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Telegraph
24-04-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
‘It's my proudest achievement': Tate Modern at 25
Ten days before Tate Modern opened in a disused power station on the south bank of the Thames, a trustee of the gallery expressed concern that nobody would find it. 'He was really worried,' recalls Nicholas Serota, the Tate's director from 1988 to 2017. 'And I had to say, 'Well, you live in Chelsea, and it's rather a long way from Chelsea to Bankside, but I think other people will find their way across Blackfriars Bridge.'' They did. Despite 'a slight sense of disbelief, because it had all happened relatively quickly', Serota had an inkling from the off that Tate Modern would be a success, because, he recalls, 'the Queen didn't disapprove when she opened it' on May 10, 2000, even if 'she was a bit nonplussed by what she was being shown'. The first work to greet Elizabeth II was Maman (1999), a gigantic bronze spider by the French-American artist Louise Bourgeois, which, to mark Tate Modern's 25th birthday, is returning to the same spot, on top of a footbridge, ahead of a weekend of events next month. 'I remember taking the Queen into a room of Bridget Riley's [abstract] paintings,' Serota says. 'Afterwards, she said, 'It was rather dazzling.'' Nobody, though, predicted the scale of the gallery's success. Tate Modern had prepared for two million visitors, but, during its first year alone, five million people came to check it out. I was one of them, captivated, like everybody else, by the vast, awe-inspiring void of the 500ft-long Turbine Hall, which, Serota says, 'challenged artists to make proposals on a scale and with a boldness that they hadn't been able to achieve elsewhere'. It became the backdrop for some of the most spectacular art installations ever staged in this country – including, unforgettably, The Weather Project (2003), by the Icelandic-Danish artist Olafur Eliasson. This gigantic, illusory sun, powered by 200 mono-frequency lights, seemed to be setting beneath a mirrored ceiling – and, Eliasson tells me, 'transformed' his career. He remembers waking up after the press preview to find his work reproduced on every front page on a news-stand near his hotel: 'It was a big thing.' Materially, he tells me, the installation 'was very easy to do: just half a disc, smoke, and mirrors.' But the 'unifying and inclusive' underlying concept – creating, as he puts it, 'a living environment', in the manner of a piazza – proved enormously popular, attracting 'an influx of first-time museum-goers, who sat down on the floor'. What were they getting from this artwork, as they picked out their reflections high above? 'Feeling seen,' replies Eliasson, who says that the public's reaction made Tate Modern 'more self-confident' and helped them realise that a museum's activities could have a 'social dimension'. Today, it seems absurd that, as recently as the 1990s, London had no institution to rival the Centre Pompidou in Paris or New York's Museum of Modern Art. Before Serota took over at Tate, its trustees were planning to construct several pavilions, including a 'Museum of 20th Century Art', beside the gallery's 19th-century home (now Tate Britain) on Millbank. 'I felt that the museum, as designated on this plan, was much too small and insignificant,' Serota recalls. By 1992, the trustees agreed: a new, bigger site for Tate's modern art museum had to be found. Six spots were seriously considered, including London's Docklands, Jubilee Gardens on the South Bank, King's Cross, Vauxhall, and Battersea Power Station – which, Serota says, 'was regarded as too remote'. In the end, Tate plumped for Giles Gilbert Scott's brick-clad Bankside Power Station, which had closed in 1981 – even though, as Serota recalls, 'large parts of it were derelict: the roof over the Turbine Hall was letting in water significantly.' Yet, he continues, its 'raw space [was] appealing, because, over the past 30 years, artists had increasingly colonised those kinds of spaces in which to show, as well as make, their work.' He also had in mind successfully converted industrial buildings elsewhere, such as a former police garage in Los Angeles that the Canadian-American architect Frank Gehry had transformed into 40,000 square feet of exhibition space, which opened in 1983. 'I can remember standing on the other side of the Thames, by St Paul's,' Serota says, 'looking through this slot of space, which is now occupied by the Millennium Bridge, and thinking, 'If this building were in Dusseldorf or Amsterdam, it would already be a museum.'' Its full potential wasn't evident, though, until Tate Modern's Swiss architects, Herzog & de Meuron, became involved. They were appointed in 1995, following a swift competition (held quickly so that the project could stand a chance of winning funding from the Millennium Commission, which provided £50 million), because of the unique 'brilliance', as Serota puts it, of their proposal: to take out a false floor at ground level, and so 'open the full height of the Turbine Hall to form a single gallery and entrance space', accessed by a ramp. While raising the £135 million that was eventually required to create Tate Modern, Serota was helped by the succès de scandale of the Young British Artists, who captivated the media during the 1990s, and galvanised an apathetic public into getting excited about contemporary art. According to Chris Smith, who, following New Labour's landslide in 1997, became Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, and helped to deliver Tate Modern: 'There were grumpy old codgers who were saying, 'I don't know what all this fuss is about: piles of bricks and urinals and slabs of colour daubed on a canvas. This is not real art.' But they were very firmly in the minority.' Nevertheless, Serota recalls that there was 'a lot of controversy' about the presentation of the permanent collection, which adopted a thematic, transnational approach. (Traditionally, museums favour chronological displays, or displays organised by different 'schools' of art, because they help confer coherence on art history's complexities.) In part, Serota concedes, this was a 'tactical' decision. Simply to present a series of displays on a totally chronological basis, beginning in 1900 and ending in 2000, would have meant that we were putting ourselves up against the Museum of Modern Art and the Pompidou, and there was no contest in terms of the quality of the collection,' he explains. 'Tate has some wonderful things' – The Snail (1953) by Henri Matisse and Andy Warhol's Marilyn Diptych (1962) spring to mind – 'but it can't match those other two institutions, in terms of telling a very standard [i.e., European and North American] story.' Since the start, Tate Modern has sought to expand the canon (although Henri Matisse: The Cut-Outs, which Serota co-curated in 2014, attracted more than 562,000 visitors, and was, for many years, its most popular exhibition). Later this year, the gallery will stage an exhibition of work by the Aboriginal Australian artist Emily Kam Kngwarray, as well as an installation, within the Turbine Hall, by Máret Ánne Sara, an indigenous artist from the northern European region of Sápmi. 'This year is quite strong when it comes to indigenous art,' admits Tate Modern's director, Karin Hindsbo who tells me that she is 'working on' restoring Tate Modern's flagging audience (the gallery's visitor figures are still around one-fifth lower than before the pandemic), as well as achieving a 'balanced budget'. 'Obviously, when you have a deficit budget, it's not a sustainable situation,' says Hindsbo, who concedes that there has been a recent 'reduction' in staff numbers at the gallery, although she points out that the process has been 'voluntary'. For Serota, he and his team's work on Tate Modern remains his 'proudest achievement'. He still recalls a time in Britain when, as he puts it, 'modern and contemporary art had never been shown with real conviction, but always with a slight sense of apology, or of trying to connect it with tradition, rather than see it in its own terms… There was a feeling that Britain was a literary rather than a visual culture, and that somehow other people did it better than us.' Yet, he believes, Tate Modern 'forged a new way of thinking about what museums could be', and 'made people feel less frightened by contemporary art, more willing to deal with uncertainty, challenge. So, it has given confidence.' This was certainly the effect it had on me when I was still a student, learning about the art of ancient Greece and Rome. In 2002, I encountered Marsyas, an extruded, 500ft-long red PVC-membrane trumpet by the British sculptor Anish Kapoor, which filled the Turbine Hall like pulsating muscles and organs inside a giant's ribcage; for almost the first time, I felt properly thrilled by an installation created by a living artist. The opening of Tate Modern had a galvanising effect on the wider sector, too – as, for the first time in decades, London (which now boasts many hundreds of galleries) became an important centre internationally for contemporary art. Just as you can't imagine the capital today without, say, the National Theatre, it's impossible to think of a London with no Tate Modern.
Telegraph
30-01-2025
- Telegraph
The 12 best things to do in Reykjavik
Despite its modest proportions, you won't ever be short of anything to do in Reykjavik. Alongside alluring natural sights – Tjörnin Lake, the pretty harbour, Mount Esja – the capital also offers museums and art galleries galore, plus some fascinating architecture (the soaring Hallgrimskirkja church being a case in point), and a unique blend of local community dynamics with a worldy cosmopolitanism. That's without mentioning the idiosyncratic shopping, abundant hot pools, and a year-round calendar foaming with concerts, events and festivals. For more Reykjavik's scenic central pond draws an impressive variety of birdlife, from Arctic terns and swans to greylag geese and mallard ducks. Strolling round Tjörnin Lake, which is fringed by cultural and municipal buildings, parks and residences, is a popular local pastime; just be sure to only feed the birds grains and seeds if possible, since bread isn't the best for their diets and also attracts aggressive seagulls. Insider's Tip: Pop into the nearby Contact: Price: Free It's impossible to miss Hallgrímskirkja, the city's main church; at 240-feet tall, it's by far the highest landmark in the city and its rocket-shaped exterior certainly makes it the most distinctive sight in town. It was designed by famed national architect Guðjón Samúelsson, who was inspired by the country's basalt rock formations. Admire the statue of national hero Leifur Eiríksson outside before exploring the rich interior, which includes an immense organ with over 5,000 pipes. Insider's Tip: Take the lift up to the church's tower for magnificent views over Reykjavik's colourful rooftops and out across the harbour and the sea. Note that the tower shuts half an hour before the usual closing time. Contact: Price: £ A swim in one of Reykjavik's geothermal pools is both a wonderful way to relax and — if you select the right spot — an excellent way to meet and mingle with the locals, who use the pools to socialise. One of the best is Vesturbæjarlaug, which can be reached via a pleasant 20-minute promenade walk from the city or by bus. It has four hot tubs, one cold bath, a large outdoor pool and a steam room. Insider's Tip: Be aware that Icelandic pools and changing areas are often mixed sex. If you don't have your swimming costume you can rent one from most places. Contact: Price: £ The Harpa Concert Hall has gone from being a costly controversy (it was built during the economic collapse) to one of the country's main sources of cultural pride. Home to the Iceland Symphony Orchestra, and the Reykjavík Big Band, its stunning facade, designed by Icelandic-Danish artist Olafur Eliasson to reflect Iceland's natural beauty, contains several visually stunning halls with outstanding acoustics, as well as an Icelandic design store, two restaurants, and more. Insider's Tip: Another option is to take one of the guided tours, which offer insights into the history, architecture, design and world-class acoustics of the building, as well as areas not normally open to the public. Contact: Price: £-££ Reykjavik's harbour area, once the lone preserve of ships and their captains and fishermen, still functions as a traditional harbour, complete with trawlers, whaling ships and other boats. But a recent regeneration project, starting with the Harpa Concert Hall development, has made it into a mini-district of its own, with cafés, restaurants and even museums to visit. Insider's Tip: Wandering aimlessly is pleasant enough, but specific activities to look out for include taking a whale- or puffin-watching trip from one of the harbour tour companies such as Contact: Price: £ Icelandic history has the advantage of a relatively straightforward and clear narrative while still containing plenty of drama. The permanent exhibition at Reykjavik's National Museum tells the entire story from settlement to the present-day, making great use of various archeological finds, as well as historic photos. Among the 2,000 objects are replicas of swords and drinking horns, plus an elaborately decorated 13th-century church door from Valþjófsstaðir. Insider's Tip : Grab a free smartphone audio guide to hear a lot of entertaining extra detail. Contact: Price: £ The Arbær Open Air Museum, part of the Reykjavík City Museum, was created to give an example of how rural Reykjavik life used to be just a few decades ago. Essentially a village a 15-minute drive outside of the capital, it was built around the remnants of a working farm and supplemented by buildings moved here from the city-centre, as well as some domestic animals and old machinery. Insider's Tip: Staff dress in period costume and offer workshops for traditional crafts such as spinning yarn, making candles and churning butter, making it an interesting visit for adults and children alike. Free guided tours take place daily at 1pm. Contact: Price: £ Þingvellir National Park, located around 30 miles outside of the city, is one of the most enticing natural sites in reasonable proximity to Reykjavik. It is most famously the site of Iceland's original Viking parliament (Assembly) but it's also a stunning natural park with easy to follow (mostly) wooden walkways guiding visitors past lakes, waterfalls, cliffs and occasional buildings such as the pretty Þingvellir church. Insider's Tip: If you're a water enthusiast, book a trip to the park's Contact: Price: £ The Reykjavik Art Museum is split between three different venues, the most alluring being Ásmundarsafn — a museum dedicated to the work and life of sculptor Ásmundur Sveinsson. It's not as central as the other two locations (although it is still only a 30-minute walk from the city centre) but the reward is a unique piece of Mediterranean-style white domed architecture, which the artist designed himself, plus a selection of his works both inside and in the pleasant sculpture garden. Keen for more? The more central Hafnarhús part of the Reykjavík Art Museum, has six galleries with a mix of contemporary art (local and international) and a permanent collection of works from Iceland's most famous pop artist, Erró. Insider's Tip: To make the most of the trip, combine it with a walk to the nearby botanic garden, Contact: Price: £ Located just south of the city centre, atop the wooded Öskjuhlíð hill, sits a large glass domed building with a base constructed from converted cylindrical water tanks. Better known as Perlan ('the Pearl'), the building offers a permanent exhibition (called 'Wonders of Iceland') that gives a high-tech and enjoyably interactive overview of all the interconnected facets of Icelandic nature – from glaciers, volcanoes and ocean life to earthquakes, northern lights and bird life. Highlights include a 100-metre-long ice cave (the world's first) built from over 350 tons of snow, a planetarium where visitors can journey through space with captivating digital shows and a memorable northern lights display Insider's tip: There's also a café, restaurant, bar so you can make a day (or half a day) of it; be sure not to miss the fabulous city panoramas from the outside observation deck. Contact: Price: £ The Marshall House was built in 1948 in the Grandi area—an extension of the harbour district that has long been an important part of the local fishing industry. The house started life as a fish meal factory but along with the renovation of the entire area, it was transformed into a cultural centre in 2017. Characterised by large windows and a linear procession of beams and columns in twentieth-century industrial style (as well as an eye-catching concrete staircase), the space consists of four independently-operated art spaces: The Living Art Museum, a non-profit museum founded by artists in the 70s; Kling & Bang, an artist-run gallery space; Þula, a newer gallery focusing on emerging artists; and i8 Grandi, the second space of i8 Gallery, a long-standing contemporary art gallery founded in 1995—single artist shows here last a whole year. On the top floor of the building is the private studio of the award-winning eponymous Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson, whose designs were used in the Harpa Concert Hall, and many of his works can be seen on the ground floor of the Marshall House, where visitors can also grab a coffee or lunch at La Primavera restaurant. Website: Price: £-££ Probably one of the most unique museums in Iceland – if not on the planet – Reykjavik's 'penis museum' does pretty much what it says on the tin: offers a vast collection of phallic specimens belonging to the various types of mammal found throughout the country and beyond. Founded by historian Sigurður Hjartarson, and curated these days by his son, Hjörtur Gísli Sigurðsson, the museum was inspired by Hjartarson's childhood days, when he was given a pizzle (bull's penis) to play with. Having moved a few times in recent years, it now occupies a venue in the harbour area that showcases over 400 penises (and penile parts) from around 150 species along with hundreds of art pieces and cultural items. Recent additions include a plaster-cast of Jimi Hendrix from the late Cynthia Plaster Caster, 128 plaster casts from anonymous Icelandic men, and an eight-foot tall penis sculpture from Montreal. Insider's Tip: Although the museum is more scientific than wink-wink-nudge-nudge, the associated Phallic Café serves interestingly shaped waffles, 'cock-tails' and beers with names like Moby Dick and Big Cock Ale. Contact: Price: £ Every attraction and activity in this curated list has been tried and tested by our destination expert, to provide you with their insider perspective. We cover a range of budgets and styles, from world-class museums to family-friendly theme parks – to best suit every type of traveller. We update this list regularly to keep up with the latest openings and provide up to date recommendations. Paul has been an Icelandophile since writing his 2003 music-themed travelogue, 'waking up in Iceland'. He has travelled all over the country during his numerous visits since, and loves nothing more than a dip in a local hot pool and a waffle at the timeless Mokka cafe.
