4. September 2010
The mob against the prosecution
The mob against the prosecution
The Icelanders lead a quite placid life in the far north, far away from the mainland. It’s rare that news from this small country travel all the way to Europe and when it happens, it’s about disrupted air traffic or the latest album by Sigur Rós. One issue we heard in Germany about but that – measured by the importance – didn’t attract much attention was the big bank crash in 2008, that shaped the Icelandic society until today.
In october 2007 one Euro (one $ resp.) was worth 85 ($: 118) Icelandic krones, whereas today’s worth is halved. The unemployment rate in the second quarter of 2010 is nine per cent, in December 2007 it was only two per cent. Considering this, the mood dropped likewise. On December 8th, 2008, after long public protests, that were supported by the whole people of Iceland, thirty protesters gained access to the parliament, whereupon nine of them were arrested and later accused by the members of parliament.
The randomly picked accused still wait for their judgement, that could include severe prison sentence for disturbing the parliament. Among these are two artists who rallied the Who is Who in the Icelandic art scene round themselves in order to organize a solidary exhibition for the “Reykavík 9″. “The mob against the prosecution”.
Video of the opening of “The mob against the prosecution”
In Germany, political, up-to-the-minute art was new to me. In my opinion, this country doesn’t produce more than the sometimes quite clever cartoons in the big daily papers. I missed real political art. Icelanders seem to make no pretence of such topics, it’s probably because of the critical situation, that Germany didn’t experience at such a rate. However, the Icelandic art scene reacted rather fast on the start of the trial and, with a highly respected exhibition at the Living Art Museum (Nýló), which is the instituton for Contemporary Icelandic Art, set an example, that aimed for the public discussion.
The Who is Who of Icelandic art, altogether 23 artists, made works for this exhibition and declared their solidarity with the nine accused. For one and a half month the pieces were exhibited, performances and discussion forums held. The show attracted much attention in the media and it still remains to be seen whether it gains its end.
The mob against the prosecution
A couple of days ago before the exhibition was to end, I visitied Nýló. The pieces were moved to an adjoining room where they formed an highly condensed bunch of art, apparent trash, euro-pallets and barrier tape; all lit by spots, so it was difficult to get an overview of this chaotic agglomeration of vivid impressions. Video installations and all the pieces, that once hung on the museum’s walls, hid in this huge pile of trash.
But there was a certain system in the chaos. It was a loud, political clamour: There, the dystopian vision of the surveillance state was conjured up, and here, the desperate battle against the authorities fought or the absurdity and banality of petty bossiness caricatured. This was positioned in between everyday’s rubbish which piles up in a critical situation such as this: crumpled-up Inspired by Iceland posters as a symbol for the hopeful faith in tourism as a source of revenue, spare construction material as a memorial for the building boom, that was destructed by the crisis, and pallets and wrapping material as a sign for the permanently weakened export sector.
The mob against the prosecution (“Paradísarmissir”: “Paradise lost”)
All the things that once pushed Iceland’s economy pile up here, now being the mere remains of times long since over. In between and hardly to recognize protest emerges. Subversive, but strident voices shout from these ruins und form a new power that confidently demands it claims: disempowerment of those being in charge, protection of civil interests and solidarity with the nine accused people.
During my trip through the highlands the intercity coach had a breakdown in the midst of nowhere. The driver told me much how Icelanders bear the crisis for a couple of years now. He recounted the distinctive anecdote of the building project “Höfðatorg”, a 72m high, glassy office tower in the city centre of Reykavík. It was built during the big building boom but when the crisis struck, the owner was ruined. Until today the building remained unused and vacant, thus, how the driver said, reminding on the rise and sudden fall of Iceland’s economy when the sun shines through the glass facades.
Considering to his stories and examples it was clear to me, that the Icelandic people has to bear the actual situation with great grief. Sarcasm and gallwos humour may shortly console for the bitterness, strong company and the search for older values help to focus on the light at the end of the tunnel.
The Icelanders have a rough trot. A people, which is known for its unity, supports now the demands of the protesters, who once almost daily gathered at Austurvöllur, the square in front of the parliament, to demonstrate against the failed economic policy. For most Icelanders, randomly picking people from a crowd of protesters, that now have to face severe sentence, is an outrage, because its considered to come under the lawful right to always get access to the parliament. Of course, this leads to new protests.
It was impressive to see how fast artists caught up with this movement of solidarity. I didn’t know any political art from Berlin. It seems, that for Icelanders, art is a way to express one’s opinions as a counter-concept to media, that is more down-to-earth. Interestingly enough, this impression was about to be affirmed by another Nýló project: “Old news” – of which more later.
