Today was the new Tate Tanks members preview day. For those that don't know, the Tate Tanks are the first stage in the redevelopment of Tate Modern, which will eventually allow 60% more of the collection to go on show. This is great news. It will also allow for even more touring exhibitions. The Tanks themselves are vast underground oil tanks, and will be used for a mixture of contemporary art and performance. They open to the public tomorrow.
It was interesting being able to walk down the iconic ramp and then turn right. Whilst the Turbine hall is an incredible space, I think that having things on both sides of it helps to create a sense of balance, something that will only increase as the new structure takes shape, and a new high level bridge arches across it. Walking into the Tanks leads to a sense of palpable excitement. The architecture is chunky and, to a fan of Brutalism such as myself, deeply appealing. I did wonder if the air conditioning would be up to scratch, though. With hundreds of excited members all crammed into this thick walled, subterranean space, it was a little bit sweaty and unpleasant at times.
The two Tanks themselves are far more bearable - it seems impossible to imagine them as ever being crowded. One will be used as a performance space, and another for installations. The first exhibition is by a Korean artist called Sung Hwan Kim. I don't mind admitting I found it totally impenetrable. Here and there are screens showing odd, but unremarkable, films. In one area there is a recreation of the artist's parents flat, allegedly, but unless the flat is made out of a few pieces of artfully bent plywood and occasional 10 watt lightbulbs then I think it's fair to say some kind of re-imagining has taken place. There is also a cloth that re-creates the view of earth at night when a light shines through it, and some kind of engraved glass showing what I think are the adventures of a pole dancer. Nothing seems related to one another, and nothing I've been able to read about the artist has made me feel more confident about the exhibition. Apparently he is concerned with power and how it distorts truth. I've given his art a couple of goes now, and I just don't see that. If I really stretched it, I could see some Post-Modern attempt of not privileging any narrative, in making no attempt at giving any meaning. My question is, if it is all equally meaningless, then why should we care?
In a web forum, when questioned on this, director of Tate Modern Chris Dercon explained the following about him:
"Sung Hwan Kim presents a generation of new artists or better to say producers of a new visual culture who work in many different places at the same time. Originally from Korea he studied in Amsterdam, produced work in Munich and currently lives in New York. He's collaborating with many different artists, exploring and mixing different disciplines, while always returning to the question - Who am I? Where do I come from and where do I go to in this complex global world? He talks and shows his family and friends in his work, who don't always understand his ideas or where he's going with them, but feel that because they are 'family', they have an emotional bond with Sung. We all need this kind of trust and support today. His work reflects the lives of many other young artists and cltural [sic] workers. His work is not immediately made for the market, it is difficult to show, yet he's being closely watched by the visual arts world, the film world, the music world and even the opera world. He creates a completely different type of art production."
Given that the over-abiding feeling I got was that the artist was just dicking around, what worries me about this statement is that it doesn't give any reason that we should engage with him, other than that various 'in-the-know' people are. I wonder if this showing will be the high water mark for his art. There are surely a lot of 'artists' messing around today who don't really have anything to say. For whatever reason, this guy has been elevated. Whether he will survive sustained scrutiny is doubtful.
In a web forum, when questioned on this, director of Tate Modern Chris Dercon explained the following about him:
"Sung Hwan Kim presents a generation of new artists or better to say producers of a new visual culture who work in many different places at the same time. Originally from Korea he studied in Amsterdam, produced work in Munich and currently lives in New York. He's collaborating with many different artists, exploring and mixing different disciplines, while always returning to the question - Who am I? Where do I come from and where do I go to in this complex global world? He talks and shows his family and friends in his work, who don't always understand his ideas or where he's going with them, but feel that because they are 'family', they have an emotional bond with Sung. We all need this kind of trust and support today. His work reflects the lives of many other young artists and cltural [sic] workers. His work is not immediately made for the market, it is difficult to show, yet he's being closely watched by the visual arts world, the film world, the music world and even the opera world. He creates a completely different type of art production."
Given that the over-abiding feeling I got was that the artist was just dicking around, what worries me about this statement is that it doesn't give any reason that we should engage with him, other than that various 'in-the-know' people are. I wonder if this showing will be the high water mark for his art. There are surely a lot of 'artists' messing around today who don't really have anything to say. For whatever reason, this guy has been elevated. Whether he will survive sustained scrutiny is doubtful.
Lis Rhodes sounded considerably more interesting, but unfortunately the exhibit was marked as undergoing essential maintenance. I checked back two days later and it was still out of order. This doesn't exactly bode well, but never mind. Hopefully they'll be able to get a couple of projectors and a smoke machine working before October and we can get a look at this. There was also an exhibit by Suzanne Lacy which seemed more worthy than truly great. Whilst the snippets from older women were really interesting and deserve to be listened to, the connection between this and the accompanying art seemed a little tenuous, and it all seemed like a great exhibit for a local museum. Part of this was in a fantastic little chamber, lit all red and almost Giger-esque. It was the only part of The Tanks which still had a slight smell of the oil that used to fill them, and I'll be interested to see how people make use of this in a site specific way. It was a little too hot on the members day, but when I returned later it seemed like this was no longer a problem.
This just leaves the last Tank, which has been bandied about as the world's only major space dedicated to Performance Art. I must admit to being a bit of a beginner when it comes to Performance Art - for the most part the videos from the 60s leave me a little cold. Yet surely the most important part of Performance Art is the performance, so I'm looking forward to experiencing this live and broadening my horizons.
I'm a little more confident when it comes to Modern Dance. Luckily the first performance was by the incredible dancer Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker, who is mostly associated with Steve Reich, although kids nowadays might know her more as the choreographer Beyoncé stole her moves from. I had the good fortune to be sat a metre away from where she and her partner performed 90% of the dance to Reich's Clapping Music. It's not my favourite piece by him, but the dance really added to it. After a highly mechanised beginning, as the phasing comes in, de Keersmaeker really throws herself into it, adding some humanity and a real sense of joy. I returned a couple of days later to catch a free performance of her dance to Violin Phase. I'm not exaggerating when I say I believe this to be one of the pinnacles of Western Culture, although again I find the piece without the dance a bit much to handle. Please do follow the link above and watch it: give it at least 6 minutes as it starts quite slowly. In the last 2 minutes, when the release comes, I find it profoundly moving. De Keersmaeker might be famous for repetitions and minimalism, but I find her a deeply passionate and human performer.
Finally getting to see this live was a revelation. There was a palpable sense of being trapped in the music, and this is reflected in the way de Keersmaeker circumscribes the geometrical space. Yet at each moment when the 'tune' breaks through the throbbing phasing of the violins there's a joyous freedom that comes through in de Keersmaeker's shimmying. Joy is certainly not the go to emotion that most people imagine when they think of Modern Dance conducted to austere, Minimalist phasing, but that's certainly what came across to me as the defining difference of experiencing it live. I don't want to get into my controversial interpretation of the early Wittgenstein here (I'm sure you're all gutted), but I can't help but think of the way we can find freedom and release in our own busy, repetitive, cacophonous lives.
Overall, then, I have mixed feelings about the Tanks opening. I'm excited about the performance space, although the cynic in me wonders if they're just hoping to turn it into a cash cow. If you're not able to catch the free performances de Keersmaeker is giving throughout the day, you can pay £15 for the privilege of watching it at night. Still, the hope is that Tate can bring Performance Art and Modern Dance to a wider crowd, and from a selfish perspective, I'm hoping this can really open up a new world for me. With regards to the art on show in the tanks, it definitely feels like a missed opportunity to open with a big bang. I can be quite open and admit that the Sung Hwan Kim goes over my head, but it's not for want of trying.
A qualified hurrah, then. Let's see how this pans out...
I'm a little more confident when it comes to Modern Dance. Luckily the first performance was by the incredible dancer Anne Teresa de Keersmaeker, who is mostly associated with Steve Reich, although kids nowadays might know her more as the choreographer Beyoncé stole her moves from. I had the good fortune to be sat a metre away from where she and her partner performed 90% of the dance to Reich's Clapping Music. It's not my favourite piece by him, but the dance really added to it. After a highly mechanised beginning, as the phasing comes in, de Keersmaeker really throws herself into it, adding some humanity and a real sense of joy. I returned a couple of days later to catch a free performance of her dance to Violin Phase. I'm not exaggerating when I say I believe this to be one of the pinnacles of Western Culture, although again I find the piece without the dance a bit much to handle. Please do follow the link above and watch it: give it at least 6 minutes as it starts quite slowly. In the last 2 minutes, when the release comes, I find it profoundly moving. De Keersmaeker might be famous for repetitions and minimalism, but I find her a deeply passionate and human performer.
Finally getting to see this live was a revelation. There was a palpable sense of being trapped in the music, and this is reflected in the way de Keersmaeker circumscribes the geometrical space. Yet at each moment when the 'tune' breaks through the throbbing phasing of the violins there's a joyous freedom that comes through in de Keersmaeker's shimmying. Joy is certainly not the go to emotion that most people imagine when they think of Modern Dance conducted to austere, Minimalist phasing, but that's certainly what came across to me as the defining difference of experiencing it live. I don't want to get into my controversial interpretation of the early Wittgenstein here (I'm sure you're all gutted), but I can't help but think of the way we can find freedom and release in our own busy, repetitive, cacophonous lives.
Overall, then, I have mixed feelings about the Tanks opening. I'm excited about the performance space, although the cynic in me wonders if they're just hoping to turn it into a cash cow. If you're not able to catch the free performances de Keersmaeker is giving throughout the day, you can pay £15 for the privilege of watching it at night. Still, the hope is that Tate can bring Performance Art and Modern Dance to a wider crowd, and from a selfish perspective, I'm hoping this can really open up a new world for me. With regards to the art on show in the tanks, it definitely feels like a missed opportunity to open with a big bang. I can be quite open and admit that the Sung Hwan Kim goes over my head, but it's not for want of trying.
A qualified hurrah, then. Let's see how this pans out...
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