Silly, Crass and Bloody Brilliant - Sarah Lucas Is Back In Town

Sarah Lucas' work has never existed in a vacuum. For the past 30-odd years, the artist has managed to simultaneously shock, repulse, amuse and delight her critics thanks to her slightly cack-handed bunny sculptures and infinite sex quips that are equally funny and often relatable. Her latest show, Happy Gas at Tate Britain, is no exception to the above, with its brilliance lying in the artist's ability to nonchalantly poke fun at the media and its coverage of women, all while having the last laugh.

Newspaper spreads are blown up to cover one gallery wall where viewers are invited to play the game GUESS THE TITS matching multiple page three models' faces to their 'rack'. This sits near a sculpture where a mechanical arm appears to be repeating the gesture of shaking a hand while placed next to the chair; its title? 'Wanker'. These pieces aren't necessarily blown-out-of-the-water-genius or rib-ticklingly comical, nor do they make you think, but that's the point. Their light, humorous and overtly silly nature gives the viewer a sense of escapism encased within the Lucas world. If Lucas' contemporary (and personal friend) Tracey Emin has a reputation for painting depression, abortion and heartbreak through a political lens masked as a gunshot aimed at men, Lucas' success is down to her skilful humour and impressive ability to turn anything - no matter how dark - into one big joke. Don't think she's any less of an artist though; Lucas' voice is just as powerful.

The work isn't serious, but it is extraordinarily relevant, particularly when planted in the context of this week's news, providing the ideal escape from headlines detailing Laurence Fox's 'Who'd want to shag that' proclamation about journalist Ana Evans, or the dead 15-year-old girl, stabbed for rejecting her peers' advances and let's not even start on the shit show that is Russel Brand. In terms of subverting social realism, no exhibition has done it like Happy Gas has.

Works on show include an amalgamation of past and present; one room is filled with the artist's famed bunny tight-stuffed sculptures as more iterations are present than ever before, while another sees a wreck of cars mashed up, placed next to headless casts of naked women. There's my personal favourite Wanker, which greets you right at the entrance door, and then there's the playful cigarette sculptures and dangerously inviting boob seat (the latter also made with stuffed tights). There's not a huge variety of materials used, but this isn't without commentary from Lucas. 'What I look for in materials is readiness', noted the artist in a press statement. 'It might well be that I'm doing this at home at some odd hour of the day. Often the things that are there aren't generally credited with being art material - like tights, or cigarettes, or an onion.'

It's no secret we're living in tough times. We're going through a post-pandemic recession squeezing everyone dry while living in a country that seems to be a general shit show of a circus. Average art is meant to have a voice; good art is meant to provide commentary that sobers you or at least speaks to you - Lucas' show does both while also providing a haven of solace for 45 minutes from the outside world. It's not very serious, but it is seriously funny. Maybe I am biased because I've always liked the word 'wanker'; maybe Sarah Lucas is the distraction none of us knew we needed.