caraballo-farman, Contours of Staying, 2004

The Tate Modern gets a lot of media attention through its Turbine Hall installations, and upper-floor blockbuster exhibitions. But these are often left to languish for months, and repeat visitors, such as myself, get tired of seeing the same old thing.

On my last visit it was a different matter entirely. Sure, plenty of people were still enamoured by Louise Bourgeois’ spidery legs, and Doris Salcedo’s precipitous crack, but these were by no means the only areas of interest. On the second floor, near the northern most entrance, was an exhibiton called Illuminations. To quote the exhibition literature:

“Illuminations brings together five film and video works that explore gestures, objects and spaces that shape or express belief. The title refers both to the light generated by projected images in a darkened gallery and to metaphorical states of enlightenment attainable through faith.”

I’ll just briefly allude to the second sentence, because as far as the works are concerned using projectors is a pretty tenous metaphor, but what is true about projected works, and video works in general, is that you get a lot of bang for your buck in terms of exhibition space, which was especially true for Valerie Mrejen, whose work profiled a series of people who had come to question religious practices in the context of modern life. They each in inturn recounted tales of vengeful gods who would strike them down for not observing strict religious practice. It made the practises appear ridiculous, built as they were on a bed rock of fear and obligation.

In a work by Dan Acostioaeu called ‘Crossroad’, a steady stream of people are seen ‘crossing themselves’ as they see something off screen. It is a crowded area, and this physical manifestation of community is striking amongst otherwise private scenes, where people go about their everyday lives. The visual effect is stunning, with the threads of religion, or else conformity, animating these people in a communal correography.

There was another video which concentrated on the gestures and objects used by a group of individuals in a temple. Again there was a great feeling of commonality which was ingrained by these harmless practices.

And lastly, was a video which unveiled itself quite slowly. At first the camera is focussed tightly on wafts of yellow fabric which are buffeted by the wind. A face is just about discernible, and a life guard come to mind. Who else would be in such violent weather? And then, like a Sergio Leone film, the camera pulls out, revealing landscapes of flesh and fabric which are still strangely ambivalent. Then a person comes into focus, who is sat on a dusted ground, and looks terribly cold. Now I come to think of the Cockle Pickers off Morecambe Bay. She drives her legs into a tight cross legged postion. The wind howls. There is a feeling of desolation. But she just sits, in either utter desperation or meditation – I can’t decide which. The scene changes further, and the beach becomes an equally desolate concrete pavement, sprinkled with snow. I now see that she isn’t alone. And then that this is a city, and amongst the persistent wind are cars, which pass silently by under red street lamps. These people are protesting; a sea of solidarity against the mechanisms of a modern world. And while religious customs shouldn’t be taken with a closed mind, they can be the threads of community, and can go someway to bridging the social and cultural cracks made manifest in the Turbine Hall.