- Venue
- Tate Modern
- Location
It’s only after your commute through the hustling bustling industrial city of London, and on entering the converted factory space that is the Tate Modern that you suddenly become in awe of it all. The Turbine Hall has the same humbling, awe-inspiring effect as a cathedral, but without the authoritarian, silencing consequence. The industrial exterior and unassuming entry doors present the Tate as an approachable extension of your city. Descending the slope of the Turbine Hall however, the weather begins to slowly fall off your shoulders, becoming irrelevant in this new, timeless, seasonless space. You begin to be transported and transformed from the world outside to an abode of contemporary art. Today, people are running up and around the sloping hall, whilst others encourage themselves to join in, breaking down the traditional divide between the artist and the spectator. The Tate, especially the Turbine Hall, invites you to explore, and to become a part of it. What better addition to add to the foot of this transitioning slope than a totally otherworldly utopia of contemporary art; the Tanks.
I could barely contain my excitement when I entered the new extension, with its diagonally jarring pillars and stained stone walls. There is no route around this place, but instead a choice of corridors, like legs of a spider, leading to individual, unexpected exhibiting rooms. Each corridor is narrow and plunges you into perilous darkness. I often found myself longing for light to again fill my eyes and for the comforting presence of another human in this alien world. Adrenalin and echoing voices and laughter guided me to the end of each corridor. I felt like I was exploring a celestial dungeon from the future. I have never felt more excited by an exhibition space.
The rooms themselves vary in shape and size, some being surprisingly cavernous. One of my favourite spaces was a tall, round tower, fired up with red lighting. Upon entering you hear a tape of rainforest sounds, which then begins to evolve into non-sequitur, existential discussions. In another room, musicians fill the space with the sound of their music, all created from their fingertips pressing keys on their iMacs.
Probably the most influential success of the Tanks is their dedication to video art. We are forced to reconnect with the often unapproachable medium in new ways. These aren’t small rooms off the side of an exhibition that we poke our heads round before quietly stepping out of again. Videos are projected everywhere so you are forced to engage with them on your route around the room. Seating is offered low on the floor so you can recline to watch these surreal films. The experience becomes another eclipse into a fantastical world. Video art fills the spaces in a way that we can’t avoid, and surprisingly, we actually begin to enjoy it. And this is of no little consequence. Video art is a social product of this technologically advanced era, a new format to art that is a product of and unique to our lifestyle today. Feminists have readily adopted the use of video as the new medium offers no ties to traditional, male-dominated art historical methods. Video artists have something to say, and finally, they are given a space that gives them a real chance to be heard.
The failure of the Tanks is people still not knowing how to interact with the progressive and participatory art. One work consisted of a white light shining onto a board which people interrupted with their shadows when walking past it. A little girl, fascinated by her own shadow ran repeatedly up and down to the screen, watching her image stretch and fill the space and crying out in excitement. A security guard roughly stepped in and reminded the parents that she was distracting the other viewers. Grumbling, the family moved on and the space was taken by a young couple. The man knelt down to make shadow animals to the delight of his partner. I watched his clumsy forms move around the screen, enjoying the light piece coming alive. To my astonishment, the same security guard then told the couple to move on, claiming that they were disallowing other people to fully enjoy the work. Of course, this piece relies on audience participation to work as an art form. The magic of the Tanks is that it contains art that immerses you, enabling you to become a part of it. This is however not yet apparent to everyone, namely the staff member.
After one last spin around my new favourite exhibition space in London I exited out into the Turbine Hall. People were singing in a strange, partially English partially alien language before casually getting up and rejoining the silent audience, making me lose track of who in this crowd was visitor and who was artist. I sat down to watch the performance until there was one last, quiet voice left continuing the chant. He soon got up and came to stand next to me. I love the Tate Modern.
