For a long time I’ve been interested in the way that the landscape is transformed by the effects of sunshine and shadows, and by the way that we often hardly notice the extent of the difference between the two (other than by a general feeling of pleasure when the sun brightens things up – here in cloudy Britain anyway). The scene filmed here in the grounds of Hatfield House, Hertfordshire, hopefully captures some of the transformational effect of sun and shadow as the sun emerges from behind a cloud (and then goes in again).
The various people in the background add a surreal air to the whole scene.
The new Tate Turbine Hall installation by Ai Weiwei reminds me of a Tate Turbine Hall installation of my own invention – an installation that has never actually existed in real life, being a conceptual piece that exists purely as a figment of my imagination and as a few photographs. One of the photos is shown below.
Like Weiwei’s installation my concept is a very low-lying piece of work, made out of a very large number of similar elements. The elements in my work are not artificial sunflower seeds though, they are flowers.
The installation is called Crocus Carpet and it consists (as you can hopefully see in the photo below), of the whole floor of the Tate Modern turbine hall being turfed over and planted with crocuses (apart from the pleasant pathways between the flowers).
Art is often concerned with questioning one’s perceptions, and that’s exactly what this work does. The sensation of strolling through what feels like an area of parkland that’s actually inside a huge cathedral-like industrial building is hopefully unsettling and disorientating. The installation would include specially installed benches on which people could sit and admire the flowers.
Crocus Carpet doesn’t only make you question your perceptions by virtue of the fact that it’s an outdoor space that’s been transported indoors – it also does so because the crocuses aren’t crocuses at all. Here’s a close-up photo of them.
That’s right. They’re not crocuses. They’re darts.
Here’s how the parts of the darts correspond to the different parts of a crocus.
The installation explores concepts of reality, illusion, perception and deception by utilising the dissonance arising from the similarity in appearance and the contrast in nature between crocus flowers and darts.
In other words, it’s meant to be something about the difference between the soft nature of the flowers and the hard, aggressive nature of darts.