If it's mid-October then Tate Modern must have plonked some fresh art in their Turbine Hall. So what have we got this year? Hides and fencing.
These are the animal skins, 72 reindeer hides strung out on electric cables from floor to ceiling. They don't move or flash but there is the occasional buzz as part of the ambient soundscape. Apparently they also smell, this the ‘váivahuvvon hádja' that reindeer release when in a stressful situation, but I didn't get any notion of a tang, whiff or aroma when I walked by.
This year's artist is Norwegian, more specifically from the Sápmi region of northern Scandinavia formerly known as Lapland. Máret Ánne Sara's art journey began when her brother was ordered to cull 40% of his reindeer herd as part of a national quota system. She exhibited 200bullet-piercedreindeer skulls outside the Norwegian Supreme Court, they voted down the legislation and here she is on the South Bank. The juxtaposition of hides and cables is meant to represent the tension between energy extraction and ecosystems, obviously.
That's Goavve and at the other end of the Turbine Hall is Geabbil, a loopy labyrinth with walls made from birch branches. At certain points you'll find vertical clusters of reindeer remains - a stripe of jaws, a wall of skulls - also signs urging you not to touch. Within the maze are four listening areas where you can sit down on reindeer skin and don chunky headphones to hear conversations with Sámi reindeer herders and knowledge keepers. What they don't warn you is that the four audio streams each last 20-30 minutes so nobody's going to stay for all of them, plus they're a bit dry, so to save you the effort I flashed the QR code so if you're really interested you can read the transcripts at home.
The shape of the artwork is based on the internal anatomy of a reindeer's nose. Their snout is mostly cartilage and cavities, an energy-efficient arrangement which rapidly heats inhaled air across an extensive surface area, such is the genius of evolved nasal geometry. According to the blurb "as we move through the structure, Sara invites us to connect with the enduring knowledge and energy that flows through its materials and passages", although if you're a small child you'll probably just run around a lot.
Goavve-Geabbil won't detain you long, it's fairly slight given the voluminous space available. I don't think it's as poor as The Guardian's 1-star review, and does at least shine a light on indigenous art we rarely consider. But it's not up there with the greatest Turbine Hall commissions, indeed it's been four years since the last must-see, as yet another artist fails to grasp the full possibilities of London's largest gallery space.
