C106
review
Dublin: Woollenmaiden Hús at Project
In Jules
Verne's Journey to the Centre of the Earth the
entrance to the centre of the earth is in Iceland. Fire,
ice, hot springs, continuous daylight balanced against
months of darkness; the idea seems very appropriate. As
artist Roni Horn comments "I've spent so much time there,
I have no doubt of this fact."
Iceland seems endlessly exotic, and an exhibition of artists
from Iceland put together by Ólöf Björnsdóttir,
whose alter ego Woollenmaiden has a self-declared mission
to liberate the world through the power of art, seems
an intriguing opportunity to find out more about this
fascinating country.
That is not
quite the case. Anyone seeking a pictorial exploration
of Iceland should turn instead to the work of an artist
like Jóhannes Kjarval, or to the clues that are
found in the Iceland-inspired works of visiting artists,
such as Roni Horn, Richard Serra and Matthew Barney. Instead,
Ólöf Björnsdóttir's Woollenmaiden
Hús is a sort of a greenhouse-plus-additional-outhouse
installation, constructed from plastics and assembled
(it would seem) in inexpert haste.
For those
of us used to the polished exhibitions and installations
of post-makeover Temple Bar, Woollenmaiden Hús
initially appears off-puttingly scrappy. There seems no
clear way to identify, between the eleven artists included
therein, who exactly made what. Polaroids of Woollenmaiden
herself, with her mad hair, teeth, knitted outfits and
killer heels, are tacked to the walls of the gallery,
and the drone of a video work is crossed by the recitations
of a second sound piece. Jars of coloured liquid are propped
up on a ledge, and the semi-opaque walls of the Hús
show glimpses inside of more disparate pieces. But stop
expecting the slick perfection with which we seem to have
begun to equate artistic excellence, however, and allow
yourself to be drawn into this hothouse-for-creativity,
and prejudices are soon gratifyingly dispelled.
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Wollenmaiden
Hús, installation
view, 2003, courtesy Project
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Emotional
curtain, by Haraldur Jónsson, is a set of wallpaper-type
panels, listing an A-Z of feelings, sensations and emotions
in words. Initially loaded with associations, memories
and meanings, reading these words as an alphabetical catalogue
makes one aware of the inevitability of yearning
as much as of bliss. One day you will be ashamed,
and another zealous. You may feel your feeling
is unique, but if it has a name, it has been felt before.
Further into
the Hús, the source of the cryptic droning
sound becomes clear. Gabríela Frióriksdóttir's
Operazione poetica is an enormous prehistoric-looking
head, reciting impenetrable (unless you are fluent in
Icelandic) phrases. Appearing to have been hewn in golden
limestone and weathered by centuries, Operazione poetica
is actually baked out of bread dough (Eden restaurant
round the corner generously lent their oven for the task.)
That dough should appear as elemental as ancient rock
is appropriate, bread being a life-sustaining staple of
humanity since stone-carving began. And it is this balance
of intriguing wit with more considered concepts that lends
to this exhibition its lightness of touch - where so many
other conceptual shows these days seem to get mired under
the seriousness of their presentation and self-regard.
In the end,
what is interesting about this show is not that it is
Icelandic, but that it was a chance to see those quirky,
hit-and-(often)-miss pieces, which tease the mind at the
same time as they make you smile, and remind me of so
much that was neither smooth nor smug in the old Temple
Bar.
Gemma
Tipton is a writer based in Dublin.
löf Björnsdóttir:
Woollenmaiden Hús, Project Arts Centre,
Dublin, August - September 2003.
