Mircea Cantor @ The Common Guild

Cantor’s show rises to the occasion of the Common Guild. The viewer is confronted by a catalogue of interconnected fragments of an enigmatic narrative, quite the compelling Cluedo scene. So whodunnit? Mircea Cantor in the drawing room with the Diamond Corn.

We stand before this startling article – the humble foodstuff, ripe with connotation, mythology, fertility and nature – which Cantor has produced in the pointedly inappropriate material of diamond to highlight the paradox of the “exquisite” coupled with the commonplace. Far wittier, in fact, is the uproariously makeshift cardboard plinth upon which the piece is laid, particularly in context of the luxuriant surrounds. In Hiatus a carved flower blooms incongruously on a living tree as the Romanian folktales of the artist’s childhood recur throughout his photography and installation.

Questioned about the prevalence of the personal narrative in his work he brusquely dismisses the possibility:“I try to avoid work which is self-referential”. So how might one account for gender specificity in The Leash of the Dog That Was Longer Than His Life or his potent use of the mirror throughout the exhibition? I linger before IO, a diptych which captures a boy perennially facing a woefully dark tunnel. Wisps of his white blonde hair catch in the light. We advance upon the figure from behind, leaving the boy vulnerable in his fixation with the unknown up ahead.

Refuting a sinister mood Cantor claims “It’s uncomfortable yes, but uncanny is too strong.” The words Ciel Variable appear in singes of smoke on an otherwise pristinely painted ceiling. Stirringly it “reminds us of the ephemeral nature of our lives”. When questioned on the placement of his work, Cantor’s response echoes resonantly as he makes his retreat: “It’s never random.”