Phyllida Barlow was a great sculptor whose massy, messy, overwhelming artworks were funny, threatening, intelligent, theatrical and addressed – elliptically and slyly – the historical and political moments in which they were made. She was also an unforgettable presence, always the smartest person in the room, able to nose out bullshit at 50 paces. Her irreverent, ever-youthful laughter was one of the most joyous and mischievous sounds on Earth.
There are some artists who articulate what they want to say through their work, and find it hard to verbalise or explain their approach. There are some whose very articulacy seems to outpace the work, or push it into the background. Barlow had it all. Her art, rooted in the rough and tumble of the streetscapes of her traffic-ridden, busy patch of north London, makes you see and feel the world differently. It is compelling, mysterious and full of strange atmospheres that can’t ever be quite pinned down by talking about it.
