The Portal, Illuminated – Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson at Berg Contemporary 

The Portal, Illuminated – Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson at Berg Contemporary 

The Portal, Illuminated – Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson at Berg Contemporary 

 In a comic-book reminiscent and delightfully playful fashion, Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson unveils an intertwining of nature, human, and cosmic energy  in The Thirteenth Month at Berg Contemporary. Styrmir connects the human to our supernatural and earthly elements, performatively questioning prescribed social behaviors. His graphic are grounded in knowledge, placing our existence into the context of the cosmos, alternate realities, and portals to other dimensions. His large scale drawings invoke an endless circling of galaxies and dimensions, that correlates to the endless circling of life and culture. Styrmir illuminated some mysteries behind his work, as he spoke to me about the contexts of his recently opened solo-exhibition at Berg Contemporary.

“After building a maquette of the gallery I shrunk myself and travelled into it. I became very small in this big space. So small that I forgot about everything I had done in the past. I went through many ideas for shows. Then I recalled different artworks I had made in the past five years. Images and objects I had been using alongside my performances. I made scale-models of my works and curated several doll house exhibitions inside the maquette. I opened myself up and spoke with other artists about my ideas. Artists such as Gulla and Sæmi and Hrafnhildur and Halli. I looked deep into their eyes while extracting their reflections to ferment a concept for my show. I got to choose a date for the opening. Friday the 13th in September was my choice. Then, sometime in Spring I was hanging out in the gallery searching for inspiration. A friend of the gallery, Halldór Björn, started chatting with me and I proudly invited him to my upcoming exhibition in September – on Friday the thirteenth. He looked spooked and replied: “Oh the Thirteenth Month?” In that instance I ran upstairs and reported to Ingibjörg, the gallerist, “I have a title for the show!””

Three larger scale tunnel drawings take up the main gallery; drawn in detail by hand in pen. A mesmerizing tunnel leading us to an abyss of white, we are drawn inside, pulled into the center, tethered still in the gallery space. Crawling creatures, a sky sparkling with red and green and yellow electricity. A planet with a halo of multicolored human shoes, dates and whisper of lines of movement. Geometric forms surround and tumble out from the tunnels, leading to a mysterious other dimension. There is something ominous about them, and also inspiring, in the intricacies of detail. Styrmir’s landscapes are tethered in reality, and yet open up a portal, but to where? Another galaxy, A parallel alternate reality, perhaps? Styrmir explains to me this fascination with the portal:

“I am a hip hop artist. I used to b-boy. I’ve made a rap album in collaboration with a posse of gorgeous artists. My drawings are marinated by the tons of graffiti I used to do. I still draw with the same tools that I used for graffiti. For many years the vandal in me has been sleeping. Today I am more into the world of comics and storytelling with images. I love patching old thoughts with new and mixing mediums into an artistic omelette. In the Thirteenth Month I have drawings that I first made five years ago in black and white. These are portals that I originally drew via my first impressions of Warsaw, where I used to live. For the show I decided to give the portals a facelift by applying a new dimension of colour. And so I recycled them. The freedom of recycling is true to the hip hop nature.”

These five smaller black and white drawings are placed together, containing motifs based in the human. These graphic drawings are just one element of Styrmir’s multidisciplinary practice, as he describes to me:  

“Different disciplines are like different days of weather. I find it ideal to switch between activities depending on my emotional state. This way I can be an artist at all times. When I’m feeling blue I can sit down and draw or write a poem. When I wanna dance I make a performance. When I need to move my ass a sculpture is a perfect physical exercise. I feel the personality traits of introversion and extroversion within me. In my experience the introvert mixes well with the making of handicraft as well as writing. The extrovert makes for a good storyteller, singer and dancer. There are so many brilliant outputs in contemporary art. We are the luckiest of cultural workers.”

Switching between these different activities, there are also important elements of sculpture, performance, and breaking the fourth wall in Styrmir’s The Thirteenth Month. In one form, green sculptures of flying birds are propped up on a magnetic structure. The sculptures are plastic and abstract, flying in space in static motion. At the opening, viewers were allowed to touch and interact with them, making their shadows echo and shadow further out the boundaries of the gallery’s floors and walls. Here Styrmir critically and comically breaks an inscribed rule within the white cube phenomenon: do not touch. Similarly, an odd sculptural staff with a mirror is propped on the wall; guests can pick it up and see their reflection behind them. It is humorous and performative in a uniquely casual way that makes us question why these modes of behavior within our social art world are inscribed in us to begin with.

“I am used to being a performer in front of people. I love doing that, especially when extroversion levels are high. I feel great without the fourth wall. Things can go beautifully right or wrong without it. But I know it is demanding for the visitor to not have the fourth wall. Without the fourth wall people cannot snooze and eat popcorn. It keeps them on their toes. For The Thirteenth Month I wanted to continue the performance practice without being a performer or director myself. So I planted objects in the show with the hope that guests would meddle with them. I look at them as tools to activate the exhibition guest’s imagination.”

In the middle is a metal sculpture – guests were invited to try and take it apart, to solve the puzzle. Just this simple action created an atmosphere of comedy and lightness, breaking the often stiff, sterile, veering towards snobbish  nature of many art openings.

“The puzzle was one of the exhibition tools – a performance. Many gave it a go and tried to solve the riddle. Even philosophers and astrophysicists. They were sweating and blushing from trying to crack the challenge without any luck. Eventually a young cool person, by the name of Uggi, came along and solved the problem in a matter of seconds. He received a standing ovation from the exhibition crowd. Ingibjörg gave him the finest bottle of white wine as an award. Well done Uggi!” 

In these ways The Thirteenth Month is a then questioning of human nature – why do we follow our ascribed societal rules and patterns? In the face of the vastness of the cosmos, portals to other dimensions, alternate universes somewhere beyond, these norms are bleakly arbitrary.  Strymir pushes us to rethink the purpose and functioning of these almost sacralized behaviors of the white cube gallery space. 

“The art world is indeed a high brow place that mostly seduces intellectuals. Many people who are not workers in art feel unsure if everyone is invited to openings and art shows. Of course everyone is invited to art but looking from outside there is this air of exclusivity. People tend to think that contemporary art is something to be understood when it is merely there to tickle your feelings (just like all the other art forms). Art spaces are so sterile and there are some etiquettes such as do not touch. Thank God, otherwise our art history would be covered in mold and finger grease. In my exhibition, though, I have objects that are meant to be touched. But this invitation comes from my longing for live work or for an impromptu performance to happen.”

In the vastness of a cosmic reality, Styrmir questions these ascribed behaviors, high brow nature, exclusivity, etiquette, standing quietly in awe, etc. How can we interact with art in a way that is  more playful? Like Styrmir ponders, “Death. Science. Near-death. Animalia. Life.” – There is a whole cosmos out there, and how banal are our art world interactions, in relation to all of this? Perhaps his exhibition, The Thirteenth Month, is a lesson to be learned; not to take ourselves quite so seriously in the face of art.

Daría Sól Andrews

 

Photos: Courtesy of BERG Contemporary

 

„You are the Input“ by Ingunn Fjóla Ingthorsdóttir at Gallerie Herold, Bremen

„You are the Input“ by Ingunn Fjóla Ingthorsdóttir at Gallerie Herold, Bremen

„You are the Input“ by Ingunn Fjóla Ingthorsdóttir at Gallerie Herold, Bremen

Arriving on the train to Bremen, I found the artist-run Galerie Herold by following a set of abandoned train tracks from the station. Upon arriving in the gallery, I stood in the main door frame and looked into the exhibition by Ingunn Fjóla Ingthorsdóttir, seeing the alignment of three frames in perfect alignment ahead of me. As I stood in the doorway and looked into the exhibition, the last frame caught the exact outline of a panel of pastel pink on the far wall; framed in such a way, it seemed as though a panel of pink glass was set in the last frame. This same optical illusion occurred every time the frames spun into alignment with one of the pastel panels on the wall.

The impression was of being in the middle of an optical illusion on a scale fit for the human body, especially because on the floor of the space was lightly drawn a grid-like pattern; the exhibition’s title, You are the Input, added to the impression that the optical illusion was about perspective in painting and emphasized the way in which the input of the viewer has already shaped and interpreted the scene just by looking. However, in this exhibition, the viewer is invited to go further than looking and actually interact with the scene by rolling the bright red snooker balls across the floor, hearing their light ‘smack’ into each other, and spinning the frames on their axis to create new variations of the scene as they fall into and out of alignment with the pastel-painted panels spaced throughout the room. The title also refers to inputs in systems as the installation can be seen as a systematic pattern that is disrupted by the input of visitors.

The round red balls could be a button of some kind in which moving them from one location to another sets a system into motion that follows a sequence unbeknownst to the visitor. The round red balls could also be all the uses of circular spheres ever, not to mention, the demarcation on a map in which the red dot symbolizes where you are. This implication pushed the perspectival study at play in the exhibition into a much wider study of the body in space. I soon began to experience the exhibition as though I were in a landscape painting.

What is incredible about Ingunn Fjóla’s installation is that she sees painting as being the starting point for her practice. With the perspectival inquiry of a painter, her installation takes as cue all of the changeable factors that go into the act of painting as well as the viewing of a painting. Among the moveable materials are frames that can be set into rotation on a center axis, reiterating the notion of the frame as being something the viewer has a choice in the extent of their engagement. As well, the way in which frames represent a certain ruling function in aesthetic experience is brought up for questioning. The frame, instead of being a ruling factor, becomes part of the shifting perception of the space. In conversation with the artist, she told me more about her relationship with painting:

„I have always seen painting as the foundation of my art practice, even though I am not a very typical painter, as I usually make installations or three-dimensional work. I am very interested in the history of painting, especially abstract painting and the evolution of what is often called expanded painting. But my relationship to painting is also full of contradictions. The question of how to do something new within this old and loaded medium is a challenge that fascinates at the same time as it frightens.“

While there is something of the systematic in the installation, like a human-scale model of systems theory, its participatory nature is like an analog recreation of something we are more familiar with through a digital interface, whether it be a videogame, or simply navigating apps on your phone. It is as though the viewer is shown the way in which the relativity of perception cannot be understood without the process of looking. As a model of a possible universe, the exhibition (and art in general), offers a way to observe the special significance of the role of the eye in perceiving and the influence of frames of varying kinds.

This is perhaps where Ingunn Fjóla’s question of how to do something new with the medium is most striking. It is a slow exhibition, however, revealing itself to you as you spend more time looking. Other questions arise the longer you stay, such as, what is the meaning behind the outer frame being the only non-geometric pattern in the space (it is painted in an unfinished manner, greatly contrasting with the rest of the monochrome swaths of the space). Also, the backs of the frames have been curiously painted half yellow on two corners and half matte grey on the other.

As I helped the gallery manager reset the exhibition, which meant placing all of the bright red snooker balls on circular placeholders at the intersections of a grid-pattern drawn on the floor of the two rooms of the exhibition and setting all of the frames into alignment, the manager tells me that the bright yellow paint on the frames match the pastel yellow-painted in panels on the walls, but only at certain hours. At this hour (5 pm on a Sunday), it does not correspond to the light arriving from the windows, but I believe her.

„I love painting (the texture of paint, the colours, the painting strokes, the scent, the canvas, the frame, etc.), but at the same time, I feel very restricted by the two-dimensional picture plane. For me, both the making of painting and viewing painting is a very bodily experience that involves all of the senses. That’s why I usually make works where the viewers have to move around to experience it, take it in through their bodies. My interest in the viewers experience has in my most recent works evolved into making the viewers become a more significant part of the work, as the guests of the exhibitions activate the works, sometimes by their actions or touch or sometimes just by their mere presence in the room (where I have used motion sensors).“

In the exhibition, painting is an idea and an experience in which we are creatively involved, although not necessarily through painting, and are not merely passive consumers of images. You are the Input takes the viewer back to the phenomenology of painting. A new mode of painting emerges that brings more than ocular centric perception. A bodily engagement with the world as it occurs on the boundaries between the body and its surroundings, or as an overlap between perceiver and surroundings, in a way that links bodies, movement, and objects into a unified system. The painter tries to catch the movement from what is sensed, felt and seen from the small details of perception to perception within a universal sphere.

 

Erin Honeycutt

 

 

The exhibition You are the Input was on view from September 13th to October 13th at Galerie Herold in Bremen, Germany.

Photos courtesy of Franziska von den Driesch.

Pavilion Nordico: a bridge between the Nordic countries and Argentina

Pavilion Nordico: a bridge between the Nordic countries and Argentina

Pavilion Nordico: a bridge between the Nordic countries and Argentina

I met with Sara Løve Daðadóttir, Josefin Askfelt and Emil Willumsen who are part of the team behind Pavilion Nordico in Buenos Aires, a project established in early 2019 which functions as exhibition space, residency and art centre for Nordic creators. The project aims at creating connections between the Nordic countries and Argentina, facilitating the encounter of these two different cultures and promoting cooperations and exchanges between Nordic and Argentinian creators and professionals.  

Ana: First of all, why did you decide to bring this project to Buenos Aires? 

Sara: This is a question a lot of people ask, especially Argentinians. What is so special about Buenos Aires? Well for one, it has a very rich cultural scene — you could compare it to Berlin some years ago. It’s very lively, with a lot of things happening and a lot of independent spaces and temporary spaces. But also it has a real infrastructure when it comes to art and culture. There are many big private and public museums and international galleries. These are perfect circumstances for a project like Pavilion Nordico.

Plus, Buenos Aires is one of the epicentres of the Spanish-speaking art world, and one of the things we wanted to do with Pavilion Nordico is to create bridges between the Nordic region and different international regions. There’s a divide between the English-speaking and the Spanish-speaking art world, and the Nordic region leans more towards the former, so we wanted to see if we could connect them more. Oh, and then there was also a lucky circumstance that made us start the project in Argentina. Now we are already considering expanding the concept to other regions!

Facade and interior of the historical villa hosting Pavilion Nordico. Photos: Javier Agustín Rojas.

Hyper Hyper aka Kolbeinn Hugi and Franzeska Zahl being interviewed by PAVILION NORDICO’s Nele Ruckelshausen at the residency in Buenos Aires. Photo: Dagurke.

A: This is quite a big project, did you get any funding to run it and develop it?

S: This first year was our “pilot year”. It was meant for us as a period to test out the concept and find what works and what doesn’t. For this, we received generous funding from the Nordic Culture Fund and The Nordics, a new initiative by the Nordic Council of Ministers. For our tour of the Nordic countries later on, we also receive some national support, for example from the Iceland Art Center and Myndlistarsjóður.

And of course, all partners and art professionals we have collaborated with all have put in a lot of time and resources. Without them, the project would not have been possible.

I think it’s noteworthy to mention that most art and cultural projects are run on the goodwill of a lot of talented individuals, who often only get paid for a margin of their time, if at all. In the Nordic region we pride ourselves on our creatives, but this does not reflect in the support these sectors are given. I do hope that forward-thinking politicians and private companies who support the arts and culture in the Nordic region, will come to acknowledge this substantial unpaid labour and create better infrastructures to accompany this fact.

A: The team behind the Pavilion Nordico is constituted by people from different Nordic countries, how did you meet?

Josefin: Well, Sara and I met through a project called Utopian Union. Emil and I run a graphic design studio called Kiosk Studio. Pavilion Nordico invited us to pitch a visual identity for the project. We put a lot of effort in our proposal because we really wanted to be part of this project — and were selected.

We wanted to create a visual identity that represented the project’s spirit of connecting people from different regions. So we used the concept of modern maps and locations systems as a reference.

Most residencies don’t put a lot of focus on their visual identities. The older institutions have a very sober, non-communicative way of presenting themselves. But graphic design is a very democratic way of opening up the project: good visuals are a great way of inviting communication. It’s not about making something cool, it’s about inviting people, and that’s what this project is all about.

S: Our team and collaborators are all from very different backgrounds. We have people in Iceland, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, and of course in Argentina. And the list is only expanding… even though we are working on a project together, everyone lives in different cities. Of course, we all spend time together when we can in Buenos Aires, Copenhagen or Berlin, but it’s definitely a very nomadic way of working. We rely on video calls, lots of mails and slack to make things happen.

Other than Kiosk Studio our partners in this first year included Icelandic Cycle Music Art & Festival, Berlin-based Gruppe Magazine and a big group of super skilled art and cultural professionals that really helped drive the project forward — such as Icelandic artist and curator Birta Guðjónsdóttir, Director of Cycle Music & Art Festival Guðny Guðmundsdóttir, German art historian and curator Niko Anklam and Danish political scientist Karl Granov. We are very lucky for having such a driven and inspired team!

A: Could you elaborate a little bit more the aim of Pavilion Nordico? How you are creating connections between the Nordic countries and other regions?

S: Existing residencies from Nordic countries outside of Europe, for example Swedish Iaspis or the Danish Cultural Institute, manage their own national residencies — but we wanted to push collaboration on a united Nordic level. We think it makes sense to represent the Nordic region as united when outside of Europe. Combining our different resources under our shared Nordic values will only result in stronger platforms for Nordic artists and creators.

On an international level, joint Nordic initiatives like Pavilion Nordico also foster strong new collaborations with creatives from other countries, which often continue in new projects and collaborations. This is already happening for us. One of our residents, designer Bettina Nelson, developed a chair in collaboration with local design studios and craftspeople. Now we have a new project, PN1, underway that specifically aims to bring together Nordic designers with Argentinian creatives. This is a good example of how we would like to work: it’s not about the Nordic culture being exported to Argentina; but more of a cooperative process from which both parties benefit.

A: You have hosted artists and designers in Pavilion Nordico, so it is a multidisciplinary residency, right?

S: Yeah, it’s indeed multidisciplinary, and it’s not just artists and designers, we are also open for applications from chefs, activists, scientists, writers, filmmakers and more. We are not interested in the usual criteria. Rather, we want to ensure there will be a strong collaborative element in the residencies and project ideas that connects the project to Argentina.

J: We are interested in creating a community, working as a community, and representing Nordic values such as equality, openness, and environmental protection.

S: Equality is a topic we got really involved in during this first year. The 8t​h​ of March, International Women’s Day, is a BIG day in Argentina. Pavilion Nordico dedicated parts of his program to the issues that where raised during the protests and festivities of that day. We joined the around 400.000 people marching the streets of Buenos Aires, and organised a dinner and informal talk after for female creatives to exchange their experiences. Iceland is number one in the world when it comes to equality; Argentina is unfortunately very behind — even though it is a modern and developed society. That’s why we really encourage applicants to propose projects that centre around the topic of equality.

A: How has it been the response of the local community to this new Nordic project in Buenos Aires?

J: Emil and I spent a month there, researching within and around the design scene. We felt really welcomed. People were eager to get in contact with us, and it was an awesome experience.

S: When we were there together in the first month we also had to fix a lot of things in the residency space, and everyone we encountered had a really positive attitude. You really get the feeling that things are going to turn out well.

We also felt really welcomed by the art world and the design world: curators, directors of the biggest museums in Buenos Aires, people from the galleries — everyone came to our opening!

A: Is the development of the program still in progress? You had a really long open call, right? How did you define the program?

S: This first edition was a sort of prototype, so we created the widest possible call for projects and residents. We just wanted to give people the chance to bring their ideas to the table. Since it was such a fresh project applicants could shape it a lot, and they can still shape it a lot.

We have just announced an Open Call for designers, and we are planning on testing a lot of other things as well. It’s much like a laboratory at the moment for us to find the perfect model for the coming years.

A: Can you compare the art scene in Buenos Aires with the one in Reykjavik?

S: That’s difficult because Reykjavik is so much smaller, and there is hardly an infrastructure for art. I feel like the art scene in Reykjavik is still in its infancy, and that’s not the case in Argentina, where you have a developed art scene with museums, galleries and international fairs. Argentina used to be among the richest countries in the world, and I think this is why they could put so much money in art and culture. In Iceland the art scene is quite fresh, so I think that in this sense, actually Argentina is way ahead. If you compare people’s energy however, you’ll find both Argentinians and Icelandic people have a really proactive way of working and doing things.

J: I think it’s also important to keep in mind the distinction between the Spanish-speaking art scene and the Western art scene. Like Sara said Icelandic art is in its infancy because it’s so new, but Icelandic artists are getting much more recognition in the Western art scene than Latin American artists. It’s hard to compare the two systems, but we’re hoping to create a dialogue between them!

From left to right: Anna Rún Tryggvadóttir ‘Internally’ (2015) / Arnar Ásgeirsson ‘Soaps’ (2017). Installation view of the exhibition Reaccion á Islandia. Photo: Graysc.

From left to right: Leifur Ýmir Eyjólfsson ‘Manuscripts’ (2018) / Ivalo Frank ‘Untitled’ (2017). Installation view of the exhibition Reaccion á Islandia. Photo: Graysc.

Front: Anna Júlía Friðbjörnsdóttir, Natural Fringe 2018 / Back: Ivalo Frank ‘Untitled’ (2017). Installation view of the exhibition Reaccion á Islandia. Photo: Graysc.

A: Both Iceland and Argentina are former colonies, do you think there is some kind of decolonizing process going on now in Argentina?

S: In April, during the Buenos Aires Art week, we had a show called Reaccion á Islandia​, named after a Borgers’ poem about Iceland. The exhibition was organized and curated by Cycle Music and Art Festival which has taken place in Gerðasafn since 2015 and has worked a great deal with postcolonialism in the Nordic Region. They brought this theme to Buenos Aires inviting artists from Greenland, Iceland and Norway. A lot of the guests who came to see the exhibition were surprised that there has been, and there still is, colonialism in the Nordic Region, and I think we ourselves are only beginning to reckon with things like the Danish treatment of Greenland.

I can’t speak on the efficiency of the decolonization process in Argentina, but it’s very clear that class structures are still quite pronounced. That’s why in future editions, we hope to work more closely not just with urban creatives, but also local, rural communities such as the craftspeople and traditional workshop that will be involved in the design project.

The reaction to the exhibition opened our eyes to the necessity of building bridges and creating a deeper understanding between two very far away places. The sympathy and understanding that the international language art and culture can create, new perspectives can unfold, and I think it’s good.

A: What’s the plan for the future of the project?

S: Over the next three years we want to develop PAVILION NORDICO further and see where that takes us. We are looking at the possibility of opening residencies in other countries as well, since the idea has always been a Nordic exchange with the whole world, not just one region. Our dream is to get the Nordic Council of Ministers involved as an official supporter. Let’s see!

Ana Victoria Bruno


Featured image: Graphics for the International Women’s Day by Kiosk Studio.
Pavilion Nordico: https://pavilionnordico.org
Kiosk Studio: https://www.kioskstudio.nu

Allt á sama tíma í Hafnarborg

Allt á sama tíma í Hafnarborg

Allt á sama tíma í Hafnarborg

Á efri hæð Hafnarborgar í Hafnarfirði hefur opnað samsýning sjö ungra myndlistarmanna. Þau eru Auður Lóa Guðnadóttir, Baldvin Einarsson, Bára Bjarnadóttir, Rúnar Örn Marinósson, Sigrún Gyða Sveinsdóttir, Steingrímur Gauti Ingólfsson og Valgerður Sigurðardóttir. Sýningarstjórar eru Andrea Arnarsdóttir og Starkaður Sigurðarson. Sýningin heitir Allt á sama tíma og samanstendur af listamönnum sem allir eru staðsettir á mikilvægu þroskastigi og er sýningin í Hafnarborg innlit í næstu skref þeirra. Sýningin stendur yfir til 20. Október 2019. 

Bergur: Hvernig kristallaðist hugmyndin á bakvið þessa sýningu fyrir ykkur? 

Starkaður: Við höfum unnið saman áður, sem gekk mjög vel… 

Andrea: …Og vorum saman í Listaháskólanum. 

S: Við vorum að taka góðan slurk í umsóknarvinnu fyrir rúmlega ári síðan og við settum saman þennan hóp listamanna út frá þeim hugmyndum sem við höfum verið að vinna með sem sýningarstjórar. Okkur fannst áhugavert að setja saman hóp listamanna sem að utan frá eru á svipuðum aldri og með svipaða reynslu, en eru að gera ólíka hluti í listferlum sínum. Listamönnum sýningarinnar var boðið að taka þátt undir þeirri forskrift að sýningin væri ákveðinn þröskuldur yfir það sem yrði næsta skref í listferlum þeirra. Það er klassísk spurning að spurja listnema „hvað mundi gerast ef þú tækir þetta lengra?“ og okkur fannst mikilvægt að skapa nákvæmlega það tækifæri fyrir fólk sem við höfum fylgst með og séð vinna út frá eitthverri samhangandi þróun í gegnum árin. 

A: Peningar spila auðvitað stórt hlutverk í þessu. Við fengum styrk frá Myndlistarsjóði og Hafnarborg er að greiða öllum þátttakendum. Okkur fannst mikilvægt að bjóða listamönnum að þróa verk sín lengra eða að bókstaflega skala hlutina svolítið upp vegna þess að hér höfum við tækifæri til að gera eitthvað innan um rótgróna stofnun þar sem sýning sem þessi er möguleg í framkvæmd. Með rýminu sem Hafnarborg er opnast nýjir möguleikar, það er meira pláss, tæknileg aðstoð og laun sem við og listamennirnir fáum. 

S: …og áhorfendahópurinn líka! Við fundum strax fyrir því að Hafnarborg á sér marga fastagesti og áhugavert að sjá hvað við getum lært bæði af þeim áhorfendahóp sem og starfsfólki hvað varðar starfsemi safnsins og þeirra væntinga til okkar. 

 

B: Ég fæ á tilfinninguna að þetta sé eins og endur-útskriftarsýning og er gott að sjá fólk sem maður hefur fylgst með í lengri tíma blómstra í sal Hafnarborgar. Hver eru mikilvægustu skrefin, að ykkar mati, í að setja saman svona sýningu, þar sem listamenn eru hvattir til að skala upp eða gera eitthvað sem þau mundu t.d. ekki geta gert í t.d. listamannareknum rýmum? 

S: Upphafspunkturinn okkar var að fá að hugsa stærra og við buðum þessum hópi inn með þeirri forsendu. Fyrir okkur og listamennina er sýningin stórt tækifæri og okkur finnst það vera áhugaverður tímapunktur í sjálfu sér. Hvað gerir listamaðurinn við það? Verður verkið um það að gera stærra verk? Eða sérðu það sem leið til að hugsa hvað næsta skref í þínu ferli er? Okkur fannst áhugavert að vinna með hugmyndina um næstu skref hvers og eins, og vinna aðeins með þær væntingar og þrár sem tengjast því frjálslyndi sem listsköpun er í dag. Við sáum strax fyrir okkur að hver listamaður mundi takast á við þetta á mjög ólíka vegu, en við vissum líka að þau mundu grípa tækifærið og gera sem mest úr því. 

A: Í byrjun var örlítill kvíði um að einhver mundi gera eitthvað alveg óútreiknanlegt flopp út frá þeirri forskrift að gera stærra! Að sú pressa mundi taka yfir allan hópinn svo úr yrði eitthvað algjört rugl og ekkert tengt fyrri verkum þeirra sem eru að taka þátt. Blessunarlega tóku þau öll við þessari áskorun, ef svo má segja, með meiri yfirvegun en það og mætti segja að hér höfum við rökrétt framhald af því ferli sem nú þegar hefur verið í þróun hjá hverjum og einum listamanni. 

B: Gott dæmi gæti talist vera það sem Auður Lóa er að gera. Hún sagði mér frá Grísku styttunum sem skúlptúrarnir vísa í og þann misskilning að þær hafi alltaf verið einungis hvítur marmari… að þær voru í raun málaðar á skrautlegan hátt og snýr þannig upp á þessa dýrkun á hvítleika í vestrænni menningarsögu! Mér fannst strax áhugavert hvernig verkin hér eru ekki einungis stærri, heldur hér er þróun tekin að vinna lengra aftur í tímann, að endurskoða söguna í gegnum þá fagurfræði sem Auður hefur unnið með áður.  

S: Það hefur verið mjög gaman að fylgjast með Auði þróa þessi stærri verk vegna þess að aðferðin á bakvið þau er sú sama og með fyrri verk. Eldri pappamassaverkin bera líka með sér þessa ríkulegu, glansandi postúlínáferð að utan en þegar haldið er á þeim kemst maður að því að eru þetta mjög létt stykki! Fyrir þessa innsetningu voru nokkur praktísk atriði sem við þurftum að vinna að saman vegna þess að stytturnar hér eru svo miklu stærri og þurfa meira umstang í kringum sig. Það sem virðist vera á yfirborðinu í verkum Auðar verður að svo mikilvægum upphafspunkt fyrir okkur sem skoða verkin. Líkt og grísku stytturnar er ákveðin ráðgáta í gangi, að útlitið blekkir það sem er að innan líkt og það sem hefur mást út í gegnum aldirnar. Hverju tökum við eins og það er og hvernig getum við endurhugsað þá sögu sem ímyndir vestrænnar menningar hafa skilið eftir sig? Að gera eitthvað stærra hefur þannig orðið að dýpri rannsókn í menningarsögu okkar og að bókstaflegri upp-skölun í ferli Auðar. Frá byrjun sáum við hlutverk okkar, sem sýningarstjórar, vera að planta þessum fræjum í ferli listamannanna, að búa til þessa pælingu og sjá hvað er hægt að gera út frá henni. 

Installation view: Auður Lóa Guðnadóttir, Marmari, 2019, akríl á pappamassa. Steingrímur Gauti Ingólfsson, Án titils, 2019, olía á striga 

B:Og síðan er þessi hugmynd um frelsi, og þann endalausa brunn af auðlindum sem listamenn hafa. Við vitum ekki hversu lengi þetta verður allt til staðar, en viðhorfið virðist ennþá vera að myndlist getur orðið til úr hverju sem er. Mér finnst mjög áhugavert að þú nefndir þennan kvíða áðan, vegna þess að margar skriftir þessa dagana setja sjálfræði og kvíða hlið við hlið. Þegar þú ert sjálfstætt starfandi myndlistamaðurinn þá er 99% af kvíðanum þínum þetta frelsi sem þú hefur hvað varðar spurninguna hvað gerist næst?  

S: Frelsið er tálsýn og við vitum það alveg. Okkur fannst áhugavert að taka þetta frelsi og skapa samhengi utan um það, að setja það í kassa. Það sem listamönnum finnst vera frelsi er eitthvað allt annað en það sem sýningargestir skilja sem frelsi. Og hvernig getur frelsi passað saman á þennan hátt? Er það nóg að það sé bara hópur af einhverju fólki? Okkur fannst áhugavert að stýra þessu opna fyrirbæri í áttina að einni mynd af íslenskri samtímalistalist. Áherslan er þannig á það hvað hver og einn gerir við frelsið, frekar en að vera sýning um frelsi sem viðfangsefni t.d.  

Okkur fannst mikilvægt að sjá hvað fólk gerir við þetta hugtak og hvernig hugmyndir um frelsi og næstu skref geta birst á mismunandi hátt innan um verkferli hvers og eins. Steingrímur Gauti gerir t.d. abstrakt málverk og vinnur útfrá þeirri innsýn sem hann hefur í þann heim. Fyrir honum er stórt skref að fara úr akrýl í olíu. En hér eru verk eftir hann úr blöndu af báðu, ásamt virkri teikningu og collage tækni. Hann þekkir þá sögulegu frásögn sem hann er að taka þátt í og tekur ákvarðanir um næstu skref út frá því, burtséð frá því sem t.d. Rúnar Örn væri að gera. Fyrir Rúnari gæti stórt skref í hans ferli falist í því að ákveða t.d. hvort að hann ætli að vera í mynd í myndbandsverkinu sínu, eða frá hvaða sjónarhorni þessir fundnu hlutir eru teknir upp? 

Hvað telst vera stór skref í þessum fjölbreyttu ferlum listamanna er sá vinkill sem hefur gefið okkur mikil forréttindi sem sýningarstjórar og gefið okkur innsýn í ferlið sem við reynum að tækla á opin hátt. Mér finnst þessi dýnamík áhugaverð að skoða og þá hvernig listamenn í dag hafa stjórn á því að skapa sína eigin valkosti út frá eitthverjum stærri raunveruleika sem þeir búa í. Okkar statement er það að þetta eru allt gildar spurningar, hvort sem þú ert að mála abstrakt eða festa tilvistarlegar vangaveltur á vídeó!

B: Af listamönnunum að dæma er áhersla á vissa leikgleði, en líka á persónulegar narratívur. Hér er meira af efnislegri þróun, sköpun heilabrota sem koma úr hversdagslegri reynslu og ljóðrænunni þar. Það er margt sem bendir til mikró-narratíva, eins og þær aðferðir sem Rúnar Örn beitir til að framleiða sérstök mengi þar sem merking listaverksins er rannsökuð í gegnum tímalínu þess…

S: Þetta eru listamenn sem hafa innan í sér áttavita eða eru nýbúinn að finna vott af þessum áttavita. Þau treysta sér til að „gera svona verk“, eins og þeirra signatúr er kominn í ljós og nú er hann að blómstra. Gott dæmi er Valgerður (Sigurðardóttir), sem virðist hafa einhvern ósýnilegan og frábæran drifkraft sem beinir henni að því næsta, þrátt fyrir að hún þekki ekki lokaútkomuna fyrirfram.  

A: Ég get ekki sett fingurinn á hvað það er nákvæmlega, en það er vissulega seigla og viðhorf sem listamennirnir deila. Jákvæð orka og sérþekking á því hvert verkferlið er að leiða þau.  

Installation view: Rúnar Örn Marinósson, UH OH, 2019, Video 30 min og Baldvin Einarsson, The Best Things in Life Aren’t Things, 2019, Keramík.

B: Eruð þið líka að vinna með þær væntingar sem listamennirnir hafa til framtíðarinnar?   

S: Okkur finnst mikilvægt að gefa þeim tækifæri, þetta er fólk sem á líklega eftir að vera í myndlist allt sitt líf, og við höfum séð mjög sterka þróun í verkferli þeirra í gegnum árin. Ég veit ekki einu sinni hvort þetta sé spurning um væntingar, heldur bara að treysta að það sem komið hefur áður gefur af sér eitthvað sem gefur mynd af listamönnum framtíðarinnar. Þau eru nú þegar listamenn nútímans. 

A: Og þau eiga það sameiginlegt að vera að þróa sitt.

S: Maður fattar eitthvernveginn að fólk verður listamenn þegar þau eru bara að gera hvað sem er sett fyrir framan þau að sínu. Við erum öll á þessum stað að við erum að fatta hvað er í gangi, þetta er allt nýtt, og erum að detta í þennan farveg sem fylgir okkur í framtíðina. Við vitum eitthvað, en vitum ekki allt, og það er það sem okkur fannst svo spennandi þáttur í vinnslu sýningarinnar.  

B: Hlutirnir eru teknir út frá þessum jákvæða pól án þess að taka það sem er að gerast í kringum þig úr myndinni.  

S: Já, þetta er ákveðinn þroski kannski. Fólk veit hvað það er með og notar það til að skilja það sem er að gerast í kringum sig.  

B: Markmið ákveðinna listgreina er að gera hlutina af það mikilli hæfni að áhorfendur eru hættir að taka eftir því hversu handlaginn þú ert í í raun og veru. Samanber smíðavinnu eða jafnvel því að leika í bíómyndum. Markmiðið er oft að láta hlutina virðast látlausa á yfirborðinu, svipað og leikari gerir hlutina nógu raunverulega þannig að fólk hættir að taka eftir því að hann er að leika. Ég fæ á tilfinninguna að þetta sé það stig í listferlinu þar sem hlutirnir fá að verða til frá brunni fyrri reynslu og þekkingu á því hvernig eitthvað verður til.  

S: Já, maður er hættur að taka eftir hlutnum með stóru spurningarmerki og maður er farinn að sjá miklu skýrar hvernig listaverkið verður til. Eins og með verk Auðar Lóu, þú sérð hlutinn svo mikið, en efnið minna, en um leið og þau vita úr hvaða efni stytturnar eru verður til mjög virk umræða um hvernig hluturinn er búinn til. Það er þetta fyrirhafnarlausa vinnubragð sem hægt er að þjálfa. Sama með Steingrím, þetta eru málverk. Það er eitthvað svona kjarkað í því. Baldvin og Vala sömuleiðis, þau eru orðinn svo þjálfuð í keramíkinu, að þau geta leyft sér að fara þessar leiðir með það.  

Valgerður Sigurðardóttir, Vísbendingar, 2019, Steinsteypa, litarefni og Valgerður Sigurðardóttir, Krossgáta, 2019, Keramík.    

Installation view: Valgerður Sigurðardóttir, Kona á klósettinu/ Dagblað, 2019, steinsteypa, litarefni, keramík, Valgerður Sigurðardóttir, Vísbendingar, 2019, Steinsteypa, litarefni and Valgerður Sigurðardóttir, Krossgáta, 2019, Keramík. 

B: Það er marglaga exposure af efnistökum á sýningunni. Hefðir héðan og þaðan, vídeó, málverk, hljóð… Var mikilvægt fyrir ykkur að sýna þessa flóru og þetta flæði af miðlum?

A: Við vorum að skoða hvernig allir miðlar eru orðnir samþykktir í listum í dag, og okkur langaði að sýna að við erum komin á þann stað í listasögunni að allt er jafnt á sama tíma og við erum að vísa í fortíðina.  

S: Það er ekki hægt að gera sýningu sem tekur alla myndlist inn. 

A: Þetta er svona fókúsuð en líbó nálgun…

S: …Og við settum mikið í hendur listamannsins á sama tíma. Það er okkar gegnumgangandi sýn sem teymi. Við lögðum upp með það að sýna þessa dýnamík. Við byrjuðum á Steingrími Gauta í raun og veru, og hugsuðum hvað væri öfugt við það sem hann er að gera? Við komumst síðan að því að það eru engar andstæður til lengur, að þetta allt er á sama planinu og gilt sem slíkt. Og með innkomu Hafnarborgar skapaði þetta samansafn verka góðan grunn til að vekja umræðuna um að allar tjáningarleiðir myndlistar séu gildar og að yngri kynslóðin sé sérstaklega að vinna með margvíslega snertifleti sem tengjast þeim. Þetta snýst á vissan hátt um að skrásetja okkar listasögu.  

B: …Og gerir atlögu að því að taka miðla-híerarkíu í burtu. Þetta frelsi sýnir líka mjög vel hversu mikil forréttindi það er að vera myndlistarmaður í dag og hversu ríkt starf það er þegar kemur að mögulegum auðlindum, efnum, og viðfangsefnum sem hægt er að fást við. Hvernig sjáið þið ramma þess frelsis sem þið hafið sett upp svona eftir á? 

S: Verkin hans Steingríms Gauta eru til í stofum fólks, en hverjir kaupa verk eins og þau sem Rúnar eða Sigrún Gyða framleiddu fyrir sýninguna? Söfnin kaupa meira af innsetningum eða vídeóverkum. Híerarkían kemur alltaf eitthversstaðar inn sérstaklega þegar spurningar um vörslu, geymslu og uppihald koma inn. Það er yfirleitt hlutverk safna að halda utan um það sem passar ekki auðveldlega fyrir í hefðbundnum rýmum eða á sér tilvist í fleiri en einum miðli. Hvað verður um þessi verk eftir sýninguna er ekki undir okkur komið, en þau eru hér samankomin tímabundið. Það er það sem skiptir okkur líka máli hvað varðar þráð og narratívu sýningarinnar. Kannski er þetta sýning sem meikar ekkert sens! Við vitum það aldrei, og svona initíatívur koma alltaf meira í ljós þegar litið er til baka.

Sigrún Gyða Sveinsdóttir, Draw me like one of your french girls, 2019, Video. 

Bára Bjarnadóttir, Heitasti dagur ársins , 2019, Video 10:23. Söngur: Anna Dúna Halldórsdóttir.

B: Sýningarlandslagið í Reykjavík er líka aðeins að breytast. Ég fæ á tilfinninguna að sýningarnar sem hafa verið að koma upp hér spurja hvort það sé hægt að eignast yfirsýn yfir höfuð? Það er mjög mikið verið að skoða hvaða myndir listamenn eru að framleiða í dag og hvort það sé samhengi á milli þeirra. Við erum kannski ekki á þeim tímapunkti að geta dæmt heildarmyndina. 

S: Hlutverk skrifta um myndlist og krítík er allt önnur og hlutverk listaverka breytist sömuleiðis með samfélagslegum breytingum. Það er módernísk hugmynd að það er mögulegt að hafa yfirsýn. Við erum ennþá að skapa yfirlitssýningar og þær verða áfram framleiddar, en hvað gerum við með „okkar listasögu“ núna? Þurfum við yfirsýn? Við fáum á tilfinninguna að fólk taki á móti hverju verki eins og það er, frekar en hvaða master-narratívu það er að taka þátt í. Allt má, og allt er gilt, hvað gerum við með það? Og hvaða mynd skapar það? Frelsi myndlistarinnar í dag er þannig að gefa áhorfendum miklu meira frelsi líka. 

Það er bæði orðin minni krafa og meiri krafa um það að sýningar sem þessar séu að taka bókstaflegan þátt í samfélagsumræðunni. Bæði er leyft. En þá kemur siðferðisleg spurning inn í samtalið, sem kemur kannski inn núna á næstu árum. Í dag er oft verið að setja hluti saman án þess að bera þá saman eða gera úr þeim hetjur og and-hetjur. Það er allt í lagi að gera ekki öllum til geðs. Spurningin er, þegar allt er gilt, hvað er hægt að fá útúr því? og listamenn virðast vera að fá allt annað út úr vinnunni sinni í dag en fyrir 10 árum. 

Það er einhver sem sagði, man ekki alveg hver, að maður getur ekki túlkað með einhverri sannfæringu nema tuttugu ár aftur í tímann. Að það sem verður til í dag er ekki endurspeglun endilega af því sem gerðist mest nýlega heldur í besta falli það sem gerðist fyrir um tuttugu árum. Við túlkum alltaf aftur í tímann og það sem er að gerast í dag er ekki skilgreint í rauntíma. Með óvissunni er líka mikil spenna, að geta ekki svarað spurningum um það hvað sé að gerast. 

Hvert skref í ferli listamanna er pólitískt skref, og myndlist er alltaf hápólítísk þannig. Mér finnst listamennirnir hérna vera vissir um hver þau eru og að þau séu tilbúinn að taka á móti öllu því sem snýst um samfélagið í dag. Ég hef það á tilfinningunni að verkin hér eru nógu sterk til þess að takast á við þessar nútíma baráttur.  

 

Bergur Thomas Anderson 

 

 

Photo Credit: Hólmar Hólm Guðjónsson.

Cover picture: Baldvin Einarsson, The Best Things in Life Aren’t Things, 2019, Keramík.

A Kassen’s exhibition „Mother and Child“ at Kling & Bang

A Kassen’s exhibition „Mother and Child“ at Kling & Bang

A Kassen’s exhibition „Mother and Child“ at Kling & Bang

The exhibition Mother and Child by A Kassen acts on the relationships between the viewers, the architecture and the artworks, inviting us to look at things from different points of view and to take into account the physical space surrounding us and the works. Mother and Child is a show that seems to confront borders, engaging with the architecture which at some point seems to be both the subject of the exhibition and the viewer to which the show is addressed.

View from below (Standing woman) is the first piece we encounter. The work is to be enjoyed from two locations which offer completely different angles on the piece: it can be seen from Kling & Bang, from where we get an actual view from below the basis of the sculpture, and from the Living Art Museum, the exhibition space downstairs, where we can enjoy the sculpture emerging upside down from the ceiling. This work operates in the specificity of the Marshall House, in fact it functions as a connection between the two exhibition spaces. Kling & Bang, the Living Art Museum and the Stúdió Ólafur Elíasson are three art spaces which coexist in the building without really collaborate with each other, coming together every other year when the Reykjavik biennial Sequences takes place, but keeping their activities separate and the borders between them quite defined during the rest of the time. Kling & Bang and The Living Art Museum have a really intertwined history as they used to collaborate intensively, but nowadays they both want to keep their own identity, which is completely understandable. However, it is somehow pleasant to see a sculpture breaking through these limits and creating an element of disruption into the everyday order.

Sculptures, unlike paintings, are made to engage with visitors in a different way, statues extend in three dimensions and this allows visitors to move around them and contemplate them from different perspectives. However, showing a view from below of a sculpture is not a conventional way of exhibiting it, therefore when making sculptures I believe few artists consider the viewer’s gaze from that perspective. Allowing the viewers to examine the underside of a sculpture translates conceptually into letting them glimpse a more intimate part of the artwork, where the relationship of the artist with the piece is unveiled, a part which is not usually meant to be seen and therefore contains traces of spontaneous and unrefined gestures. The statue is a classical female nude statue, and the view from below doesn’t actually offer much to see: the square foundation of the sculpture is embedded into the floor, two small footprints from which two holes constituting the legs origin and disappear into the dark interior of the bronze cast sculpture, but the conceptual twist is that the piece somehow lets viewers peek into the secret of art-making.

A Kassen, View from below (Standing woman), view from Kling & Bang. Photo credit: A Kassen.

A Kassen, View from below (Standing woman), view from The Living Art Museum. Photo credit: Ana Victoria Bruno

Walking into the second room of the exhibition space we encounter the work Exhibition Poster (Marshall house) which constitutes a pile of posters depicting the ceiling directly above the work. Unlike most of the artworks exhibited in museums and galleries, this one can be taken and brought home by visitors. This gives the possibility for that specific bit of ceiling to become a mobile object, inverting its characteristic of being static, countering our idea of buildings as immobile shelters. This remarks the importance of the space hosting the exhibition, since when the poster has found a new home on the wall of someone’s place, it will recall the exhibition space, as if that was the actual subject of the exhibition.

A Kassen, Exhibition Poster (Marshall house). Photo credit: Ana Victoria Bruno.

In the main room of Kling and Bang two sculptures are inserted into the floor, revealing to the viewer the negative of the statue, the inside of the cast. The upper part of these works, View from below (Mother and Child) and View from below (Il Porcellino), are not meant to be seen by human eyes as they are embedded in the architecture: the sculptures are small and they don’t make it through the floor, herby we can just picture in our mind how they look, and that comes easily since both of them are well known sculptures. Both of the works are hidden, as if their purpose wasn’t to be showcased but to bring our attention to that obstacle which blocks our view: the floor. The architectural elements are barriers delimiting private and public spaces, structures through which we organise our lives, physical borders which affect the way our lives and our society function.

These well-known sculptures incorporated into the floor make my mind runs toward those symbols which shape our society and are very much embedded in our lives, we might not realise how much what we think and do is the result of those invisible ancient structures shaping our existence. We don’t need to see a sculpture of the Mother and Child to know how it looks, because we have thousands of images of that composition in our mind, the symbol of Maria holding a baby Jesus is as embedded in our mental structures as that sculpture is in the floor.

A Kassen, View from below (Mother and Child)Photo credit: A Kassen.

Installation view View from below (Mother and Child), View from below (Il Porcellino) and Ocean underneath. Photo credit: Ana Victoria Bruno.

On the wall three photographs titled Oceans underneath portray pieces of a broken world globe corresponding to the oceans, where lines draw the ocean beds representing mountains emerging from the ground deep down in the oceans. On one hand these photographs seem to operate in an opposite way of View from below (Mother and Child) and View from below (Il Porcellino) as they show the viewers something one can’t usually see, on the other hand this work conceptually functions like the statues in the floor: there are various layers of representation in the works, they are pictures of the world globe, so a representation of a representation of the bottom of the oceans, and this creates a distance between the viewer and the subject, and it seems to hinder the visualisation of the object just like the floor hinders the viewer’s gaze on the statues. This piece seems to refer to the structure through which we know the world: many things we are not able to experience in first person, but we see or become aware of their existence through representations, either photographs or writings about them.

A Kasssen, Ocean underneath. Photo credit: A Kassen.

A Kassen, Geothermal heating / fountain statuePhoto credit: A Kassen.

In the last room we encounter the work Geothermal heating / fountain statue, bronze statues of fishes are placed in the room, crossed by extension pipes which connect them to the heating system of the building. Hot water runs into the pipes, which go through the wall, enter the fish statues bronze mouths, exit from the bottom of the sculptures, and back through the wall to reconnect with the heater system in the adjacent room. This work seems to reverse the meaning of fountain, if these statues were fountains we would see water sprinkling out of their open mouths, while in the piece the water gets into the statues, contained into the pipes. The water is more of a metaphysical concept in the system of the work, since we can’t see it but just imagining it running into the tubes.

In the Icelandic long and cold winter, the heater system is to the building, and the people working there, as the circulatory system is to the human body. The hot water is life-blood of the building, and by attaching the work to the heater system this piece places itself at the very core of the former fish factory, reminding us of the importance of the building. Art is here connected to the physical space, the whole show seems to drive out attention on the physicality of the building, operating on it, creating new connections and making us aware of the space and its specificities.

 

Ana Victoria Bruno

 

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