The Shadow (2024)
Albano Hernández (b.1988)
The Shadow, 2024
Water-based grass paint
Dimensions variable
Regent’s Park Frieze Sculpture 2024 (temporary)
It says a lot about my taste in art that my favourite submission at this year’s Frieze Sculpture Trail isn’t even a sculpture. In fact, I’m not even sure how you’d classify it, but I’ll get to that later. First let’s look at what it is, and why most visitors walked all over it despite the many visible “Please do not touch or climb” signs.
For his very first public commission Albano Hernández painted the shadow of a tree directly onto the grass. In the mornings, around 9-10am, Hernández’s shadow directly aligned with the actual shadow of the tree. His shadow remained in place as the Sun and Earth performed their daily dance, causing the true shadow to slowly rotate away from the artwork. By around 1pm on a sunny afternoon you would have seen two completely distinct shadows of the tree. On a cloudy day, only Hernández’s shadow would be visible.
On three separate visits I noticed that people rarely noticed it. That’s fair enough for the joggers and dog walkers that didn’t specifically come to explore the Sculpture Trail. They walked right over it as it were just a shadow on the grass, not noticing that their own shadow on a bright day was angled in a completely different direction. Who can blame them? When was the last time you stopped to study your own shadow?
The official Sculpture Trail signs were hard to miss, but I suspect most visitors simply scanned the horizon for large, foreign objects every time they saw one, which is why Hernández’s artwork remained elusive. It had no obvious physical object that stood out from the lawn. I watched a family glance and walk right by, only to be called back by their curious young son who took the time to figure it out. It was pure joy watching him reach that light bulb moment and excitedly explain it to his family. On another visit I discussed it briefly with an elderly couple. They carefully approached the work, but stood carefully by the tree truck, reluctant to set foot on the painted grass as if it was lava.
Had I curated the show I probably would have encouraged Hernández to trace the shadow when it overlapped the nearby paved path. That would have created a distinct visual clue that might have led more people to notice that something was up. The slightly darker, more lush green grass in his painted shadow is easily mistaken for recently laid sod or maybe just a healthier stretch of garden. Don’t worry, the grass was sprayed with environmentally friendly water-based paint. It slowly faded and was further eroded when the grounds crew kept the park trimmed. It was never intended to leave a permanent mark, and during the run of the show Hernández had to refresh it regularly.
This art is an illusion. A mirage. Something that isn’t even there until you take the time to notice it. The rest of the works in the trail ask you to focus on a man-made object while you trample all over the grass to get close and circumnavigate them. Hernández’s work forces a considered engagement with nature. The grass is the work. It’s also the memory of a living tree that is still growing. It will inevitably lead people to think about the environment, and it certainly raises questions about what can be art. Can art be an idea? Can art be a shadow?
A shadow is definitely not sculpture. Not unless sculpture can be two dimensional, and few people would argue passionately for that position. The closest categorisation I can find is Land Art, but that almost always involves the manipulation of earth, rock, water and other natural elements to form or create objects and interventions that wouldn’t occur on their own. Had Hernández spray painted the shadow of a tree directly onto a road then you could quite literally call it street art, and I’m embarrassed that my editor let me keep that joke in the final copy. This work isn’t easily categorised, but the best works have always broken free from established definitions.
Seeing this artwork multiple times during variously different weather conditions got me wondering about the implications of making a permanent version. A snapshot in time of nature, like a school photo that remains on your mum’s wall long after you’ve outgrown the bad haircut and baby fat. Alas, like the rest of the Frieze sculptures that came for a brief autumn visit, and the leaves on the tree that formed the outline of his shadow, Hernández’s work is now gone. But it is a work that can be re-staged almost anywhere, in site specific ways with site specific shadows. That’s an opportunity that I hope he explores.
That’s why I like it.
“To contemplate is to look at shadows.” - Victor Hugo
Additional reading:
Artist website: albanohernandez.com
Artist Instagram: @albano_hernandez
Previously, on Why I Like It:
Oct — ultraviolence (2021), Kate Dunn
Sep — Fourth Plinth (1841), Sir Charles Barry
Aug — Soundsuit (2010), Nick Cave