How is Hope Created?

Review of Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life

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Entrance to Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life (2019). Image taken by Ruth Mitchell.

First impressions

The first thing to notice about Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life is that, much like many of his singular works, it cannot be contained by the traditional confines of the exhibition. An example of this is the thirty-six foot Waterfall (2019), which stands in the courtyard separate to the rest of the exhibition like a towering monument to the natural force of the water that cascades from a distinctly man-made frame.

As well as this, in the Terrace Bar the Eliasson Studio’s kitchen has been installed with a set menu exemplifying the studio’s ethos of sustainability and ethical production, while the atrium above that holds the entrance to the exhibition itself is bathed in the artists’ signature golden light (similar to that used in The Weather Project, 2003) from orange bars above, and large geometric shapes of various materials hang by walls and on the ceiling.

Eliasson’s close involvement with the Tate for this exhibition is clear throughout. Most notably in the decision to display prototypes in varying stages of production and experimentation in the first room (some objects are more complete, while others appear to be structural tests constructed from paper with stencil and assembly markings still visible), and also in the final room of the exhibition which outlines the artists humanitarian and environmental projects such as Little Sun (2012), the hand-held and solar powered torch used around the globe and particularly in areas without access to electricity. In the former the curtain is pulled back, a reminder that the immersive works beyond that room are not miraculous formations but rather are the result of experimentation and construction.

Part of the A-Z at the end of Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life, 2019. Image taken by Ruth Mitchell.

The latter serves as a call to all of us to question our role in the world through projects such as Little Sun, Ice Watch (2014) and a wall plastered with extracts from newspaper articles and scientific papers linked to an A–Z of themes and questions (for example ‘C’ is ‘Climate action’, ‘K’ is ‘Kitchen’). Links to download free and publicly accessible materials are provided, as well as a complete list of contents and credits. It is clear that Eliasson wishes for his audience to be active rather than passive, both in experiencing the exhibition and beyond its walls.

Highlights

A visitor interacts with Beauty at Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life, (2019). Image taken by Ruth Mitchell.

Beauty, 1993
This particularly breath-taking installation takes place in a dark room. A mist-like waterfall surrounded by black seems to hover in the spotlight that illuminates it. In certain positions, a rainbow emerges suspended in the water and a light spray emanating from the work creeps over the boundary into the viewing area.

Spectators stand against the barrier with their hands outstretched to feel the change in atmosphere. It is hard to believe that such an effect is achieved simply through nozzles, a hose and the manipulation of light (Godfrey et al. 2019 p.230), and in its simplicity it seeks to remind the viewer of the boundless, infinite beauty of the elements.

Your Blind Passenger, 2010
Stepping into the corridor that forms this piece, the ethereal combination of bright light and sweet-smelling artificial fog is striking. As you walk through, the dominant hues of ambient light shift from colour to colour, and within a few meters neither the door behind or the end of the corridor are visible.

When walking behind others, they act as landmarks to ground you; when you walk ahead and alone, you feel your other senses kick in to help make up for your lack of sight. The piece is incredibly well executed, and the unique environment is perfectly balanced in its installation with a profound and lasting effect.

Big Bang Fountain, 2014
Entry to this piece is through two sets of heavy, blackout curtains. The room beyond is pitch black until a flash of light reveals a cascade of falling water, seeming to trap it in static alien shapes that linger in your periphery seconds after the flash has gone. The light catches the flowing water in a different, unique shape every few seconds and the fleeting nature of the illuminations tempt you to stay and watch for the next, to repeat the experience as many times as possible and mark the distinct changes with each flash.

Glacial works
In this survey, Eliasson displays several works that use ice at their core. Glacial Currents (2018) uses blocks of ancient ice from Greenland which create watercolour pieces as they slowly melt on top of a sheet of paper that has been prepped with colour washes, while The Presence of Absence Pavilion (2019) depicts a block of bronze cast around a block of ice which has since melted, leaving a void which calls attention to the ice’s non-existence. These works mark a shift in tone from the rest of the exhibition, as they explicitly call towards Eliasson’s mission to discuss and impact climate change. Whereas the experiences created by many of the other works in the exhibition are so immersive that they can be drastically different in the interpretations from person to person, here the message is clear; the ice is melting.

Lasting impressions

Throughout this exhibition, it is clear that the works on display are made to encourage interaction — interaction with each other, with the works themselves, and with the natural world around us. In the exhibition catalogue, Mark Godfrey asserts that Eliasson and his studio’s endeavour is to ask ‘What is trust? How do we listen to people’s needs? What is the difference between compassion and empathy? How does emotion lead to action? When might overload lead to passivity? How is hope to be created in conditions that seem to destroy it?’ (Godfrey et al. 2019, p. 37). Some of these questions certainly appear to be present in more immersive works when we are deprived of our usual senses and thrust into uncertainty; we are forced to trust that our other senses will guide us when we are walking through Your Blind Passenger, for example.

However, the most interesting question for me is the last one. Ever experimenting with his audience, Eliasson shows us shocking truths of melting ice and a bleak future and then gives us the tools for change through education in the final room of the exhibition. By encouraging his audience not to just ask questions but to participate and to help find the answer, it is possible that this may — in at least a few of the visitors, if they choose to take action — create hope for the future.

Close up of a diagram from The Long Now Foundation, from the A-Z collage at the end of Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life, (2019). Image taken by Ruth Mitchell.

Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life continues until the 5 January 2020 at Tate Modern.

Bibliography
Godfrey, M. et al. (2019), Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life, London: Tate Publishing.

Ruth Mitchell

Ruth Mitchell is a student at Kingston University, studying the MA in Curating Contemporary Design. Academically, Ruth comes from an Art History background graduating from the University of Sussex in 2014. Her design passion is to create space in exhibitions for the new wave of digitally based design mediums such as games and visual effects. Besides these interests, Ruth has a background in fitness and gym management and continues to powerlift in her spare time.

Editor: Misato Ehara

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