Veröld út af fyrir sig – Samfélag skynjandi vera í Hafnarborg

by Eva Lín Vilhjálmsdóttir | Miðvikudagur.10.2021 | Umfjöllun

Katrin-Melanie-Kathy-Clark-Freyja-Eilif-Agnieszka-Sosnowska

Veröld út af fyrir sig – Samfélag skynjandi vera í Hafnarborg

Sýningin Samfélag skynjandi vera í Hafnarborg leikur sér með hinn breiða heim skynjunarinnar og mismunandi blæbrigði samfélagsins. Undir yfirskriftinni að hvetja til róttækrar samkenndar (e. radical empathy) sem og að gefa ósögðum sögum rödd býður sýningin upp á veröld upplifana út af fyrir sig. Sýningastýrð af Wiolu Ujazdowska og Hubert Gromny, er hún ellefta haustsýning Hafnarborgar, en haustsýningarnar gefa nýjum sýningarstjórum kost á að sýningastýra.

Alls taka tuttugu listamenn þátt í sýningunni og hún nær yfir öll rými Hafnarborgar. Hópnum tilheyra þau Agata Mickiewicz, Agnieszka Sosnowska, Andrea Ágústa Aðalsteinsdóttir, Angela Rawlings, Anna Wojtyńska, Dans Afríka Iceland, Freyja Eilíf, Gígja Jónsdóttir, Hildur Ása Henrýsdóttir, Hubert Gromny, Kathy Clark, Katrín Inga Jónsdóttir Hjördísardóttir, Melanie Ubaldo, Michelle Sáenz Burrola, Nermine El Ansari, Pétur Magnússon, Rúnar Örn Jóhönnu Marinósson, Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson, Ufuoma Overo-Tarimo og Wiola Ujazdowska.

Sýningin er fjölþætt og yfirgripsmikil; sem endurspeglast í metnaðargfullum og víðfeðmum markmiðum hennar. Eitt slíkt markmið er að hvetja til endurhugsunar sýningargesta gagnvart heiminum, vandamálum nútímans sem og sambandi okkar við náttúruna. Markmiðinu er fylgt eftir með ríkri áherslu á skynjunina en öll verk sýningarinnar endurspegla hvað listamennirnir túlka sem skynjun og hvað það sé að vera skynjandi vera. Í rýminu er stigið út fyrir ramma tungumálsins og sýningargestir eru hvattir: „hlustið með fótunum“.

Er ég gekk í gegnum sýninguna fann ég að verkin ein og sér mynduðu litla króka og kima sjálfstæðra sagna eða skilaboða. Jafnharðan og ég hafði áttað mig á einu verki var mér kippt út úr því með öðrum skilaboðum. Við fyrstu sýn virtust verkin ótengd vegna þess að rauður þráður sem batt þau saman var ekki bersýnilega til staðar. Það rann þó upp fyrir mér að það væri birtingarmynd hins eiginlega samfélags sýningarinnar. Samfélagið sem hér birtist er ekki einsleitt, stílhreint né velur það sér hvaða málefni er mikilvægast, heldur er það margbreytilegt, fjölskrúðugt og getur haldið fjölda málefna á lofti í senn.

Mörg verk sýningarinnar eru gagnvirk og leggja ríka áherslu á þátttöku: listamennirnir bjóða upp á verkefni, að stíga inn í hugarheim og dvelja þar um stund. Gígja Jónsdóttir safnar tárum í Tárabrunn, Anna Wojtyńska og Wiola Ujazdowska gefa plöntur í verki sínu Við þörfnumst öll sólar, Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson og Agata Mickiewicz bjóða gestum í hugleiðslu í verkinu Upphafið í eimingarflösku og Nermine El Ansari teiknar á landamæri í Exercise. Gagnvirknin dró mig aftur og aftur að sýningunni; þú sem sýningargestur ert skynjandi vera og þú tekur virkan þátt í að móta samfélagið sem á sýningunni birtist.

Nermine El Ansari

Agata Mickiewicz og Styrmir Örn Guðmundsson

Saman mynda verk sýningarinnar margbrotna mynd af samfélagi sem er flókið og ruglingslegt. Sýningin undirstrikar fremur en að skýra þá upplifun. Að átta sig, fóta sig í nútímanum er erfitt og sýningarstjórarnir leggja gestum ekki lið við að botna eða átta sig á því hvað fer fram að hverju sinni. Sýningartextinn er skrifaður með skapandi hætti og segir lítið sem ekkert sem getur „hjálpað“ sýningargestum við að átta sig á einstaka tengingum milli verka. Mögulega er það viljandi og af ásetningi gert.

Nokkrar paranir verka stóðu upp úr og vöktu athygli mína og umhugsun: fékk mig til þess að lifa mig inn í samfélag skynjandi vera og undirstrikuðu markmið sýningasrtjórana í mínum augum.

Melanie Ubaldo

Pólitískt verk Melanie Ubaldo „Þú ert ekki íslensk. Nafnið þitt er ekki íslenskt.“ talar sínu eigin máli. Skýli reist á sandi, sem minnir á lítið Christo og Jeanne-Claude verk, er umvafið neyðarteppi og gefst gestum kostur á að staldra við inni í skýlinu, finna lyktina af sandinum og dvelja í merkingu verksins. Skýlið er byggt samkvæmt stöðlum Sameinuðu þjóðanna um stærð slíkra neyðarskýla. Þrúgandi veruleiki nútímans er óumflýjanlegur, það er aðkallandi óleystur vandi til staðar. Vandanum er þó velt fyrir sér í fjarlægð frá flóttamönnunum, innan listasafnsins, þannig er viss fjarlægð er til staðar sem minnir á hvernig við horfum á slík mál heiman frá okkur í gegnum netið eða dagblöðin.

Katrín Inga Jónsdóttir Hjördísardóttir

Verkið er staðsett á efri hæð aðalrýmis Hafnarborgar við hlið annars verks sem kallar á þveröfugt hugarfar. ASMR hvísl og slakandi raftónlist má hlusta á sitjandi á gæru sem breidd er yfir bekk úr steypu. Verkið kallast RAW PURENESS—SELF LOVE og er eftir Katrínu Ingu Jónsdóttur Hjördísardóttur. Við upplifun verksins var ég færð inn í einbýlishús mögulega staðsett í Garðabænum. Ég var ekki viss um hvort að hér væri á ferðinni kaldhæðni eða grafalvarleg skilaboð um mikilvægi þess að stunda sjálfsást. En parað með verki Melaniu virkar það eins og einskonar refsing eða sjálfshatur. Sjálfsástin sem ég stunda persónulega heima hjá mér á þriðjudagskvöldum er orðin þrúgandi, á samt sem áður rétt á sér í sínu eigin rými sem inniheldur reyndar enga gæru. Hér virkar hún kaldranaleg, jafnvel kaldhæðin. Er hún það? Þetta er ekki sýning með svör. Kannski er sjálfhverft að stunda sjálfsást á gæru og kannski er virk iðkun sjálfsástar eina leiðin framávið, það er erfitt að segja. Það gildir þó einu að báðar hliðar eru hlutar samfélags skynjandi vera og það er leyfilegt að draga iðkunina í efa og virða hana fyrir sér í stærra samhengi.

Með þessu sniði leika sýningarstjórarnir sér með innhverfa og úthverfa þætti mannlegrar tilveru. Það er erfitt að fóta sig, að ná fókus í tilverunni og um leið og ég náði fótfestu í einu verki var mér kippt úr henni í skiptum fyrir önnur skilaboð, fleiri sögur og enn fleiri verkefni.

Rúnars Arnar Jóhönnu Marínóssonar

Gígja Jónsdóttir

Andrea Ágústa Aðalsteinsdóttir

Anna Wojtyńska og Wiola Ujazdowska

Á neðri hæð Hafnarborgar birtist slík upplifun mér með skýrum hætti: tár, leikur og náttúra fá þar að raungerast í sama rými. Í verki Andreu Ágústu Aðalsteinsdóttur Eldur og flóra brennur náttúran vegna gróðurelda en Við þörfnumst öll sólar leggur áherslu á hinn glóandi eldhnött sem veitir okkur og öllu lífríki líf. Við grátum eins og Tárabrunnur minnir á en samt sem áður er rými fyrir leik í þessu samfélagi skynjandi vera, þar sem leikföng geta öðlast líf eins og í verki Rúnars Arnar Jóhönnu Marínóssonar Sjúga og Spýta lifa og starfa.

Í innsta rými Hafnarborgar má finna tvö verk sem einnig leika sér með innhverfa hugsun og úthverfa tengingu okkar við náttúruna eða jörðina. Agata Mickiewicz er með textílverk sem kallast Schumann-ómun og er myndræn framsetning slíkrar ómunar. Schumann ómun á sér rætur að rekja til rafbylgja sem myndast út frá eldingum og eiga sér stað víðs vegar á jörðinni. En slík ómun samkvæmt ýmsum vefheimildum (sem ég get þó ekki staðfest að séu áreiðanlegar) hefur róandi áhrif á líkama okkar. Í sama rými er mynbandsverkið Upphafið í eimingarflösku: í myndbandinu er litríkum formum varpað á ófrískan maga, sem eflaust táknar upphaf og nýja byrjun og litlir kollar eru dreifðir um herbergið og gefst gestum kostur á að hugleiða við handleiðslu raddar sem hljómar í rýminu. Þessi pörun verka var einstaklega vel heppnuð og kallar á mikla umhugsun. Annars vegar er geta okkar til að slaka á og róa okkur sjálf og hins vegar er hin mögulega geta náttúrunnar til þess að hafa slík áhrif á okkur utan frá.

Heildarskynbragð sýningarinnar er yfirþyrmandi. Þó er yfirþyrmandi heldur neikvætt orð yfir upplifun mína sem best væri lýst með áreynslunni við að reyna að velta fyrir sér mörgu í einu. Og þar sem það er ekki nauðsynlega áreynslulaust að fara á listsýningu þá rann upp fyrir mér að mögulega eru ein skilaboð af mörgum sem taka má með sér af sýningunni þau að svoleiðis séu samfélög í raun og veru.

Í viðtali við Víðsjá lýsir Wiola samtímanum eins og að vera með marga glugga í vafranum sínum opna í einu sem passar vel við upplifun mína af Samfélagi skynjandi vera. Það var sem ég væri að reyna að ná utan um margar mismunandi hugsanir í senn, (sem vissulega kemur oft á tíðum fyrir mig) nema að í sýningunni var sú upplifun sett í efnislegt form og það heppnaðist einkar vel þegar ég náði að sleppa tökum á því að reyna að finna einn rauðan þráð, þema eða eitthvað eitt haldreipi sem myndi leiða mig í gegnum sýninguna.

Hugarfarið sem ég þurfti að temja mér við að melta sýninguna var þar af leiðandi gerólíkt því sem ég hef þurft að temja mér í minni eigin akademísku hugsun. Frá minni eigin reynslu af heimspeki að dæma, eina akademíska sviðið sem ég hef sjálf reynslu af, er ómögulegt að taka fyrir Samfélag skynjandi vera í einu verki. Það hefur verið gert en oftar en ekki er það í formi doðranta sem spanna mörg hundruð blaðsíður og eru verk sem taka lífstíð að lesa og botna eitthvað í. Því takast nútíma heimspekingar oftast á við sitt eigið sérsvið. Stóru spurningarnar eru smættaðar niður í viðráðanlegar einingar og tengsl þeirra á milli er svo hugsuð sem eining í sjálfri sér. Flokkanir og skilgreiningar gera viðfangsefnið viðráðanlegt, skiljanlegt og mótanlegt.

Út frá upplifun minni af því að hugsa um allt í senn, túlka ég lokaorð sýningaskrárinnar „Það má merkja að einlægur samhugur og róttæk samkennd, fremur en rökhyggja og vísindi, veita okkur inngöngu í samfélag skynjandi vera“ sem boð um að sleppa taki á flokkun og skilgreiningum vísinda og rökhugsunar, leyfi til þess að sjá einstaka sögur í stærra samhengi og í beinum tengslum við aðrar.

Þannig stígur sýningin út fyrir rökhyggjuna sem oft helst í hendur við flokkun innan vísinda og fræðimennsku og tekst á við nútímann í formi margbreytileika innan sama rýmis. Þannig má líta á markmið sýningarinnar ekki sem andspyrnu gegn vísindum og rökhyggju heldur sem boð um að stíga út fyrir fræðilegu takmörkin sem vísindi og fræðimennska verða að setja sér og sjá verkin sem hluta af neti eða einfaldlega sem Samfélag skynjandi vera.

Eva Lín Vilhjálmsdóttir

Ljósmyndari: Kristín Pétursdóttir

[1] https://hafnarborg.is/exhibition/samfelag-skynjandi-vera/
[1] Tekið úr sýningarskrá
[1] https://www.pressreader.com/iceland/frettabladid/20210908/282080574951335
[1]https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/sunearth/news/gallery/schumann-resonance.html
[1] https://www.ruv.is/utvarp/spila/vidsja/23618/7hquuc

What’s more monumental than buildings? a show and tell with Melanie Ubaldo

by Juliane Foronda | Laugardagur.07.2020 | artzine in english, Umfjöllun

What’s more monumental than buildings? a show and tell with Melanie Ubaldo

Until we take the time to know any place intimately, our awareness is often limited to our associations with their landmarks and stereotypes. When I visit new places, I pay extra attention as I trace the land with my feet to orient myself until foreign feels familiar. The more I walk, the more I know. I gain my bearings in life through walking, and trusting that my feet will eventually reveal to me something I did not previously know. Paths I walk again and again are imprinted in my memory with each footstep – familiar textures, ways of moving, views and rituals that are, over time, carefully imbedded into the soles of my shoes. I walk to understand, to see more (or all) sides and angles, and to instill considered consciousness.

Reykjavík-based artist Melanie Ubaldo makes work that activates my whole body. I need to walk around it, move closer, step back, smell the thick brushstrokes of paint, and visually take in all the textures and materials, often wishing that I could experience these puzzle-like paintings through the touch of my fingertips. I’m constantly aware of their scale, towering over me, unable to be ignored. Personal phrases are so boldly written across the raw, unstretched, paint-splattered, patched and sewn canvases, which catch my eye immediately. Her work celebrates her Icelandic-Filipina identity while also confronting the challenges of intersectionality. The core of her work is rooted in her relationship with her mother, with some phrases even coming directly from their past conversations. A chaotic mix of vulnerability and (dis)comfort, Ubaldo’s work acts like a billboard or banner documenting her lived experiences.

Throughout my recent conversation with Melanie, she spoke fondly about her curiosity with architecture, and what makes something (or someone) monumental. Her paintings and their phrases dominate any given space they are placed within, ensuring that we hear her messages loud and clear. There is an undeniable reference to architecture with her paintings as they mimic posts, pillars, buildings and obelisks, along with an unwavering awareness of space, as they tend to be supported by the architecture themselves.

You look Indian so you get Indian price, 2017
Part of the exhibition Málverk – ekki miðill / Painting – Not a Medium at Hafnarborg, Curated by Jóhannes Dagsson.

While it’s easy to correlate scale with dominance and aggression, the core of her work and her person simultaneously brings forward a delicate quality. As much as these paintings draw inspiration from the grandiose of buildings and billboards, I consider them just as much a reference to shelters: tarps, coverings or perhaps even a slight nod to a child’s comfort blanket. There are clear parallels between Melanie’s paintings and Korean artist Do Ho Suh’s sculptures and installations as they both touch on notions of space, home, memory and (dis)placement. Suh’s intimate sculptures replicate and reference various places he’s lived and worked (as well as many of the objects within them) out of delicate steel frames and sheer gauze-like fabrics, almost mimicking tents as they exude a sense of portability. Their material lightness gives them a transitory quality, while being so conceptually present that they concurrently call to be contemplated. Melanie’s work, much like Do Ho Suh’s can only benefit with more time and care spent in their vicinity as the layers slowly unravel to let you in.

I also can’t help but be reminded of the strong women who led the Feminist Art movement as I reflect more on Melanie’s practice. The Guerilla Girls’ The Advantages of Being a Woman Artist (1988), for example, directly confronts the countless injustices and prejudice that women continue to experience in the arts. There also exists some striking similarities in Tracey Emin’s mark making and Melanie’s that firmly places their work in close dialogue with one other. Many phrases and sentiments in these works continue to ring true over 30 years later, and I wonder (and fear) if the words and sentiments in Ubaldo’s paintings will also remain true in decades to come. The works of all these women are vulnerably bold, courageous and unapologetically blunt, laced with an honesty that quivers between comic and devastating. The longer I spend with Melanie’s work, the more I realise how genuine it is, and I never know if I should laugh or cry.

What are you doing in Iceland with your face?, 2017
Initially exhibited in Slæmur Félagskapur in Kling & Bang in 2017 and most recently shown in the Borgarbókasafn in Tryggvagata as part of the project Inclusive Public Spaces.

Alongside her individual painting practice, Melanie works in a collective with Darren Mark and Dýrfinna Benita Basalan. Brought together through their shared memories and experiences of all being Icelandic artists with Filipino origins, their collaborative work as Lucky 3 is rooted in nostalgia and diaspora shown through their common culture(s). Their recent exhibition, Lucky Me? at Kling & Bang affectionately gathered key elements of Filipino life and culture – from karaoke, to playing basketball in the streets, to a colourful sari-sari store^[1]. Speaking of this exhibition led us to speaking about her family, and the struggles she’s had with often feeling like she’s disappointing her mother by pursuing her art practice. Melanie divulged that she felt as though this recent project with Lucky 3 was perhaps the first exhibition that her mother was proud of, but that the pride likely stemmed more from seeing that Melanie (and in turn, her Filipino culture) was accepted by the community and her peers rather than pride in the work itself, or of her daughter.

One day while Melanie was sitting the show, she told me that a guest (an older white male artist who was visiting Iceland) felt the need to mention that he had already made an identical or similar work to theirs, but decades earlier. His comments were specifically targeted towards a sculpture that referenced a broken glass concrete block wall. These types of concrete walls with shards of glass scattered atop of them are common in the Philippines as a means of property security and to deter trespassing. Perhaps his comments were meant simply as gallery small-talk, but they came across to her more so as a microagression that unnecessarily asserted inherent power dynamics. Melanie also mentioned that some local guests visited the show as a means of “research” as they were planning to visit the Philippines in the near future. These instances only further instill the fact that the identity and heritage of visible minorities is still overall irreverent or exoticized in the arts, rather than respected as a means of auto-biographical storytelling, self-expression or sociocultural critique.

The Wall, 2019
Installation shot from Lucky 3 presents Lucky Me? at Kling & Bang.

Sari-Sari Store, 2019
Installation shot from Lucky 3 presents Lucky Me? at Kling & Bang.

In Roxane Gay’s essay, When Less is More, she poignantly states that “this is the famine for which we must imagine feast^[2],” as she unpacks the many racial tropes in Orange is the New Black in spite of it being globally praised for its diverse cast. Gay is essentially saying that there remains so little diversity in pop culture, that the presence of minorities is praised even if they’re present as a means of feeding into cultural stereotypes. Roxane Gay’s statement is in line with of how Audre Lorde eloquently explains that it is not our differences that divides us, but that it’s rather our inability to recognize, accept and celebrate our collective differences^[3] that in turn leaves us divided. This reality still exists in most (if not all) aspects of our world to this day, and the arts is far from neutral in regards to this. I couldn’t help but notice that an overwhelming majority of the shows and projects that Melanie has been curated into were about race, sometimes under the guise of “inclusivity”. I find this problematic as it then suggests that work aside from hers (or other work like hers) is “exclusive,” meaning that her voice is in turn excluded from those other dialogues. It’s deeply personal work, and while Melanie willingly confronts the conversation of race through her work, to place her practice solely under the umbrella of being about race feeds into a deeply systemic problem in and of itself. Her work is autobiographical, so it naturally draws connections to her identity and heritage, but there are so many other streams and subtleties that her practice flows in and out that are seldom acknowledged. When I contemplate Melanie’s work, I see the angst of parent-child dynamics, strong references to architecture and building, relatable and satisfyingly self-deprecating humour, commentaries on our collective (mis)use of language, a visceral relationship to her materials and tactility, and nods to various art movements – all through the complex lens of her personal lived experiences, heritage and culture. Frieze London’s Artistic Director Eva Langret, in a recent interview with Aindrea Emelife, explains that to mostly (or only) work with BIPOC^[4] artists within the context of race and identity results in a lack of nuance when it comes to integrating their voices within wider artistic discourses^[5]. What may often be done with genuine interest and good intentions can further be read as an uncomfortable mix of voyeurism, othering and performative solidarity. Art can foster diversity and practice proper inclusion if we let it, so to continue this pattern deeply dilutes the power of art, making it to fall stagnant and complicit to the dangerous narrative that marginalized artists can not take up the same or as much space without the additional emotional labour of tokenism.

At the time of our conversation, Melanie mentioned that she was immersed in various fiction novels as a means to escape and rest her mind. She said that she’s taken by how they’re written, and they act as her way to pause on the weight of reality. That statement hit me immediately, as it made it all the more clear how real and raw her practice is. She can’t escape reality through her work, as she’s given no space for the division of who she is and what she does the way that many other artists (perhaps unknowingly) have the privilege of doing, but she rather needs to confront her world head on. To know Melanie’s work wholeheartedly is to spend time with it, letting the words really sink in, acknowledging their scale, and walking around them in order to see and know more. As the intensity, aesthetics and boldness of her work alone can be seen as monumental, the energy and courage that fuels it undoubtedly takes precedence.

Juliane Foronda

^[1] A sari-sari store is a neighbourhood convenience or variety store in the Philippines.

^[2] Roxane Gay, When Less is More in Bad Feminist: Essays, 2014., p.253.

^[3] Audre Lorde in Berlin, Audre Lorde – The Berlin Years 1984-1992, 2012.

^[4] BIPOC stands for Black, Indigenous, and People/Person of Colour

^[5] Aindrea Emelife, ‘“There Is a Lot of Hard Work to Be Done”: How the Art World Can Step up for Black Lives Matter | The Independent’, 2020.

Melanie Ubaldo (b. 1992, Philippines) is an Icelandic artist based in Reykjavik. In Melanie’s work, image and text are inextricably linked, where deconstructionist paintings incorporate text with graffiti like vandalism, oftentimes of her own crude experiences of others preconceptions, thus exposing the power of immediate unreflected judgment. She received her BA in Fine Arts from Listaháskóli Íslands in 2016.

Cover picture: Thanks Mom, 2016. This work’s phrase is from a conversation that Melanie had with her mother about going to art school. This was her BA graduation piece from LHÍ.

„Lucky Me?“ by Lucky 3 at Kling & Bang

by Eva Lín Vilhjálmsdóttir | Laugardagur.01.2020 | artzine in english

„Lucky Me?“ by Lucky 3 at Kling & Bang

In the exhibition Lucky Me? the art-collective Lucky 3, consisting of Darren Mark, Dýrfinna Benita Basalan, and Melanie Ubaldo, draws to attention their experiences that fall in between identification with- and marginalization of the Filipino community and culture. They invite, as they say in the catalogue, a mostly white audience (including me), to experience a reconstructed nostalgia that is not of the audience’s own—while serving as a celebration of the Filipino community in Iceland.

Installations, videos, clothes, and karaoke are all parts of the engrossing whole that makes up the cultural reminiscence that Lucky Me? consists of. Situated in the white and cold space of Kling & Bang in Marshallhús, and taking place in the darkest days of winter; the exhibition is warm, welcoming, and personal while still being true to one of its core messages of displacement, and mixed feelings of self-identity. The experience of the contrasting elements were inviting and thought-provoking simultaneously. Which left me with the feeling of political awareness of the multicultural reality that we inhabit today in a good way. That is, the cultural breadth of a society is a gift worth appreciating, within an artistic context as well as outside of it.

The first room of the exhibition displays a kind of street imagination; a basketball court, punching bag, and sportswear hanging as if it drying after a wash. The space showcasing clothes and installations by Darren Mark instantly pulled me out of the Icelandic snowstorm raging outside. Where it’s practically impossible to enjoy basketball outdoors, into a context that’s warm and where the worries of daily life are completely different. It set the mood, a soft reminder that I was there as a viewer to let someone else influence me with their vision of what life entails.

The reminiscence continued in the next room but, was neither soft nor pleasant. A brick wall covered with broken glass met me and behind it a video of a flood—a most likely devastating flood—followed by children violently dancing and inmates following a choreographed routine. Confusion.

The brick wall almost barring entry while being curiously intriguing. In an interview with Menningin Melanie Ubaldo said that the brick wall represented a common sight in the Philippines, where they use broken glass for security against burglary.[1]

The wall could be seen as protecting the small “store” installed inside the gallery. The small „store“ functions as a tribute to a concept called sari-sari, a type of store that usually has for sale a variety of single-use items, such as soap or food, and sporting familiar brands such as Head & Shoulders, Nescafé and Palmolive. Thus, this struck me as a reminder of the unequivocal effect of mass consumer culture and how vastly the effects of it reaches, but at the same time it gave the sari-sari a faintly familiar air to it. On display in the sari-sari was the popular Filipino noodle brand Lucky Me! which the exhibition derives its name from. Lucky Me? is an almost ironic or cynical twist to the name of the noodle brand that brought up in me deep questions about self-identity, and belonging in the light of racism.

On the last wall, two artworks were displayed side by side. A small screen, situated opposite to the other screen in the room, showing a Filipino family, in a typical Icelandic house, eating dinner, and chatting sometime around Christmas. A casual scene which was relaxing to watch and listen to while not understanding the language while being in stark contrast to the active, and tragic scene on the other side of the room. Next to the family eating dinner was a big fan. Painted with a picture of what might express a feeling, probably not describable in words, of plants growing brutally out of a bleeding corpse lying comically with its tongue out to the side. Vile yet comic, the picture on the fan struck me with discomfort that most likely was intentional.

Karaoke, the crown jewel in the last room, served as a great reminder of playtime. Put on a song of your choice and enjoy it. I personally chose Heart of Glass, sang out of tune and enjoyed the hell out of it. In the room with karaoke was a sofa wrapped in plastic, not very welcoming and a big golden altar made of foam spray and candles, looking spectacularly fancy from afar while not so, up close.

The installations, by Lucky 3, complement each other to bring the audience into a new group-perspective, one that is not readily available for many members of the audience. The artistic expression of culture in this personal exhibition, therefore, becomes a vulnerable practice that can be felt and almost touched. In the catalogue, Lucky 3 expresses their hopes that the exhibition will be a learning experience, which for me it without a doubt was.

Eva Lín Vilhjálmsdóttir

[1] https://www.ruv.is/sjonvarp/spila/menningin/27844/8l2s7i

Pictures courtesy of Kling & Bang and the artists.