Reviews
James Turrell, Estancia y Bodega Colome, Argentina
By Laura Allsop
Nestled in what might be one of the world’s least accessible (though certainly beautiful) spots, 7,546 feet above sea level in the Andean foothills in Argentina, sits the newly inaugurated James Turrell museum, commissioned by Swiss collector and vintner Donald Hess. A longtime collector of Turrell’s work, Hess has put together a mini-retrospective of the California artist’s work, with pieces dating from more than four decades ago to a 2002 skyspace entitled Unseen Blue at the heart of the museum, which takes full advantage of the surrounding sky’s startling clarity and shifting hues. Indeed, the environs of this remote paean to one of the US’s most important conceptual artists are not a million miles away from those of the Roden Crater, Turrell’s epic and still unfinished land art project located in a dormant volcano in the Painted Desert, Arizona.
A four-hour-long, occasionally-white-knuckle ride in a 4x4 through dramatic changing landscape dotted with cacti and llamas, and you arrive at the Estancia y Bodega Colome, the exclusive hotel and winery where the museum is situated. (Turrell, who was staying at the hotel, skipped the off-road journey and took a chopper). A gaggle of journalists, local dignitaries and puzzled wine tourists attended the museum’s opening, at which the expansive Turrell and his laidback assistants were on hand to answer questions. The second-largest collection of the artist’s work, and the only art space in the world dedicated solely and permanently to the artist, the museum feels rather like a shrine – an impression enhanced by the mystical quality of the works housed inside. Despite the museum’s structure being light and modern, the works themselves recall prehistoric places of worship, with aspects of their structure aping those found in Aztec or Hellenic sites. The museum’s centrepiece, for example, features an open ceiling bordered by Grecian-style columns, while City of Ahirit (1976), a long corridor composed of several connected chambers pulsating with different coloured lights, brought to mind the labyrinthine arrangements of megalithic settlements.
Speaking to the gathered journalists, Turrell spoke of feeling light as a material, and in several works (particularly City of Ahirit), the light is almost sculptural, like a dense fog. Transcendent but also disorientating, these perceptual works force us to reassess the way we occupy space. Bumping into walls while you’re about it is just par for the course.
A longer article, including an interview with James Turrell, will appear in the September 2009 issue of ArtReview magazine. See the current issue of the magazine here.
Nestled in what might be one of the world’s least accessible (though certainly beautiful) spots, 7,546 feet above sea level in the Andean foothills in Argentina, sits the newly inaugurated James Turrell museum, commissioned by Swiss collector and vintner Donald Hess. A longtime collector of Turrell’s work, Hess has put together a mini-retrospective of the California artist’s work, with pieces dating from more than four decades ago to a 2002 skyspace entitled Unseen Blue at the heart of the museum, which takes full advantage of the surrounding sky’s startling clarity and shifting hues. Indeed, the environs of this remote paean to one of the US’s most important conceptual artists are not a million miles away from those of the Roden Crater, Turrell’s epic and still unfinished land art project located in a dormant volcano in the Painted Desert, Arizona.
A four-hour-long, occasionally-white-knuckle ride in a 4x4 through dramatic changing landscape dotted with cacti and llamas, and you arrive at the Estancia y Bodega Colome, the exclusive hotel and winery where the museum is situated. (Turrell, who was staying at the hotel, skipped the off-road journey and took a chopper). A gaggle of journalists, local dignitaries and puzzled wine tourists attended the museum’s opening, at which the expansive Turrell and his laidback assistants were on hand to answer questions. The second-largest collection of the artist’s work, and the only art space in the world dedicated solely and permanently to the artist, the museum feels rather like a shrine – an impression enhanced by the mystical quality of the works housed inside. Despite the museum’s structure being light and modern, the works themselves recall prehistoric places of worship, with aspects of their structure aping those found in Aztec or Hellenic sites. The museum’s centrepiece, for example, features an open ceiling bordered by Grecian-style columns, while City of Ahirit (1976), a long corridor composed of several connected chambers pulsating with different coloured lights, brought to mind the labyrinthine arrangements of megalithic settlements.
Speaking to the gathered journalists, Turrell spoke of feeling light as a material, and in several works (particularly City of Ahirit), the light is almost sculptural, like a dense fog. Transcendent but also disorientating, these perceptual works force us to reassess the way we occupy space. Bumping into walls while you’re about it is just par for the course.
A longer article, including an interview with James Turrell, will appear in the September 2009 issue of ArtReview magazine. See the current issue of the magazine here.
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