Tate St Ives

I have wanted to have a holiday in St Ives from the first time I saw Patrick Heron’s Azalea Garden, I wanted to see where such an evocative abstract painting had been created. Every year I would think I really should go but somehow far flung tropical beaches seemed more desirable. This year was the year, another opportunity presented by Covid, the staycation. 

The Tate St Ives was a revelation and quite unlike it’s London counterparts. Here was a building designed for its setting and the inspiration behind many of the paintings that now call it home.  The new extension by Jamie Forbert Architects was contemporary,  intelligent and beautifully executed, yet the original building designed by David Shalev and Eldred Evans was special in a very different way. 

The circulation spaces overlooking the sea although designed for the public scale were somehow domestic. The paintings themselves in these spaces were in harmony with the building. Superstar paintings that in other galleries would have huge spaces to themselves to allow full appreciation were happened upon as if by accident. A Rothko on the stair landing, could pass you by if you weren’t concentrating. The Azalea Garden in an ante room, best viewed from the corridor through a doorway. 

I loved this Sandra Blow, hung at such a height, you could miss it on your way somewhere. Had I not fallen for some of her prints the day before in the wonderful Porthminster Gallery, I might have missed it.  It was actually best viewed from the other side of the space and we had to go back to look at it from there, to fully appreciate it.  The energy of Vivace, painted in 1988 was electric. The freedom of movement, the use of colour, I fell in love with something new. I wondered if the painting would have been so powerful if it had been placed in a traditional art gallery setting.

This is the power of a great artwork, great curation and a great building working in harmony. It’s been fabulous that more and more people discover art for themselves on their little screens, but there is still nothing that can compare to seeing a painting in the flesh, as it was meant to be seen.