served by this capacious space.

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The title of the exhibition refers to an esoteric text by an unknown author writing in the 1920s which dealt with the transformative capacities of alchemy and claimed that the secrets of this arcane art were encoded in the facades and structures of the Gothic cathedrals of Europe. This cryptic text acts as the inspiration for Kiefer's own hermetic works, which abound in mysteries of their own, referencing, amongst others, Paracelsus, the seeker of hidden knowledge, the secret mystic order of Rosicrucianism, the Golem, the notoriously cruel Roman Emperor Heliogabalus who instituted the mystical cult of the sun god, as dramatised by Antonin Artaud, the chariot of Ezekiel, 'The Great Work' otherwise known as the search for the philosopher's stone, the Norse God Thor, the secret language of birds, and of course Tempelhof itself. As ever, Kiefer's works do not give up their secrets easily. Clues to their meaning or interpretation may be detected in the handwritten phrases, titles or words scrawled across their surfaces, yet these, when legible, may act as prompts to the imagination but cannot be relied upon for any kind of straightforward reading.

In the end it was less the play of associations that drew me back time and again to Tempelhof, but rather its tangible, painterly materiality. Rarely have I felt so palpably the physicality of an interior space, such that it seems one could step into it, the perspectival sweep of curving ceilings and walls drawing one in. In a roomful of prodigious works, this painting was the most understated by far, but for myself it was the most powerfully affecting. Although, generally speaking, the sculptures on show were less satisfying, the poignancy of these paintings lay in their near-sculptural surfaces. These are works which seem to demand a distanced view yet equally merit close inspection. To describe them as impastoed, though technically true, fails to adequately describe their thickly encrusted mixture of oil, acrylic, shellac, salt, lead and charcoal, into which, like a sculptor, Kiefer carves deep, descriptive lines. These scored and flaking surfaces, caked with paint, gain much of their cracked and ravaged patina through prolonged exposure to the outdoors, where they are left to weather. Thus their earthy palette of umbers, sepias, greys and off-whites is enriched by the oxidised colours of neglect. In many cases, their sculptural character was further augmented by the addition of massive lead forms: a satellite dish, a pair of scales, a great lead hook, an antique pram, a pair of spreading wings, an enormous pair of rusted dividers, and blackened, desiccated and attenuated sunflowers. It would be easy to criticise Kiefer for portentousness, but the magisterial grandeur of his vision and masterly command of his materials discourages all such dismissive responses.

Jonathan Koestle-Cate is an Associate Lecturer at Goldsmiths College, London