Tall Ships by Gary Hill

Drawing back a curtain, the viewer enters a dark place. As the eyes accustom themselves to the darkness, the space turns out to be a long corridor, illuminated only by black-and-white images along its sides, and by a single image at its end. They are people, seen first in the distance, then advancing until they are life-size. And through they are all different men, women, younger and older people, finally, on the end wall on her own, a young child - they behave the same, approaching us curiously, as if we, not they, were the object of attention. The space itself is like a long gallery, and like a gallery, it allows us to be inquisitive. It is hard not to be; the images are easy to relate to. Perhaps this explains their apparent interest in us, of as moving portraits, they patrol a similar territory to our own, a fairly deep space where they approach and withdraw, examining us in every detail, taking time to reach conclusions or to satisfy their interests. For they want something, as they approach and confront us. And although we never realise what it is, by the end of their enquiry, their curiosity seems to be satisfied. Only as we move on, we feel as if we have got everything out of them that we might. And when, on occasion, they turn their backs and walk away, it is difficult not to feel rejected. What we sense, without pushing it to the forefront of our minds, is that they are responding to what we are doing. These people have something to do with us.

So distance, both literal and psychological, plays a major part in Gary Hill's 'Tall Ships', a work which depends on the fallacy that two-dimensional pictures can suddenly come to life.

- 'Missing Person' by Stuart Morgan