Carsten Holler: Test Site
Tate Modern
London, UK
10 Oct 2006 – 15 Apr 2007

Review by Rea Cris

German-born Carsten Holler has been creating slides since 1998 and has previously installed ones on a smaller scale in Germany, Finland, Italy and the United States. The current incarnation at Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall is the largest of the slide installations; Holler simultaneously views the work as a prototype experiment for “a potential urban-scale slide project” in any city. “Test Site,” as its name implies, is an experiment in using slides as a way of regular transport equal to the escalator or elevator. Holler believes that if slides were to be introduced into cities, they would eventually change our perception of time. But, unlike other experiments there are no hidden “objective authority [figures] taking measurements” on clip boards and murmuring to each other each time a squealing visitor zooms past on one of the five slides.

Holler insists that a “slide is a sculpture that you can travel inside. Looking at the work from the outside is a different but equally valid experience”. Viewing the slides in the darkened Turbine Hall you can understand what he’s getting at. Spot-light at strategic points where their shadows are reflected on the opposite wall, the slides look like gigantic, industrial Chinese dragons awakening in the after hours to rampage around the gallery, possibly looking for their old acquaintances from when the building was a factory.

Holler describes his slides as “deliver[ing] people quickly and safely and elegantly to their destination, they’re inexpensive to construct and energy-efficient”. It almost sounds like a selling pitch for wind farms, but I would disagree with Holler. Firstly, in the name of crowd control, to slide at the Tate Modern, you first need to obtain a free ticket, which is timed, and of course one ticket per ride. Secondly, arriving at the top of the slide, you have a staff member advise you to grab a rug, cross your arms over your chest, don’t sit up and be careful not to bang your head. All this while viewing a monitor that tells staff when the last slider has arrived at the bottom and when to send down the next one. For the more fearful visitor, helmets and elbow guards are provided and coats and bags are forbidden. Could you image having to do this during rush hour? The worst accident that could happen to you on an escalator is jamming some trailing piece of clothing in the steps or missing the getting off point, all of which are down to one’s own absentminded-ness. Also, wearing a skirt and despite my best efforts, I still managed to “elegantly” flash Tate visitors, my skirt flying high up and smacking me in the face.

You might think this is the rambling and whining of the archetypical ‘adult’ far removed from her inner child. I would disagree as I’m convinced I still haven’t ‘grown-up’, but also because I would campaign for the unique and nostalgic nature of the slide. As adults, we rarely have slides, big, long or strong enough to support us, and now need to resort to more dangerous thrill-seekers such as roller coasters. The slide is nostalgic because it is the most innocent, safe and basic thrill-seeker and it was our first as children. So when Holler comes along and builds some, we go berserk with excitement, because it’s such a rare occurrence. We have the opportunity to ride roller coasters anytime, but we don’t.

If we were to introduce slides as urban transport and managed to figure out a way we could use them while wearing coats and carrying bags, I believe it wouldn’t change our perception of time, but rather our guarded memory of the thrill of slides. Think back to the time when escalators were still exciting. I believe Holler has too much faith in humans, because what would happen is that the excitement would wear off, and the slides taken for commonplace. They would soon be discussed not in terms of exhilaration and utter basic joy, but rather in annoyance at being closed for repairs, or having bad or offensive graffiti all over them, or being dirty and disgusting to use because someone vomited or pissed on themselves while sliding or something unpleasant has been spread all the way down. I would have enjoyed the show much more if Holler had, for example, compared the slides to the selfish human condition of capitalism; a quick-fix happiness that is ultimately a fast and downward demise. If that had been the case, I would have taken more pleasure in saying ‘ haha! Its only a gigantic slide for my enjoyment’. But in its current state, I felt I had the artist’s permission to enjoy the slides. But then again Holler might not be as naïve or optimistic as he makes himself out to be. I didn’t want to comply with Holler’s wish that I participate in his experiment and enjoy the ride but I still couldn’t help myself slide down his slides.

All quotes taken from interview with Vincent Honore, Assistant Curator and available to read on site.

http://tate.org.uk/modern/
http://tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/carstenholler/default.shtm

Tonya wrote:
I think you’re taking him too literally with this utopian “slides for every city” stuff. I have a feeling he’s being absurdist, as you and I both know European artists tend to enjoy doing these days. Of course public slides would be nasty – and probably become a class divider – like for those who could afford to use some other expensive manner of transit, such as a ski lift, would turn their nose at “those dirty slides!” Also, in all seriousness, what about the element of interaction to all this – that not only of physically interacting with the art, but with those you are queueing with? I can imagine a certain level of kinship with those who have just come down the slide at the same time as you – as you have just shared this totally absurd experience of going down a giant slide in the Turbine Hall. You also didn’t mention that the tubes were clear on top, so you could see people going down, looking like fools. There seems to be this real trend lately of putting arts professionals in compromising and potentially embarrassing situations, I suppose to remind us not to take things too seriously. I’m glad you gave them all a flash – I’m sure its just what he wanted.

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