One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
One line I found particularly interesting in the press release was the description of Anthony McCall as an artist who ‘inverted’ the rules of cinema - I’d love to hear more about that.
It’s one of the most amazing things about Anthony looking back at his practice and his early beginnings as an experimental filmmaker; he would use film to document these performances which he called his ‘sculptural events’, for instance, Landscape for Fire (1972) in this exhibition. He used the medium of film to capture what he saw as a past event, then became interested in the idea that film as a medium can become a primary material rather than a secondary material; so instead of referring to something in the past he could use the medium of film to create something that’s live, and that you can experience first-hand in the moment. He wanted to allow visitors to have these encounters with objects that don’t refer to anything in the past. It’s an extraordinary thing to think about, the medium of film is reduced to its most basic elements of being projected light in motion, almost creating a sculptural object but maintaining this sense of immateriality that a projected image will always have. It’s a really fascinating development in terms of the history of making film.
It seems particularly interesting in comparison with, for instance, Stan Brakhage and Bill Morrison, for whom the filmmaking process is also part of the finished piece, but who favour tactility, while McCall’s experiments feel more ephemeral by design.
Oh, completely! And his work can almost be treated as sculpture - in some ways it was an interesting challenge for us as a curatorial team, we had to think about the spatial arrangement of objects in a very sculptural way while also thinking about the necessary conditions for film. But it definitely has that ephemerality and sensitivity, it’s a really unique exhibition to curate.
I was struck by the fact that he was inspired by a shaft of light from his window reminding him of the similar light visible in a cinema - it’s a unique approach to be interested in the process of projection rather than what’s on the screen or the mechanics of the equipment.
Well exactly, and when we were installing the exhibition, we wanted to include that photograph of Room with Altered Window (1973), where he had a completely blackened-out window in his studio with a slash in it which let a single shaft of light through to create a division in the space. For him that was the foundational image, the catalyst for the sort of works he’s most well-known for, so he wanted that photograph to be one of the first things you see once you come into the exhibition. It really sets you up for the journey that he embarked on. It’s a beautiful photograph and a beautiful idea, and when you think that it’s purely reliant on dust and smoke that was created in the space naturally is fascinating.
There was a major gap in McCall’s career from the late 70s to the new millennium; do you think his work can be clearly delineated into two periods, or do you see a continuity in his later works?
In some ways; I have a greater appreciation for how it developed within that time. Certainly, looking at the works in this exhibition we can see that Line Describing a Cone (1973), which is the centrepiece of the exhibition, was the first Solid Light work that he made. It still has that 16mm transfer materiality to it, you can see it flickering with white dots creating little beams of light; you can easily imagine it being projected in a dusty, smokey loft space in New York. Then, moving into the next Solid Light work that he made after taking a break, you can see it a lot cleaner and crisper - you can see that he’s really embraced the new technology. Anthony has always said that the technology just wasn’t available for him to realise what he wanted. His aspiration with Line Describing a Cone was to have that crispness, it just took a long time for technology to catch up with what he wanted to achieve.
It feels like there’s been something of an uptick in experiential exhibitions at Tate Modern, particularly with Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind and more recently the final section of Zanele Muholi’s exhibition…
Yes! I worked on that one too.
Oh, amazing! So was it a deliberate curatorial choice to have a season of experiential art, or was it more of a happy accident?
In many ways it was a happy accident that they’re showing at the same time, but it’s very much a deliberate part of our curatorial decision-making. The programme is really to make visitors feel like they can be active participants in an exhibition or an artwork, and that they can have these unique encounters where they aren’t just consuming art, but are engaging with it and having their own experiences. That’s something we’re trying to maintain in our programme, so it’s really nice for visitors to have a few different places they can do that in the Tate Modern. Part of what wanted to do in this space was to identify key works in Tate’s collection and flesh them out into these displays where we contextualise them and celebrate their conception and legacy.
Are there any works in particular in Tate’s permanent collection that complement the exhibition, that you’d recommend visitors seek out afterwards?
Oh, there are a lot… We try to have a sense of monumentality, so Cildo Meireles’ Babel (2001), on display downstairs, immediately comes to mind, we often think about how exhibitions act in dialogue with that. We’ve got these amazing Jenny Holzer works as well that also experiment with light… Oh, and probably one of the more exciting ones is we have Nikita Gale’s Tanks on at the minute, which Anthony instantly saw when he first came to install the exhibition. That’s a recent acquisition which is evocative of Anthony’s work because of that use of light delineating space. Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work also acts in dialogue with Nikita Gale and has an interesting use of light; visitors will probably walk past the display on the way up to the exhibition, so that could be an interesting one to consider in dialogue.
Anthony McCall: Solid Light is showing at Tate Modern from 27th June 2024 - 27th April 2025.
