SAGA SHOP - Haust I Fall 2019

58 Icelandair Stopover public artwork was displayed outside Tate Modern and Bloom- berg’s European headquarters. “It was about bringing a glacier to people who had never experienced glacial ice before. People were touching it, hugging it, observing it melt,” recounts Emma Lewis, assistant curator of In real life . “It was like a preview to the exhibition and a reminder of the climate emergency.” Glacial ice features in other works by Ólafur on display at the Tate, including “The presence of absence pavilion” (2019), a bronze sculpture created around a block of ice, which then melted; and Glacial currents (2018), water- color paintings made with glacial meltwater. Nature, Perception, Community “Some people get lost, some think it’s uplifting and some are found in the fog tunnel,” says Ólafur of “Din blinde passager (Your blind passenger)” (2010), a fog-filled tunnel where initially all color drains away, after which people begin experiencing colors that aren’t there. As I prepare to enter, a fellow visitor exits the tunnel, commenting: “That was intense!” As the fog engulfs me, I lose my senses and a feeling of discomfort and being lost sneaks in. “It’s about sharing without having to agree. Without seeing the same thing,” explains Ólafur. He hopes that his work will raise questions and that visitors come to see reality in a new light. Ólafur’s fascination for geometry is evident, for example, in the glass façade for Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Center in Reykjavík, which he designed in collaboration with Henning Larsen architects. In the Model room (2003), which greets visitors upon entering the show, models made from different materials that Ólafur used for studying geometrical shapes are exhibited. One of the models became “Your spiral view” (2002), also on display. Visitors walk through a mirrored tunnel, a kaleidoscope of sorts, where the geometrical shapes of mirrors reflect their image and that of other people so that they can be viewed from many different angles. “Ólafur seeks to make people experience his art as a community. Like ‘Your uncertain shadow’ [2010], which is fantastic when you experience it with other people. Almost instantly you begin playing a game,” explains senior curator Mark Godfrey. In a white room, at first appearing to be empty, the silhouettes of visitors are projected on a wall in multiple colors, and they grow and shrink as they move around. In real life is also about bringing nature into the gallery. In one of Ólafur’s earliest works, “Moss wall” (1994), an entire wall of the exhi- bition is covered with lichen, inviting visitors to feel its softness. “If you look out that window, it looks like it’s raining—which isn’t unusual in London—except today it isn’t raining!” This is Ólafur’s “Regenfenster (Rain window)” (1999), another attempt to bring real-life natural phenomena into the gallery. Adrift and at Home In one of the rooms, I encounter “Adrift compass” (2019), made from a piece of driftwood. I ponder on its journey: from seedling to tall tree east of the Ural mountains, floating with river and ocean currents to a desolate beach in Iceland, traveling onwards to Studio Ólafur Elíasson (SOE) in Berlin and from there to a posh gallery space in London. Other pieces made from driftwood adorn Tate Modern Terrace Bar, where SOE Kitchen is collaborating with Tate Eats on a special menu for the duration of the exhibition. Vegetarian dishes are served to press view guests, randomly seated at tables to spark conversations and create a sense of community, an important element at SOE. I begin to reclaim the sense of direction I lost in the fog tunnel and realize that somehow, all of the art I observed is interconnected. “I’ve been all over the place and thought maybe there was no narrative, no relationship between the artwork I’d created throughout my career,” says Ólafur of the exhibition. “Then I see that there is a story.” He expla- ins that since he was approached by the Tate for The weather project (2003), he has had a special connection to the gallery. “It’s very exciting for me to be here. It’s like coming home.” Left: Olafur Eliasson: “Din blinde passager (Your blind passen- ger)” (2010); Instal- lation view: Tate Modern, London, 2019. Photo by Anders Sune Berg © 2010 Olafur Eliasson. Right: Olafur Elias- son: “Moss wall” (1994). Installation view: Tate Modern, London, 2019. Photo by Anders Sune Berg © 1994 Olafur Eliasson.