No Museum For You, Nuuk

A little, sad post:

Looks like Greenlanders will have to wait for their national gallery. Although a competition to design the new building had been in the works and hundreds of thousands of kroner have already been spent, the Greenlandic home-rule government recently voted to suspend funding to the project indefinitely. This comes in the wake of much frustration and fear of economic fallout after the EU passed a ban on seal products, a significant aspect of indigenous hunting practices. Because Greenland severed itself from the European community 25 years ago, it had no say in the legislation.

This is particularly sad to me because through my research, reading and keeping-up-on various Nordic things, I've begun to empathise strongly with the Greenlandic people's struggle for independance and to revive their culture. Surely a museum is a foundational element of a society. It allows the culture to promote its artists on a large-scale and international setting, and in doing so promotes the advancement of art in its communities. Such a presence enables artists to thoroughly examine and interact with the issues facing them, their nation and the world, and in doing so further critical dialogue and thought in the people. A museum would help Greenlanders rediscover what it means to be Greenlandic and to keep their culture progressing into the new century, wholly of its own devices. Just a lil sad.

Greenlandic Art: Identity and Environment

Despite recent tumult in Iceland, I've still been able to wander in my inter-travels of art and all things Nordic. Recently, that has taken me to one place often ignored and belittled by the rest of the Norse world: Greenland.

And it seems fitting that amid Iceland's conflict more fervor is rising all over Northern Europe. Recent statements from the Greenlandic foreign minister at the botched Copenhagen summit on climate change suggest the nation may push for increased sovereignty (I'm finding as I tell this to people that many are unaware that Greenland, although it maintains a home rule government, is still a Danish dependency). But whatever the future holds for this fairly large but quiet corner of the world, it cannot be doubted that the richness and uniqueness of its heritage - Scandinavian and Inuit - combined with its long-held isolation have birthed artists with profound conflict of national identity. And the passion and life force contained in art are certainly often birthed from conflict.

One such artists is Julie Edel Hardenberg (first three images) whose subject matter targets head on issues of Greenlandic identity and nationalism. The national costume - which is traditionally beaded and sewed entirely by hand - so prized for its symbolism in the Greenlandic culture she turns into a prison, causing revolt from the interior, thereby questioning the benefits of the society's staunch isolationism. She turns a mirror on the shambled urban development of the capitol against austere natural environments, and presents Greenlandic immigrants with the flags and names of their adopted homelands in an honest, photographic style.

But just as she holds Greenland to itself she raises it up, whether in a massive mural of the Greenlandic flag at the back of an apartment high-rise or in pastoral images of sheep against the rugged, rocky landscape, exhibited in public spaces (the cafeteria of the Nuuk Cultural Center) to enable all to relate to her images. But whether critical in the wake of change or clinging to what is completely Greenlandic, Julie Edel is beholden to her subjects. They consume the frame and channel their conflict directly. It is this honesty and assertiveness that both typifies her work and holds hope for the progress of her nation.

Another artist evoking different views of his environment is Miki Jacobsen (last two images). While Julie Edel's images are stylistically pure and formal, but absolutely no less for it, Miki takes full advantage of contemporary developments in digital technology to draw contrast. He seamlessly draws two, sometimes three or four images together, and in doing so creates both spiritual repetition and great humor. In the image above, he echoes Greenlandic spirituality and its ties to the earth by a shamanistic spiral in the glaciers, warping sky and an Inuit carving, relating Greenland's culture back into the earth.

But just as Greenlanders (and all of us!) are beholden to the earth, so we must still see the natural humor and brightness in it to experience it completely. "The Thinker" pose is so often a platform for parody, and here it is brought to into Greenlandic context. Is the almost pedagogic tie to the earth and largely-held rejection of much of the modern world really such a bright idea? Whatever the message or media, these two artists' questions of identity can be transferred to us all. Do we view our own cultures with as much pride or scepticism as these folk? Should we? And how does our connection to the earth relate to Greenlanders? Beyond the guise of 'primitives' that causes much of the Nordic sphere shun the brother to the west, Greenlanders have an honest and significant contribution to world culture, and an understanding of the burden of maintaining cultural integrity in a world where it is handed away so carelessly, if it even exists anymore.

On Icesave

I know I am inviting trouble, but the time has come.

Let me preface this by acknowledging that I am by no means an expert and claim no special guise of knowledge. That's something I can't stand in most political blogs, political conversations, political people. A large reason why I'm not political. But I feel I must put my opinion in on this issue. But I will definitely keep art relevant (see the last few paragraphs). But then art is always relevant because art is essentially a moment of life frozen, and more recently, living in a conveniently confined space.

Those following the Icesave dispute surely know by now that President Ólafur Ragnar Grímsson has vetoed the most recent Icesave bill and it will be up for referendum in the coming months. This does not mean Iceland refuses to pay back the debt owed to British and Dutch investors, as per Icelandic law, the current bill will go into effect until and if it is defeated in referendum, and even if it is indeed defeated, the previous Icesave bill signed by Grímsson in September will then go into effect - two facts foreign media have largely been excluding. And indeed the question of the referendum cannot be as clearly predicted as previously thought. A new pole from Vísir suggests the public is roughly divided half in favor of Grímsson's decision to veto the bill, half not.

Now that that's through: it stands to reason for the people of this small country to shoulder debt equivalent to about $18,000 US per person (as a really excellent opinion piece from The Independent says) with the steep interest rate of 5.5% as the current bill would deem it for the greedy, reckless and negligent actions of a few private companies as well as a previous Icelandic government and UK and Dutch regulators, these foreign states should be pleased with any deal. Because indeed the UK and Dutch ignored the warnings of these companies as much as Icelanders, as well as investors. The Independent's article claims that the vigilante action of placing Iceland under anti-terrorist blockage may have been an act to swiftly shift blame wholly onto Iceland and keep the public from turning their eye on their own government's fault.

Indeed Icelanders will likely be chained to the UK and Dutch in the coming years, but hopefully under less strenuous conditions. For the eyes of the international community are beginning to turn on the United Kingdom now, too, and their neo-imperialistic acts against a country already so blighted and weakened. As Latvian Foreign Minister, Maris Riekstins, suggests, “Are these reactions coming just because Iceland is a small nation? It is difficult to imagine these same countries would have acted the way they have against the French President [for example].”

(Art Relevance Starts Here)

What is particularly interesting to me is to consider how the art world will continue despite these most tumultuous political times. Indeed the strain of the political atmosphere can be seen in many artists' recent work, including that of Anna Líndal and Ásmundur Ásmundsson. And certainly Icelandic museums have had to cancel or delay exhibitions due to budgetary constraints, as can be seen in even the most prestigious international institutions.

But there are just as many beacons of hope in the Icelandic art world as blights. The infamous Icelandic Airwaves music festival sold out faster than ever before this year. Kristján Guðmundsson's Carnegie award-winning exhibit is coming to Reykjavík. There are hopes that the Nordic Fashion Biennale, which was launched last year, will continue. And artists still make art, which means life still goes on. It is my opinion that art will continue to pull this most resilient people up and enliven the world, to challenge the most conservative minds and awaken experience.

To finish, I am currently obsessed with Lady Gaga's Bad Romance and have no idea how to put a video on here. So go listen to it and remember that everything is ephemeral.

Elín Hansdóttir (Icelandic Art), Justin Cooper (American Art) and ICESAVE?

I have bundles of goodies to share with you special people. I think I'll start out with clarity and end up in craziness. So, first off...

Not-Angry Section of Entry:

...there's a really excellent show that's about to open at i8 Gallery in Reykjavík, arguably the Icelandic gallery making the biggest echo internationally. Elín Hansdóttir's work explores the abstract in the everyday. Her work is entirely site-specific, and those remain the only constants. The basic principal of abstraction is it draws the viewer both entirely outward, the eye and mind working themselves around the shapes, then the effect transfers itself inward, the shapes and shades playing with the mind to form a sort of mandalla. What is unique about Elín's work is it takes this principal that is most often confined to the 'old' media - painting and sculpture - and applies it to complete, self-contained environments.

The space then becomes a transported atmosphere that tricks itself and the viewer. It is completely dependent on the existence of the viewer in that its art-matter is the experience. Whether composed of dark, labyrinthine halls whose shadows create their own entrances and block exits in their surreal optics or motion-detecting and time-specific operatives that intrude upon the environment, Elín's works detach themselves from the spaces of the outside world and change the way we relate to our constructed environs.

There's also a really great show that'll be opening in about a month at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago called Production Site: The Artist's Studio Inside-Out which will be featuring the whimsical Justin Cooper, who's also with Monique Meloche Gallery. Essentially, his work seeks to capture the moment at which chaos occurs, when harmonious real-life situations and emotions go array. Through video, photography, performance and installation alike, he constructs playful characters, struggling in their confusion to realign themselves - which ultimately is futile. He also was a part of the Here/Not There performance series at the MCA and plenty of exceptional international festivals. Take a look at some of his stuff here.

Moving onto personal matters:

I finally was connected to the University of Iceland and was told that I will find out on acceptance by June 1st. Hurray. I think what I'll have to do is find out when the deadline to accept at the University of Glasgow is, and if that could be overridden should I choose to go to Iceland instead.

And, I no longer work at Macy's! And work nearly full-time at the gallery. Which are both good. There are so many crazy people who shop. I've also just recently started another story. Finally. I have 2.5 paragraphs. Which is cause for celebration.

AND, I would really like to thank Anna Jóelsdóttir for linking my blog to her site! I greatly look forward to reviewing your future work, as well. And thanks be to you, readers! I shall have to explore the blogosphere a bit more myself when I'm not dying of tired.

NOW, the good stuff:

ICESAVE. What in the world. According to IceNews:

"Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson, Chairman of the Progressive Party, said that the letter from the solicitors office came forward to Össur Skarphéðinsson, the Foreign Minister, in a special presentation of a report that Mishcon de Reya put together last spring. It has, however, been observed that certain information seems to have been removed from the presentation package by Svavar Gestsson, Chairman of the Icelandic negotiating committee, not wanting it to follow in the package to the foreign minister.

The information allegedly suppressed was Mischon de Reya’s evaluation of proceedings against the British Financial Supervisory Authority that may strengthen the position of Iceland in talks about the Icesave-issue.

"I think it is safe to say that any European government, proven guilty of hiding such information, after having been repeatedly asked if all available and relevant information was on the table would not be allowed to remain in control of parliament" said Sigmundur Davíð.

Össur Skarphéðinsson, the Foreign Minister, said it was unfortunate that this information has been presented so late in the review of the case and that it is understandable that the opposition MPs need time to review it.

Össur said he had not seen this information before, but that he had glanced it over that evening, both the letter from Mishcon de Reya and the additional information that according to Mischon de Reyja should have been presented to Össur in London on the 31st March but was not.

In one section of the presentation there are speculations of certain possibilities that the Icelandic government might have the use of the Terrorist Act in its defence against Britain. Össur said that this section dealt primarily with the opportunity of taking the matter to the European Human Rights Court."

I know, I just copied that from the site. Are these people in toyland or something? The Icesave agreement has since passed the Alþingi, and at the very least it means tensions will begin to ease in the international precept ion of Iceland and hopefully some change will speed up. Hmph.

Songs from the Cold Seas, and Photos

In the spirit of a healthy, contemporary, trans-media approach to art, I bring you my review of the album "Chansons des Mers Froides" (Songs from the Cold Seas), arranged by Hector Zazou, and a few new fashion-y photos, as well.
The collection is most unique in that it approaches 'world music' - a mix of ceremonial, traditional and folk music from the strange and exotic parts of the world - with the Arctic in mind. It includes pieces from as far as Hokkaidō, the far northern island of Japan, and Yakutia in extreme, Asian Siberia, along with some (vaguely) more familiar places like Newfoundland and Iceland. It brings together thriving, cherished history and dying cultures with languages being lost to time. But it goes beyond the New Age-y, pedagogic exploration of "indigenous people"; Hector Zazou has fused these hoary songs with an astonishing range of instrumentals and back-ups, with low, spiritual mantras and electronics floating on the undercurrents of a song sung by major British rock singer Siouxsie. The result is a modern creation, a revival of mournful songs of the North that fits with the spirit of the most experimental music.

What is particularly unique about these songs is their dissension from mainstream, Western ideas of tone and pitch. Now, I'm hardly one to make such technical-sounding judgments as I know next to nothing about music, but the shrill, shepherdess whiplash of Lena Willemark's voice traveling through the fjords at the end of "Havet Stomar" is far from anything heard in trendy French country music. The limacine, unearthly sound is as chilling as the land it evokes.

The same is true in "Yakut Song" sung by Lioudmila Khandi (which can be heard here, beside some very tragic images of a Czech flood, for some reason; skip to about 30 seconds if you only want to hear the music). But here we are introduced to an even more provocative and uniquely Arctic sound: the transmundane and impossible-sounding throat singing. The leaps and bounds of Khandi's vocals are beyond understanding. She seems to be bellowing through time, reaching from somewhere prehistoric. This is one of the most beautiful, staggering and emotional songs I have ever listened to.

Another of the all highly unique songs on this album is "Yaisa Maneena" sung by Tokiko Kato, from the Ainu culture of indigenous Japan. I was rather confused upon hearing it at first; the accent and many of the vowels sounded distinctly Asian, but the prevalence of the hard k made it appear awfully Inuit. The Ainu are among the most endangered cultures in the world, largely due to abandonment of cultural identity from the pressures of contemporary Japanese culture.

But beyond this unusual background, the song expresses a whole different type of sorrow than the rest of the tracks on this album. The vocals are low and still, humming at points, and backed by a resounding stomping electronic sludge towards the end, contrasting this very reticent and bare song.

I will only talk about one more that particularly moved me.

As I'm sure you can determine, I have a soft spot for the Nordic countries. There is an Icelandic song on this album, "Vísur Vatnsenda-Rósu," sung by Björk, the melody arranged by the wizard of contemporary sound befitting ancient melodies, Jón Ásgeirsson. It is a traditional lullaby (one Björk also used on her Possibly, Maybe soundtrack and I believe borrowed heavily from for a particular song on Medulla), soft, as you can imagine. But that is not what I want to talk about.

"Annukka Suaren Neito," sung by Värttinä, is full of strength and conflict, as well as great legend (you can hear it here without images of a Czech flood). The song recalls a Finnish folk tale about a young princess who called to the sea for a husband. When one finally arrived, he lulled her, swore himself to her, only to swallow her up into the waves. Värttinä is a well-known Finnish folk band, made up of three very Nordic women. The ardent, taut melody marked with repetition greatly evoke the steadfastness and stability of the Nordic cultures.

Gabríela Friðriksdóttir and Brynhildur Þorgeirsdóttir: The New Environmental Art

In all Icelandic art, the influence of nature is wholly palpable and exalted for the undeniable force that it is. This is certainly true of life all over the world, but in Iceland, a place still so connected to the earth with filled with examples and great understanding of nature's power, the influence is not represented naively or with a trendy, bohemian flair as much environmental art of the last century has. Artists like Gabríela Friðriksdóttir and Brynhildur Þorgeirsdóttir instead try to replicate the psychological experience we have with nature and to evoke the many ways it manifests itself in the world on the level of human emotions and perceptions.

Gabríela (first three images) confronts us with the hideousness of the earth (some may be familiar with her work for Björk's "Family Tree" album). Whether as a bloated, bandaged hand or a volcanic mask consuming the face of a human subject, her pieces challenge modern society's desire to turn nature into the other, something given artificial respect but defined as completely separate. In turn, Gabríela reflects nature in the cherished image that is otherwise considered its antithesis: man. These troll-like figures are both nature embodied and man unmasked. The forms are gruesome and primal, but also certainly human in shape and manner. The recall the denied natural self, contrary to the current environmentalist image of man as the all-knowing protector of nature.

But their ugliness seen by a conservative eye is eclipsed by their sheer power and certainty. These figures stare directly into the camera with wide-eyed, titanic authority. They reestablish a world where man understands his vulnerability to nature, and is thereby reunited with it, a true part of nature, not enclosed in a capsule trying to escape it.

But to read Gabríela's work solely on the natural level would be far too narrow. They challenge not only man's isolation from nature but his conceived superiority to the world at large. Beneath the artifice of man is a strident, earthly being, one that does not take part in his cultivated rituals but is driven by core desires and needs. These images demand recognition by their well-heeled viewers, and call them like a hunting horn back to the earth.

The other perspective I want to discuss is on the physical level much more similar to the environmental art post-modern art history aficionados are likely familiar with (I'm sure we can all remember those big stone spirals, right? Right?). But instead of Mr. Smithson's creations calling idealistically to the prehistoric mammoths of the world, Brynhildur chooses to show the strength and stability of nature as it is, but still in art-object form. Her sculptures are bare, honest, withstanding. They embody strength and are clearly the images they represent, whether they be mountains, volcanoes, sheets of ice or any of the other wonders that cover Iceland.

IN OTHER NEWS:

I was accepted to the University of Glasgow! And have not heard back from the University of Iceland yet. So we'll see what happens there.

And I'm working at Macy's now, which is why this post took so long to be put up. It's a pain, but hey. And it looks like my boss at the art gallery may consider taking me on as a paid assistant!

Plus, I've placed another piece at the spectacular Sein und Werden! It will be appearing in the awesome journal of surrealism and expressionism in December or January. Please take a look, and thanks very much to Rachel!

And thanks to you, my oh-so-wonderful readers. I know you exist. I do.

Carrie Schneider: Queen of This Island

One of the best things about my internship is how much great art I'm being exposed to. I've never held much of an opinion on photography for a while, but Carrie Schneider's work really makes me think twice and turn around to see how depicted images echo back.

Her work contains a reverence for nature and a prominent rejection of the consumerist present conditions. Pieces such as "Queen of This Island (Ice Queen)", "WE (Baltic Version" and "Queen of This Island (Suomenlinna)" (first three images) channel nature into an empress of forms. She wears crowns of precious textiles and poses, proud. She stands surrounded by the regalia of her domain. Carrie Schneider's images reject the most typical photographs of man in nature - her subjects are completely enmeshed in the environment. Though we know them to be humans in costume, they do not retain the myth of Western society being either removed from nature or existing alongside it or acting as the benevolent caretaker. These women are birthed from nature; they are both the elements they wear or exist around and human.

It is important to note that although the main displayed medium of Carrie Schneider's work is photography she is as much a sculptor. Though the headdresses here are not the most typical of her work, they exist in their own right as works of art. In this we, she is similar to the women of the Icelandic Love Corporation - if only a bit more focused. But she is not a costumer; the associations of photography - depicting the truth, reflecting life as it is - are still present. But her work evokes side of nature eclipsed by other natural images that clearly place man as either the civilized onlooker trying to claim a vastness he can never be equal to or the rebel retreating into the wild. Carrie Schneider's works of this nature ask us to consider our real origins, reminding us that we all arose from the primordial lake and were once, and still are, at the mercy of the natural world.

But it would be impossible for an artist to ignore the inorganic growth of the world in favor of only the natural. Her most recent pieces (such as "Recession", above) reenter the commercial world exhausted and removed, her subjects shaken from the empowered, lively roles they held in the natural world and are reduced to being objects that fall into the artifice around them, helpless. There is a stark contrast between these two sets of images. They reflect back how we relate to all sides of the world we live in, not merely how we see them. Her work is currently on view as part of a group show at Monique Meloche Gallery in Chicago, the Finish Museum of Photography in Helsinki and Galleri KiT in Trondheim.