Attendees to the renowned gallery are used to surprising encounters in its expansive Turbine Hall. They've basked under an man-made sun, descended down helter skelters, and observed AI-powered jellyfish drifting through the air. Yet this marks the initial time they will be immersing themselves in the intricate nasal chambers of a reindeer. The latest artistic project for this immense space—created by Indigenous Sámi artist Máret Ánne Sara—encourages gallerygoers into a maze-like design modeled after the scaled-up interior of a reindeer's nose passages. Upon entering, they can meander around or chill out on skins, tuning in on headphones to Sámi elders telling stories and wisdom.
What's the focus on the nose? It might appear whimsical, but the artwork pays tribute to a obscure biological feat: scientists have discovered that in a fraction of a second, the reindeer's nose can heat the incoming air it inhales by 80°C, enabling the animal to endure in inhospitable Arctic climates. Enlarging the nose to larger than human size, Sara explains, "creates a sense of inferiority that you as a human being are not dominant over nature." Sara is a ex- journalist, children's author, and environmental activist, who is from a reindeer-herding family in northern Norway. "Possibly that generates the chance to shift your outlook or spark some modesty," she states.
The maze-like design is part of a components in Sara's immersive commission honoring the traditions, science, and worldview of the Sámi, the continent's original inhabitants. Semi-nomadic, the Sámi total about 100,000 people ranged across northern Norway, Finland, Sweden, and the Russian Arctic (an region they call Sápmi). They have experienced persecution, forced assimilation, and repression of their tongue by all four states. With an emphasis on the reindeer, an animal at the heart of the Sámi mythology and creation story, the art also spotlights the community's challenges connected to the climate crisis, loss of territory, and colonialism.
On the extended entrance ramp, there's a soaring, 26-metre formation of pelts trapped by electrical wires. It serves as a metaphor for the governance and financial structures limiting the Sámi. Like an electrical tower, part spiritual ascent, this section of the artwork, titled Goavve-, points to the Sámi name for an harsh environmental condition, wherein solid sheets of ice appear as varying conditions liquefy and ice over the snow, locking in the reindeers' main winter sustenance, lichen. This phenomenon is a outcome of global heating, which is happening up to four times faster in the Polar region than globally.
Previously, I visited Sara in a remote town during a icy season and accompanied Sámi reindeer keepers on their snowmobiles in freezing temperatures as they carried carts of food pellets on to the exposed frozen landscape to dispense through labor. The herd surrounded round us, scratching the slippery ground in vain attempts for vegetative morsels. This resource-intensive and demanding process is having a severe effect on reindeer husbandry—and on the animals' self-sufficiency. But the alternative is death. As these icy periods become commonplace, reindeer are succumbing—some from lack of food, others submerging after sinking in streams through unstable frozen surfaces. To some extent, the work is a memorial to them. "Through the stacking of elements, in a way I'm introducing the phenomenon to London," says Sara.
This artwork also emphasizes the stark difference between the modern understanding of energy as a asset to be exploited for economic benefit and existence and the Sámi worldview of vitality as an inherent life force in creatures, individuals, and the environment. This venue's legacy as a fossil fuel plant is tied up in this, as is what the Sámi see as green colonialism by Scandinavian states. As they strive to be exemplars for sustainable power, Nordic nations have clashed with the Sámi over the development of windfarms, river barriers, and mines on their ancestral land; the Sámi argue their legal protections, incomes, and way of life are threatened. "It's very difficult being such a limited population to protect your rights when the justifications are based on global sustainability," Sara observes. "Extractivism has adopted the rhetoric of sustainability, but still it's just striving to find better ways to persist in practices of expenditure."
Sara and her relatives have themselves conflicted with the Norwegian government over its increasingly stringent policies on animal husbandry. A few years ago, Sara's sibling undertook a series of unsuccessful lawsuits over the mandatory slaughter of his animals, apparently to stop vegetation depletion. To back him, Sara created a extended collection of artworks titled Pile O'Sápmi including a massive drape of 400 animal bones, which was displayed at the 2017's event Documenta 14 and later obtained by the national institution, where it hangs in the lobby.
For many Sámi, art is the exclusive sphere in which they can be listened to by people of other nations. Recently, Sara was {one of three|among a group of|
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Elizabeth Petty
Elizabeth Petty
Elizabeth Petty
Elizabeth Petty
Elizabeth Petty