Ghost 1990

Curator: Here we have Rachel Whiteread's "Ghost," a plaster sculpture from 1990. The artist essentially cast the interior of a Victorian living room. Editor: My first thought? It’s the memory of a room. This austere block just radiates absence and silence. Almost tomb-like, I think, maybe it's the stark whiteness and the solid shape. Curator: Indeed. Whiteread is preoccupied with negative space and the impressions that everyday objects leave behind. Here, she presents a direct positive of the negative space of a room, inverting the usual relationship between object and space. Editor: See, to me it feels incredibly personal. The details you wouldn’t normally notice—the bumps on the walls, the slight imperfections—suddenly become monumentally important. You're face-to-face with all these tiny textures usually hidden behind the wallpaper, the paintings, the conversations. I bet someone spilled something near that fireplace—I can see it! Curator: Observe how Whiteread meticulously captures the banality of the everyday: the slightly uneven walls, the decorative molding around the fireplace, even the electrical sockets. The materiality of the plaster is critical here. The solid and muted quality renders space tangible, allowing the invisible volume of air to be seen. Semiotically, plaster signifies the material for casting. Editor: Right! It's also incredibly clever, capturing this idea of domestic space with the fireplace. Fireplaces are usually about comfort, but this solid block brings the opposite meaning to mind. What was there isn't anymore—there's loss but presence simultaneously. The intimacy makes it more powerful; almost uncanny. Curator: And, with the architectural details captured so meticulously in plaster, the artist emphasizes our relationship with inhabited spaces. We see not what is normally viewed but the overlooked spaces that constitute the lived-in environment. It disrupts conventions of sculpture. Editor: I suppose the longer you stare at this artwork the more haunted you become by your own memories! But I like how Whiteread forces the viewers into that conversation: the push and pull between solid forms and lost souls. It lingers, certainly. Curator: Yes, Whiteread prompts us to reflect upon architecture and how memory resides inside the structures that have framed our existence. Editor: Ghost is such a potent, quiet scream from history, isn't it? I have a strong feeling someone is still dwelling here.