Review

Test Site  
London art display by Carsten Holler
Benjamin Worden

Following the considerable success of work by Bruce Nauman and Rachel Whiteread at drawing massive crowds to the Turbine Hall of London’s Tate Modern, Carsten Holler’s Test Site certainly has something to live up to.  Since opening last month, Test Site has wasted no time in becoming without doubt the most talked about show in London.  What seems most startling is the fact that the German artist’s work is being talked about not just by those who take an active interest in the arts, but also by people who would never normally contemplate spending their Saturday afternoon in an art gallery, let alone one with an enormous queue.  The wait is currently so long that visitors are advised to arrive before midday in order to guarantee entry to Test Site on weekends.  Londoners are rarely a patient bunch, but in truly exceptional circumstances their ability to wait in line comes through – people queue for hours each year to watch tennis at Wimbledon, and people queued patiently to sign a book of condolence after the sudden death of Princess Diana.

So what kind of exhibit could inspire such rare patience?  Giant slides.  Taking advantage of the great height of the Turbine Hall, Höller has created a series of metallic tubes wide enough to accommodate the human form which transport visitors from the various levels of the adjacent gallery into the Turbine Hall itself.  And at quite some speed.

Visitors are initially marshalled into a well organised queue, and warned that the wait for admission may be considerable.  Tickets to visit Test Site are free – and there is no pre-booking. Though lengthy, the line is democratic, with a distinctly unpretentious feel to it.  The usual types who frequent the London arts scene are far outnumbered by families from out of town and folks who openly admit that the experience of visiting an art gallery is something completely new to them.  Once in line the chatter is friendly and visitors seem content to look up at the slides, marvelling at the size and scale of Höller’s work, growing ever more curious about the experience ahead of them as childlike shrieks of enjoyment echo from within the tubes.  After a long wait, visitors are set loose to experience Test Site.

As I loiter by the entrance to the slide on level 5 (the highest and most intimidating of all the slides in Test Site) a sign warns: “This slide is fast, and the experience is physical.”  Children and adults alike appear excited whilst waiting.  They bicker and chatter: “You first.”  “No you!”  “What if I lose my handbag?”  “You’re going first Dad.” “Do I have to go first?”  As visitors get ready to go on the slide an attendant invites them to don kneepads and protective headgear, prior to launching into something akin to a pre-flight safety briefing.  A large white sack allows for a smooth ride down Höller’s burnished tubes, and the attendant explains: “Put your feet in the pockets.  Keep your legs as straight as possible.  Lean back, cross your arms, and push your chest out if you want to go faster.”  Then it begins.

I tried my very best here to evoke the noises heard emerging from either end of the slides, but somehow could not do them justice with words alone, so I’ll have to leave it to the imagination.  Suffice to say that the slides are ridged on the inside, which serves to amplify and distort the screams coming from within.  The overall effect is that one would be forgiven for thinking that the creatures shooting down the slides were hyenas or monkeys, rather than people.  The slides allow people to rediscover that feeling of exhilaration and excitement that prevailed everyday during childhood, a feeling much harder to come across in adult life. 

In Decline and Fall, Evelyn Waugh describes the Big Wheel at Luna Park – a large wooden disc that rotates at high speed.  He explains how, as a fair ground ride, it attracted not only those who wanted to jump on the wheel and see how long they could hold on for, but also those who simply wished to sit on the sidelines and watch others struggling to hang on.  It seems that Test Site achieves something similar, as many people do not ride on the slides at all, preferring to stand and watch others barrelling down. 

So what is it that Carsten Holler has created here?  In an interview with curator Vincent Honore he suggests that his work is sculpture, which differentiates itself by allowing people to explore it in a more physical way than is usually the case.  He feels that Test Site is something which deserves to be explored from both the outside and the inside, and believes that both experiences are equally valid as a means of familiarising yourself with the work.  It seems appropriate that Höller’s work should be displayed in the same space as Rachel Whiteread’s Embankment, which dominated the Turbine Hall at the end of 2005.  Whiteread’s work operated on two levels in much the same way that Holler’s does.  Just as Holler’s slides provide a spectacular addition to the Turbine Hall, they can also inspire a wholly different sense of satisfaction to those willing to engage with the physical experience offered by the work.  Whiteread’s work had the same duality:  Providing a visually arresting and distinctive centre of attention in a massive exhibition space on the one hand when viewed from above, and on the other hand, offering a different kind of enjoyment to those who walked in the midst of the towers and stacks of white plastic containers which formed a strange and unfamiliar part glacial, part lunar landscape. 

But Carsten Holler seems to aspire to something greater for his work.  As the name suggests, Test Site is not simply a piece of interactive sculpture, rather Holler also seeks to present it as a kind of experiment leading to an architectural project:  “Slides deliver people quickly, safely, elegantly to their destinations.”  Holler has gone as far as conducting a detailed feasibility study to demonstrate how his slides could be effectively integrated into the city of London in order to transport workers from towering office blocks to street level.  It is an interesting vision, but one that has clear limitations – the distance that you can travel in a slide is of course to a certain extent determined by landscape and architecture for obvious reasons.  It is however a pleasant thought that slides provide the perfect antidote to a stressful day at the office – loosen your tie, jump on a giant slide, shout and scream your way to the bottom, and arrive at street level having completely forgotten the troubles of work, left far behind at your desk on the 37^th floor.

I’m not sure which explanation of Test Site, and the idea it represents, will prove more enduring, however, it is clear that its impact in London has been considerable, and the roars of enjoyment, howls of laughter and screams of fear that now fill the Turbine Hall are surely testament to this fact.