Miroslaw Balka ‘How it is’ (part of The Unilever Series)

I always get excited when visiting the Turbine Hall at the Tate... it’s just such a huge loaded vertical space towering over everyone. To get the full dominating impact I like to use the entrance near Southwark at the back which slopes down, gradually reducing me to a small child looking around in amazement. It’s such a unique experience that I find it remarkable that the Turbine Hall’s original purpose wasn’t to house art, as it could comfortably fit under the well designed banner of a Moma or a Guggenheim.

As a treat for Sarah’s birthday, I’d bought her lunch in the Tate’s restaurant – mainly for the views of St.Pauls’ although the foods not bad either. I didn’t want to bombard Sarah with a day of looking at artwork but casually mentioned that as she hadn’t seen the Turbine Hall she might like it, and so after dinner we made our way down to see Miroslaw Balka’s ‘how it is’. At a first glance it didn’t look too impressive. Mimicking the rectangular architecture of the Turbine Hall, the large shipping-like container looked at home but not necessarily inviting. I remember feeling quite disappointed as I hoped to impress Sarah by showing her an amazing ‘wow factor’ piece of artwork, many of which I’ve seen in the past in the Turbine Hall.

With fairly low expectations, we walked slowly up a long ramp into the container which led us into a vast pitch black space. Walking next to each other we chatted and laughed at what might be inside as we entered the darkness. A couple of paces in and slowly the light was fading. We noticed people walking towards us, walking out of the installation. A few more paces in and I was becoming aware that I could no longer make people out in the darkness until they were next to me and was a little concerned I’d accidentally walk into someone. A few more paces in and the light had completely been swallowed. I turned round to look at the entrance where we’d come in – it was only a few metres away but the reassurance of the light made me feel comfortable again. I turned again to face the now pitch black darkness and continue walking forward, constantly chatting to Sarah and sensing that people were walking past me although were it not for their footsteps I would have no idea they were there - I couldn’t even see my own hand in front of my face. A few more paces in and I began to grow slightly nervous. I looked around again, in hope of some reassurance. We were quite a way in now and the entrance was growing smaller. I turned around and held onto Sarah (yes, I know I’m a wuss!) A few more paces in, and I kept thinking that no matter what’s in the darkness or what’s waiting for us at the end, there’s no way that this piece can hurt me. It’s got to be safe otherwise people would sue the rear end off the Tate. That thought comforted me for a short while. A few more paces in and not only was I fully attached to the whole of Sarah’s arm, but quite embarrassingly I’d begun to start a nervous laugh. A few more paces in and I’d given up all hope, laughing uncontrollable now and quite frankly hiding behind Sarah. A few more paces in and Sarah let out a sign of relief as we finally reached the back wall. Maybe the sigh was relief that I’d stop clutching onto her or laughing uncontrollably, I’m not sure!

Lined with soft felt-like material, the back wall felt so comforting and we both stayed there for a while in the darkness feeling a small satisfying sense of achievement. As we turned and walked out of the installation – it was easy to see the people walking towards us as they were silhouetted against the light of the entrance, which made me feel quite silly as I was so concerned earlier about bumping into people.

I was pleased with the piece and the experience it gave me. I get scared quite easily so my reaction wasn’t that surprising but afterwards I appreciated the sense of the unknown and the gradual build up of fear and uncertainty.

Claudia Losi – Balena Project

I often travel to see artwork when I recognise the quality and reputation of the artist or follow the gallery’s work. In this case it was the latter, I had never heard of Claudia Losi, but have a great respect for the Ikon Galleries’ work and was excited that this was an offsite commission. The piece was located in the rather affluent Mail Box in Birmingham (not somewhere I could afford to shop and had never visited before) so from New Street station I followed Thomas Heatherwick’s clever and intriguing directional signs in the pavement which showed me the way across roads, up lampposts and finally into the Mail Box. I walked through the Mailbox to the back where the car park was located.

I saw its tail fin at first, lying flat and heavy along the grey surface, disturbing the lines of the car park. The huge bulk of its soft body, made from cashmere and being a life-sized representation filled the enormity of the space. After being told I could touch the piece if I was careful, I went to give the whale a hug. Of course with the sheer scale of the piece my arms didn’t bend round but I gently gave the whale a squeeze and felt the warmth of the cashmere next to my skin.

Claudia Losi and Ikon Gallery had also worked with a local school to produce smaller plushy versions of the whale, which the children designed and then artists made. They were hung next to the main installation in a spiral, almost imitating a wave or children’s bedroom mobile.

Roger Hiorns – Seizure

Commissioned by ArtAngel, Roger Hiorns’ blue copper-sulphate installation ‘Seizure’ was nominated for the Turner Prize award in 2009. Sadly the piece lost out to a Richard’s Wright’s fresco painted directly onto one of the walls at Tate Britain.

Prior to the announcement of the Turner Prize, Seizure was first exhibited in September 2009 and backed by press and public demand, surprising reopened in December after the award had been announced. Knowing the quality and short duration of Art Angel’s commissioned pieces and the fact that pieces rarely re-open to the public, I was determined to book a train ticket and go to London.

It was my first visit to the Elephant & Castle and as I alighted at the tube station I was welcomed by a dusty roundabout surrounded by tired looking 1960s and 70s miss-match concrete buildings, rather like a theatre in the round but with an ageing audience staring blankly at a deserted stage. Thankfully it was only a short walk to the piece which was housed in one of six 1960s former council flats, destined for demolition. Usually I get a thrill from seeing artwork in unconventional spaces, however as I arrived at the fenced off and boarded up estate I was beginning to wonder whether I’d wasted the train ticket. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Although the entrance to the flat was dark, narrow and smelt of damp, once inside you could see a blow glow coming from one of the rooms. It was like an electric blue grotto! Sharp copper-sulphate crystals adorned every available nook and cranny, hung from the ceilings, clustered around pipes, filled part of a bath, like parasites...reclaiming the unwanted space everywhere. Roger Hiorns had painstakingly sealed the flat before drilling a hole in an upstairs flat and pouring in copper-sulphate solution. As the temperature dropped the solution formed crystal like shapes. The remaining solution was then drained and recycled.

After 20 or so minutes I decided to leave. The installation was overwhelming and I would have gladly stayed longer but I was aware of the queues forming outside and that only a few people were allowed in at any one time. Leaving the piece felt odd, it was such an amazing fulfilling experience and a stark contrast to the external environment. Like past ArtAngel pieces and other temporary artwork I’ve seen there was part of me that wished the installation was staying permanently, however I realise that this wouldn’t have been possible for many reasons and that I wouldn’t have had the same experience and sense of urgency to see the piece.