
The Belgian artist Jan De Cock has constructed an extensive new work entitled Denkmal 53, Tate Modern, Bankside 53, London SE1 9TG, 2005. Although officially sited in the Level 2 Gallery space, it appears as a series of sculptural installations at locations throughout Tate Modern. Built mainly from green plywood, these installations are all part of a single work that engages with and sometimes disrupts the architecture of the museum.
Tate Curator Jessica Morgan spoke to the artist.
Jessica Morgan Your work is concerned with issues pertaining to architecture and media such as painting and sculpture. What interests you in the combination of those fields?
I'm also concerned with colour and composition. I offer people something that they can experience as simply being beautiful. That's why I don't plan every detail beforehand. I need the live confrontation with the architecture to make every detail perfect, to make sure that through the open structures on top of my modules you can see, for example, the detail of the London bricks.
Jessica Morgan Your work is made in direct response to a given architectural setting. What is your relationship to that architecture: is it critical, interventionist, or affirming?
I call my works 'Denkmal', the German word for monument, so it's evident that I want to honour and commemorate something. When Marcel Broodthaers made his own house into the fictitious 'Museum of Modern Art' he was not only criticising 'museum art', he was also making an homage to the classic museum: its evident truth and simplicity.
Jessica Morgan At Tate Modern your work extends far beyond the confines of the space that was proposed to you. Why did you feel such an extensive project was necessary?
Scale is very important for the way you experience works. One of my favourite museums is the Pergamon in Berlin. It contains 1:1 scale reconstructions of the temples and facades of an ancient Roman city. You experience these buildings at their actual size, yet you don't really become part of it. In Romanticism the scale used for paintings was often a 1:1 scale so that the viewer who was standing before a work became emotionally involved in it, like Gericault's Raft of the Medusa.
In Tate Modern it's impossible to compete with the building because it's simply too big. But if I stayed inside the Level 2 Gallery I would not be able to show the public the building the way I see it. Compared to the building my work is modest, but it was too big for one room.
My decision to offer a new perspective for the whole building of Tate Modern has to do with its old and also more recent history. When the power station was built by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, it was a statement of city planning. Opposite St Paul's Cathedral he put this industrial cathedral with one big central chimney. And although it was very visible, it was also closed. People could look at it but not go there or visit it.
What's important for me is the whole new movement the conversion has created. The Millennium Bridge was built and suddenly people were not only looking at the old power station from the centre of the city, they were also crossing the Thames and looking back from the other side. A whole new view was created.
Jessica Morgan Although the work appears in many locations at Tate Modern you consider it to be one work. How do you see this functioning for the audience?
This question has to do with the perspective I told you about. I want to make people look. I offer them new possibilities of seeing the existing architecture. I want them to follow my path, not necessarily physically, but with their eyes. So when I put my sculptures in different locations I am making them move. I'm directing their perception of the museum. Not in a very obvious way, but almost without them noticing it.
Inside the building people will see my sculpture appear and disappear again when they take the escalator. This is an example of the cinematic element I told you about earlier. I play with the psychological effects of what's 'on-screen' and 'off-screen'.