Gilbert & George open A Major Exhibition at Tate Modern. © Isla Harvey/24 Hour Museum

Isla Harvey ventures to Tate Modern for a meeting with a famous artistic duo who are about to enjoy a three month retrospective at the Gallery.

Straight spines, straight faces, matching suits and a love of Gordon’s gin - Gilbert and George are two artists that you won't miss in a crowd.

The famously odd couple have been making and performing art for the last four decades. Now Tate Modern has chosen to venerate their achievements in a gigantic retrospective lasting three months. Jan Debbaut and Ben Borthwick jointly curate the show.

Described as ‘living sculptures’ the peculiar duo have been inseparable since they met at St Martins School of Art in 1967. Rebelling against the art establishment they aimed to produce ‘sculpture’ that was available for everyone, ‘Art For All’ was their ethos. They made their art available by performing in cafes, sending out postcards and living their lives in character.

Gilbert & George, The Nature of Our Looking (1970). Tate © the artists

They may have begun as a backlash to conventional art institutions, but what do they make of that now? Now they’re being immortalised in the Tate? Gilbert jokes: “Well, we shall only be part of the establishment for three months.”

But it doesn’t seem the pair could ever fit in, not even for three months, despite their fame and popularity; they are a law unto themselves. They walk awkwardly round the exhibition, politely talking to press and signing autographs, but never looking comfortable.

Gilbert states: “We only do it for our viewers - we never made art for ourselves.” Indeed, this is not esoteric art, it's about feelings, and people, and life in the East End of London.

The work may not be elitist, but nor is it trying to be all things to all people. Their art explicitly reflects their own lives – their home, their corner of London, the people they find interesting, and of course, their sexuality.

Gilbert & George, England (1980). Tate © the artists

That said, it’s worth noting there isn’t a single woman or girl to be found in the 200 works in the exhibition.

Have Gilbert and George omitted the female race because they are chauvinistic or self-centred? Probably not, more likely it’s simply because women are not a great part of their dually insular world.

They claim to lead a very simple life, saying they “...do not have many friends or even a dog”. They share their work equally, as a single unit, any division of labour being deliberately unapparent in the pieces.

The exhibition is chronological, beginning with some charcoal drawings of the artists in pastoral settings. These so-called Charcoal on paper Sculptures are incongruous to the later works, which mostly rely on photography.

Gilbert & George, Death, Hope, Life, Fear (1984). Tate © the artists

After this brief flirtation with the charcoal medium the pair switched to more modern images, panelled together on a colossal scale, usually with an urban subject.

The switch was induced by comments from people about the ‘form’ of the work. Preferring to concentrate on meaning over form, they were concerned that people were not hearing their message. They did not want viewers to be distracted by the quality of penmanship, the texture, or the strokes of the material.

By the mid '70s their work was beginning to attract positive attention. When they managed to sell one of their pieces for a thousand pounds, they went on a drinking binge to celebrate.

“We like to be happy, we like to be drunk” are the words repeated in one of their video performances. In fact, their appreciation of gin is well documented throughout the retrospective. But Gilbert and George are no ordinary drunks; they go about boozing in the same way they do most things, with exaggerated gravity, with a tinge of polite reservation.

Gilbert & George, Fates (2005). Tate © the artists

Since the very beginning, Gilbert and George have made themselves the focus of their art. By the late 1970s they began to use people and places in their close proximity, but iconic images of them, side by side, are never far away, a dead-pan comment on what surrounds them.

As the time ticks on, the 1980s explodes into action and the work gets bigger, bolder, brighter and more lurid. Themes of lavatorial humour, bodily fluids and homosexual sex begin to emerge. Although striking, these themes should not overshadow their political works, which culminate in Six Bomb Pictures, a sequence of works made to mark the London bombings of 2006.

Also on a political note is England from 1980. Centred is an English rose with Gilbert and George on either side. Their stance is proud and patriotic with legs spread and fists clenched.

Above is the contrast – the artists in crouching position leaning forward, grimacing at the viewer and making playground hand gestures of mockery - a subversion of English nationalism.

Gilbert & George, Bombs (2006). Courtesy Jay Jopling/White Cube © the artists

Contrast is often apparent in their works, for example a beautiful, god-like boy appears naked, framed by a golden rivulet of piss. (Stream 1980) Street life is not romanticised - themes of prostitution, AIDS and violence are all apparent.

For Gilbert and George the whole process of creation, from conception to final outcome, happens in their studio. These days, outside interference is unnecessary and unwelcome.

Love or hate their work, one cannot deny their dedication. They vowed to be living sculpture and they’re still sticking to their guns, over forty years later. They make art their life and vice versa, never wavering their contrived character or being seen in public sans uniform.

The couple proudly declare that they will never retire and never separate. So what’s for the future? “Bring on more sex” was what Gilbert said.