Oslo’s Interactive Art and Sun-Starved Painters

     It does seem like a lifetime ago that I landed in Oslo to a balmy -2 degrees Celsius.

     The whirlwind 3 day trip to Norway’s capital consisted of Christmas markets, wine, a boat trip on the Oslofjord, and of course, lots of art. And yes, I am about 3 months late in uploading this one. Just cast your mind back to the long, long winter that we’re now emerging from. Norway in December was winter embodied.

     Compared to London, Oslo felt incredibly small, calm, and just nice. You can’t buy alcohol after 6pm on Saturdays and I’m sure public disorder simply doesn’t exist.

     Despite only having 700,000 inhabitants (to London’s 8 million) I was seriously impressed by the city’s commitment to art. Before this trip, the only Norwegian artwork I could name was Munch’s ‘Scream’. I quickly learnt that Norway has bred so many more brilliant artists than I can name here.

     One thing these Norwegian artists do seem have in common, however, is depression. This is a huge generalisation, but a lot of the art was incredibly dark. In theme, not colour, although paintings did all share similar muted palettes. Despair seemed to be the common denominator in a lot of what I saw. Who can blame them given that the sun only rises for 5 hours in winter in Oslo and doesn’t rise at all in December further north in Tromso. You could never expect the joy and bright palettes of the impressionists in the bright sunlight of the South of France.

     A disclaimer here: we planned one art excursion a day, but by no means saw it all. There simply wasn’t enough time to uncover smaller or more alternative shows of the city’s art; most of what we saw was in the city’s larger institutions. I’m aware that institutions of this sort provide only a certain angle. Nonetheless, here are some places where we saw some great art:

Vigeland Sculpture Park

     The largest sculpture park in the world to feature sculptures by one singular artist: Gustav Vigeland.

     It is both magnificent and rather dystopian. Featuring 212 sculptures of men, women and babies (actually an alarming number of babies) the sculptures supposedly portray the cycles of life. Death is also a dominating theme. These aren’t light and happy artworks. They’re matter of fact, impressive and quite unnerving. Lots of the figures are doing weird things that seem just a small step away from violence. Interestingly it doesn’t feel sexual despite every figure being naked. All of this cumulates in the ‘Monolith’, standing 17 metres tall with 121 bodies all clinging to each other, in some desperate clamber to the top. To heaven? Who knows. 

     The park was free, making it highly accessible to all. It had an incredible energy and the Monolith was breathtaking, especially in the frail light of the 3pm sunset.

Munchmuseet

     A whole gallery dedicated just to expressionist legend Edvard Munch. Most people flock just to see one of 4 iterations of ‘The Scream’. I was surprised to find that ‘The Scream’ itself is fairly humble- a mid-sized tempera painting on cardboard- not a grand masterpiece by any means. Its modesty was quietly powerful, nestled in its dark corner with dark lighting and set against a dark wall. It didn’t scream out to me, but more it felt very, very sad. Aside from being one of art’s most famous images, its simply an expression of human despair. Munch was alleged to suffer with anxiety, depression, schizophrenia and borderline personality disorder, topped off with some severe alcoholism. Its no wonder he was screaming. It made me feel very sad for him. The Scream is a powerful embodiment of human suffering- a common theme so far in Oslo’s art scene.

     Luckily I remained in good spirits to enjoy the (fractionally) less bleak works in the collection, my favourite being this: 

     Munch’s own starry night captivated me with its palette of soft blue, teal and purple. It felt like a true snapshot of the light and energy of Oslo in winter time. I brought home a postcard of this which sits proudly above my desk.

     In a surprising twist, the Munchmuseet then veered away from Edvard Munch, and featured an exciting collection of other artists. Below is a particular favourite, by Norwegian artist Erik Harry Johannessen, previously unknown to me. His use of paint, line, fragmented shapes and multiple perspectives makes for compelling paintings that have sparked new ideas in my own practice.

     Back to Munch: I was unexpectedly taken with his woodcut prints. I’ve always been more passionate about painting than printmaking, but seeing these prints opened up a whole new world for me. I’ve since started Lino printing, and I’m very excited for what I could achieve with printmaking as a contrasting or complementary process to painting.

     Munch’s original woodcut plate was up on the wall alongside his paintings, which I found very interesting. I was captivated by seeing his direct hand carvings- somehow it felt more personal than anything else in the room. The directness, yet sensitivity of his carving appealed to me. Below is one of his finished woodcut prints, and I was again captivated but this time by the grain of the wood in the finished prints. I love it. It’s a reminder of the process and physicality of making the work.

     People buzzed around an intriguing table in the corner of the room. It turned out to be an amazing example of interactive art- the type that the UK could do with more of. Carved into the table were snippets of Munch’s paintings. Using the provided paper and crayons, people were creating mini-prints by rubbing the crayons over the paper, with the carving underneath; the result being an ingeniously simple print.

     I was very struck by this. It was easy, simple, accessible, and visitors took away their own piece of art. Interestingly there wasn’t a child in sight, only adults, and mainly older adults. And yet there was a child-like earnest to everyone’s focus on the exercise. It struck me that its not only children who need art, but adults. Children are encouraged to play, make art and try new things. I bet none of the adults there considered themselves an artist. Yet they walked away happy- with a sense of achievement, and fulfilled having learnt something new, however small.

     The fact that no real art skills were required was important. Many people believe that they lack creativity or they never learnt art in school. This simple task proves that art is, in fact, universal. I want to see this in galleries in the UK. It would be incredibly easy and cheap to install. But one person may walk away feeling more curious than before. And that makes it worth it.

Nasjonalmuseet

     My artistic highlight of Oslo was discovering a previously unknown female painter- Else Hagen. A true trailblazer- she was one of the first women in the country to produce art for public spaces after WWII. Her painting practice, too, was incredibly avant-garde in the twentieth century.

     I want to include every painting from the exhibition. But here are my top 3:

     Hagen’s paintings are extraordinarily thought provoking. They draw me in. Her busy compositions push the confines of the canvas to the brim. They’re a visual feast.

     The subjects of her works are naked women. This is radical for the 1950s. In the traditions of painting, its male artists who paint naked women. The men are the artists, the observers. The women are muses, to be looked at. This is unfortunately true for so much of art history. Hagen disrupts this. Her being a respected, successful female artist in the 1950s is impressive enough. Her flipping the gaze to paint naked women makes her truly a feminist icon.

     And even more than depicting naked women, Hagen portrays a reality of female life, with the subjects in her paintings often being sexualised, humiliated or ostracised. A brave act of protest and rebellion against the treatment of women.

     Shown especially well in the first image are Hagen’s loose, watery brushstrokes that add another layer to an already rich and emotional painting. The artist’s hand is so visible that she becomes real. The works are personal, and inherently about her. I think she’s incredible.

     The Nasjonalmuseet’s sculpture room appeared just like any other upon first entry. I do love a room of sculptures, I find it mystical and slightly creeepy- like they could come alive any second.  Just as I was about to whip out my sketchbook to draw one we stumbled across the most amazing interactive drawing section. Nestled amongst the marble was drawing supplies and walls of drawings bearing the marks of previous visitors.