Turbine Hall

I visited the Tate Modern with my friends Iron Man and Queenie. We entered the building on its northern side directly beneath the towering chimney. At first, I wasn’t sure whether we’d entered an art gallery, since there was no obvious artwork or galleries around. We headed out into the empty space of a large concrete floor that brought us to the cavernous area of the old Turbine Hall. It had a cathedral-like scale, but was absent of religious trappings. In fact, it was pretty much absent of anything. Where were all the exhibits? With this much space you’d think they’d be everywhere. I then realised that we’d walked on to a wide bridge that spanned the north and south side of the building. Going to the edges of the bridge, we could look down on to what had been the basement area. This revealed a huge expanse of floor area. On the west side, this formed a gradual ramp to ground level on the west face of the building. Five narrow,  vertical windows in this wall reminded me of the Five Sisters window in York Minster (see York Minster).  The east side of the bridge revealed a flat basement that ended with the high east wall that had the same five narrow, vertical windows as the western side, except the bottom half of these were illuminated by office lighting. Looking up at the Turbine Hall’s ceiling I could see two  lines of illumination that appeared to be viewing galleries where people were seated and looking down into this massive space. It was an incredible sight. It was stark, but beautiful. The whole place was dimly lit and there was an odd hypnotic moaning sound resonating throughout the hall. The atmosphere felt a little disturbing and intimidating. At least the views from the bridge had brought a sight of our first exhibits. On the west side there was what looked like a totem pole of animal skins that stretched from the ramp to the ceiling. On the east side, there appeared to be a maze of sticks through which people were wandering. The maze appeared heart shaped from this raised vantage point and had 4 circular seating areas. I wondered if these were supposed to represent the chambers of the heart. We found some stairs to descend to the basement level to find out. 

Maret Anne Sara

The work in both the east and west side of the hall were by Norwegian artist Maret Anne Sara. She is known for creating powerful sculptures based on her lived experience with the Sami community. I went to investigate the animal skin totem pole first on the western ramp. The moaning sounds were louder in the basement and I realised that it must be based on a tribal chant. The animal skins were those of reindeers and were woven into wires that stretched from floor to ceiling. What was it supposed to mean? I’ve absolutely no idea. All I know is that visually it looked very interesting with the natural reindeer skins contrasting with the straight lines of the huge hall around it. There was an eerie feeling too with all those animal noises and chanting. 

We wandered across to the heart shaped exhibit on the east side of the basement. I was rather deflated when I found out that my ‘heart-four-chamber’ theory was way off the mark. The maze-like structure was based on a reindeer’s nose. Queenie and Iron Man wandered off into one of the seating areas of the maze  to don headphones and listen to a monologue by the artist. I was more interested in the structure of the maze itself and went on a tour of its corridors. The walls of the maze were mostly made of long sticks that had been stripped of bark. This gave the walls a semi-transparent quality so that you could half see people on the other side. The disturbing thing about this maze was that sections of it were dedicated to mini totem poles of reindeer bones. There were poles of jaw bones; another one that was constructed of leg bones and the most disturbing one was a creation from skulls. If I came across anything like this exhibit on my walks in the UK, I wouldn’t hang about in the area. I noted that each skull had a small circular hole just above the eye sockets. I wondered whether they were bullet holes. They all seemed pretty central on the skull and so I wouldn’t have thought they’d have been shot with that accuracy at long range. The mystery would remain unresolved since Queenie and Iron Man had returned from their auditory experience. There were supposed to be some smells emitted as you walked around the maze, but they must have been subtle since I couldn’t smell them. This first exhibit had been a little more disturbing than I expected. I hoped things might cheer up a bit as we made our way over to the oil tank areas in the basement. 

Alberto Giacometti

Things actually got darker in the old oil tanks, although physically rather than metaphorically. The tanks and concrete rooms were so dimly lit that I thought I might have to get my headtorch out to find my way out, at one stage. The darkness,  steel panels and rivets of the old oil tanks made it feel claustrophobic as if we were feeling our way around a caisson. The acoustics were such that everybody spoke in whispers, reinforcing the alienating atmosphere. Alberto Giacometti’s anorexic human bronze sculptures were well chosen for the gallery. The stick figures were crudely formed and sometimes the shadows cast by the meagre lighting were larger than the sculpture itself. The sculptures seemed two dimensional until you moved to a different position and saw how they were indeed three dimensional. These were definitely minimalist sculptures and in some of his later works, the subjects weren’t even given arms. I rather liked his work. It had been an inspired choice by the person who decided to display them in this dark basement gallery. 

Natalie Bell And Blavatnik Buildings

The galleries on the north side of the Turbine Hall are located in what is known as the Natalie Bell building and on the south side, the Blavatnik building. The Natalie Bell building  includes seven levels. Level ‘0’ is the basement and there are further galleries from Level ‘1’ to ‘4.’ Level ‘5’ is a members bar and Level ‘6’ a public restaurant/café. The Blavatnik building includes eleven levels. Level ‘0’ is the basement. Level ‘1’ is a shop and members bar. Levels ‘2’ to ‘4’ are further galleries. Levels ‘5’ to ‘9’ must be dedicated to administration and office space. There is an espresso bar at Level ‘10’, although we didn’t actually visit that on this occasion. Most of the galleries show art freely available to the public. Some of the galleries display exhibitions where you need to be a member of the Tate Modern or pay for a ticket to gain access. There were certainly enough exhibits on display in the free galleries to occupy 3 to 4 hours of our time. It would be impractical to report on everything I saw during my meandering through the galleries and so I’ll just highlight the ones I particularly liked. 

Fortunately the £130 million cost for the Tate Modern included escalators and lifts between the levels. Stairs were available for those that wanted the exercise. 

Highlights Part 1

For the Warhol lovers, the iconic ‘Marilyn Diptych’ (1962) was on display. I wasn’t really sure what to make of it. There’s obviously the contrast between the vibrant colours on the left with the black and white fading images on the right. Given the glamour of her life and the nature of her death (probably suicide from a drugs overdose) maybe it’s supposed to represent that. I noticed that the picture looked a bit wonky in its frame. A note said it was supposed to be like that ‘...to emphasise its handmade element.’ 

In Peter Doig’s Untitled (Ping Pong) (2006-8) a man appears to be playing ping pong with an invisible opponent and imaginary ping pong ball. He seems to be playing the game in a garden. Anybody who has tried playing ping-pong outdoors knows that you only need the slightest breeze to introduce chaos to the proceedings. The associated note didn’t offer any explanation for this setup but invited ‘...the viewer to make up their mind.' Fair enough…I’ve no idea. 

‘Four Sitters Sitting In Paris’ by Syed Saddequain Ahmed Naqvi was a very abstract representation of the scene. The dark values and thick lines reminded me of 1980s Heavy Metal monikers. Although the painting didn’t really attract me, the associated note said that the artist socialised with negritude thinkers in Paris. I’d never come across the word negritude before; apparently it is an anticolonial movement centred on Black identity. 

One of my favourite  pictures  from my visit to the Tate Modern was ‘Monsieur Plume With Creases In His Trousers’ (1947). The caricature in the painting was so much like my school Latin teacher that I was disappointed to read that it was actually of Henri Michaux whose writings featured Monsieur Plume. 

There were also plenty of photos throughout the galleries. ‘Untitled - from Eel Series’ by Francesca Woodman (1978) showed a nude figure on a floor next to a bucket of eels. It was hard to interpret this one. The naked figure was in soft focus and the left arm at an unnatural angle. The bucket of eels was in focus. It seemed like some absurd murder scene. I can just imagine Sherlock Holmes telling Watson that it was quite obvious how all this happened. Well I have to confess, it escaped me. Despite the arrangement, I found it quite a captivating photograph, although I’ve no idea why. 

A number of exhibits were short films with some of them incorporated pictures or wall art. 

Predators ‘R Us by Andra Ursuta (2020) was quite an interesting coloured glass figure. It had a bottle for an arm and Predator (as from the film) slippers. The associated note says ‘...probes the extreme reaches of human identity in the technological present.’ Hmmm, okay.

I quite liked the gallery displaying the photographs of Josef Koudelka. They were black and white images of diverse and unusual compositions. As part of one image, there was even a TV showing the legendary Dicky Davis. 

Café

It was thirsty work critically appraising all these artists and so we decided to pop up to Level ‘6’ for a coffee in the restaurant. The views from the restaurant over to St Pauls, The City and The Shard were amazing. It was dark now and it was an awesome spectacle with everything lit up. 

The many workers serving in the café had split the work flow of receiving a drink request, paying for the drink, preparing the drink and delivery of the drink, to such an extent that Adam Smith would have been proud of them. Unfortunately, their complicated system introduced such confusion and delays that ultimately we ended up sipping lukewarm coffee. Never had so little been delivered by so many. 

Highlights Part 2

I rather liked Richard Long’s ‘Waterfall Line 2000’ (remade 2025). One wall of the gallery was dedicated to a simple blue, black and white painting of a waterfall. In front of this was a large collection of irregular shaped white stones formed into a circle. They looked a bit like large pieces of popcorn. I wasn’t actually sure whether the stones were part of the same piece as the painting. Maybe they were supposed to represent the downstream froth and turbulence. 

‘Red Slate Circle’ (1988) was similar in that it was a circle of irregularly shaped stones, except these were red slate. There was no waterfall picture with this one. 

I was impressed with an exhibit (unfortunately I didn’t note its name) that consisted of 4 large transparent cylinders that were hung and rotated from the ceiling. Film projections were pointed at these and then light images were reflected on the walls of the gallery. I found it quite mesmerising to watch. 

I award the most bizarre exhibits prize to Robert Gober. The corridor leading up to his main gallery had a lower half of a human leg sticking out of the wall (cause: childhood trauma of his mother’s story of being handed an amputated leg when she was a nurse in surgery).  Inside the gallery was a paper bag containing half a dozen doughnuts (injected with synthetic resin to increase their longevity). The walls of the gallery were covered in dark wallpaper that had light coloured line sketches of human genitalia. Elizabeth Hess, the writer for the Village Voice has concluded that… "'Male and Female Genital Wallpaper’ (1989)..."..is graphic but not in the least bit pornographic.’ Oh, well that’s sorted then! 

I’d seen Roy Lichtenstein’s iconic ‘Whaam!’ (1963) and ‘Wall Explosion II’ (1965) a few times in books and documentaries. I was surprised at the large size of the works. I liked how he used the Benday dots (as used in printing comics and newspapers) to create the painting on a larger scale. 

Martin Kippenberger’s ‘Fred The Frog Rings The Bell’ (1990) was hung up near the ceiling in a corner of one of the galleries, probably to be out of the firing range of any passing Christians. The work is supposed to be deliberately provocative. The frog is a metaphor for the artist and so the idea is that Kippenberger is actually crucifying himself before being crucified by his critics. A cunning ploy, but I doubt whether it stops them. 

Continuing the religious theme, ‘Babel’ by Cildo Meireles consisted of a high tower of analogue radios (oldest at the bottom) all tuned into different radio stations. As you can imagine, this produced quite  a lot of distorted noise in the room. According to the Bible, the Tower of Babel apparently offended God (it was too near heaven). His peculiar method of retaliation was to make the builders speak in different languages so that they couldn’t understand each other. Since they couldn’t progress, they became divided and scattered across the earth, and so began all mankind’s conflicts. Cheers God. 

Reflections

The Tate Modern Gallery was an amazing place to visit. The scale of the building, its architecture and the internal design was awesome and worth visiting in itself. There was a wide and varied selection of galleries that provoked, engaged and sometimes intentionally insulted the mind. Unless you are a psychopath, there will be something in the galleries that will move you. We squeezed in most of the free exhibits in half a day. If you want to enter any of the paid exhibitions then you’re going to need a full day to complete the full tour. I’d recommend that you don’t rush and read the associated note with each exhibit since these can bring some enlightenment. Don’t forget to visit the restaurant/café on Level 6, the views across London are spectacular.  

As with any gallery, a lot of the exhibits will constantly change over time.

For those like me, who are disappointed to find that the Tate Modern doesn’t have a helter-skelter running down from the top of the chimney, then I recommend taking the Tube across to London’s Queen Elizabeth Park. This has a 178m long tunnel slide from the top of the Orbit tower!