- Venue
- Winter Garden
- Location
- Yorkshire
The Winter Garden is a large temperate glass house adjacent to the Millennium Gallery in Sheffield. Containing more than 2,500 plants from around the world creating a display of exotic evergreen plants, the glass house provides an environment in which the plants can thrive in a space not subject to seasonal cycles. As a setting for an exhibition, the space eludes being anything relating to a bright white expanse of space, open to any interpretation. The glass house encourages question and comment on its own merit, a curious setting to which we are unaccustomed in the UK. In respect of this, does an artist create work dictated by the environment? Does the artist choose the space or does the space choose the artist?
Undertaking an exhibition in a space such as this should take into account the already present purpose of the building. Rather than a white space meant to host an array of exhibitions, the glasshouse is an existing functional environment. To an extent this pre-existence must dictate to the artist how and what is shown.
Roman Ondak has clearly understood this. Inspired by the environment, Ondak proposed to create an installation titled ‘Failing Fall’. His intention, to simultaneously highlight and contradict the purpose of the glasshouse, was to cover the floor with autumn leaves collected from trees around the city. The installation is subject to the question of time. Autumn leaves being present, scattered across the floor as if blown into the space through the door, presents a confusion of time. The time of seasons that we know so well are subverted. As if to emphasize this point, the time in which this intervention of space can be interacted with is one week. The limitation of viewing augments the surreal nature of the installation.
The Winter Garden is open to the public. With a cafe and the entrance to the Millennium Gallery, there is a constant stream of people making their way through or stopping to enjoy the glass house environment for their lunch. This provides Ondak with the public interaction to the installation without having to go to any effort. The space has been provided and the public accompany the space naturally. This situation does not come as easily to all artists. Eleonora Aguiari, an Italian artist, went to great lengths to gain permission to perform intervention art. Aguiari was eventually granted consent to wrap the equestrian statue of Lord Napier of Magdala, situated on Queen's Gate in West London, in bright red duct tape.In the Winter Garden the public unwittingly stumble across this artists’ installation. The intention of the work is to:Interrupt the patterns of everyday life and open up the exciting possibility that things can be viewed from different perspectives.
Is it likely the public walking through the glass house could be oblivious to the bizarre addition to the space? Perhaps the already surreal environment numbs the senses to the adjunct installation.
On entering the Winter Garden direct from the Millennium Gallery, there is an immediate striking visual of the unique atmosphere. It seems easily forgotten that the glass house is an exhibition space when strolling along the winding pathways, seeking the floor covered with autumn leaves and anticipating the sound of them crunching under my step.
Wondering if the exhibition guide had been misunderstood, I found myself wandering around the garden attempting to find the intervention; a peculiar thing to do when considering the intention of the exhibition. Feeling slightly bewildered, I questioned whether I had missed something; that I had walked past or even had come to entirely the wrong location. This created a feeling of inadequacy, as an artist, at not being able to identify the work of Roman Ondak; followed shortly by an air of amusement in the surreal occurrence. A few moments of searching led to an advertising board with a note attached, covering the description of Ondaks work.
“Due to a high volume of visitors to the Winter Garden, the leaves in Roman Ondak’s ‘Failing Fall’ had disintegrated faster than anticipated. Therefore, the installation has been removed”
The note, black printed text on white A4 paper, seemed understated, leaving an impression of indifference to the unexpected early finish of an exhibition.
It has become apparent to me that predictability does not often play a part in an art installation, particularly when the public are involved. Although intentions may be clear, in practice, judging how the piece will play out is a fruitless exercise. Is there any way that Ondak could have known the high volumes of people would lead to the destruction of his work?
Contemplation led me to consider the various possibilities intended by the artist. In particular, the possibility that Ondak meant for the exhibition to be called to an end prematurely. Although this seems unlikely, the theme of the exhibition is the question ‘why does art have to always succeed?’ This seems directly addressed by the ‘failure’ of the installation. However, the idea that this was achieved without intention, that the artist did not foresee early end to the installation, is a far more exciting prospect.
Rather than irritation that I had missed an exhibition, the situation led to a speculation that perhaps a trick had been played. Having not viewed the exhibition for myself led me to wonder whether the leaves were ever there. Although a radical suggestion, there is nothing to prove that this installation actually took place. Looking over the information on the exhibition, I have come across terms such as
Roman Ondak ‘Failed Fall’ (2007-08), proposal for installation. Image courtesy of the artist. The image of the installation does little to curb the speculation.
From Saturday 16 to Sunday 24 February visitors to the Winter Garden will be able to experience autumn in spring as part of the ArtSheffield08 festival.
The Winter Garden is a large temperate glass house adjacent to the Millennium Gallery in Sheffield. Containing more than 2,500 plants from around the world creating a display of exotic evergreen plants, the glass house provides an environment in which the plants can thrive in a space not subject to seasonal cycles. As a setting for an exhibition, the space eludes being anything relating to a bright white expanse of space, open to any interpretation. The glass house encourages question and comment on its own merit, a curious setting to which we are unaccustomed in the UK. In respect of this, does an artist create work dictated by the environment? Does the artist choose the space or does the space choose the artist?
Undertaking an exhibition in a space such as this should take into account the already present purpose of the building. Rather than a white space meant to host an array of exhibitions, the glasshouse is an existing functional environment. To an extent this pre-existence must dictate to the artist how and what is shown.
Roman Ondak has clearly understood this. Inspired by the environment, Ondak proposed to create an installation titled ‘Failing Fall'. His intention, to simultaneously highlight and contradict the purpose of the glasshouse, was to cover the floor with autumn leaves collected from trees around the city. The installation is subject to the question of time. Autumn leaves being present, scattered across the floor as if blown into the space through the door, presents a confusion of time. The time of seasons that we know so well are subverted. As if to emphasize this point, the time in which this intervention of space can be interacted with is one week. The limitation of viewing augments the surreal nature of the installation.
The Winter Garden is open to the public. With a cafe and the entrance to the Millennium Gallery, there is a constant stream of people making their way through or stopping to enjoy the glass house environment for their lunch. This provides Ondak with the public interaction to the installation without having to go to any effort. The space has been provided and the public accompany the space naturally. This situation does not come as easily to all artists. Eleonora Aguiari, an Italian artist, went to great lengths to gain permission to perform intervention art. Aguiari was eventually granted consent to wrap the equestrian statue of Lord Napier of Magdala, situated on Queen's Gate in West London, in bright red duct tape.
In the Winter Garden the public unwittingly stumble across this artists' installation. The intention of the work is to:
Interrupt the patterns of everyday life and open up the exciting possibility that things can be viewed from different perspectives.
Is it likely the public walking through the glass house could be oblivious to the bizarre addition to the space? Perhaps the already surreal environment numbs the senses to the adjunct installation.
On entering the Winter Garden direct from the Millennium Gallery, there is an immediate striking visual of the unique atmosphere. It seems easily forgotten that the glass house is an exhibition space when strolling along the winding pathways, seeking the floor covered with autumn leaves and anticipating the sound of them crunching under my step.
Wondering if the exhibition guide had been misunderstood, I found myself wandering around the garden attempting to find the intervention; a peculiar thing to do when considering the intention of the exhibition. Feeling slightly bewildered, I questioned whether I had missed something; that I had walked past or even had come to entirely the wrong location. This created a feeling of inadequacy, as an artist, at not being able to identify the work of Roman Ondak; followed shortly by an air of amusement in the surreal occurrence. A few moments of searching led to an advertising board with a note attached, covering the description of Ondaks work.
"Due to a high volume of visitors to the Winter Garden, the leaves in Roman Ondak's ‘Failing Fall' had disintegrated faster than anticipated. Therefore, the installation has been removed"
The note, black printed text on white A4 paper, seemed understated, leaving an impression of indifference to the unexpected early finish of an exhibition.
It has become apparent to me that predictability does not often play a part in an art installation, particularly when the public are involved. Although intentions may be clear, in practice, judging how the piece will play out is a fruitless exercise. Is there any way that Ondak could have known the high volumes of people would lead to the destruction of his work?
Contemplation led me to consider the various possibilities intended by the artist. In particular, the possibility that Ondak meant for the exhibition to be called to an end prematurely. Although this seems unlikely, the theme of the exhibition is the question ‘why does art have to always succeed?' This seems directly addressed by the ‘failure' of the installation. However, the idea that this was achieved without intention, that the artist did not foresee early end to the installation, is a far more exciting prospect.
Rather than irritation that I had missed an exhibition, the situation led to a speculation that perhaps a trick had been played. Having not viewed the exhibition for myself led me to wonder whether the leaves were ever there. Although a radical suggestion, there is nothing to prove that this installation actually took place. Looking over the information on the exhibition, I have come across terms such as
Roman Ondak ‘Failed Fall' (2007-08), proposal for installation. Image courtesy of the artist.
The image of the installation does little to curb the speculation. The Image to the left is obtained from the Art Sheffield website. The image to the right was obtained from an online search of The Winter Garden. The leaves in the image are unconvincing in authenticity, with no cropping of the photographs the images are strikingly similar. On reflection and further research, there are no photographs or evidence to suggest the installation was realised, with no leaf remains on the glasshouse floor, leaving me to consider that it may never have been a live installation.
This possibility leaves a feeling of humour. I consider that the exhibition had been installed, the premature disintegration leading to the removal, had been genuine. If this is the case, this does not change the fact that as a visitor advised to attend at a specific time, I arrived to find the exhibition absent. Does having not seen it mean that I can speculate whether it was there? Should I believe the genuine, authoritative looking note on the advertising board?
"When a tree falls in a lonely forest, and no animal is nearby to hear it, does it make a sound?
On reflection and further research, there are no photographs or evidence to suggest the installation was realised, with no leaf remains on the glasshouse floor, leaving me to consider that it may never have been a live installation.
This possibility leaves a feeling of humour. I consider that the exhibition had been installed, the premature disintegration leading to the removal, had been genuine. If this is the case, this does not change the fact that as a visitor advised to attend at a specific time, I arrived to find the exhibition absent. Does having not seen it mean that I can speculate whether it was there? Should I believe the genuine, authoritative looking note on the advertising board?
"When a tree falls in a lonely forest, and no animal is nearby to hear it, does it make a sound?
