02/03/2025 - SOIL: The World At Our Feet

29th February 2025

Research: SOIL at Somerset House

On Friday, 29th February, I embarked on a long two and a half hour train journey to the capital once again, to an exhibition closely aligned with my current research. The show in question was SOIL: The World at Our Feet at Somerset House.

The exhibition explored how artists, farmers, land stewards, and other practitioners engage with soil, presenting diverse ways in which it can be communicated to audiences. A central message resonated throughout: soil is an essential material for humanity, and a shift in perspective is needed in how we view, use, and connect with it. The exhibition conveyed both urgency and hope, advocating for a more sustainable and reciprocal relationship with the Earth, one that requires immediate action.

Bringing together global artists, writers, musicians, and scientists, the show combined sensory artworks, historical artefacts, scientific objects, and documentary materials to highlight soil’s significance. It underscored its fundamental role in human civilisation, its vulnerability, and its immense potential to restore ecological balance.

Among the featured artists were some familiar names I had encountered in my research, including Marshmallow Laser Feast, Asad Raza, and Tim Cockerill in collaboration with Elze Hesse.

My intention for the visit was to engage with a diverse group of artists contributing to a field closely aligned with my own research. I sought to observe and experience how others were exploring land and soil through unique and engaging artistic approaches, particularly how soil was being translated into a visual and conceptual language. I aimed to immerse myself in a contemporary exhibition that resonates with current environmental and artistic discourse, offering insights that could further inform my PhD research. Throughout the visit, I documented the works through photography and notes, focusing on pieces that resonated with my practice and had the potential to align with my research trajectory.

The show started off with myself walking through a brown painted winding corridor with a broken up question/statement about the soil under our feet, to which led to a dark space of multiple works backlit through photographic prints, a viewing port hole and a multiple hung ornament scultpture. Immediately I recognised the work of Daro Montag, and Tim Cockerill with Elze Hesse. Both works complimenting each other in what felt like a space that looked at the micro landscape within soil. Montag's 'This Earth' prints were enlarged micro-scopic prints that highlighted an active landscape caught on negative film. Cockerill and Hesse also demonstrated the micro-active world beneath our feet through a series of prints, ' A Diversity of Forms', that showed an alien world as bacteria, but one that was polluted by human toxins. Joe Pearl's ceramic hanging sculpture 'Oddkin', allowed for a series of microscopic creatures to suspend mid-air against a dark brown background, the micro creatures looking like deep-sea microbes floating in a black ocean. Something alien and other worldly resonated with this sculpture. I also took an interest in her use of clay to form soil life forms, an almost natural connection to the material on display.

Moving from the microscopic realm into a larger immersive space, visitors encountered Wim Van Egmond’s Mating and Egg Laying Earthworms, projected onto curved screens. Entering through a veil of vertical strings, which subtly captured elements of the film audiences were enveloped in a time lapse of the micro landscape in motion. The film revealed the unseen rhythms of soil life, capturing the processes of movement, growth, and sustenance that underpin the vast world above.

Adjacent to the film stood Jim Richardson’s Big Bluestem, a striking, back illuminated print of an intricate grass root system. Richardson’s work emphasised the critical role of prairie grass in the American Midwest, highlighting how its decline could have devastating effects on the landscape. The contrast between the grass’s modest presence above ground and its extensive four-metre root system below illustrated how natural materials sustain ecosystems and provide essential resources for human consumption outside of the human gaze.

Beyond Egmond’s film, a small, darkened installation space showcased the vividly coloured visuals of Marshmallow Laser Feast (MLF). I first encountered their work at OXO House in 2023 during a talk and exhibition that was both fascinating and thought provoking. This time, their contribution was a collaboration with Merlin Sheldrake, a prominent figure in the study of invisible ecosystems. The hypnotic and dreamlike film explored the underground networks of fungi, revealing the intricate interrelationships within the natural world. The mycelium network, an extraordinary and complex system is increasingly studied across multiple disciplines, and here, MLF presented it as a surreal, otherworldly reality. Their work visualised the hidden pathways that connect life above and below ground, suggesting a form of communication between species and an unseen dialogue shaping the landscapes we inhabit.

To clarify, this blog is not intended as a complete walkthrough of the exhibition but rather a reflection on selected artworks that captured my interest. I mention this because the earlier sections of the exhibition followed a structured, pathway-like design, guiding viewers through the space. However, upon reaching the upper floor, I was met with a diverse array of artworks on display and so I will discuss works that captured my attention.

One of the first pieces that caught my attention was an Iron Age sword from the 1st century, supplied by the Cambridge Archaeological Unit. Initially, I was surprised to find such an artefact in an exhibition centred on soil, but its relevance soon became clear. My initial oversight stemmed from not considering the role of historical objects within the soil’s landscape. This inclusion of an archaeological dig within the exhibition was particularly compelling, as it underscored the power of soil not just as a living system but as a preserver of history.

The mineral composition of the soil, primarily clay and silt, had acted as a natural protective environment, preserving the sword for over two thousand years, including its delicate wooden scabbard. Archaeologists described the soil formation around the sword as functioning like a vacuum seal, reinforcing the idea that soil is not just a medium of life and regeneration but also of preservation and deep time.

At the centre of the room, positioned against the back wall, was Birth by Ana Mendieta. Much of Mendieta’s work explored the deep connections between nature and the human body, particularly through a feminist lens that linked the female form to the concept of Mother Earth. She frequently examined themes of longing and belonging. In Birth, a female figure sculpted from mud featured a womb at its core. This womb was then ruptured by fireworks, leaving a scorched imprint on the earth, an evocative mark symbolising the relationship between the human body and soil.

Lauren Gault’s Samhla addressed the concept of deep geological time. Her work reflected on soil minerals and human intervention in sustaining livestock health through mineral buckets. The irony she presented was interesting. Soil, formed over millennia, is already a natural mineral source, raising the question of whether livestock truly need human provided supplementation. Is human intervention a necessity, or is it an assertion of purpose and relevance?

Set against the back wall near Mendieta’s Birth was Kim Norton’s Soil Library, an ongoing project initiated in 2017. Norton has been collecting small soil samples from locations across the UK and Europe, mixing each with 100 grams of porcelain to create simple pinch pots, which are then fired. Each pot is catalogued, forming an archival map that connects soil types to specific geographical locations. Norton describes her soil sculptures as reflections of place and geological history. This work resonated deeply with me, particularly in relation to my own practice of collecting soil, documenting its location (and, in my case, measuring its electrical output), and using it to visually communicate a sense of place through walking. Accompanying the Soil Library was a simple catalogue listing each pot’s origin.

Diāne Scherer’s Interwoven #14 examined the intricate root systems of plants and their interdependence with human presence. She highlighted the ways in which roots communicate, collaborate, and adapt to sustain themselves in an environment increasingly shaped by human activity. The work captured nature’s continuous evolution remaining organic yet adapting to external pressures.

Adjacent to Scherer’s piece hung two delicate etchings of plants. What drew me in was the intentional use of negative space, which placed the botanical forms at the centre of attention. The fragility of each etching emphasised the subject’s subtle presence. What was particularly interesting was the choice to label them as plants rather than weeds. The artist, Michael Landy, aimed to challenge the perception of Scentless Mayweed and Black Medick as invasive or undesirable. Instead, he highlighted their ecological role, as both plants engage in symbiotic relationships with soil ecosystems, contributing to soil fertility through atmospheric nitrogen fixation..

The Land Gardeners', Where Two Kingdoms Meet was projected onto a curved wall (are curved walls now the new standard for film projection?). The film explored the deep connection between green forest ecosystems and microbial life, which I found visually compelling. The muted tones of the forest, interwoven tree branches, and the presence of bacterial organisms forming lichen and moss systems highlighted the continuous flow of life. These organic networks covered tree trunks, roots, and branches, an extension of the hidden soil world emerging into view.

Clare Richardson’s photographic work, Harlemville XI, depicted a group of young boys covered in wet mud, embodying the carefree joy of childhood play. The image captured a sense of innocence, reinforced by the presence of a clear body of water near the muddy terrain, an indicator of healthy soil. Richardson’s work suggests that soil itself can shape human mood, enhancing serotonin levels and fostering a deep-rooted connection to nature. In the Harlemville community, this relationship with the land is actively encouraged, nurturing childhood innocence and reinforcing the idea that, as we grow older, we often lose the uninhibited joy of playful engagement with our surroundings. In a world increasingly detached from such simple pleasures, Harlemville XI serves as a reminder of the grounding influence of nature.

Howard Sooley’s film, Great Dixter Spring, reflected his deep personal connection to the historic gardens of Great Dixter, a 15th-century house in East Sussex. The film captured his relationship with gardening, illustrating the symbiotic exchange between human care and the natural world.

Off the main exhibition space, a corridor led up a flight of stairs, drawing visitors toward a darkened room. Inside, the floor was illuminated by a complex projection resembling organic networks and microscopic organisms. Behind it, two vertical LED scrolling text panels, reminiscent of stock exchange displays cascaded information in an unfamiliar rhythm. Flanking the installation stood three alien-like sculptures, their forms evoking the eerie anticipation of something about to hatch. The entire scene had a distinct Ridley Scott’s Alien aesthetic. This was As Above So Below, an installation by the artist collective Semantica (Jemma Foster, Camilla French, and Juan Cortes).

The work explored the tension between soil health and agricultural demand. The floor projections visualised the micro-organisms and bacteria essential to soil ecosystems, while the LED panels symbolised the relentless push for increased crop production in industrial farming. The alien-like sculptures, acting as touch sensitive seeds, responded to human interaction and when touched, they triggered the restoration of the live soil system, underscoring the delicate balance between intervention and regeneration.

To the right, inside a separate room, was Roman Horizon by Maeve Brennan. A single vial of ancient soil from the Roman Empire was encased in a clear perspex unit. Excavated by archaeologists, the soil contained traces of microplastics, highlighting a contradiction: while humanity actively preserves historical artefacts and landscapes, pollutants have quietly embedded themselves into even the most ancient sites. This discovery not only evidences modern contamination but also suggests that human impact on the environment, even in early civilisations, was more pervasive than we often acknowledge.

The final darkened room housed The Flowers Stand Silently Witnessing, a film by Theo Panagopoulos. Composed of found footage from the 1930s and 1940s, the film captured the wild Palestinian landscape before it was altered by ongoing conflict. The footage, originally forgotten in a Scottish museum, depicted Scottish missionaries who had settled in Palestine, engaging with the land in a way now almost unrecognisable. Panagopoulos sought to resurrect these images to reveal a once thriving, flowering terrain, now overshadowed by destruction and geopolitical strife. The film served as both a historical record and a poignant reminder of the fragility of landscapes caught within cycles of war and displacement.

Back in the main space of Somerset House, I came across Sam Williams’ Wormshine. Displayed across seven floor-placed monitors, the film explored the raw, unglamorous side of soil, its damp, dirt-laden reality. Two of the screens featured a choreographed performance in which dancers embodied earthworms, coiling, twisting, and contorting themselves with rope. The work highlighted the silent yet vital labour of worms, whose tunnelling and movement continuously enrich the soil, contributing to nutrient cycles and the carbon cycle.

Although I had already encountered Kim Norton’s work earlier, I was drawn to a second piece in her research that resonated with me just as strongly. Kinship to Land explored her engagement with farmers, walkers, and individuals who inhabit and traverse landscapes. She invited participants to bury a small piece of cotton fabric in the soil and, after a period of time, excavate it before sending it back to her. These fabric samples became tangible records of their respective locations, bearing the imprints of the soil’s microbial activity. Alongside each returned piece, participants provided a short written reflection on the landscape, including the date and time of burial, creating an intimate, collective archive of soil’s presence and transformation.

Not only did I reconnect with Kim Norton’s work, but I also encountered The Land Gardeners once again through a second film, Soil is Life. Unlike their first projection, this piece was displayed on a conventional TV monitor, documenting green spaces and significant landscapes across the UK. This time, the film focused on agricultural farmers, who spoke about their relationship with the land, the delicate balance of soil care, and the sustainable practices required to maintain its vitality.

One unexpected element near the end of the exhibition was an archival display of tools, and if you’ve followed my practice, you’ll know exactly which one caught my attention—the multimeter, housed in a perspex case. Amusingly, the exhibition’s title for this everyday tool made it sound far more scientifically advanced than the standard meter reader you could pick up at Screwfix for £7.99. This piece, Woodblock Printed Biosensors, was a collaboration between the University of Strathclyde, Glasgow School of Art, and Kenyatta University. The project aimed to measure soil’s electrical conductivity when exposed to specific chemical compounds, further emphasising the unseen energies within soil systems.

Before leaving the main exhibition space, I took a moment to watch and listen to Leia Vita Marasovich’s film, Beyond the Soil. Set in Colombia, the film focused on the Arhuacos people of the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, who maintain a deep spiritual connection with the land. Their belief in reciprocal exchange, giving back what is taken shapes their relationship with the earth. Through ritual and shared stewardship, the Arhuacos emphasise a philosophy of balance and mutual care, highlighting the interconnectedness between people and the land they rely on.

To conclude my visit to SOIL: The World at Our Feet at Somerset House, I found it to be a truly enriching and thought-provoking experience. The exhibition showcased a diverse range of approaches to raising awareness about soil, challenging perceptions, and encouraging deeper engagement with this often-overlooked material. The curatorial work by The Land Gardeners was particularly impressive, bringing together an expansive selection of works that spanned from the microscopic landscapes of soil’s unseen life to the vast agricultural terrains that shape our ecosystems.

What was once hidden beneath our feet was now elevated into public consciousness through a variety of artistic methods including film, installation, photography, sculpture, and scientific engagement all working in unison to reframe soil as a dynamic, living entity rather than just an inert surface. The exhibition successfully demonstrated how soil is not only the foundation of life but also a material deeply entwined with human existence, history, and future sustainability.

Beyond the artworks themselves, what resonated with me most was a sense of belonging, a recognition that I am part of a wider community of practitioners exploring similar themes. Seeing the ways in which artists, scientists, farmers, and land stewards approached soil reaffirmed the importance of interdisciplinary dialogue in shifting perspectives. I found my own practice aligning with and contributing to the exhibition’s core purpose: to deepen our connection to the earth, reimagine our role within it, and foster greater care for the landscapes that sustain us.

https://www.somersethouse.org.uk/whats-on/soil