In a moving testament to the enduring spirit of creativity, the celebrated British artist Tacita Dean has shared a profound account of her friend Ceal Floyer's final artistic act. The moment occurred last month in a Berlin hospital, where the acclaimed conceptual artist, facing her own mortality, delivered a powerful and unambiguous statement.
The Courage of a Conceptual Pioneer
Ceal Floyer, a Royal Academician known for her meticulously precise and often witty conceptual work, passed away last month after living with a brain tumour for 23 years. As Tacita Dean notes, describing Floyer's art is a challenge, as it existed in the delicate space between an idea and its perception. Her practice was deeply personal and intellectually rigorous, leaving her vulnerable to the "vicissitudes of existence."
Her 23-year battle with a brain tumour impacted her creative process, making the journey from conception to realisation increasingly difficult. Despite this, and in defiance of medical prognoses, she continued to develop ideas, though many remained unrealised. Dean emphasises that this struggle was a mark of Floyer's exceptional bravery, as her art and her life were inextricably linked.
A Final Surge of Artistic Vitality
In her last weeks, Floyer was in the palliative care unit of a hospital dedicated to Saint Francis, near Berlin's Zoo station. There, Dean observes, she experienced a remarkable resurgence of her artistic self. Freed from the burden of producing finished works, she became "purely and unequivocally Ceal." Surrounded by visitors, the performative aspect of her practice re-emerged.
She focused on a wooden crucifix on the wall, which she indicated represented death. In a poignant moment, she requested colouring books, later specifying she would only need black crayons. The purchased materials went unused—the idea itself was the completed work, a pure expression of her conceptual practice.
The Unforgettable Gesture
On what would be her final full day, Floyer performed her ultimate piece. After mustering her strength to grip the triangular bar above her hospital bed—a symbol of life to counter the crucifix—she eventually signalled for morphine. As the nurse went to fetch it, with Tacita Dean standing witness by her bedside, Floyer lifted her hand.
She gave the middle finger to the cross on the wall. Dean describes the gesture as "unambiguous, audacious and courageous." Floyer, aware of her friend's shocked and impressed reaction, allowed herself a slight feline smile before accepting the medication. She did not truly resurface again.
For Dean, this act was Floyer reclaiming her agency. In the face of the inevitable, she used her body and her will to create one last, perfectly resolved work. It was, as Dean powerfully frames it, her way of "giving death the middle finger," a final, defiant testament to an artist who lived and died on her own conceptual terms.
