The Roth Bar Is Transforming the Gallery Experience at Hauser & Wirth Somerset

First conceived of by Dieter Roth in the late 1970s, the bar is a fully stocked, fully functioning art installation.

The bucolic setting of the Hauser & Wirth gallery in Bruton, Somerset is a welcome contrast to the studied ateliers, studios and exhibitions in more urban areas. Established by Iwan and Manuela Wirth and based in the west country of England, the gallery and its accompanying hospitality company, Artfarm, promote a more conscious, sustainable and low-impact way of living out in this pastoral location. The Farm Shop here stocks items and victuals from local growers and regional producers catering to locavore tastes, accompanied by a biodiverse garden filled with stunning art courtesy of the gallery—it’s immanentizing the eschaton made manifest.

Ten years ago, the site was transformed from Durslade Farm into a renowned exhibition space, redefining what commercial galleries should look like. At that time, Phyllida Barlow held an inaugural exhibition at the gallery, complemented by another installation, the Roth Bar. Now, both exhibitions and installations return for the site’s ten-year anniversary.

The watering-hole idea was first conceived by Swiss-German artist Dieter Roth in the late 1970s on the premise that there should be a bar within an existing gallery or exhibition from which conversations, connections, spontaneous moments and fertile ideas could flow. These bars began to appear in art galleries in the 1980s, and Dieter was soon joined by his son, Bjorn, to assist with their construction. Its first Hauser & Wirth appearance was in Zürich in 1997, when Dieter held his debut show with the gallery.

SEE ALSO: Nicholas Baume On the Power of Public Art and What Its Accomplishing in New York

The bars tap into the function that these convivial spaces serve in facilitating the coalescence of ideas and creativity. What would Dada have looked like without Cabaret Voltaire? Would the New York School have been as influential without the San Remo Café? Would Carsten Höller’s The Double Club have even existed?

Each iteration of the Roth Bar is unique and takes inspiration from the place that surrounds it. For this iteration at Durslade Farm, the installation is composed of salvaged metals and other materials, objects and curios from reclamation yards and other locations in the surrounding area. Ten years ago, Dieter’s grandson Oddur Roth was in charge of continuing the vision that his grandfather had begun. A decade later, Oddur returned to manage the construction and source all the materials necessary to build the Roth Bar in 2024.

Oddur spent the first three months of this year with a team of five, immersing themselves in the gallery’s deeper connections with the area. Like its predecessors, the Roth Bar a fully functioning bar, but installed in a new location in the gallery’s Threshing Barn. There is still ample space to eat and drink on tables and chairs curated in collaboration with the Paris-based international architecture firm Laplace.

Observer asked Oddur, speaking from his base in Iceland, to share the rationale behind this 2024 version of the Roth Bar at Durslade Farm. “It’s supposed to prime your senses for what is going to come next, and I hope it will affect people in that way. Too many people go through life without looking up or looking around. If you don’t look up, then you wouldn’t know the stars were there, you know?”

Indeed, there’s nothing you could miss about the bar. It stands proudly in the middle of the Threshing Barn, commanding attention with its myriad lights as well as its alluring beer taps and come-hither cocktail menu featuring honey, flowers, and foraged herbs directly from the hives, garden, and surrounding landscape. As you’re deciding whether to opt for a Somerset Crusta or Milk Wash Margarita to go with your crispy buttermilk fried chicken or bowl of mussels, it’s easy to become absorbed in the various objects incorporated into its design. The bar invites deliberation and provokes curiosity, something that was very intentional for Oddur. “It makes the boundaries between reality and art very unclear. People will ask themselves, ‘Can I touch this? Can I sit on this chair, or what am I allowed to do here?’”

While random items such as lawnmower blades, keyboards, empty Sellotape rolls, fishing rod spools, small tin baths and rubber ducks give the space a junk shop vibe, certain objects have been refashioned and made into perfectly functional additions. The poles that act as footrests around the bottom of the bar were one thing that Oddur was particularly maniacal about getting right. What drove the artist to pick the objects that he does? “It’s more like a shape or the color of something that makes me choose it. A lot of these things have made it through time without being thrown away because somebody cared for them or used them on a daily basis. Then they become outdated and old, and end up in my possession,” he says in his Portacabin-like office, a dark-sunburst acoustic guitar hanging on the wall behind him. “I bring this all together, and you might see something you remember from your childhood or a tool that you once had. Then you immediately make a connection with the installation, which makes you realize how many things go through your hands in life.”

This combination of introspection, reflection and awareness delves deeper into the human psyche, juxtaposed with the installation’s other function as an outgoing “social sculpture.” It was particularly important for Oddur that the bar should be as interactive and as connected with the environment and landscape around it as possible, not only in the salvage décor but also in the food and beverage choices. It’s why the beers in the fridges are from Lost and Grounded brewery in Bristol, the ciders are sourced from Pilton Murmuration and the white wines are from the Maid of Bruton vineyard. The Roth Bar in Somerset also employs local talent and attracts local drinkers and diners—in doing so, the locale becomes part of the installation, he explains.

“It is an enduring performance. There is a crew of people working inside it, making their livelihood by showing up for a shift to work inside the sculpture. Then you have the patron who comes and sits at the bar and has a drink or a coffee, so they are the accessory. Then it creates an atmosphere where things are a bit looser than you would normally experience with an art installation and—most importantly—you’re actually in direct contact with the art, and you’re making your own opinions, memories, and decisions about staying inside that sculpture.”

Bruton’s own Roth Bar will be a permanent fixture in the Threshing Barn for the foreseeable future—a first for the artists and the gallery, unlike the Zürich and St. Moritz locations, which are only semi-permanent. It will host a program of talks, interactive art events and musical performances, returning to the installation’s primary ethos of creating a space from which more creativity can be conjured. The space enhances the gallery experience, providing an additional and deeper continuation of thought, enjoyment and interaction long after you’ve left an exhibition or show.

And what would Oddur choose from the bar? “It would be an espresso combined with a cigarette,” he replies. It’s an ascetic choice from the artist but one that chimes with the languid feel of this most intriguing installation in an uncomplicated, atavistic setting.