Imagine stepping into the nose of a reindeer, not just as a whimsical fantasy, but as a profound statement about humanity’s place in the natural world. This is the bold invitation extended by Indigenous Sámi artist Máret Ánne Sara in her latest installation at Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall. But here’s where it gets controversial: what if this immersive experience isn’t just art, but a mirror reflecting our arrogance in the face of nature’s ingenuity? Sara’s labyrinthine structure, modeled after the scaled-up nasal passages of a reindeer, challenges visitors to confront their perceived dominance over the environment. And this is the part most people miss—the reindeer’s nose isn’t just a quirky design choice; it’s a tribute to a biological marvel. In less than a second, a reindeer’s nose can heat inhaled air by 80 degrees Celsius, a survival mechanism in the harsh Arctic. By enlarging this natural wonder, Sara forces us to feel, quite literally, out of place, prompting a humbling shift in perspective.
The installation is more than a sensory journey; it’s a layered exploration of Sámi culture, science, and philosophy. The Sámi, Europe’s only Indigenous people, have endured persecution, forced assimilation, and land dispossession across Norway, Finland, Sweden, and Russia’s Kola Peninsula. Sara’s work centers the reindeer, a sacred animal in Sámi cosmology, to highlight their community’s struggles with climate change, colonialism, and economic exploitation. For instance, the towering 26-metre structure of reindeer hides entangled in power cables at the entrance symbolizes the political and economic systems suffocating the Sámi. Titled Goavve, it references a weather phenomenon exacerbated by global heating, where ice layers trap lichen, the reindeer’s winter food, leading to starvation and ecological collapse.
Here’s the kicker: while Nordic nations tout renewable energy as a solution, their wind farms, hydroelectric dams, and mines encroach on Sámi ancestral lands, sparking accusations of green colonialism. Sara’s own family has battled Norwegian authorities over herding policies, including the forced culling of reindeer herds. Her 2017 artwork, Pile O’Sápmi, featuring 400 reindeer skulls, became a powerful symbol of resistance, now hanging in Oslo’s National Museum. Art, for many Sámi, is the only medium where their voices resonate globally, as seen in Sara’s 2022 Venice Biennale representation.
But this isn’t just a story of struggle; it’s a call to rethink our relationship with nature. Sara’s use of reindeer bones, wood, and power cables embodies the Sámi concept of duodji, a philosophy of interdependence where nothing is wasted. The installation’s soundscape blends reindeer calls, industrial hums, and Sámi joiks, creating a dialogue between tradition and modernity. Even scent plays a role—the smell of frightened reindeer, crafted with perfumer Nadjib Achaibou, contrasts with the hopeful aroma of reindeer milk and sweetgrass, evoking both despair and possibility.
And this is the part most people miss: Sara isn’t pitting Indigenous knowledge against Western science. Instead, she highlights how generations of Sámi have gathered life-sustaining wisdom by living in harmony with nature. Her childhood memory of her father’s fear-induced scent, mirrored in stressed reindeer, underscores this biological and spiritual connection. The installation’s nasal passage structure, Geabbil, is carved with reindeer earmarks from her family’s herds, blending personal history with cultural resilience.
So, here’s the question: Can we, as a global society, learn from Indigenous philosophies like duodji to build a more sustainable future? Or will we continue to cloak extractivism in the language of ecology, prioritizing profit over planet? Sara’s Tate commission isn’t just art—it’s a challenge, an invitation, and a warning. What’s your take? Do you see this as a hopeful blueprint for ecological justice, or a stark reminder of our failures? Let’s discuss in the comments.
