Reuniting Rubens

For the first time in over 200 years, two landscape paintings by Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640) have found themselves in the same room. Painted as a pair, The Rainbow Landscape and A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning parted ways in 1803, eventually ending up in the Wallace Collection and National Gallery, respectively. In partnership with VISITFLANDERS, the two paintings are temporarily on display at the Wallace Collection until 15th August 2021, after which they will separate once more. Attracting the likes of Jon Snow, who filmed his visit to the exhibition for Channel 4, the paintings have captured the attention of art lovers and tourists alike, providing what may be a once in a lifetime experience.

The name Rubens is usually associated with historical and mythological paintings, full of action and voluptuous women, rather than the idyllic landscapes shown at the Wallace Collection. Yet, landscape painting had intrigued Rubens since his youth and one of his first teachers specialised in the area. To succeed as an artist, Rubens needed to paint what his commissioners and buyers wanted. Landscape painting was not a respected theme where Rubens lived in Antwerp, so he focused on fleshy figures depicting historical moments in the typical Flemish Baroque tradition.

Towards the end of his career, Rubens moved away from the busy city lifestyle to devote himself to landscape painting. The majority of these Rubens produced as a hobby rather than for profit. Not many knew about the extent of his artistic talents until after he died in 1640.

In 1592, Rubens was serving as an emissary for the Spanish crown. At 53 years old and a widower, he longed to settle down in his homeland. Unlike many artists of his day, Rubens had a considerable amount of money, having worked for the Archdukes of the Spanish Netherlands, Charles I of England, Philip IV of Spain and Queen Marie de Medici of France. After completing his negotiations in England on behalf of Spain, Rubens returned home to Antwerp, where he married 16-year-old Hélène Fourment (1614-73).

Following his marriage, Rubens contented himself by painting his young wife and growing family, whilst spending time in his large garden. Rubens enjoyed painting for pleasure, unrestrained by commissions and deadlines. Throughout his career, Rubens was restricted to the preferences of his patrons and buyers, but in his retirement he had the freedom to choose his subject matter. His love of landscapes resurfaced and he longed for the countryside, away from the pressures of commercial and city life.

In 1635, Rubens purchased an eight-acre country estate in Elewijt, Flemish Brabant. The house, known as the Castle of Het Steen, cost Rubins 93,000 florins and gave him the right to the title of Lord of Het Steen. A three-hour ride (half an hour by car) took Rubens from his home in Antwerp to his “manorial residence with a large stone house and other fine buildings in the form of a castle.” It also had a garden, an orchard, a lake and extensive grassland. The family used the estate as their summer home, returning to the city during the autumn.

Built in the typical Flemish style, the manor house had gabled roofs, red-bricked walls and a crenellated tower. The latter has since been demolished, and the house has also undergone remodelling and renovation over the past centuries. Rubens captured the building as it looked during his day in the paintings, The Rainbow Landscape and A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning. 

The extensive views around Het Steen provided Rubens with the perfect backdrop for many landscape paintings. Although he had produced many landscapes before moving to the estate, his nephew Philip admitted Rubens made the purchase intending to study and paint the landscape. Rubens kept most of these artworks, displaying them at Het Steen. As a result, not many knew of the extent of his oeuvre until after his death.

“Having bought the seignory of Steen, between Brussels and Malines in the year 1630 [sic] he took great pleasure living there in solitude, in order to paint vividly and au naturel the surrounding mountains, plains, valleys and meadows, at the rising and setting of the sun, up to the horizon.” – Philip Rubens

After producing many landscapes, which explored composition, figure and animal placement, light and darkness, and so forth, Rubens finally painted his two most famous landscapes. The Rainbow Landscape and A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning represent Rubens zenith of his achievements in landscape painting, evidenced by their sheer size and panoramic content.

A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning

In A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning, usually shortened to Het Steen, the house is set to the far left, making the extensive open plains the main focus of the painting. The colours suggest it is late summer or early autumn on a sunny morning, although puddles and clouds hint at a recent rainstorm. Whilst the house is a faithful representation, Rubens elevated the view of the land between the foreground and the horizon to produce a continuous panoramic sweep.

On the left, a man drives a cart away from the house, carrying a woman and a trussed calf. Closer to the building is a group of people, which many believe represent Rubens’ family. In the foreground, a hunter and his dog hide behind a large tree stump, keeping a steady gaze on a bevy of partridges. This activity, combined with the altocumulus clouds, gives away the time of day, as does the cart, which is presumably on its way to market. In the distance, maids milk the cows in the pastures.

The Rainbow Landscape

Het Steen sits in the far distance in The Rainbow Landscape, which provides a view of the estate from the other side of the fields. Once again, Rubens raised the level of the viewpoint to encompass the many topographical features. The scene in this painting takes place later in the day after farmhands have already had time to create two haystacks. Yet, the cart carrying more hay in the left-hand corner suggests their workday is far from over. Some art historians propose Rubens based the appearance of the cart driver on his likeness, although it is unlikely he ever contributed to the farm work.

The cart driver greets two milkmaids, one who is balancing a pitcher on her head. Their smiling faces suggest happy workers, which compliments the idyllic landscape. Meanwhile, a herdsman goes about his work, herding cows along a path beside the stream, contrasting with the lively ducks playing in the water. Both the ducks and cows are similar to those in other paintings by Rubens, suggesting he did not paint them from life but memory or imagination.

Whilst there is a lot of activity in the lower half of the painting, it is the sky that captures the viewer’s attention. Spanning the width of the landscape is a double-arced rainbow, which is an unusual feature in artworks from this era. Artists were discouraged from depicting rainbows because their fleeting appearances were difficult to portray accurately. Rubens attempt is impressive, yet it is not true to nature. He chose not to represent its full-colour spectrum, obscuring sections with clouds instead.

The rainbow hints at the recent storm, whose dark clouds are still visible in the distance. The phenomenon also had religious connotations, symbolising God’s divine blessing. In the Bible (Genesis 9:11-15), God made a covenant with his people, promising never to flood the world again. This promise followed the well-known story of Noah’s Ark.

And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life. (Genesis 9:12-15, NIV)

Art historians believe Rubens produced Het Steen and The Rainbow Landscape to be displayed together because they are linked by their subject matter, scale, size and composition. The English landscape artist John Constable (1776-1837) agreed, saying some years after the two paintings were separated: “When pictures painted as companions are separated, the purchaser of one, without being aware of it, is sometimes buying only half a picture. Companion pictures should never be parted…”

Both paintings have similar motifs, such as milkmaids, wagons, cows and fowl. These, along with the inclusion of the manor house, albeit almost unnoticeable in The Rainbow Landscape, suggests the landscapes depicts the same area from different perspectives. Although the paintings represent different times of day, when hung together, they complete a cycle of a late summer’s day.

Another connection between the two paintings is the way Rubens constructed the landscapes. Using X-radiography and infra-red reflectography, the National Gallery and the Wallace Collection have discovered that Rubens produced the paintings in three stages. Rubens began both compositions on a medium-sized panel, upon which he depicted the middle ground leading to the horizon. Rubens then added or commissioned someone to add extensions to the bottom and sides of the panel. Upon these, he extended the landscapes, making them more panoramic. A final extension to the top, bottom and sides, gave the landscapes a dimension of 136 cm x 236 cm (54 in x 93 in).

Careful analysis of the two paintings has revealed images below the top layer of paint, which indicates Rubens developed the composition gradually. Unlike his commissioned work, Rubens did not need to rush and had no deadline. X-rays show Rubens included a seated milkmaid and herdsman on the original panel of The Rainbow Landscape but painted over them after extending the boards. A half-rainbow decorated the sky, which tells us Rubens always intended to include it in the landscape. After increasing the size of the work, Rubens repainted the trees and added the herdsmen and cattle by a river. The ducks, horses and wagon joined the scene after the final extension.

With more space above the horizon to play with, Rubens expanded the rainbow to sweep across the sky. Although it remained a double-arced rainbow, only a section of the second arc is visible in the top right-hand corner. Rubens added touches of blue, pink and yellow to the trees, river and ground to suggest a reflection of the rainbow, although, in reality, the rainbow would make no such impression.

The construction of A View of Het Steen in the Early Morning has similar paint handling and attention to detail as its companion. During the first stage of the painting, Rubens filled the space with open pastures interspersed with trees. As the boards grew, so did the landscape, incorporating a bridge, stream, tree trunk and hunter. Only in the final stage did Rubens paint the house and add the other figures and cart to the composition.

Unlike The Rainbow Landscape, which developed gradually with the expansion of the boards, the painting of Het Steen changed dramatically in the final stages. During the first two stages of the painting process, the composition was typical of Rubens’ landscapes, revealing idyllic farmland and a peaceful environment. When he began the painting, he had no intention of including his house, yet it became a key feature during the latter stages. This element, with the suggestion of the building in the background of The Rainbow Landscape, is what convinces many art historians that the paintings belong together.

Shortly after Rubens died in 1640, the two paintings appeared in a sales catalogue with 312 other works of art from his collection. A version of the catalogue translated for Charles I describes the landscapes as “A great landschap after the life, with little figures in’t uppon a board,” (Het Steen) and “A great landschap where it raines with little Cowes in it” (The Rainbow Landscape). Since they were listed one after the other suggests Rubens’ family intended them to stay together, which they did for many years.

In 1691, both paintings hung in the palace of Juan Gaspar Enríquez de Cabrera, the 10th Admiral of Castile (1625-91) in Madrid, after which they appeared in Genoa in the early 18th century. Records state they belonged to a Genoese banker to the Spanish Crown, Bartolomeo Saluzzo (1651-1705), who bequeathed his art collection to his sons. Constantino Balbi (1676-1741) purchased the landscapes in 1706 and hung them in the Palazzo Balbi. In 1802, art dealers William Buchanan (1777-1864) and Arthur Champernowne (1767-1819) purchased the paintings and brought them to London, where they were displayed at an Oxdenden Street gallery. They quickly became the talking point of the artistic circle in the capital.

Despite attempts to sell the two landscapes as a pair, Buchanan and Champernowne were unsuccessful. Instead, they sold Het Steen to Lady Margaret Beaumont for £1500 in 1803. Little did they know the paintings would not appear in the same room again until 2020. Lady Margaret gave the artwork as a present to her husband Sir George, who pronounced it the “finest landscape I believe [Rubens] ever painted.” On his death in 1823, George Beaumont bequeathed Het Steen and other paintings in his collection to the National Gallery.

In 1815, Champernowne sold The Rainbow Landscape to art collector George Watson-Taylor (1771-1841), who, in turn, sold it to Horatio Walpole, 3rd Earl of Orford (1783-1858) for 2,600 guineas. Walpole hung the painting in the Principle Dining Room at Wolterton Hall in Norfolk, where many people admired it. Allegedly, George IV (1762-1830) attempted to purchase the painting from Walpole shortly before his death in 1830. The landscape remained in Lord Orford’s possession until he decided to sell it in 1856.

Sir Charles Eastlake (1793-1865), the first Director of the National Gallery, attended Lord Orford’s sale intending to reunite Rubens’ landscapes. Unfortunately, one of the wealthiest collectors in Europe, Richard Seymour-Conway, 4th Marquess of Hertford (1800-70), was also in attendance and outbid the director. Lord Hertford paid £4,550 for The Rainbow Landscape, which he hung in his London residence, Manchester House. After his death, his son Sir Richard Wallace (1818-90) inherited the house and its contents, thus becoming the new owner of the painting. Wallace extended the house to create a large gallery where he installed the landscape and other notable paintings. After his death, the collection was bequeathed to the nation. The house opened to the public as the Wallace Collection, and The Rainbow Landscape has hung here ever since.

Thanks to the collaboration between the National Gallery and the Wallace Collection, the public have once again been able to view both landscapes in the same room. Unfortunately, the exhibition is ending soon, and the paintings will separate once more. There is speculation that Rubens’ two great landscapes may be reunited permanently in the future. Hopefully, we will not need to wait 200 years to make this a reality.

It is a shame that the exhibition coincided with the coronavirus pandemic. Fewer people than expected have visited the Wallace Collection to see the two landscapes in situ. Yet, the display made the national news, proving that the story of two landscape paintings, reunited, at last, has touched the hearts of thousands of people.

Het Steen, now known as Elewijt Castle or Rubenskasteel, still stands. It was briefly used as a prison in 1792 before being abandoned. In 1955, the current owner restored the building, although the tower seen in Rubens’ painting was unsalvageable.

RUBENS: REUNITING THE GREAT LANDSCAPES is open until 15th August 2021 at the Wallace Collection, London. Tickets are free with a suggested donation of £5.


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Ólafur Elíasson: In Real Life

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Olafur Eliasson Your uncertain shadow (colour) 2010

Until 5th January 2020, Tate Modern invites you to become more aware of your senses in an exhibition that focuses on experience. Danish-Icelandic artist Ólafur Elíasson has spent the past thirty years creating a broad body of work, which includes sculpture, photography and installation. By using a variety of materials from metal and cardboard to water and moss, Eliasson explores how people view the world around them whilst also emphasising his concern about nature and climate change, and experimenting with geometric shapes.

Ólafur Elíasson was born in Copenhagen, Denmark in 1967 to Icelandic Parents Elías Hjörleifsson and Ingibjörg Olafsdorrir. After his parents split up when he was eight years old, Elíasson spent the majority of his time in Denmark with his mother and step-father and his summers with his father in Iceland. His experiences in Iceland, particularly the effects climate change are having on the landscape, have inspired many of his artworks.

Elíasson took part in his first public exhibition at the age of 15, where he displayed landscape drawings and paintings in a small gallery in Denmark. Between 1989 and 1995, he studied at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, during which time he was awarded the opportunity to travel to New York to work as a studio assistant for the artist Christian Eckhart. In 1993, he had his first solo exhibition in Cologne then, after receiving his degree, Elíasson moved to Berlin where he set up his studio.

In 1996, Elíasson teamed up with Einar Thorsteinn (1942-2015), an Icelandic artist with an interest in geometric shapes and structures. Together, using Thorsteinn’s knowledge of geometry and space and Elíasson’s artistic skill, they worked on several projects. Tate Modern displays around 450 models, prototypes and geometric studies in a giant glass case at the beginning of the exhibition. They have been made from a variety of materials, including copper wire, cardboard, paper, wood, foam and rubber. One model had even been constructed with Lego.

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Your Spiral View, 2002

Whilst all these models in the first room are only prototypes and ideas, there is a completed work later in the exhibition. Made from stainless steel mirrors, Your Spiral View (2002) is a short tunnel that visitors are welcome to walk through. The geometric shape of the construction obscures the reflection in the mirrors making it impossible to recognise yourself as you walk through the tunnel. Instead of seeing themselves, visitors are met with a kaleidoscope of colour and light.

Elíasson has collaborated with other people for many projects. As well as Thorsteinn, he has worked with architects Sebastian Behmann, Cedric Price (1934-2003), Kjetil Thorsen (b.1958), the novelist Svend Åge Madsen (b.1939) and the landscapist Gunther Vogt. Each person brings something unique to the project, whether it be practical ideas, imagination or an alternative opinion. In his studio, Studio Olafur Eliasson, Elíasson employs over thirty architects, engineers, craftsmen and artist assistants to research and work together on installations, sculptures and large scale commissions.

As well as producing art, Elíasson is a professor at the Berlin Univeristy of the Arts. He has won prizes, such as the Nykredit Architecture Prize (2004), Eckersberg Medal (2004), Prince Eugen Medal (2005), Joan Miró Prize (2007), a Quadriga award (2010) and the Mies van der Rohe Award (2013). Elíasson even had the honour of welcoming the President of Iceland Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson (b.1943) to his studio in 2014 as part of the President’s state visit to Germany.

Elíasson’s most recent achievement was being appointed a Goodwill Ambassador earlier this year by the United Nations Development Programme. He aims to advocate for action on climate change and sustainability and emphasises the need to stay positive about the future: “I also think it’s important not to lose sight of what is actually going quite well. There is reason for hope. I believe in hope as such and I’m generally a positive person. And when you think about it: it has never been better to be a young African girl, for instance.” Elíasson lives in Hellerup, Denmark, from which he commutes to his studio in Berlin, with his wife Marianne Krogh Jensen and their adopted children from Ethiopia.

The Model Room leads on to a selection of Elíasson’s early works produced during the 1990s. Visitors are greeted by an entire wall covered in Scandinavian reindeer lichen, a replica of Moss Wall, which Elíasson first created in 1994. Held together with wood and wire, the installation brings unexpected material from the wild outside to the controlled indoor space. Visitors are also drawn to Window Projection, which Elíasson made at art school. A bright light shines the silhouette of a window onto a white wall and not many people can resist making shadow puppets, thus adding to the artwork.

Elíasson uses light in simple ways, for instance, a single spotlight in a darkened room. Titled Wannabee, visitors complete the artwork by standing under the light and posing while their friends take photographs. In a corner, I grew up in solitude and silence consists of a single white candle on a round mirror. Without using any form of electricity, the candle uses the mirror to reflect its light further than a single flame could manage.

These early works reveal Elíasson’s interest in nature and weather, for instance, the perpetual “rain” running down the Regenfenster (Rain Window). Incorporated into an actual window of Tate Modern, visitors do what many people do on a rainy day – watch as the droplets travel from top to bottom. Many of the nature-based installations are based on the artist’s observations in Iceland. Wave machine, for example, replicates the gentle movements of Icelandic waters.

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Beauty, 1993

Beauty (1993) combines nature and illumination to produce a fine sheet of rain in the centre of a darkened room. Most people consider rain to be an inconvenience, however, Elíasson appreciates the beauty it can create.

“A rainbow is an alliance: solar gleam, errant cloud, waterdrops in motion, captivated human, changed world.”

The light shining on the falling water produces a rainbow effect. By studying nature and the rainbow phenomenon, Elíasson has artificially produced his own, which, as he said himself, captivates the human mind. Visitors stand around either staring in awe or taking photos in a hushed environment. Yet, if they think Beauty is amazing, they will soon be blown away when they find Din Blinde Passager (Your Blind Passenger) around the corner.

Imagine the thickest fog you have ever seen then multiply it by ten; there you have Din blinde passager. The installation is a 39-metre long room filled with artificial fog and it is only possible to see 1.5 metres ahead. Made from water-soluble fog fluid containing non-toxic polyols (a type of sweetener), Elíasson recreates a spooky natural phenomenon that warps the surrounding world – or even makes it disappear entirely.

Walking through Din Blinde passager is an adventure like none other. It relies on trust – trust in the artist, trust in those around you, and trust that nothing is hiding in the fog. Fluorescent lamps change the colour of the white fog along the way, heightening the experience. Whilst the fog turns everyone into a “blind passenger”, the changes in colour help visitors gradually make their way through the passage.

Installations such as this evoke the question “what is art?” Usually, art is something visible, regardless as to whether it appeals to the viewer. Elíasson’s interpretation of art, however, relies on experience just as much as sight, or more so in this case. He makes people aware of themselves, their bodies and the people around them. Without the fog, people would walk from one side of the room to the other without passing a single thought about what they were doing, yet, in the fog, people are far more aware.

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In real life 2019

From the gloom of the fog, visitors emerge into a room full of colourful reflections. Elíasson has been fascinated with kaleidoscopes since the mid-1990s, which coincided with his love of geometric shapes. He continues to explore these ideas in his recent work In Real Life, which lights up the room with multiple reflections of fractured colours. Made from aluminium, the large sphere is fitted with colour-effect filter glass and hangs from the ceiling. Inside, an LED light shines the green, yellow, orange, red, pink and cyan shades onto the walls, ceilings and anyone in the vicinity. Without the light, the sphere would hang alone, purposeless, however, with the light, it expends its energy, dissolving the boundaries between artwork, location and spectator.

Continuing along the kaleidoscope theme, Elíasson incorporates the outside world into his art in Your Planetary Window (2019), which distorts the view from the second floor of Tate Modern. Geometric mirrors reflect the London scene whilst breaking it into many fragments, almost as though someone has smashed the world into sharp fragments.

Elíasson endeavours to incorporate the outside world in many of his artworks. Being particularly concerned about the rate of climate change, he uses his creativity to make people aware of the state of the world. Intended as a call for action against the climate change emergency, Elíasson often uses glacial ice in his work. Some may recall seeing several blocks of ice outside Tate Britain in 2018. These were blocks that had been fished out of of the water surrounding Greenland and brought to London so that thousands of people could see the damage the warmer climate is causing the Arctic. Greenland loses between 200 to 300 tonnes of glacial ice every year and, like these ice blocks that gradually melted in London temperatures, they can never be reclaimed.

One of Elíasson’s recent artworks, The presence of absence pavilion (2019), illustrates the loss of the glaciers. A bronze cast shows the shape made by a block of ice that has now inevitably melted. This is the space created through the loss of one block of ice; imagine the size of the space if all the glaciers melted. This is something Elíasson has gradually documented over the past twenty years through a series of photographs he took in Iceland.

Travelling back and forth between his parents’ homes, Elíasson spent a lot of time in Iceland. Over the years, he has witnessed first-hand the destruction of the glaciers due to global warming. In 1999, Elíasson photographed the receding glaciers across Iceland. In these images, it is possible to see where the ice had once been, however, they are not as shocking as the photographs taken this year. Elíasson returned to the same sites as his earlier photographs and recorded what the glaciers look like now. Displayed next to each other in the gallery, the changes to the landscape are obvious. Hoping to stir the emotions of the viewer, Elíasson is emphasising the importance of acting now before it is too late.

Around one-third of the exhibits rely on an audience to make the artwork complete. This is part of Elíasson’s attempt to make people more aware of themselves and their surroundings. Used in advertising for the exhibition, Your Uncertain Shadow (colour) proved to be popular with the majority of visitors. Hydrargyrum Medium-Arc Iodide (HMI) lamps light up the far wall of one of the rooms, which everyone must walk in front of to reach the next section. Rather than a simple shadow showing up on the wall when someone blocks the light source, four shadows appear instead, each one a different colour. Green, orange, blue and magenta human shapes are reflected on the wall, overlapping each other to create a rainbow of colours.

Seeing a shadow is not a new thing, they appear wherever there is a light source. Seeing multiple shadows in different colours, however, has a vastly different effect. Just as humans are captivated by rainbows in the sky, visitors spend several minutes making shapes on the wall, fully aware of their bodies. The presence of other people in the room is also taken into consideration as their shadows merge into others, making their way from one doorway to the next.

How do we live together? That is what one room-sized exhibit asks. There is no answer but, if the behaviour of the visitors is anything to go by, it may have something to do with staring at the ceiling. A foil mirror stretches from corner to corner of the ceiling, reflecting everything on the ground below. A black stainless steel upside-down arch joins the floor to the ceiling, creating the illusion of a full circle in the mirror. There is no explanation; there are no instructions, yet everyone stares at their reflection. Some people go as far as lying on the floor, meditatively staring up at the ceiling.

Big Bang Fountain is equally ambiguous in meaning. Every couple of seconds, water gushes out of a hole in the centre of a table, however, it can only be viewed for a split second at a time – blink and you miss it. The pitch-black room is lit with a quick flash from a strobe light, briefly revealing the fountain to the viewer. The quickness of the flash makes the fountain appear to be stationary, taking on a different shape each time. The experience is unique to each individual; whilst there may be several people in the room, each person views the fountain from a different angle, therefore, the shape the water forms in the brief flash of light is different for everybody.

The final room of the exhibition, the “expanded studio”, reveals Elíasson’s thought processes behind the artworks. As well as producing art, Elíasson’s studio has expanded by collaborating with other professionals to produce public sculptures, work on architectural projects, choreograph dances, and publish a cookbook. His architectural studio, known as Studio Other Space, focuses on addressing issues the world is facing today, for instance, climate change.

A room-length pin-board shows the research, ideas and goals of the studio. Replicating the boards in the real studio, Elíasson shares images, articles, newspaper clippings, and random thoughts organised in alphabetical order around keywords, for instance, Rainbow, Trust and Uncertainty.

A couple of videos explain a few of the recent projects undertaken by Studio Other Space. In 2012, Elíasson launched Little Suns, a project to raise awareness of the importance of access to clean energy. Elíasson and his studio designed solar-powered lamps and have distributed more than 800,000 of them around the world. Little Suns provides light to places off the electricity grid and cuts down the use of fossil fuels.

To end the exhibition, The Structural evolution project, first staged in 2001, allows visitors to collaborate by building, adding to and rebuilding structures and shapes from Zometool sticks and connectors. Similar to children’s construction toys, the project allows everyone of all ages to be creative, work alone or together and enjoy the process.

If the artwork in the exhibition is not enough, there are a couple of installations elsewhere in the Tate grounds. This includes a waterfall, lights that make everything appear monochrome, an electric fan dangerously swinging from the ceiling and a geometrical sphere called Stardust Particle. Elíasson’s studio has also teamed up with Tate Eats to provide soups, salads, bread and cakes based on the studio’s cookbook.

Olafur Eliasson: In Real Life is due to close on 5th January 2020, so make sure you visit soon. Tickets are £18 for adults, £5 for 12-18 years olds and free for under 12s.
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