Many artists want to create art that lasts. But impermanence is at the heart of Anya Gallaccio’s work. From scarlet gerberas packed tightly behind glass and left to slowly brown to apples suspended from gallery ceilings rotting as the weeks go by, the Scottish artist’s installations – which often comprise organic materials – explore the passage of time and the process of decay, the end result impossible to predict. After a major exhibition at Turner Contemporary in Margate in 2024/2025, Gallaccio is presenting a number of site-specific installations at Gunton Park in Norfolk (5 July–13 September). Here, works such as ‘as long as there were any roads to amnesia and anaesthesia still to be explored’ (2002), a series of chopped-up tree trunks stripped of their branches that was originally presented at Tate Britain, will be joined by new work, such as a bronze apple tree adorned with real fruit.
Where is your studio?
Currently the studio is in my head. Too often it’s the dining table. I am a horizontal spreader – Kelly, my partner, hates it; the table and all the chairs are covered in piles. It’s a long table with two extra leaves so it’s a lot of stuff. I know visually where everything is within a pile, or on which chair, but this is really impractical if we have guests, which is often, as I like cooking.
How would you describe the atmosphere in your studio?
When I have a physical studio, it is important that it’s a place I can be in my head without distraction. It’s a place I want to be.
What does your studio routine look like?
I am very bad at ‘going to’ the studio. I get easily sidetracked. So it’s pretty terrible if I am in kitchen-table mode as there are always other things that seem to demand attention, or I convince myself that they do.
In California I have a two-car garage which is attached to the house, but I have to go outside to get in. When I had the [Kenneth] Armitage Fellowship I had the dreamiest studio [in London] on the ground floor with a little yard I filled with plants, and we lived above it. I would just go down in my dressing gown and sometimes potter around until late afternoon when I got hungry. If I can get myself into the studio, then I lose track of time. I love being ‘in the studio’. It’s a space for dreaming, away from the stresses of day-to-day life.
Do you work with anyone in your studio?
I always work with other people, but not often in my space. The studio is a totally different environment. It’s my world and I find it difficult to have other people there. I don’t want to share or communicate, which is ridiculous. I have had a couple of amazing people who have been able to handle me. Matt was the most the fabulous studio assistant ever. I never felt crowded by his presence and looked forward to him being around. He was always quietly optimistic, despite me sulking under a dark cloud when I was convinced nothing was going to work, which is often. I miss having him around.
Do you have many visitors?
I am very social, so having people visit the studio when I am working is a disaster. I get sucked into the moment and the day is gone. While I was at the Armitage I held a series of seated dinners in the evening as the table upstairs was too small. The dinners got bigger and bigger.
Do you listen to anything while you work?
It’s too overwhelming if I am ‘thinking’, but once I know what I am doing and have something practical to do I have the radio on. I often listen to the same album on repeat. I have a series of audiobooks that I am never sure if I have finished. I am either listening intently and not doing anything or zoned out and engaged in what I am working on. I have been listening to a book on dust forever.
What is the most unusual object in your studio?
A clear work surface?
What is your most well-thumbed book?
That’s tricky. I have a lot of poetry books, which are the most dog-eared. I mine them for titles, [like] Elizabeth Bishop’s ‘One Art’ or Wallace Stevens’s ‘Table Talk’. I have recently discovered Tove Jansson; I was brought up with the Moomins but didn’t know her other stuff. Work and Love [Tuula Karjalainen’s biography of Janson, 2013] is a truly beautiful book.
‘Anya Gallaccio’ is at Gunton Park, Norfolk from 5 July–13 September.
