Step into a gallery and find yourself face-to-face with a blazing sun, its pulsating light transforming the space into a living, breathing entity. This is the magic of Olafur Eliasson, the Icelandic-Danish artist who dares to blur the lines between reality and illusion. But here's where it gets even more fascinating: Eliasson doesn’t just recreate nature—he invites you to become part of it, challenging your perceptions and sparking conversations about our environment.
In his latest exhibition, Presence, curator Geraldine Kirrihi Barlow masterfully weaves together three decades of Eliasson’s work, from immersive installations to thought-provoking sculptures and photographs. Visitors find themselves clambering over rocky landscapes, dipping their toes into a flowing stream, and even building imaginary cities with hundreds of kilos of white Lego. It’s art that demands participation, not just observation.
Eliasson’s most iconic piece, a massive artificial sun created for London’s Tate Modern in 2003, set the stage for his reputation as a boundary-pushing artist. In Presence, a new installation of the same name takes center stage, with a colossal sun hovering in the gallery corner. Using mirrors and monofrequency light, Eliasson creates an illusion of depth and bathes visitors in a warm, yellow glow, stripping away other colors to heighten the experience. And this is the part most people miss: the sun is only a segment, yet the mirrors trick your mind into seeing a complete sphere. It’s a brilliant reminder of how easily our perceptions can be manipulated.
Eliasson’s work is deeply rooted in art history, drawing inspiration from movements like California’s Light and Space and Minimalism. Artists like James Turrell and Robert Irwin explored the relationship between art and the viewer’s body, but Eliasson takes it a step further—for him, the viewer isn’t just a participant; they’re a co-creator. This idea is evident in pieces like Riverbed (2014), where real rocks and water create a natural landscape inside the gallery, yet the artificiality of the installation is boldly on display.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Eliasson’s work is often seen as a warning about the climate crisis. In Ice Watch (2014), he harvested melting icebergs and placed them outside the Tate Modern and the Place du Panthéon in Paris, a stark reminder of our planet’s fragility. His Glacier Melt Series (1998/2019) documents the alarming retreat of Icelandic glaciers over two decades. Yet, some critics argue that such works, while powerful, risk turning environmental issues into spectacle. What do you think? Does art have a responsibility to go beyond awareness and inspire action?
Eliasson’s use of mirrors and lenses also connects his work to the history of optical devices, from the camera obscura to modern photography. In Your Timekeeping Window (2022), glass spheres embedded in a gallery wall project live, upside-down footage of people outside the museum, blending the past and present in a playful nod to ancient technology.
Then there’s the “big reveal”—Eliasson’s signature move. In Pluriverse Assembly (2021), visitors can peek behind the scenes to see the rings, projectors, and mirrors that create the mesmerizing display. It’s a reminder that even the most magical art is grounded in craftsmanship.
Sound and light intertwine in pieces like Your Truths (2025), where fans blow sheets of plastic across the gallery floor, creating a soundscape reminiscent of ocean waves. You hear the work before you see it, a multisensory experience that lingers long after you leave.
Olafur Eliasson’s Presence is more than an exhibition—it’s a call to engage, reflect, and question. Running at Brisbane’s QAGOMA until July 12, it’s a must-see for anyone curious about the power of art to transform both space and perspective. So, what’s your take? Is Eliasson’s work a brilliant fusion of art and activism, or does it risk oversimplifying complex environmental issues? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments!
