Visitors to the renowned gallery are familiar to unusual displays in its expansive Turbine Hall. They have sunbathed under an man-made sun, descended down helter skelters, and observed AI-powered jellyfish hovering through the air. But this marks the inaugural time they will be venturing themselves in the intricate nasal chambers of a reindeer. The current artist commission for this huge space—designed by Native Sámi creator Máret Ánne Sara—welcomes gallerygoers into a winding construction based on the scaled-up interior of a reindeer's nasal cavities. Once inside, they can stroll around or chill out on pelts, tuning in on earphones to tribal seniors sharing stories and wisdom.
Why the nose? It could appear playful, but the installation pays tribute to a little-known biological feat: researchers have found that in under a second, the reindeer's nose can raise the temperature of the surrounding air it inhales by eighty degrees, helping the animal to endure in inhospitable Arctic conditions. Expanding the nose to human-scale dimensions, Sara says, "generates a feeling of insignificance that you as a individual are not dominant over nature." Sara is a ex- journalist, children's author, and rights advocate, who hails from a pastoral family in northern Norway. "Perhaps that fosters the possibility to change your outlook or evoke some modesty," she states.
The winding installation is among various elements in Sara's absorbing art project showcasing the culture, science, and worldview of the Sámi, the sole native group in Europe. Semi-nomadic, the Sámi number roughly 100,000 people distributed across northern Norway, Finland, Sweden, and the Kola region (an territory they call Sápmi). They've experienced discrimination, cultural suppression, and suppression of their dialect by all four nations. Through highlighting the reindeer, an animal at the core of the Sámi cosmology and founding narrative, the work also draws attention to the group's issues connected to the environmental emergency, property rights, and external control.
At the long entrance incline, there's a towering, 26-metre structure of reindeer hides ensnared by power and light cables. It serves as a symbol for the societal frameworks constraining the Sámi. Partly a utility pole, part celestial ladder, this component of the installation, called Goavve-, relates to the Sámi term for an extreme weather phenomenon, whereby solid sheets of ice form as changing conditions melt and ice over the snow, trapping the reindeers' key winter sustenance, lichen. The condition is a consequence of climate change, which is happening up to at an accelerated rate in the Arctic than globally.
Three years ago, I met with Sara in Guovdageaidnu during a icy season and joined Sámi reindeer keepers on their motorized sleds in chilly conditions as they hauled carts of food pellets on to the exposed Arctic plains to distribute manually. The herd crowded round us, scratching the frozen ground in futility for lichen-covered morsels. This expensive and laborious procedure is having a severe impact on reindeer husbandry—and on the animals' natural survival. Yet the choice is malnutrition. As goavvi winters become commonplace, reindeer are succumbing—some from hunger, others submerging after falling into water bodies through prematurely melting ice. On one level, the installation is a tribute to them. "With the layering of components, in a way I'm introducing the phenomenon to London," says Sara.
The installation also underscores the sharp divergence between the western understanding of energy as a resource to be harnessed for profit and livelihood and the Sámi philosophy of energy as an natural essence in creatures, humans, and nature. This venue's past as a industrial facility is tied up in this, as is what the Sámi view as environmental exploitation by Scandinavian states. As they strive to be leaders for clean sources, these states have disagreed with the Sámi over the construction of windfarms, water power facilities, and extraction sites on their ancestral land; the Sámi contend their fundamental freedoms, incomes, and traditions are threatened. "It's challenging being such a limited population to stand your ground when the arguments are rooted in global sustainability," Sara observes. "Resource exploitation has adopted the discourse of sustainability, but nonetheless it's just attempting to find better ways to maintain practices of expenditure."
Sara and her family have themselves disagreed with the national administration over its tightening policies on herding. A few years ago, Sara's brother undertook a sequence of finally failed lawsuits over the forced culling of his livestock, ostensibly to stop vegetation depletion. To back him, Sara produced a extended series of creations titled Pile O'Sápmi comprising a huge drape of numerous cranial remains, which was shown at the 2017's show Documenta 14 and later obtained by the public gallery, where it hangs in the entryway.
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