Tag: installation

mona hatoum, you are still here (2013), sandblasted mirrored glass, metal fixtures, 38 x 29.20 x 0.50 cm | 1’ 3" x 11" 2/4 x 2/8", edition of 15 reflecting cellules and turbulences, chantal crousel gallery by eloise gouby | SOME/THINGS S/TUDIO

mona hatoum, cellules (2012-2013), mild steel and blown glass (8 elements) variable dimensions, chantal crousel gallery by eloise gouby | SOME/THINGS S/TUDIO

mona hatoum, chantal crousel gallery by eloise gouby | SOME/THINGS S/TUDIO

mona hatoum, chantal crousel gallery by eloise gouby | SOME/THINGS S/TUDIO

mona hatoum, electrified II (2010), metal, electric wire, lightbulb, transformer, 380 x 40 x 0 cm | 12’ 5" 5/8 x 1’ 3" ¾, chantal crousel gallery by eloise gouby | SOME/THINGS S/TUDIO

Rebecca Horn

Bee’s Planetary Map, 1998.
Installation: 15 straw baskets, wire, motors, broken mirror disk, shattered mirror glass, metal rods, wooden stick, rock, sound, lights. h: 168 x w: 384 x d: 228 in / h: 426.7 x w: 975.4 x d: 579.1 cm Courtesy: Marian Goodman Gallery.

Sixteen inverted straw baskets, looking for all the world like beehives, were suspended from the ceiling at various heights. Inside each basket was a lightbulb, casting pools of light on the floor. On the floor beneath each basket was a circular glass mirror which now and then swiveled, catching the light and reflecting it in constantly moving circles and oblongs on the walls and ceiling. Throughout the room you could hear a recording of the insistent buzzing of a swarm of bees.
Topping it all off, every few minutes a small rock attached to a cable fell from the ceiling to hit a cracked mirror on the floor, around which were strewn pieces of broken glass. This repetitive, destructive act was disturbing but also raw and cathartic. On one wall could be found a poem by Horn, providing an excellent textual counterpoint: «The bees have lost their equilibrium / They swarm in dense clouds high above / Their luminous basket hives are deserted / One of their centres is being destroyed forever anew….»

Marc Quinn, The Garden, 2000, Cold room, stainless steel, heated glass, refrigerating equipment, mirrors, turf, real plants, acrylic tank, low viscosity silicon oil held at -20°C 

“For me the Garden is about desire, it’s about all the flowers in the world all coming up at the same time, in the same place, an idea of a perfect paradise. You’ve got the metal refrigeration unit, the glass top, the tank, the silicone and then you’ve got this delicate image of the living bit, so in a traditional way it’s like body and soul. The idea of mechanics and something that’s alive inside it, even though the irony is that the flowers, in order to appear to live forever, are dead. Sculpture’s about transformation but what I like about the Garden is the flowers appear not to be transformed, however if you touch them you’d find that they’re as brittle as porcelain. I wanted it to be about the manipulation of nature as well. There is no such thing as nature anymore. It’s all culture now. Every landscape you see is a manipulated landscape, every flower has been genetically modified through breeding to be like it is, so these pictures are about The Garden being constructed, not grown, that’s one aspect.” – Marc Quinn, The South Bank Show, 2000

tom-isaacs:

Sleeping is like death – Chiharu Shiota

“Beds are the places where almost everyone is born and dies,” the artist explains. “That’s why they are such enthralling objects. I always use objects that have already been used, as they are full of history. What’s more, every person who gets up leaves a different body print on the bed. It’s fascinating.”

[…]

“Sleep is a bit like death,” the artist continues. “You never know if you are going to wake up. When you’re lying in bed at night and the lights are off, in your mind you go over what you did during the day; you slowly slip into your dreams, and you are caught in a web of thoughts, which I represent by all these threads; we get close to our subconscious, maybe like we would when death is near.”

Source: mu-inthecity.com