London Arts & Letters  

Latest Posts  |  Archive  | 

Salcedo's 'Shibboleth 2007' Offers a Peek Into the Void

by Zoe Strimpel
Sun, 4 Nov 2007 at 6:06 PM
updated Sun, 4 Nov 2007 at 6:07 PM

Print

Send

RSS

Share:

Much furor over the undoubtedly magnetic "crack" in the Tate Modern's Turbine Hall, a room that has hosted its fair share of giant towers, walls, boxes, and other major installations. The Colombian sculptor Doris Salcedo's "Shibboleth 2007" is a crevice running the 167 meters of the hall, in places so deep the eye can't read the bottom. Visitors are warned on entry that children must be supervised and that danger lurks. Indeed, it is easy to imagine breaking a leg with a single misstep. (Somehow, nobody has done it yet.) Ms. Salcedo says she spent a year creating it and five weeks installing it, but, much to both the chagrin and the wonder of the public and the media, won't divulge any logistics.

The work is certainly sensational, if only because of the brashness with which it asks: Is this art and, anyway, what is art? But, although some inevitably loathe it, the Tate deserves credit for giving it a go. It has added spice and controversy to the art scene in a way that is being appreciated by a wide audience (including children) — a demographic that perhaps cares little about Banksy's latest graffiti work or Tracey Emin's new neon. Then there's the fact that the crowds are flocking, many as families. There is much peering and wondering aloud how the crack was made. Was it dug into a fake floor; how deep is it really?

Possibly such engagement with the work is not the lofty sort envisioned by the artist. "It represents borders, the experience of immigrants, the experience of segregation, the experience of racial hatred," Ms. Salcedo has said. "It is the experience of a Third World person coming into the heart of Europe." Such sweeping statements of meaning may repel seasoned art critics (or just art cynics). But the boldness of her statement fits well with the stark single-mindedness of the piece itself. Any muddier idea of its meaning and visitors might well wonder why Tate tore up its nice, neat floor just to offer them a disconcerting peek into a jagged void.

London Arts & Letters Homepage