Prezentare Demers Artistic
Costel Iacob’s world, old and miraculous with its mechanistic victories, is a haughty descendant from the meraviglia of Cellini’s chiselling and from explorers’ Wunderkabinette. He is a sculptor who neither crushes stones at all costs, nor crooks the wood; he stages minutely the visions of several craftsmen’s inventory, namely, of those who, since times of yore, achieve exquisite artefacts. During the first years of his career, the artist moulded a series of agglutinated figuration plasters of which the pre-Columbian stylized faces deserved special attention. In the long run, Costel Iacob was irreversibly charmed by the spatial anatomy of mechanisms: the flying DaVincian-like ones, those of the figural clocks or of the shipwrights’. He graduated Sculpture Dept. at 33, after the breakup of his pilot’s career and the penitence the entrance examinations for the Nicolae Grigorescu Institute of Fine Arts in Bucharest, Romania, required in the 80s. At the time he was so autonomous, skilful and exacting as far as his appearance was concerned, that he used to manufacture almost everything: his boots, winter coat, cigarette lighter, watch, a.s.o. Had Ceausescu’s epoch lasted more, he would have crossed the Danube’s Iron Gates in a brass submarine made by him. After 1990 he crossed the Atlantic by plane, but did not settle there. He returned, set up his family and started pottering about imaginary objects in the public studio the Fine Artists’ Union made hardly available. With his Greek ship-owner’s facies and Corsican-like placid conduct while putting dynamite in bride’s cake, Costel Iacob is serene as far as exhibitional firecrackers are concerned. Instead of hunting for “swelling up” his CV with haphazard participations, he prefers to cultivate the creatures issuing one out of the other in the semidarkness of his studio crammed with loyal old tools.
The artist likes to manufacture laboriously each spatial shape joint, ignoring the trick of any modern super-adhesive. His behemoths are winged, clawed or toothed. One’s regard is immediately captivated by the joining details: great Amazonian insects with clock wheels. The threatening theriomorphic figures are subtly enclosed in the shapes. When the sculptures The Ant, the Cricket and Mr. La Fontaine are imagined out of Thonet-chair pieces, the ingenious oneirism assumes human scale.
Staging the theme of expectation, the important exhibition he opened in 2013 included a huge armchair, wholly built by the artist, a veridical metallic bulldog, resembling the Chinese imperial tombs, and a rhythmic section displayed on ascendant axialities, with geometric-modular shapes. Each rib of the mechanistic myriapod is rigorously polished, accumulating the force of a mysterious locomotive function. Thus Costel Iacob becomes a moralist, an exorcizer of all energies making the world go round – because lying produces monsters.
Clock dials stand for his memento, the cogged wheels preserve the rhythm, the wings and fuselages he executed are just going to take off…