William Kentridge: Sibyl – Barbican, London (LAST CHANCE TO SEE)

A review of William Kentridge: Sibyl, a curiously multidisciplinary collaboration between South African artists. Bold Barbican programming at its finest.

William Kentridge, Alexander Calder And The Cumaean Sibyl

Reading the programme ahead of attending William Kentridge: Sibyl at the Barbican, I was somewhat surprised to read that Kentridge is “[b]est known for his charcoal drawings, animated films, large-scale theatre and opera performances, tapestries and sculptures.” That’s quite a lot of things to be ‘best known’ for! Having now seen Sibyl, however, I understand.

Over three days, Barbican audiences have the opportunity to see two works, which between them blend most of these art forms. Firstly there is The Moment Has Gone, a 20 minute animated and live action film, projected onto a collage backdrop. The film has a live piano accompaniment composed and performed by Kyle Shepherd. And a four person chorus composed by Nhlanhla Mahlangu.

This section sets the audience up for the second part, which is chamber orchestra Waiting For The Sibyl. First performed in Rome in 2019, Waiting For The Sibyl is Kentridge’s companion piece to Work in Progress. Conceived by Alexander Calder in 1968, Work in Progress combines sculpture and circus in interesting ways. Kentridge does not follow on directly from Calder’s lead. Rather, he comes at it obliquely through the myth of the Cumaean Sibyl.

If you are not aware (I was not), the Cumaean Sibyl was the priestess at an oracle of Apollo in Cumae in Italy. As recounted in the Aeneid, she would write the fate of supplicants onto oak leaves. When the supplicant approached, the wind would mix their fate up with those of many others. There is thus an interesting prospect raised: your fate is known, but never by you. A fertile source of inspiration for our uncertain times!

The Moment Has Gone / Waiting For The Sibyl

To you will permit me to go back for a moment to The Moment Has Gone, I think its inclusion in the evening’s programme is an inspired one. In the animated film, we get an insight into Kentridge’s process. We see multiple versions of the artist sketching images in charcoal (frequently drawing with both hands at once) and reworking them in order to create animations. There isn’t a particular narrative. But the understanding of the artist’s process, combined with foreshadowing of the Sibyl’s prophecies as text incorporated into the images, gets us familiar with this rich artistic practice before the chamber orchestra begins. Likewise we meet four of the singers, their voices melancholy yet beautiful, and the virtuoso piano performance of Kyle Shepherd.

In the second part, Waiting for the Sibyl, the multidisciplinary approach turns up a notch. There are a series of vignettes where characters attempt to grapple with the Sibyl’s pronouncements. In a particularly funny one, a character holds pages (which here replace oak leaves) to his ear, unsure which to listen to. As well as the music there are striking visuals. Particularly the sharp shadows cast by the dancers against another collaged backdrop. Teresa Phuti Mojela as the Sibyl doesn’t speak a word. But her expressive dancing tells her tale, her use of her dress to create volume and shapes at times reminding me of Loie Fuller. The set by Sabine Theunissen is spare but clever and, along with the costumes by Greta Goiris, keeps us firmly in the world of myth and legend.

In fact, it is Goiris’s costumes which tie us back to Calder’s circus performance in the end. A dancer balances on a turntable, creating shapes reminiscent of Calder’s rotating sculptures with the help of a few simple elements of costume. The esoteric, beautiful, funny and powerful evening draws to a close, to rapturous applause. Yet again, my understanding of the boundaries of art and performance have been pushed a little further.

Salterton Arts Review’s rating: 4/5

William Kentridge: Sibyl on at the Barbican until 24 April 2022