- Venue
- Tate St Ives
- Location
- South West England
I had never visited a Tate outside of London before. I confess to having some unfounded preconceptions of Tate St. Ives as merely a cultural tourism destination, a watered-down Tate, a ‘travel-sized’ Tate, cashing in on the links with the Newlyn School and the multitude of artists, including Naum Gabo, the Russian constructivist featured in this year’s show, Ben Nicholson, Barbara Hepworth and so on. Artists drawn to St. Ives for its beauty, ruggedness and the ‘light’ along the same lines as, I thought, the recently opened Turner Contemporary in Margate. I was sceptical of this marriage of a seaside holiday resort with modern and contemporary fine art. Even the title Summer made me wonder if the ‘proper art’ had perhaps been replaced by a summer cocktail, a fruit salad of easily digestible pieces.
I knew little of the building although I had made the ‘energy’ connection with Tate Modern’s previous incarnation as a power station and Tate St. Ives being a former gasworks. It was the building, of course, that was the first thing to win me over. Echoes of its former life brought out in the sheer ‘roundness’ of the place and the architectural details of the stairway, for example. I was put in mind of gas-workers scaling the gasometer on full-length vertical ladders that seemed to me to be reflected in the ironwork of the balustrade. Roundness continues in the internal windows, the curved external walls and windows as well as the viewing balcony, all set against the stunning backdrop of the Cornish coastline, when I visited, an azure Atlantic Ocean and the expanse of pale fine sand that is Porthmeor Beach.
The site-specificity of the Summer exhibition was not lost on me either. The ‘driftwood’ collages and assemblages of Margaret Mellis perhaps ubiquitous and with obvious holiday appeal, but intriguing and captivating nonetheless. Mellis’ work is timeless yet of the moment, the depth of the individual pieces drawing you in as if combing the beach and closing in on something of interest apparently deposited randomly upon the coastline. Evocative of those contemplative moments if you have ever just walked and looked and marvelled at the seashore.
I first encountered Lucio Fontana’s work in Tate Modern, of course, and to see his work here at St Ives felt like bumping into an acquaintance on holiday (one of those often-occurring coincidences that never cease to amaze me). I had the benefit of happening upon the works as a Tate employee explained to the guided group Fontana’s motivations and how the work shown here (sculpture, painting as well as punctured canvases) represented a departure from what we normally associate with Fontana. A valuable addition to my knowledge of his work, which I maybe would not have gained had I stayed in London.
On holiday, as one invariably is in St. Ives (unless you are lucky enough to live there of course), one has to find activities to suit the whole family. My husband, who rarely frequents art galleries with me in London, dutifully trailed around with me listening to my musings and critiques of the work. Suddenly he had left my side, swept away by a young woman asking him if he would like to be measured and have his name and height recorded in black felt pen on the wall. The multiple processes involved in Roman Ondák’s apparently simple work (Measuring the Universe 2007) go beyond the straight-forward mark-marking and I noticed how everyone who entered the room engaged with the work on both a physical level and in terms of experiencing a piece of contemporary art, the memory of that experience taken away as a cherished souvenir.
A room half-filled with latex balloons (Work No. 210 Half the air in a given space, Martin Creed) continued the playfulness of the Summer exhibition. Encapsulating the Cornish air and partially filling a room with that air ticked the ‘site-specific’ box. The expanse of white and ‘floatiness’, reminiscent of sea-foam, capturing, aesthetically, all that is Cornwall as did the experiential wading and diving amongst the lightness of the balloons. The cool air and movement echoing the freedom one can feel on holiday and in this region in particular. I found the health and safety warnings about claustrophobia prior to entry rather redundant. However, not having an allergy to latex nor a pacemaker I had no need to fear the warnings of a skin reaction or static electricity build-up and I made a point of locating the fire exit early on in the experience. Although I did receive a static shock from the handrail as I left – by way of a thank you I like to think! A white wristband was issued to all those who had read and understood the health and safety advice and chosen to go ahead regardless. I wondered what was the purpose of the wristband? Should some poor unfortunate collapse and sink beneath the sea of balloons would the attendant check they were wearing a wristband? If so, maybe he would just stand, a slight shaking of the head, muttering ‘I hate to say I told you so’.
A travel-sized Tate, yes, but with all the ingredients of its London counterparts. With work from Fischli and Weiss, Agnes Martin and Anri Sala the exhibition is eclectic and has a broad appeal. Just right for its summer audience. For the works and the way in which they have been brought together for this Summer exhibition, I take my hat off to Tate (the straw one I purchased in the souvenir shop on the harbour-front of course).
