Jason
deCaires Taylor is sinking fast. Below, 15 metres under the surface of
the sea, a crowd of figures, unmistakably human, are motionless. It is
eerily still but for the schools of fish weaving through this newly
arrived sunken society.
Taylor has just submerged these sculptures in
what will become Europe’s first underwater museum, Museo Atlantico,
in Lanzarote. Under the surface of the water, The Raft of Lampedusa, a
sculpted boat carrying 13 refugees, is still just visible as it is
lowered.
Divers surround it, inflatable buoys hold it while Taylor waits
with a waterproof clipboard, ready to place it in its new home.
Taylor’s Raft of Lampedusa – a modern take on Géricault’s 1818
painting The Raft of the Medusa – will soon be joined on the seabed by
other statues; a faceless couple taking a selfie, people glued to their
phones, others wielding an iPad or pointing cameras.
Everyone – the boat
and its passengers, the “Instagram generation” – will be heading
towards a wall, the entrance to a city and the point of no return.
Beyond, a human botanical garden – fantastical hybrids of people and
plants drawn from the flora and fauna of Lanzarote.
With plans for an
underwater fountain, lighting and a giant mirror reflecting a “pool” in
the sea, Taylor is clearly aiming for something epic with this
thought-provoking journey.
This is the latest in a succession of his underwater installations. The first was in 2006, when he placed Vicissitudes,
a ring of beautifully sculpted schoolchildren, on the edge of an ocean
shelf, in Molinière Bay, Grenada. That work was instrumental in creating
a protected marine park and is now listed as one of National
Geographic’s 25 wonders of the world.
Just over a year ago, in the
Bahamas, he sank the world’s largest underwater sculpture, the 40-tonne,
16ft Ocean Atlas, positioned near the surface, shouldering the weight of the water. Last summer, with The Rising Tide,
he conjured four “horsemen of the apocalypse” in the Thames near the
Houses of Parliament, the beasts’ heads – cast from oil wells – revealed
in full only at low water.
Taylor is a British artist, a sculptor and photographer; a diver and a
naturalist. It is fair to say he’s something of a pioneer. His
largest-scale work to date – and, until now, the only underwater museum
in the world – is Museo Subacuático de Arte (Musa). Here, 26ft under the Caribbean in Cancun, Mexico, the work The Silent Evolution,
made of nearly 500 statues, was cast from local people in the nearby
fishing village of Puerto Morelos. Among the figures, a pregnant woman
holds her swollen belly, a child clutches a small bag; the fisherman
Joachin raises his head skywards. Last year, I visited the site with
Taylor – after his two-year absence, these casts have come to life.
We
swim to one statue. A blood-red sponge has spread like scar tissue
across her features, softening her expression, outlining her nose, lips
and eyes. She is vibrant with colour, her cheeks pulsing with life.
Algae trace her hairline, purple acropora coral protrudes from below her
chin.
Taylor points to lobsters peering out from beneath and nods. All
good signs of a healthy, thriving reef.
The Guardian News.
View more photos here on Museo Atlantico.
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