This is one of my favourite works in the National Gallery’s collection. There’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s start with the title: Paradisi in Sole Paradisus Terrestris is a Latin word and namesake of the first English Encyclopedia of plants, written by John Parkinson in 1629. True to its title, the work does, at first, look like gilded plants from all over the world. Yet, on closer inspection, Hall begins to reveal all sorts of playful and some might say, cheeky, elements.
Focus on each element for just a few seconds. Springing out of sardine cans are sensual scenes of bodies, and moments of pleasure, intimacy or sexual intercourse - balancing the tension between high and low culture, between intricate diagrams of plant structures, and the everyday-ness of the sardine cans.
It is a fantastically witty play on how plants and humans breed new life. I love the private element of it all, the depiction of things and acts many of us engage in under the sheets, or behind closed doors. I think everyone can look at this work and question why we feel such coyness around the sexual sides of ourselves, even though, since time began, they have blossomed into beautiful life.
When we really lean into the small spaces within this incredible work, we begin to see how razor-sharp Hall’s perceptions really are.
