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Sun worship

 
 
Mourne Kransky
15:38 / 18.10.03
Went along, on this sunny but cold and windy October day, to Tate Modern to take a look at Olafur Eliasson's Weather Project. I'd read a description of the installation: great sun disk at one end of the turbine hall, with some fine mist sprayed into the atmosphere.

Eliasson likes to mimic weather conditions in incongruous spaces to shuffle the viewer's emotional cards. Sounded interesting but nothing special. Even stopped for brunch en route in the gallery café as a nod to my innate cynicism and token resistance to the hype.

But it's wonderful! The turbine hall is full of people staring up at the artifical orb and, in a very unBritish way, lying on the floor pretending they're on a beach somewhere, pointing up at the sky (great ceiling reflecting back at you) and being in the unexpected moment. Your perspective of the reflected half of the orb, on entering the extreme end of the exhibition space, echoes the rising and setting sun, with the cirumference bleeding in lateral strips.

It's a little disconcerting to be staring through the misty half-light at your peers, all of them visibly responding so positively to this manufactured sunshine. Surely doesn't feel like you're in a gallery space you think you're familiar with. It feels a bit like a huge working model of the light boxes they use to treat Seasonal Affective Disorder and I was reluctant to leave the happy, sunshiney vibe behind and venture out into the less romantic white light outside.

Go see for yourselves. You'll be glad you did. I want one for my bedroom.
 
 
sleazenation
20:36 / 19.10.03
Went this weekend - great fun - as Xoc says ithere is something about the sunset that makes people feel able to sit down and relax in the turbine room in a way that previous installations have not managed.

The other interesting thing that i oticed is people laying down tend to look more at the mirrored ceiling - with large groups taking th oportunity to spell out words for the edification of others-

words seen though the lookingglass ceiling included;

deviant
art
peace
love

not sure if that was a list of priorities though...
 
 
gingerbop
21:27 / 19.10.03
Ooh. That sounds cool. Do you know how long it's there for?
Perhaps I could go and live there al winter, and be all happy and summery.
 
 
Ganesh
11:18 / 20.10.03
Xoc does not speak falsely: it was absolutely lovely.

The banked sodium lamps which make up the huge, glorious sun-disc bleach away colours to produce an odd monochrome light which - combined with the industrial feel of the Tate's stripped-down Turbine Hall - evokes a dozen or more science-fiction films ('2001', 'Solaris' and 'Pitch Black' came to mind straightaway). Made me think also of big red Barbelith itself, fresh from 'The Invisibles'. Despite the slightly dystopian associations, the atmosphere is, as Xoc says, anything but bleak; people smile, laugh and point up at themselves in the mirrored ceiling, 'sunbathing' bodies are strewn around like a Radiohead video and kids run around freely. It feels much much more like being at the beach than being at an art gallery.

It's there until at least January. We'll be going back.
 
 
Smoothly
15:58 / 20.10.03
Went to see this today, kinda hoping I would hate it so I could argue with the yaysayers. But I too was blown away by it.
I'm kinda surprised that no one else has mentioned this, but the atmosphere struck me as distinctly post-coital. Something which was foreshadowed by a desire for a cigarette, stronger than I've ever felt it before, the moment I walked ito the hall. Some of the poses struck by those sprawling on the floor seemed to echoe that, although perhaps they were just responding to their associations with mirrored ceilings, I don't know. Either way, looking up felt strangely voyeuristic. It's a heady mix, certainly. Not to be missed.
 
 
Mourne Kransky
16:49 / 20.10.03
Glad you guys liked it too. I felt, like Mr Weaving, I wasn't going to get it and some hype had already begun to build that was irritating my sensors slightly but I've found the experience has stayed with me over the past few days.

It reminded me of the scene in Close Encounters when the awed humans and the aliens commingle in the weird light on the mesa. Also reminded me of sunset in a hot, dusty country. Maybe that's similar to the post coital feeling you had, SW.
 
 
Tryphena Absent
14:47 / 21.10.03
My opinion of this lives here because frankly it's too long to post here.

I thought this exhibition was the best Turbine Hall masterpiece yet. May there be many more like it.
 
 
Goodness Gracious Meme
19:56 / 23.10.03
beautiful.

wonderfully immersive work, making this particular use of the space in a way nothing thus far has.

and loved the 'interactive'/relaxing effect of getting people lying on the floor. have a lovely pic from a friend of her/workmates lying in a star shape...

(works outing. including lunch in the fab posho restuarnat how cool?)
 
 
telyn
22:15 / 23.10.03
What I think really made the greatest difference to the atmosphere was that you had to lie down in order to really participate in the installation. Like others was saying the best bit is that the ceiling is mirrored, and if you stand for too long and crane your neck it hurts. I think the thing that really makes a difference is you can lie on your back and stare at the sky and be in complete safety: without moving a muscle you can see who is approaching you and from what angle, and the communal atmosphere only emphasises that.

I don't think it feels voyeuristic, but it does have that 'vulnerable but safe' and very intimate feeling to it. It's seeing people lie down in public, in such a relaxed fashion that's odd. It's even odder when you realise how close your neighbours are lying to you and you don't mind.
 
 
Tryphena Absent
23:34 / 23.10.03
Yes, you really forget that there are people who can see you in the room. There's such a high level of self involvement and introverted calm that you utterly forget to care. I enjoyed making patterns so much and that wonderful feeling of observation.

I did find it odd that so few people seemed to walk right up to look at the 'sun.' I found myself heading towards it instinctively and it was so interesting to watch everyone from that perspective.
 
 
telyn
23:10 / 24.10.03
I think that very few people had a desire to know how it worked, rather they would prefer to experience the installation as a whole, rather than over investigate it. It was slightly odd to realise that the phenomena you experienced was a product of something akin to street lights.
 
 
Mourne Kransky
09:46 / 30.10.03
Good piece in G2 today by Jonathan James, who marshalled 60 volunteers to make a giant G2 shape on the floor at the exhibit and his observations chime with lots said above.

...nothing prepares you for the almost psychotropic transformation of human social behaviour that is currently taking place where the turbines of Bankside power station once roared.

...The public has decided, spontaneously, that this isn't, as Tate Modern thinks, a critique of romantic art. It just is romantic art.

...It is a more relaxed version of the various spontaneous "contributions" that people made to David Blaine's recent self-imprisonment. The crowds that gathered to see Blaine starving in a vitrine insisted on participating in ways that became the work's meaning. And that is what is going on here.

...We are doing exactly the same thing when we lie on the floor of the Tate Modern Turbine Hall and arrange our bodies to make images, or even numbers and letters. The sense of community it gives us takes us right back to the hunters who studied the lights in the sky before all lying close together at night for communal warmth.
G2. It warms the cockles of your heart.
 
 
gravitybitch
15:17 / 30.10.03
It sounds incredible!! ...wish I wasn't a third of the world away from it...

Enjoy an extra round of basking for me...
 
 
Kit-Cat Club
12:16 / 24.11.03
Went to see this (finally) at the weekend and was very impressed. I loved it. I thought it was seen at its best from the long entrance, where the mirrored ceiling gave the hall the proportions (I thought) of a temple and what with the mist and the apocalyptic light it seemed to me that we were all worshipping an alien hieratic godform.

I thought the mist in the atmosphere made it feel a little like a church of place of ritual or religious worship as well (perhaps this is because I still had churches on my mind from the weekend before, but I don't think it is totally out of the window).

I liked lying down and watching everyone else. The light made the people around us look a little as if they were in an Edward Hopper painting, I thought. Looking at everyone in the ceiling was like watching small creatures doing their mysterious daily rites of existence. But it was better than that - not explaining myself very well...
 
 
Squirmelia
13:03 / 24.11.03
I went at the weekend as well. I laid on the floor, my coat flaring out beneath me, next to my friend, my feet at his head, my head at his feet. We spent the time almost completely still, apart from the initial movement of our limbs to check it was us there on the mirrored ceiling. We watched everyone else move, like strange wriggling creatures, and the reflections of the children running around provided a contrast of movement.

I quite liked the leaflet that said that 43% (or some similar figure) thought that the idea of the weather in our society is based on culture, since it made me contemplate that strange concept that is weather. If we don't go outside and our buildings are robust, it doesn't really affect us at all. We can watch old weather reports recorded on videos from years ago and they seem to have almost the same relevance as watching the weather reports today does.

We describe weather in a different way now than we used to - it wasn't until about 1802 that the cloud classifications were published. Before that, apparently the clouds were just described by colour and form as each person saw them. Temperatures and wind speed, etc, would probably be more precise than they were years ago as well. I suppose the idea of it being hot or cold could be based on culture, since different cultures will have different ideas of whether it is hot or cold, although I guess they would still agree that the extremes are still hot or cold. Hmm.

Anyway, enough about weather! I found the exhibition quite moving, and think I would go again if I was nearby.
 
 
Not Here Still
17:31 / 24.11.03
Well, this has sorted out what I'm doing when I go to the Smoke this weekend...

I'm quite interested by the thread about this piece - I'd missed it (the thread) before but it involves something I had been thinking about starting a thread about - how people react in art galleries, prompted by a visit to Tate Liverpool at the weekend.

In there, it seemed to me that few people there were engaging with the art, reacting to it with laughter or disgust or even just ripping the piss out of it; instead they were just looking at the pretty pictures, perhaps saying something 'erudite', then moving on. Might just have been because it was Sunday lunchtime and half the people there had hangovers, though I doubt it.

So to bring this rant back on topic, I'd just like to say that this giant sun type thing sounds great. It's wonderful that this piece is provoking reactions; from childlike wonder to religious fervour, at least people are doing something in response to it; and isn't that what art's about? Might start that thread after all.

Am so going to nag my friends about this now....
 
 
Not Here Still
18:55 / 01.12.03
Went to see it yesterday.

Absolutely great. Wow. I totally get the feeling of absorption; found myself extremely chilled after twenty minutes sitting there looking at it. One friend who I was there with says she wants to take a picnic and go back there, and I can see where she's coming from.

Loved the interaction, the people forgetting they were on a dusty floor and running round on their backs; the people making star shapes and triangles; the people just staring up at the ceiling as they moved through the building.

I also really liked the scale of the piece; it worked from every angle in different ways, the shadows of those viewing it on the balcony being an image which sits in my mind at the moment.


(Although I did note there were hundreds of people reacting to the sun; we walked out of the turbine hall the opposite end to the sun, and the moon was half hidden behind cloud and looked absolutely beautiful, and people were looking at their feet again. Because the moon isn't art...)
 
  
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