The surroundings appear tropical and the gleaming sun makes the illusion complete. I snap out of it as I remember that I’m sitting on the back of a horse.
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Yesterday, the man accused of having killed Haukur Sigurdsson in Reykjanesbaer this spring refused to answer whether he was guilty of manslaughter. He did however admit to have inflicted injury on Sigurdsson, which led to his death.
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Click on the picture to watch an audio slideshow of a hike to Hraunsvatn lake in Öxnadalur valley in north Iceland, which lies at a height of 490 meters, interlocked between two steep mountains and a small glacier with a view of the majestic Hraundrangar peaks.
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Fjallabyggd (“Mountain Settlement”) is a skier’s dream. Its slopes are perfect for slaloming and there are also tracks for telemark skiing. Winter sporting enthusiasts can also go ice skating or rent snowmobiles. In summer, Fjallabyggd turns into a paradise for hikers. Read this special promotion about one of Iceland’s best hidden gems.
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super 8 film
Welcome to Iceland Review Online's review section. Guest contributors and staff writers will provide you with a new review every Monday about a current art exhibition, a new Icelandic film, an album recently released by an Icelandic band or a new Icelandic novel likely to be published abroad. Please email any comments you might have to the web editor: eyglo@icelandreview.com.
Review by Alana Odegard.
I hadn’t heard too much about the film Future of Hope before I attended the premiere last week. I assumed it was about the banking crisis, but then a friend told me she thought it was about preserving the country’s natural resources.
As it turns out, we were both right.
Future of Hope is a film about sustainability not only in the way it applies to the environment, but also about how it relates to the economy.
As stated on the official website, the film is a “character driven documentary following individuals that strive to change the world of consumerism, a system of credit and debt that the Icelandic economy was built upon for the past 10 years or more.”
An entertaining animated introduction takes the viewer through the history of Iceland, right up to the present day. Among the subjects addressed in the film are becoming hot topics these days: consumerism, sustainability, going organic and the need for renewable resources.
These are all discussed within the framework of Iceland in the sense that the film delves into how Iceland can be thought of as a model or “test” for the rest of the world in terms of how to make changes away from consumerism (learning when enough if enough) and towards a new way of thinking and acting.
Icelandic academics, activists and politicians are among those interviewed, including former President of Iceland Vigdís Finnbogadóttir and current Minister of Education and Culture Katrín Jakobsdóttir.
A few Icelandic start-up companies are also profiled, as well as the intriguing House of Ideas. The bottom line: this crisis can be the mother of innovation.
There was a lot of talk in Future of Hope about how now more than ever Icelanders need to return to the core values they had turned away from in the years leading up to the crash as well as the need to protect the country which has been passed down to Icelanders from their forefathers.
There is a message present within the film that wavers between nationalism and the idea that we are all members of the same global community. Frankly, at times I was left feeling confused.
Am I supposed to be thinking locally or globally? Some people in the film said we should act locally and think globally, others championed the idea of a global village and there was also talk of the importance of local communities.
I’m not saying that these two ideas are mutually exclusive (nor do I think the film was saying that either), but at least for me, these concepts were a little fuzzy. What was intended to be specific to Iceland versus what applies to the rest of the world was at times lost on me.
Parts of the film were unmistakably Icelandic, such as the interview with an Icelandic entrepreneur who opened a restaurant and spa, taking a loan from the bank for ISK 70 million (USD 596,000, EUR 462,000), if my memory serves me correctly, to do so.
His business was successful and he had paid back ISK 30 million of his loan before the crash, but now, post-crash, he owes more than ISK one hundred million because of indexation.
He explained that with no help whatsoever from the bank, he was paying back what he could, but that he may just stop paying the bank all together.
Looking into the camera, he gave the bank a “good natured” middle finger and the cinema, which was packed on opening night, erupted into applause. Clearly people welcome the idea of taking matters into their own hands.
Indeed, the film also touched upon the importance of democracy and critical thinking.
Something else worth mentioning is that the documentary is almost entirely in English, meaning the Icelanders who make up the majority of the interviewees all speak in English (rather than answer in Icelandic with English subtitles, as is usually the case).
This language choice really conveys the feeling that the movie is trying to spread its message beyond the borders of Iceland.
However, they may want to consider adding English subtitles before its international release because the Icelandic accent of some of the people interviewed makes their English difficult to understand at times.
The idea that Future of Hope is an Icelandic film with worldwide aspirations is reinforced by the fact that it is directed and filmed by Henry Bateman, a non-Icelander.
Upon leaving the theater I overheard a conversation in Icelandic between two men who had just seen the film.
One of them was telling the other that he thought the film was great and was flabbergasted by the fact a foreigner had made it. “This is something we should have been doing,” he said.
I couldn’t help but think that this film does mark a turning point in Iceland. For so long there was a pulsating anger that could be felt within the country because of the financial collapse: anger towards the banksters, the government, the recession and the situation in general.
What I took to be the resounding message of the film is that the crisis will ultimately strengthen the country, that Icelanders are entering a new healing phase of rebirth and that the nation needs to stay positive and learn a valuable lesson from the past in order to move forward.
Let’s hope so.
The five stages of grief you often hear about came to mind, the last of which is acceptance.
Apparently it’s during the last stage that people begin to come to terms with their mortality and I think it makes perfect sense that hope often goes hand in hand with acceptance.
This is not a film about the lead-up to and cause of the collapse, but rather what people are doing now and, as the aptly-named title suggests, what they are hoping for and doing to shape the future.
It does get a little repetitive at the end but complete with spectacular shots of the Icelandic landscape, Future of Hope is worth seeing.
As of September 3, Future of Hope will be released for a minimum of two weeks at the Háskólabíó cinema in Reykjavík and from September 10, it will be screened at cinemas in Akureyri and Seydisfjördur.
Alana Odegard – odegard_a@hotmail.com
Ready and willing to watch anything that comes her way, Alana has a love for all things film. Having studied it as part of her B.A. degree, Alana’s keeping her fingers crossed that one fine day her passion for the silver screen will carry over from pastime to day-job.
moreText and photos by Kremena Nikolova-Fontaine and courtesy of i8 Gallery.
Conceptual artist Sigurdur Gudmundsson launched his career in the 1960s as a member of the legendary Icelandic SÚM group. His public sculptures can now be found widely, including in Rotterdam, Groningen and Den Haag in the Netherlands. Gudmundsson studied in the Netherlands and later became a teacher at the AKI in Enschede. Now living in China, the artist prides himself of having been a foreigner for the past 50 years.
“Gudmundsson is a visual artist, not a photographer, who likes to use the camera to express his concepts, but is not concerned with technique,” explains Anna Júlía Fridbjörnsdóttir, associate director of Gallery i8.
An enormous poster adorning the facade of Reykjavík District Court. A weirdly-tilted man and a weirdly-slanted wooden pole seem to be dancing together against the laws of gravity… how do they do it?
Since the gallery was founded in 1996 by Edda Jónsdóttir (it is now run by her son Börkur Arnarson), it has represented 18 Icelandic artists at the most important international art fairs: The Armory Show, New York, Art Basel, Art Basel Miami Beach and Paris Photo. Gudmundsson’s current exhibition at i8 “Situations and Other Photo Works 1970-1982” will be a part of Paris Photo next autumn.
Reflecting on the exhibition’s title, I would rename “Situations” more appropriately by borrowing James Joyce's famous title A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
In all of the photographs in the exhibition, the young Gudmundsson takes an impersonal role of an object among other objects—be it rainbows, bricks, books, or punctuation signs—in what seems to be a coded language of the subconsciousness.
“Fairytale.”
In other words, the participation of the artist is by no means intended as a self-portrait. A photographic equivalent of Magritte's paintings springs to mind, but, in comparison to the Belgian surrealist, Gudmundsson chooses a drastically reduced number of symbols.
To quote the exhibition's website, “visual poems” is the most precise definition for Gudmundsson's conceptual works. Being a bibliophile myself, his iconic pyramids of books are, of course, among my favorites. For example, I would gladly own the witty and thought-provoking artworks “Extension,” “Japanese Drawing” and “Triangle,” which are part of the current exhibition “Situations.”
Even his more humorous photographs are still lyrical. For example, the work “Horizontal Thoughts” reminds me of a newspaper comic strip because of how the artist uses grayscale images and word balloons.
At the same time, it could be viewed as a sample of wordless existential philosophy. It reminds me of the proverb about the optimistic and pessimistic perception of a glass, respectively seen as half-full or half-empty.
“Horizontal Thoughts.”
“Dialogue” makes you smile instantly, evoking a clownesque association with the artist's hair tied and lifted up in the air by a bunch of balloons.
But on a second thought, it is another sample of wordless existential philosophy: the battle between the right and left side of the brain, rationality and imagination. What comes first, the egg or the hen?
“Dialogue.”
Researching printed catalogues of Gudmundsson's art, words and images apparently play an equally important part in his career—the pages are often decorated with small poems.
It comes as no surprise when Fridbjörnsdóttir tells me that the artist has published three books in Icelandic so far: Tabúlarasa (“Tabula Rasa”; 1993), Ósýnilega konan (“The Invisible Woman”; 2000) and Dýrin í Saigon (“The Animals in Saigon”; 2010). The artist was even nominated for the Icelandic Literary Awards for Ósýnilega konan.
I am impressed by the subject of the last book Dýrin í Saigon. It explores the importance of language in cultural exchange through the journey of a speechless man in a foreign country—it has both fictional and non-fictional elements.
A man of many talents, Gudmundsson has lately focused on creating sculptures in steel, bronze and granite, bearing remarkable simplicity and elegance. You can also see samples of his chocolate sculpture series from a previous exhibition on Gallery i8's website.
Personally, I can't help comparing his sculptures to the everyday aesthetics of Swedish-American sculptor Claes Oldenburg, who replicates familiar objects to a gigantic scale. Technically refined, Oldenburg’s sculptures bear no lyricism and are emotionally detached. Lyricism is not trendy.
Gudmundsson sculptures are technically refined to perfection and deliberately enlarged, too. They are aesthetically pleasing to a sensually-charged joy, as gratification of the physical rather than the spiritual. A departure from the subjective existential intellectualism from his younger years towards a wiser and more humble Taositic embrace of life as it is. An ode to the simple pleasures.
According to Galerie Anhava's review of Gudmundsson’s chocolate series, he rejects any attempt of symbolism.
“How can candies become so meaningful?
Obviously I have managed to L them and therefore admire their beauty
which is one way of celebrating them as art works
Could it have been something else?
It can be anything
Do I love everything?
Unfortunately not, but all things can be loved by different people at different times: enemies, devils, gods and chocolate candies."
Sigurdur Gudmundsson at the opening of his exhibition "Situations."
Instead of Gudmundsson's simpler sculptures, I am attracted to the artist's older overly expressive photographic work, which is what is exhibited in “Situations.” With the abundance of digital images, the simplicity of strong concepts with self-made quality exhibit timelessness and outstanding individuality which make old-school art no less appealing than today's fashion.
Fortunately, photography is not completely abandoned in the artist’s latest works. I recall seeing “Mutes - Speechless Kernels” at the Reykjavík Art Museum in 2008.
The photographic work displayed there, made after 1980, bear the same sense of refined simplicity and emotional detachment as his sculptures.
Gudmundsson's “Mute” group portraits of nude Chinese women and fully dressed Chinese men remind me of Vanessa Beecroft's conceptual group performances by top models in the nude. According to Wikipedia, Beecroft's controversial art is often described as provocative, disturbing and sexist but also brilliant and empowering.
However, Gudmundsson's “Mutes” don't seem to be controversial or voyeuristic. Perhaps the lyricism from his early career at the time of “Situations” can be found here, too, but in a more subtle way.
There is an outward shift in the “Mute” series towards anthropologic observation of society, while “Situation” is more of an inverted soul-searching work. Which concept is more interesting is, of course, a matter of taste.
“Situations and Other Photo Works 1970-1982” by Sigurdur Gudmundsson runs until June 26, 2010.
The i8 Gallery is is located on Tryggvagata 16, Reykjavík 101.
Kremena Nikolova-Fontaine – kremenan@gmail.com
Kremena Nikolova-Fontaine works at home for the elderly and is a passionate collector of art books, dedicating every spare moment to learn more about art while dreaming about having an exhibition of her own. She studied graphic design at the School of Visual Arts in Akureyri from 1999 to 2002. In college she realized that she didn’t want to be a designer or commercial artist but rather an illustrator and writer. At the moment she’s experimenting with her first graphic novel.
The second issue of the print edition of Iceland Review 2010 has just been published. Entitled “Under the Volcano” the magazine dedicates 20 pages, words and pictures, to the volcanic eruption in Eyjafjallajökull glacier which made headlines all over the word. New subscribers will receive the book Puffins as a gift and all subscribers are part of a draw to win a trip to Iceland. Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
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There can’t be many novels that are heralded as being “a purification for body and soul” recommended to “those who enjoy experimental cookery” (review of November Rain in DV newspaper) and “as beautiful as a painting from the golden age” (review of The Offspring by Danish newspaper Politiken). However, Reykjavík based writer, Audur Ava Ólafsdóttir, has attracted such attention not to mention literary prizes.
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Have a laugh this week by visiting Hafnarborg, the Hafnarfjördur Centre of Culture and Fine Art, where the exhibition “Humor in Icelandic Art” is currently running. The exhibition consists of works by contemporary Icelandic artists from different generations which deal with humor and irony.
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