Grasslands (eng)

GRASSLANDS
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GRASSLANDS
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Foreword 9
Preface 16
Introduction to Grasslands 17
On Participation
On artist participation 39
Participation or involvement 43
Art as an eye-opener in a development perspective 49
Art in rural development policy 53
Our sincere thanks to everyone who has contri buted
to the realisation of project Grasslands and to everyone
involved in making this book possible
Spar Vest Fonden
Interviews
Citizens’ reflections on the collaborative process with Grasslands 63
Interview with the residents of Selde 65
Interview with the residents of Junget 68
Interview with the residents of Thorum 72
Interview with the residents of Åsted 75
Endeavouring to live in a world together 79
Essays
Selde: Skivevej 13. A plinth, a stage, a sculpture 90
Junget: For time and eternity 102
Thorum: 7007 Oaks 114
Åsted: Groundworks 126
Concluding remarks 138
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Foreword
Selde. Junget. Thorum. Aasted.
These villages in Northern Denmark have captured my imagination.
My curiosity has been excited about how people worked there, over many
moons, conjuring, re-inventing and re-imagining the places where they live:
trampling new connected paths together in making; painting; exchanging stories;
sharing food; staging plays; watching films and building new structures
from old.
People said »They’re up to something bold … let’s go and see« as stories of
what was happening there got out into the world. Whether you were party to it or
not, this book gives you a chance to see too.
The story starts in Selde with an invitation to professional artists Birgitte
Ejdrup Kristensen and Lene Noer to make art happen. A new sculptural work
takes shape and before long, art making springs up like a new kind of crop. A
villager says:
»Art is central to the village now and our consciousness maintains momentum«.
Once Grasslands has germinated it sprouts elsewhere.
What is this art that makes things happen in this rural area? Visitors travelling
from afar wishing to satisfy their cultural curiosity are given hospitality
by the network of villages and their creatively accomplished villagers. This is
the aesthetics of care: communal conviviality is in the air. People go for walks
with families on birthdays and sit on new benches chatting. There is joy and new
found stories:
»What is happening did not happen before.«
Individual narratives flow into a story larger than people themselves, re-
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sponding to the »music of what happens« (What’s the finest music in the world?
asks the mythical Irish giant Finn McCool, »the music of what happens, that is
the finest music in the world)«.
Whilst practical creative ideas were suggested by villagers themselves – becoming
active artists in the process – the book makes sure we understand this
was not easy. There was a natural caution, resistance even, to professional artists
coming in.
Accounts of the process are inspiringly honest, teaching us about the careful
practice and art of collaboration. We must stay with difficulty; come out of our
comfort bubbles to be patient, persevere, see clearly, listen and sometimes accept
others’ ways of seeing. A recognition of creative interdependence develops over
the course of practical work to be done. There is respect, learning, forgiveness.
Things turn out better than hoped.
There is collective rather than competitive working; pride; a lived ownership
of Grasslands and above all, helpfulness as people work to find creative solutions
- like painting in the rain together. Liminal space opens up, where nothing’s fixed
and anything becomes possible. It is from these experiences and rehearsals of
social connection, over time that different futures could emerge. »We’ve something
to share again« says one person and another: »We can make things happen
ourselves«.
Artists light a touch paper for us to see things differently; tapping deeply into
values of connection, story, place and meaning. Grasslands shows artists can be
circuit breakers; disrupting the status quo to make space to engage people collectively
at an imaginative level.
»Art takes nothing from the world« says the poet Gary Synder »it is a gift
and an exchange. It leaves the world nourished«.
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Nourishing our world in such creative ways is essential as, globally, we face
times of uncertainty. A »new normal« is characterised by extreme weather
events; a warming planet; a UN Climate Change Report in October 2018 stating
the world’s governments have 12 years to act to avert dangerous levels of
climate change and the loss of much of the Earth’s majestic, rich biodiversity.
Systems of food production, economy and ecological and social webs of life need
re imagining, reclaiming, renewing and reinventing and many of the greatest systemic
challenges put the countryside on a new frontline: there is a need to cooperate
globally and to create resilient communities. Artmaking creates moments
to begin again from in the story of humans on Earth.
I have written – In Playing for Time – Making Art As If The World Mattered – about
how many artists are now joining the dots between drivers of change in land use,
energy, finance, climate change, food and community resilience to reimagine the
world the way we would like it to be. I recognise the same collaborative, »grassroots«
arts practice in Grasslands.
These »participatory« arts create an aesthetics of care, with professional and
non-professional artists working together to set a new era for the arts. They build
connection between ourselves, our communities and the natural world. Finding
your place, digging in and taking responsibility from there.
Grasslands is the story of restoration the world needs: convivial, communal,
pleasurable, peaceful, creative making together: breathing possibility into local
communities, extending our imagination, collective courage and knowledge
we’re part of a larger whole. Working in community builds resilience for crises
and emergencies, where skills and resources uncovered in creating celebrations
leave a positive trace and memory of what a community can achieve together.
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If we are capable of painting in the rain together, we must ask, what else are
we capable of? That is a serious question.
So, should you chance upon people celebrating, planting trees, painting and
trampling new paths across the land together, retrace your steps to check what’s
happening.
Join in! Humans are born open, altruistic, empathic, generous and cooperative.
We don’t need to change human nature; we can work simply to reveal it.
Participation, experimentation, engagement across differences, project by
project over time, is all.
To Aasted, Thorum, Junget, Selde; artists, all, thank you for showing us how
true that is.
Keep growing!
Lucy Neal
Writer, artist
Tooting, London
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Preface
Introduction to Grasslands
This book encompasses the results of six years of work with art in the four villages
of Selde, Junget, Thorum and Åsted in North Salling.
In the first part, we discuss the background for the project and reflect upon
the process of involving the local population in the creation of the works. Interviews
with local residents provide an insight into the differing perspectives and
points of view, that at times may seem contradictory, but which were accepted
throughout the process, influencing the final works.
The second part of the book presents the four works that have been created in
the four villages. Each one is accompanied by an essay that places the work in an
art historical context.
We have asked artists, critics and researchers to reflect on the works, their
creation and the involvement of residents, in order to generate a material that,
considered as a whole, can contribute to a qualified discussion on citizen engagement.
It is our hope that this book will be an inspiration for the general public,
municipalities, volunteer organisations, institutions and artists who wish to consider
creating meaningful art firmly posited in the local.
We hope you find it inspiring!
Lene Noer and Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen
Artists
Skivevej 13 in Selde
To begin with, we have to go back to 2013, where a small group of residents from
Selde insisted that art should be included as part of an ongoing EU-funded project
on the future of rural villages. The residents of Selde recalled how artists, and
in particular the artist Richard Winter, had over the years brought life and vitality
to the area, contributing to the social life of the village through both his art and
his presence.
The group from Selde contacted the Aarhus Academy of Art and artists Birgitte
Ejdrup Kristensen and Lene Noer were hired as a team; Lene as Head of a
Masterclass on Art in Public Space and Birgitte, tasked with creating a work in the
communal space of Selde.
On a cold day in February, we visited, with the students, the village where we
would come to spend many other, long cold days, over the following icy spring.
One of the first things we encountered in our conversations with people in the
village was that many felt hurt and belittled by a feature in a Danish television
program, Money. This particular program had singled out a specific house in Selde,
namely the empty and dilapidated house at Skivevej 13.
Inspired by Theaster Gates work 12 Ballads for Huguenot House we were on the
lookout for a house that could be transformed so that it could be both an art installation
and artists’ residency. But research quickly revealed that the house at
Skivevej 13 was suitable only for demolition and that there were no other suitable
vacant houses in the village. The proposal, therefore, had to be reassessed.
In March, the day arrived where the final concept was to be presented to the
residents after many months of visits, coffee mornings and homemade cakes. The
residents fell silent as we detailed our plans for Skivevej 13. It was, to put it mildly,
very far from what they had imagined. Fortunately, just before we began, the
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good Seldeman Kjeld Petersen had opportunely stated; »Now I hope you are going
to present something we couldn’t have thought of ourselves!« So the citizens’
veto was never used.
We succeeded (where all others had failed) in buying the house Skivevej 13 for
a reasonable price. We visited the owner Eva Tved and discovered that she was a
very fine, if locally overlooked, artist. We arranged an exhibition of her paintings
at the Aarhus Academy of Art and were allowed to buy the house for the price
required by the bank and which we could just about afford. Following negotiations
with Skive municipality we received permission to demolish the house
and fill the foundations with rubble. Local volunteer bricklayers, led by Bjarne
Christensen, began this work while students from the Aarhus Academy of Art;
Pia Møller-Light, Faranak Sohi, Leonardo Sagastuy and Anne Katrine Graah Rasmussen
together with a group of students from the Experience Economy, Aarhus
University; Nanna Pind Hougaard, Astrid Høegh Tyrsted, Anette Bøgelund
and Sofie Maj Thomsen conducted interviews, created citizen-engaging works
and activities, published public shares, directed a mockumentary and planned a
wake with sound installations in the house, on the eve of its demolition. We became
aware, at an early stage, that frequent activities and physical presence were
neces sary to keep the momentum going.
In connection with the demolition, the base of the house was preserved and
painted white. The former rooms in the house and the doorways are marked by
slight variations in the level of the new base. Today, the work stands as a contemporary
art monument on the roadside leading through the village and at the same
time constitutes a stage, where a wide variety of activities can take place.
At the outset, the number of residents enamoured with the project was tiny
– ten or fifteen persons at most. And the hard-core group who had set the wheels
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in motion, Herman Jensen, Gunhild Juhr and Margrete Møller had to persevere
when the more negative elements expressed their views on The Plinth, as the work
had quickly been dubbed by locals. But as the students activities unfolded, more
and more people began to participate and support grew. And at the actual unveiling,
some 150 local residents joined the invited guests from elsewhere, at the red
and white checked tablecloths on tables in the middle of Skivevej, and ate whole
roasted pig and celebrated. A local youth band performed on the plinth, and a
group of residents presented a sketch about the house’s past as Tatol and local
gossip centre. Many had become involved in the days leading up to this; flagpoles
had been set up along the street, front gardens had been weeded and everyone
who could, had joined in. We learned from this that combining citizen-involvement
and contemporary art takes time and requires persistence and familiarisation.
And that many would like to participate and help, if asked directly.
Subsequently, full-page articles about the work and the village appeared in
several national newspapers. These articles rebuffed the unfair picture of the village
that DR’s (Danish State Television) Money program had presented. Which
in turn helped to appease some of the sceptics. The project also led to a number
of new community-driven initiatives, such as the Seldeco shop which serves
coffee and sells local handicrafts. Visual artist Marianne Jørgensen subsequently
realised her work Utopia and continues an engagement with contemporary art in
Selde as initiator and curator of Sculpture Village Selde.
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The project expands to the entire Fursund region
While Marianne Jørgensen continued her work in Selde, we again became involved,
this time under the auspices of the Volunteer Association of The Fursund
Region. The three villages that together with Selde constitute the Fursund region
wanted to draw attention to themselves through art – or at least this was what
the association believed. So we spent 2015 preparing a continuation of the participatory
art model in the villages of Thorum, Junget and Åsted, and the project
became part of the official program of the European Capital of Culture, Aarhus
2017.
From the very first meeting it became clear that these were four very different
small communities despite being no more than five kilometres from each
other. The residents from Åsted were enthusiastic; finally something they had
been waiting for, for years, was happening and which could result in a tremendous
improvement to the image of the village. The residents of Thorum wanted
nothing to do with modern art! And the residents of Junget were deeply sceptical
of an artistic takeover of their own development plans.
Based on our experience in Selde, our ambition was to explore the possibilities
of involving the local residents to an even greater extent in the creation of
the art works. We wanted to create original works in each village that were firmly
rooted in each specific place and that made sense to the residents. An exercise
that sounds amenable but which would prove to have different far-reaching consequences
and would challenge us in ways that we could not have foreseen. This
process has not been for the faint-hearted and is very difficult to describe in hindsight
owing to its complexity and diverse possibilities for interpretation.
We began by holding a large joint meeting for all four villages and then three
introductory meetings in each village to clarify wishes and expectations, and to
get to know the local communities. We then held three workshops in the form
of dream/wish workshops with the residents, to find ideas grounded in the local
area. In the course of the following year we arranged a series of meetings, events
and artist talks. An extensive degree of facilitation and servicing was an overarching
element through all the events.
We also participated in a number of conferences in Denmark and abroad,
where we presented the project and met artists who we subsequently invited to
contribute to Grasslands: Deirdre O’Mahony from Ireland with Groundworks, Sjoerd
Wagenaar from Holland with the symposium Radius and Henk Keizer with the
seminar Rural Forum.
New Town Square in Junget
Over the past ten years the original village square in Junget has been demolished;
in all seven houses that previously formed a natural gathering place in the village
including a bakery, a local shop, a kiosk, a wooden-clog maker and a haulage
company. The residents of Junget had jointly transformed the resulting empty
spot into a little green oasis.
Our idea was to build something new, together with the residents, with the
bricks from the demolished houses; to transform something that had lost its
va lue (the unsaleable houses) into something new. We wanted to investigate
whe ther we, by focusing our attention, time and resources on something that was
no longer considered valuable, would be able to revive a bygone appreciation and
thus a lost pride in rural living.
We wanted to involve the residents, who would be the end-users of eventual
art works, in the decisions surrounding what should be built from the reused
bricks. It turned out to be not quite so easy. Our suggestion was to use the bricks
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as paving stones. That we together paved a new town square with the bricks from
the houses, where everyone would be able to put their personal touch on the paving
patterns.
At the meeting where the proposal was to be presented, a new item had come
on the agenda; the village’s cooperative shop was to close. The atmosphere was,
to put it mildly, grim and many, who had not previously been a part of the process,
came to discuss the closure of the shop. The mood strongly affected both the
reception of our proposal and us, the messengers. It would be an understatement
to say it was not well-received and we drove home almost in shock at the treatment
we had experienced.
After considerable reflection from our side, we resumed the dialogue with
the residents in an attempt to find a compromise that would, as far as possible,
satisfy their long wish list and our artistic ambitions and commitments.
Under pressure then, momentum, if not agreement, was created for the construction
of a new town square that would include a covered picnic area, a viewing
point and a space for bonfires. A new meeting space with plenty of room.
The village square would be constructed using the bricks from the demolished
houses, and art was to be the mortar, both in a literal sense, by combining the
bricks together in a new way and in a more poetic sense in relation to attempting
to re-establish a sense of village community.
We now faced a different challenge than what we first had expected. There
were construction challenges, questions around site safety, blueprints for the
tradesmen, not to mention how we could get a barbeque and an art work to
co alesce.
We applied to the Realdania Foundation for financial support and received it
through the program A Denmark of Opportunities. We had already received funding
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from the Danish Arts Foundation, Skive Municipality contributed from their Village
Rejuvenation Fund and the local Spar Bank West also agreed to support the
project financially. We entered a partnership with the architectural firm Cubo,
who in addition to input in the design of the village square could also assist us
with the more practical tasks. It became a successful collaboration for everyone
involved. Led by enthusiast Ulla Simonsen, the residents of Junget entered a tenyear
land lease from the Skive municipality. The residents became the new village
square’s formal owners, assuming maintenance obligations with assistance from
the municipality.
Work on the new village square commenced in the summer of 2017. Experienced
bricklayers Hans and Brian (and father and son) examined every single
brick, ensuring that they fitted into the four cylindrical shapes, each 5 metres in
diameter. By September, the village square was as good as finished. The village
held a large unveiling ceremony where the Mayor of Skive, representatives from
Realdania, the Danish Arts Foundation and Ulla Simonsen gave speeches, Salling
Camping sponsored sausages and soft drinks and the local catering firm Charlottes
Hot Pot provided champagne and canapés.
As one resident commented, he had worked out that it was forty years since
there had been a building site in Junget. And that it was not every day that the
others from the neighbouring villages participated in local celebrations in Junget.
The pride, mixed with some surprise, was tangible.
So now the village square stands there. Built from bricks that stand and whisper
about all the events that the houses have seen down over the years. Whether
the village square will be used and provide a framework for a renewed spirit of
community in the village or if it will stand idle as an abandoned monument in the
landscape long after the demise off the village, only time will tell.
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7007 Oaks in Thorum
In Thorum, the residents were not interested in new art works, per se. They were
content with things as they were. Nonetheless some of the residents had been
working for years on establishing a village forest. When we met the residents of
Thorum, the project had unfortunately stalled, due to a lack of financial support.
So what could Grasslands contribute here?
Our point of departure was to create works based on something that was already
in progress. So it was obviously a good idea to derive inspiration from the
village forest if a new art work for Thorum was to become a reality. With the idea
of continuing the German artist Joseph Beuys work 7000 Oaks, the vision of the
village forest was revived and simultaneously an artistic dimension was added
that aspired beyond the village boundary. This suggestion for an art work was
accepted by the residents of Thorum with a sigh of relief. After all, it would only
be seven stones, and it could have been much worse!
We met with the State Horticulturalist in Skive, who gave the final push in
the securing of financial support. 7000 trees were planted on the former sports
grounds in the centre of the village, and in connection with a small get-together
where we brought coffee and cakes, the last seven oak trees were planted in an
area decided by the residents, close to the entrance to the village. Nordic Granite
in Skive had proudly raised the metre high basalt stones just before and now, surrounded
by the presence of history unfolding, they silently witnessed the event.
Consequently Thorum and the Fursund region are now connected to the
worldwide art project 7000 Oaks that Beuys initiated in 1982 in the German city
of Kassel. He did this by placing a pile of 7000 basalt stones in front of the city
museum. As oak trees were planted around the city by residents, the basalt stones
where one by one erected as a marker for the freshly planted tree. Beuys idea
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contained the possibility of a worldwide spread of oak trees with their associated
basalt stones, and today these oaks can be found around the world, in among
other places, New York.
Wall murals in Åsted
Åsted was clearly the most distressed village in Fursund. Mostly known in recent
years for its dilapidated houses and the most diverse group of residents one can
imagine. But also the most creative and engaged in the entire project. The ideas
poured in.
One of the projects, under Radius, was Irish artist Deirdre O’Mahonys project
Groundworks, which was a revival of the local community hall’s archive, covering
life in Åsted through the last 50 years – in other words, within living memory.
The point of departure for this project was that the residents association had recently
abandoned the assembly hall and sold it.
Initially, Deirdre came to Åsted’s community hall to gather material with local
residents for an informal archive. The week began with somewhat threadbare
support. But then Bjarne Strøm arrived with a number of scrapbooks containing
newspaper clippings of events from the village’s history that he had rescued, quite
by accident, from destruction. And day by day, more and more people brought
their scrapbooks and photographs depicting the communal life of the village. The
pictures were order thematically by Bjarne Strøm and hung on the walls of the
hall. The entire exhibition was opened to the public on the last evening, accompanied
by Irish stew and the hall was packed!
The pictures gave rise to many conversations and stories, which was the main
point in itself. But then Simone Bech came up with an idea that sent Deirdre’s
original concept off in an entirely different direction: Why not use the pictures
from the newspaper clippings as wall murals since Åsted already had so many,
and thus the archive would achieve a tangible purpose.
This proposal immediately won broad support and when Deidre returned to
Åsted, the challenge was to learn how to transform photographs to murals and
to try out the idea on the side of Åsteds abandoned furniture factory. Simone
canvassed owners of suitable houses in Åsted to provide a wall and surprisingly
many agreed. During a festive dinner with old fashioned, home-made open sandwiches,
the pictures to be used were chosen by popular vote.
In August, the painting of the murals began in earnest under the direction of
Costa Rican artist Leonardo Sagastuy. Drinks and cake were served and the atmosphere
became steadily more festive as the murals progressed and the citizens’
skills increased. And they are still painting in this small village of just 34 houses.
And in this way they bring the identity of the village, the narrative they have
chosen themselves, into the urban space and make it visible both for themselves
and for the many visitors who come to see the murals.
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Radius
We also invited a number of Danish and foreign artists to a three week long symposium.
The artists were invited to create work under the overarching title Radius.
The Radius concept has been developed by the Dutch artist Sjoerd Wagenaar
and aims to invite artists to work from a starting point in a rural area defined by
a radius of one kilometre. In this particular instance, the centre was placed between
Old Åsted and Åsted.
The idea behind Radius was that the artists would examine the area under
a mic roscope, digging up stories, artefacts etc under the slogan »dig were you
stand«.
The artists Sjoerd Wagenaar, his assistant Tara Horweeg from the Netherlands,
actors Linda and Mattias Straub from the Czech Republic and Germany
and visual artist Line Sandvad Mengers from Denmark where all invited for the
Radius symposium and arrived at the old school in Åsted in August. We invited
anyone who wanted to, to join us. The residents arranged barbeque evenings and
children from the village had their own painting workshop and small painting
courses when time permitted it. We were joined throughout August by people
from the entire Fursund region.
Almost every evening the residents, the artists participating in Radius and
curious passers-by would meet around the murals. Every day the research carried
out by the artists was projected onto the walls beside the murals, and in this way
the residents were presented with their own area, seen through the eyes of an
outsider.
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Rural Forum
The three week long art symposium in Åsted ended with an international conference
Rural Forum organised by Henk Keizer. The conference took place in the
medieval castle Østergaard that stands directly beside a modern pig farm, roughly
a kilometre outside Åsted.
Yet again the residents of Fursund showed their mettle, and it quickly became
apparent that their practical abilities in arranging this type of event far exceeded
ours. Therefore, it was the residents who stood as proud hosts and welcomed
guests from near and far.
Participating in the conference were local residents, local farmers, bank staff,
members of the European Parliament and local politicians, specialists from different
professional backgrounds, researchers, artists and people from theatre
who exchanged ideas and experiences on working in overlooked rural areas. The
purpose was to examine the role and potential of art in relation to the future development
of the geographically peripheral areas in Europe.
Lene Noer and Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen
Artists
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On Participation
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On artist participation
Sofie Maj Thomsen
Ph.d. student, Dept. of Anthropology, Aarhus University
Participation in art is about giving art an active, constructive role in the world.
So writes the English art historian Claire Bishop in her modern classic, Artificial
Hells, on social practice in art and its new powerful role in the world. In a world
where art, historically, has been object orientated, collective art is value oriented.
Where the creation of art is most often associated with the enigmatic inspiration
of the individual artist, collective art is about the explanatory and activities
taking place outside of the individual. Its concerns are dialogue, relationships,
actions, negotiations, and social movements, and in this way participation activates
new opportunities for art. If we really believe in the expanded possibilities
for art, and we aspire to co-create, then, I argue, we must introduce a new term:
artist participation. Including »the other side« of participation makes it possible to
develop original and essential perspectives and common understandings within
the discourse of involvement.
The perception of the artist as a genius can be traced all the way back to ancient
Greek philosophy. This concept has existed as a sacred view for centuries,
but has now begun a descent from heaven to earth to all us other mere mortals.
Artistic practice is no longer solely concerned with creation of material works to
be consumed by passive bystanders. It is in this dissolution of classical distinctions,
that art today enters a new activist paradigm.
Art today has gained a new social responsibility, writes Bishop, and artists
today collaborate with municipalities, the state and private stakeholders to address
and find new solutions to societal problems. At the same time, this social
movement in art poses some significant questions in relation to the aesthetic
end-product; to responsibility for the collective art production, and to how it
actively relates to the context it unfolds in.
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Why is it so popular to involve citizens in art projects? How does involvement
in art become meaningful rather than just a political buzz-word? The social
art projects in Grasslands anticipate a broader political tendency whereby the
inclusion of the public in the creation of art is lauded. In the co-created works
in Selde, Åsted, Junget and Thorum, we have the opportunity to delve into the
participatory process, while circumventing the many normative ideas and beliefs
that exist on the subject.
Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen’s work Skivevej 13, a white, house foundation in the
middle of the village of Selde, that has replaced an empty abandoned house on
the site, was the end product of a longer process involving discussions and meetings
with local residents from the village. A few years later in Åsted, a group
of residents met night after night and transformed the gable-end of their houses
into murals in a co-design with project leader Lene Noer and artists Deirdre
O’Mahony and Leonardo Sagsastuy Solis.
Looking at the two villages we find the same basis for inviting art in; the predictable
problems of the rural: the closed school, the endangered shop, the empty
houses, the lack of public transport. But the history of these villages differs,
in relation to contact with art and the creative field. Selde’s narrative about artists,
who years ago worked actively in the area, is kept alive by local enthusiasts
Gund hild and Herman. They are the driving force behind an active culture centre
with concerts, large contemporary art works on display, affording locals an opportunity
to engage in a wider art experience. Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen’s and
Lene Noer’s determination to include residents in the work, took shape through
the numerous residents’ meetings where discussions on the peripheral outskirts
of Denmark, art and a sense of identity took place. In many ways, the participatory
element in Selde could be described as a reflexive exchange of ideas between
the residents and the artists, while in Åsted it was of a more practical nature. In
other words, there were different artistic strategies in play around involvement
during the course of Grasslands.
The works of art and the joint processes around the Grasslands projects, became
a catalyst for innovative discussions, creating new meeting spaces and
generating new networks in the villages. The role of the expert is democratised
when the residents of the village secure the opportunity to demonstrate their
local knowledge and guide the artists during the creation of the works. The discussions
surrounding the history of the two villages unfolded in different ways in
both, but were guided by the residents’ knowledge and experience of places and
spaces of their village. They were part of a dynamic expert-role that unfolded in
the works of Grasslands and that made them temporary captains of the work.
Perhaps we should abandon the idea of the active artist, as the involving part,
and the citizens as the (more passive) involved. In other contexts, we describe it
as citizen involvement, audience engagement or, in a more political consumer -
societal context, as user involvement. But hereby we apply only one of the driving
forces in collaborative works.
It could also be described as artist participation, because this is primarily what
is called for. When we use the word, or concept, citizens’ involvement we presuppose
a relationship of power; that someone has the power to involve others
on their terms. But participation is dynamic, mutual and multifaceted. In the
Grasslands project this has meant that the works were sometimes primarily in the
hands of the residents, at other times, in the hands of the artists. Art participation
is a process over time, a process influenced by different stake-holders at different
times. It is not an absolute or clear-cut form.
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Participation or involvement?
- When art contributes to rural development
By Jens Ulrich
Ph.d. and management consultant, VIA University College
In many ways there is a need for a rethinking of the concept of art participation
and its complex meaning and methodology. As Bishop, and many of her art historian
colleagues point out, art participation has not been widely analytically and
theo retically examined, despite the fact that we frequently use these expressions
in public debate and political arguments.
We must discuss why art should involve (others) and be (itself) involved, and
what it can contribute. We must add nuances to the concept of participation, because
it contains a more complex and diverse configuration than often presented.
But if we look at the project Grasslands and for that matter the many other projects
around the country, where citizens co-create works with artists, then perhaps we
do not have to question if we should. It has been on the initiative of the citizens
themselves, to involve artists. When people rally round and support the creation
of works, then this is a clear manifestation that art can achieve something, when
it comes to reinforcing a struggle, a community or an identity of a village.
There is a difference between participation and involvement
Citizen participation describes listening to the citizens and subsequently utilising
the knowledge and information one has gathered in the creation of the artwork.
Citizen involvement, on the other hand, revolves around encouraging citizens to
become actively engaged in the shaping and development of the artwork – and
this involvement often forms a co-creative path to new, original ideas and innovations.
In a participatory process, the artist listens to the citizens but the citizens are
not included in a specific development or decision-making sphere. An involvement
process, however, implies that the citizens are welcome to contribute to
tangible development and decision-making processes. Contrary to participatory
processes, the citizens are not left on the sidelines, but are welcomed into the
engine room, thus helping to expand and form the artwork, and are directly included
in the actual fabrication process.
It would appear then that citizen participation and citizen involvement are an
expression of two different intentions and two quite different methods of engaging
with citizens. (Ulrich 2018).
Participation
At first glance, one of the advantages of citizen participatory processes is that
they reach a broad swathe of the citizenry at once. One can thus harvest a wide
range of contributions, which can subsequently inspire the content or shaping of
the definitive artwork.
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Conversely, the problem with the participatory model is that it rarely fulfils
the many received and articulated wishes. Partly because the sheer number of
contributions in themselves can be difficult to manage. And partly because the
numerous aspirations received, can all too easily diverge in many directions.
One consequence of participation can be that citizens, who have bothered to engage,
feel they have been ignored when they cannot recognise their contribution
in the finished artwork. It is, of course, a condition of democracy that not everyone
can be a direct part of the decision-making process; however, the citizens
can often experience this as »a rigged process to legitimise what has already been
decided«.
Involvement
Involvement assumes more than mere participation.
Through the process of involvement, an artist does not simply listen to the
citizens and then singlehandedly create an artwork. Involvement implies that the
citizens are included in the determining development and decision-making processes.
Involvement processes typically pose a number of challenges; they are problematical
if conducted with a large number of participants, require extensive resources
and often result in complicated scenarios that can be difficult to control.
Experience has proven, however, that through competent facilitation, it is possible
for citizens to experience a real sense of involvement and thus develop a
greater sense of ownership and accountability in relation to the finished product
than would be possible through a participatory process.
Through involvement, citizens are given a seat at the table, participating on
44 45

equal terms in the dialogue surrounding the development and execution of the
artwork. In this way, something new is created. The dialogue in involvement processes
confirms the principal of »one plus one gives three« resulting in more
being developed than what each individual brings to the table as a starting point.
And in this context, more than the artist could have produced themselves.
One positon of expertise or a shared expert role?
There are also variances in the position an artist adopts when employing participatory
or involvement processes. (Ulrich 2016).
In a participatory process, the artist retains their role as expert, which can of
course be quite legitimate.
In the case of involvement processes, a more balanced access to expertise
supplants the artist’s position as expert. Here, the citizen also dons a form of
expert-role, not necessarily based on artistic professionalism, but perhaps in relation
to local knowledge, experience or other factors that are relevant to the
process. This does not imply that the artist must abandon their professionalism
in the involvement process; merely that their professionalism does not come to
stand alone.
One could say that a participatory approach can result in the artist creating
and moderating a work for the citizens while an involvement approach encompasses
the development of a work together with the citizens.
Co-creative and involvement processes are a relative new approach, whereas
the participatory processes has been in use for some time. A lot of experience and
information has been gathered in relation to participatory processes and here the
artist may feel on more solid ground as the actual decision-making process, and
thus power, is not mislaid.
It takes courage and willpower to work within an involvement and co-creative
approach. Nevertheless, this approach affords the opportunity to progress
in new directions, if one moves beyond one’s comfort zone and utilise facilitated
co-creation and participatory processes.
Literature:
Ulrich, Jens (2018). Inddragelse eller involvering – hvordan når vi borgerne i samskabende processer?
(Participation or involvement – how do we reach citizens through co-creating
processes? in Danish.) Denoffentlige.dk (20 th . December 2018)
Ulrich, Jens (2016). Samskabelse – en typologi, (Co-creation – a typology, in Danish.) in
Tidsskriftet Lederliv, VIA University College
Involvement supports co-creation
Processes of participation and processes of involvement can both have their justifications.
However, involvement processes are best suited to realising the ambition
of a co-operative approach.
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Art as an eye-opener in a development perspective
Peter E. Steens and Thomas Olesen
Skive Municipality, Communication, Development and Business and Commerce
Grasslands has been a revelation for us as municipal development consultants.
One can really describe a »before and after«. Prior to Grasslands, we had never
encountered art and culture as an active element in creating development and
change in either rural, business or tourism development. It is thought-provoking
that Grasslands in a surprisingly short length of time has gone from being a small,
relatively unknown and quite literally far-out art project, to collaborative partner,
often namechecked in national contexts.
In the municipality of Skive there are many local communities that through
the virtue of proximity, volunteerism and community, shoulder a great deal. The
degree of involvement varies over time depending on factors such as the constellation
of individuals, momentum, projects’ success, project fatigue etc. Grasslands
has proved to be a catalyst for that energy to be reinforced or revitalised and the
effect of working with art has resulted in new understandings and changes.
Citizen participatory art such as Grasslands is not without its challenges, as the
process involving the residents of Selde, Thorum, Åsted and Junget clearly demonstrates.
Citizen participatory art demands much of the artists: patience, empathy
and a willingness to compromise. Equally, it requires that the citizens, who
have not previously had art as part of their daily life, are willing to be challenged
and to enter into uncharted waters. This process has succeeded beyond all expectations
in Grasslands.
In a development perspective, it has been, as we have mentioned, an eye-opener
for us that citizen participatory art and the processes involved can led to an
increase in engagement and change.
48 49

In Åsted, for example, it has proved possible to revive a local communities
history and create a common awareness that the individual citizen can make a
large difference and, to a great extent, influence how stimulating ones village can
be to live in. In both Junget and Thorum, the residents themselves had already
contemplated development initiatives, where the artists succeeded in raising the
bar. In Junget, the collaboration with the artists clearly upped the ante in relation
to the visions the residents of Junget had for the village park. The process up to
this point had not been easy, but it is our understanding that red lines and mental
barriers were shifted by all involved. Moreover, this is the premise for spurring
development that progresses both physically and mentally. Junget has ended up
with a unique work of art. On driving through the village, you unexpectedly encounter
something that is both a sculpture and a building of sorts. And everyone
who goes in and sits down for the first time is guaranteed a sensory experience,
whether one is with others, or looking for peace and quiet alone.
The Art and Rural Development Conference, Rural Forum, proved that art
could accomplish something very special in relation to energising dialogue across
attitudes and disciplines. Rural Forum produced a meeting of artists, artworks, and
experts from a variety of different professional backgrounds and locals with expertise
in local conditions and practices. On the face of it, it sounds like a hotchpotch
of differences but the results were fantastic. It led to enriching discussions
between different interests, agendas and professional backgrounds that yielded
new approaches and insights into the shaping of rural development.
The power of the Grasslands concept and citizen participatory art can also be
felt in the continuation of new projects. With Project CHAIR, which focuses on the
region’s tradition of furniture production, the circle behind Grasslands continues,
and many of the associated volunteers work in the Fursund region in new organisations.
Project CHAIR holds an exciting potential to create new activities and local
engagement.
Grasslands has had a noticeable effect. The Fursund region is an area where art
now spreads like rings in water and where it has become a vital part of development.
Out there in the landscape, opinions are still divided in relation to art and
the value of art in the public realm, but for us, it is indisputable, that Grasslands
has begun a series of processes that have given new life to local initiatives and
prompted a development, that will effect positive change in the region for many
years to come.
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Art in Rural Development Policy
Anne-Mette Hjalager
Professor, University of Southern Denmark
Does art have a special role to play in rural areas and villages? The Grasslands
project provides a moving account of art having indeed actively contributed to
change in the four villages of Selde, Junget, Thorum and Åsted in Salling. This
article sets art in a rural development policy framework. It examines how an
understanding of art’s role coincides with three major shifts in the perception of
how best to encourage development in rural areas.
Rural areas have almost always been afforded much sympathy from both
the government and the national parliament, from local politicians in county
councils and local assemblies, and not least from a broad share of the population.
However, this sympathy is not always easily translatable into visible, tangible
undertakings, and for this reason emotions often run high in any discussions.
In addition, rural areas unquestionably face strong centralising as an effect of
urbanisation and disadvantageous demographical shifts. It is understandable
that rural populations, in particular those furthest from cities experience that
the public and private welfare is diminishing, bus routes are abolished and it
becomes increasingly difficult to maintain a level of optimism.
But there are also developments in the opposite direction. Beacons of shining
ideas and powerful implementations emerge from the midst of the peripheries.
To give some examples, a local population can succeed in running a retail shop
as a cooperative, may successfully protest school closures and support transformational
building projects. This is, however, in no way a uniform development
across the country. We cannot generalise by saying that the movement is universal.
This development occurs where and when people seriously want it, and do
not easily admit defeat.
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Three rural paradigms
Regional development policies have existed in various formats since the first regional
development act from 1958. But the understanding of rural areas’ needs
and resilience has expanded quite dramatically since. Over time, a policy transformation
has taken place, away from a subsidy-and transfer economic paradigm
with its heyday in the 1960’s and well up into the 1980’s. This was gradually replaced
by a paradigm whereby locally identified potentials and resources came to
the fore as driving forces. This has been the fulcrum for rural development policy
since the 1980’s and in many ways it still is. From the mid-noughties, the development
of rural areas has been perceived through a relational economic lens, an
interplay between different geographies, and here we can trace the outlines of an
expanding new rural development paradigm. So within this main movement that
spreads over three epochs there will, at any given point in time, be elements of
all three paradigms in the actual rural development policies though with different
emphasis on each.
In the following I will outline these paradigms in more detail. The possible
and actual roles of art in these three rural development paradigms will also be
explored.
The subsidy-and transfer economic paradigm
An underlying observation of the subsidy- and transfer economy is that rural
areas decelerate compared to other regions. They are the victims of unfavourable
structural developments. They must therefore be assisted in the name of equality
and a regional balance of living conditions, so that they remain aligned.
In this paradigm there is a sharp focus on supporting industry and agriculture,
on the premise that creating valuable, innovative and export-orientated jobs
will have a spin-off effect on wider economic and life qualities in the local communities
other. The tools for this are direct investment in agriculture, industry
and in some cases such service industries regarded as ‘non-footloose’. The relocation
of governmental bodies from the metropolitan areas to the peripheral
locations) is another tool from the subsidy- and transfer economy toolbox that
has been revived in recent years. Furthermore the paradigm encompasses the expansion
of transport infrastructure so that it no longer feels as comparably more
difficult to run a business in the countryside.
The subsidy-and transfer paradigm is based on the assumption that as long
as there are jobs then there will be a tax revenue to enable the expansion of local
areas with educational, cultural and other service facilities. Perhaps this development
can be given a little extra push, through state support, for example a
theatre, a museum or a sportsground. The extended logic is that for the business
community to thrive, then there must be favourable living conditions for the key
employees and their families.
Art is placed on a low rung in the subsidy-and transfer economy. Art is the
‘icing on the cake’ – not unimportant as such, because in a welfare society there
must also be a geographical balance in the realm of the arts. The cultural ingredient
in rural policy consists of supporting the creation of institutions such as
exhibition space and museums. Recognised tasteful art, Giacometti’s sculpture in
Holstebro for example, falls into this category. Such investments encourage rural
areas and small towns to receive a dose of culture in its most well-established
forms and qualities.
The activation of localised potentials and resources paradigm
Receiving funding out of the taxpayers’ pockets is nice, but it rhymes with disempowerment,
bureaucracy and dependency. The reaction to the subsidy- and
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transfer economy paradigm reveals itself as a smouldering demand for grea ter
respect for the rural areas’ own resources and potentials. Rural populations claim
the surrounding areas’ honest confidence in them; that they both can and will
resolve things themselves. They want recognition that their way of doing things
also has merit. Under this paradigm it is no longer a case of what can be ‘planted
from above’ as to what can grow from below.
Localised potentials and resources are, by their very nature, entirely unique
to each area. In this way rural development policy, by necessity, becomes heterogeneous.
In some regions there can be a focus on natural resources that can form
the basis for new food production. Certain local areas have skilfully combined
this with food-related festivals and events that strengthen the broader tourism
potential. In other places the importance of cultural heritage is prioritised as a
framework for identity and innovative business and social activities. Realdania’s
programs, among others, have aimed at contributing to an increased pride and
awareness of built culture, and to encourage local investment in informed and restrained
reuse of buildings. Others have designated themselves renewable ener gy
villages. Rural residents have increasingly realised that local communities and
enthusiasts are the key drivers.
This rural development policy’s tool box is different from the subsidy-and
transfer model. The stimulation of the localised potentials and resources is encouraged
through development-orientated grants aimed at awareness and expertise,
and the support of networks and collaborations. Comprehensive village
revitalisation aims not only at creating a new sense of value, but equally a local
autonomy and capacity for action. There is a gradual acceptance that development
policy is multifaceted and is not merely concerned with jobs and economic
growth in the traditional sense, but also with meaning, identity and local empowerment.
Therefore rural development policies under this paradigm are, by
necessity, more flexible and pragmatic.
Art takes on a new role under this paradigm. Through their art, local artists
and artisans are seen as interpreters of the local identity and history, and in that
sense they can help to reinforce a sense of authenticity on several fronts. They are
also a part of the business community and their economic success is something
that the villages worry about. Promoting the conditions for artists as a business
can be achieved by, among other things, increased visibility in shopping areas,
and involving them in projects where their professional capabilities can be utilised.
Some villages seek to create ‘clusters’ of artists and artisans by providing
studios, artist residencies and exhibition spaces; by promoting festivals around
various artistic themes and by exhibiting artists’ work and productions through
the local tourism marketing.
The relational economic paradigm
Building on localised potential and resources has proven to be a successful approach
in many local areas, stimulating both the strengthening of identity and
cohesion. But again there are adverse reactions that create a breeding ground
for a new paradigm. The problem with focussing on localised potentials and resources
is that the local community risks closing in on itself. The same energetic
people always have to pick up the slack, and this in other respects commendable
practice, can result in their resources of expertise ending up going nowhere or
worse, drying up complete with a resulting drop in momentum.
One observation from local areas is that it is often new residents or other
outsiders who reignite the enthusiasm and spark. They bring expertise and networks
with them on how external resources can be harnessed with local ones
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and can make the recognised localised resources’ productive in new ways. A new
micro-business may have a local supply network, and these can be connected
directly and indirectly to urban consumers, as a number of food initiatives have
shown. Villages with close interactions with other areas, be they larger towns,
other villages or even foreign local communities, experience greater inspiration
and are more often (positively) challenged. They can marshal a greater critical
mass to launch projects and activities.
Support for the relational economy is about stimulating collaboration across
sectors and geography. This has, in fact, been a prerequisite for many EU-supported
programs for years, and this practice has become increasingly refined over
time. Now the discussion centres on co-design and co-innovation, which signals
that local residents and companies in rural areas are no longer passive recipients
or bystanders. On the contrary, they are creating and revitalising their own village,
and other villages who, to a more or less subtle extent participate for shorter
or longer spells in creative networks. The issues for the relational economy are
not well-defined in advance, and perhaps through consciously experimental processes
these villages will develop completely differently than expected.
If we are to understand art in the relational economy then we must emphasise
art’s special ability to connect the villages with each other and with a larger
world. Art introduces something new, adding new layers to the life and existential
conditions of the village, but also take something with it, that is reused and
reinterpreted in another place, at another time. The subsidy and transfer paradigm
understood it thus; first a solid and sound economic base is needed, then
art can be introduced into the equation. In the relational economic paradigm it is
almost the reverse. Here, the artistic projects’ mission and idea is supported first,
presupposing that in its wake the village will be a nicer and richer place for its
residents and companies.
Grasslands and rural development policy
In this book, Trine Rytter Andersen uses the concept of relational aesthetics to
describe the activist and collaborative process that has taken place in connection
with Grasslands. Sofie Maj Thomsen writes about ‘artist participation’. In this way
Grasslands exemplifies some important points in the changing role of art in rural
development policy. With their wealth of testimonials and observations the
chapters of the book illustrate that this is not necessarily an easy process.
This article has introduced three rural development policy paradigms that
in an underlying way are at work in Grasslands. Some prefer subsidies and others
want to be left alone. Others mean that artistic expression should be authentic,
growing from the bedrock, from the resources, and addressing this premise has
been a fundamental concern for the artists in Grasslands. Seen in the perspective
of the general rural development policy paradigm shift, Grasslands has, through
its working method, contributed to the exciting and challenging relational rural
development policy paradigm that raises constructive questions and opens new
horizons far beyond the realm of art.
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Interviews
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Citizens reflections on the collaborative process
with Grasslands
Trine Rytter Andersen
Art critic and artist
About the Interviews.
The following sections summarise the essence of a series of joint discussions between
art critic and curator Trine Rytter Andersen, and individuals and community
groups from Selde, Junget, Thorum and Åsted about the collaborative
process with Grasslands.
One village, one voice
In the course of conducting these interviews I realised that what most characterises
the people who chose to become involved with Grasslands is that they obviously
had done so in order to be able to influence the process, and that they had
the courage, opinions and desire to contribute to the community – but that they
would under no circumstances let themselves be portrayed in a light that made
them appear self-centred, power-hungry or selfish to the detriment of their own
respective local communities. This willingness to share the credit with each other
that I encountered from village to village was both striking and sympathetic, and
this is why, on the back of my conversations with the residents about this, I have
chosen to give each village a common voice in the following interview extracts.
Opposite page: Persons of Interest by Line Sandvad Mengers (2017)
The work is created in connection with Radius and consists of a brooch with the looped
Square, also known as Saint John’s Arms, the classical symbol for sites of cultural interest,
for every citizen in Åsted
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Interview with the residents of Selde
Contradictions and factual inaccuracies
The interviews are ‘biased’ in that they represent the residents’ voices, and the
texts refer to situations and contexts as they appear from their point of view,
resulting in factual inaccuracies and contradictory understandings of these
sequences and contexts. The residents place emphasis on different things and
therefore point to a number of factors as being important, even though they may
not appear so from a narrower art-critical perspective.
From a critical-source point of view, ‘memory’ is always precarious. Personally,
I believe that these errors, contradictions and idiosyncrasies contribute to
an expanded perspective, which is necessary in exploring the effects of citizen
involvement in art projects like Grasslands. I will attempt to elaborate and discuss
this in my meta-text that follows in the wake of the interviews.
While conducting the interviews, I stay with Margrethe Møller, a central figure in relation to
the ‘area rejuvenation’ which in 2013 led a group of residents from Selde to contact the Aarhus
Academy of Art, in the hope of involving artists in their future plans. Their request led to Birgitte
Ejdrup Kristensen and Lene Noer being engaged as project managers, and Birgitte created
the art work Skivevej 13, which has been locally dubbed The Plinth – a platform for the
future.
The following text was written on the basis of conversations with Margrethe Møller, retired
teacher and Bjarne Christensen, former bricklayer and foreman for the team of volunteers who
built the sculpture Skivevej 13.
It doesn’t really make sense to talk about Grasslands without pointing out some of
the key prior events: first and foremost, the processes set in train by the availability
of funding from Skive Municipality for an ‘area rejuvenation’ led the residents
of Selde to focus on artistic solutions rather than just hedges and flowerbeds.
Another important factor has been the Gallery Da Winti’s presence in Selde
for many years and Herman and Gunhild’s collaboration with professional artists
has meant that people here in Selde have gradually become more acquainted with
art and artists. We don’t believe that the village would have been so supportive
of inviting Birgitte and Lene to launch the first art project here, and then agree to
be a Sculpture Village without the influence of Herman, whose art interests and
activities in the heart of the village functioned as a catalyst.
Our own initiative
In 2013, therefore, many of the residents of Selde met Birgitte and Lene with an
open mind and excited expectations. Of course, there were those who were either
indifferent or needed to express their disapproval, when the ‘art’ didn’t exactly fit
64 65

their own personal perception of art. The whole process around the acquisition
and demolition of the house at Skivevej 13 resulted in a large number of meetings
with the two project leaders, of course, but also with students from the Aarhus
Academy of Art who were involved in the project, and contributed temporary
site-specific works that took the house and its history as a starting point. A protracted,
but also intense process involving many smaller and larger negotiations
of the practical and conceptual aspects. Getting the residents to support this kind
of artistic working method requires a great deal of patience from both sides, just
as it is very important to establish a mutual trust-based relationship – good relationships
are simply crucial. So there is no rigorous formula for how to set up
a successful civic art project, because at the end of the day it is totally dependent
on the people who become involved in the process. Those who give out and are
negative are also part of the equation and that’s how it should be, inclusiveness
is the code word.
Broadening the understanding of art
The actual work Skivevej 13 or the plinth, as we call it, has divided the village: some
see its minimalist expression as »too little« and »too ugly« and some accept the
work’s reduced premise and see the plinth as a sort of foundational rock – a stage
– for what we could call the village’s future.
But overall, it has been a positive and mutually educational process that has involved
many of the residents in different ways and on different levels. The results
have also been ‘measured’: both the specific and the derivative – by students of
the experience economy at Aarhus University. It has been a revelation for us
being the subject for this type of analysis along the way in the project. There’s
no doubt that art is central to the village and our consciousness now. The understanding
of art has expanded, and that’s great, but it does require continued initiatives
and engagement to maintain and develop momentum, which we are well
aware of.
Watching curiously from the side-lines
The second phase of Grasslands hasn’t involved us to the same extent as the three
other villages, as it was always the plan that the art project in this phase would
spread to the neighbouring villages, and in that way contribute to strengthening
the regional identity we have here in the Fursund region. We have followed Grasslands
with great curiosity, of course, and could sense that there have been various
different approaches and attitudes in the three neighbouring villages, which have
created a number of challenges for Birgitte and Lene along the way – this is reflected
in the three very different results, obviously, too.
A new emerging regional history
The participation of residents from all four villages in the Rural Forum helped open
up a dialogue between us and contributed to a broader understanding of how art
and research can be part of the development of local areas like ours.
In this sense, Grasslands has led to greater openness between he four communities.
All these meetings, concerning both the conceptual and practical aspects,
have brought us closer together and given us a series of common experiences and
challenges, which are gradually forming a history of, and identity for, the region.
66 67

Interview with the residents of Junget
Represented by Solvej Sieg and Ulla Simonsen, who chose to meet me outdoors in the new village
park that has been created as a part of Grasslands. The conversation took place in one of the
open, sculptural spaces, constructed of local yellow bricks from demolished houses that formerly
occupied the current site of the park.
We Want It Our Way
We got off on a slightly bad footing in the beginning here. ‘Assault’ is probably
a bit too strong of a word, but if you want a collaboration, then that requires
dialogue, and a ‘softly, softly’ approach in the beginning, and a certain amount
of openness and curiosity in who you might be working with, and what kind of
place it is, might have been a good idea.
Here where we are now sitting was originally the site of the houses waiting
for demolition and as it turned out, Grasslands had already in their pre-project
phase bought the bricks from those buildings.
This came as something of a surprise to us, and it’s no secret that we dug our
heels in, for the simple reason that we wanted to be acknowledged for our own
initiatives and care of the village, and because we basically believe that ideas that
develop from the base upwards, are the most sustainable. On their own initiative,
residents have been looking after the area over the years and therefore they also
had some ideas about its future use. One of the ideas we had considered for this
area was the creation of a space for communal dining – an area for barbecues or
something similar – so the idea of a village park was already in the offing.
Facts instead of abstract ideas
We were invited to some preparatory meetings, where Lene and Birgitte presented
Grasslands and explained some of the ideas behind the project. All three
villages were invited and Grasslands showed a willingness at that time to listen to
the residents. However, it’s probably a distinguishing characteristic of the area
out here, that people are basically very practically orientated: they think in specifics
and most of them want facts instead of abstract ideas. So, in the beginning
it was a bit of an uphill battle.
We discover the history of the area
Later, Lene ran a series of workshops, where we recognised the historical qualities
of the area and how we might connect the story of the old brickworks that
used to be right here, with the present. It was exciting and an eye-opener for all
of us and suddenly it made sense that Lene and Birgitte had had the foresight to
buy the bricks when the buildings were demolished.
Artist or facilitator
But when Birgitte came up with the idea of paving over areas that corresponded
to the foundations of the original houses, problems arose. She wanted to be an
artist first and project manager second, and was way too taken with putting her
personal artistic fingerprint on something that was very far removed from what
we had discussed in our meetings.
A verbal clash
You can’t do that kind of thing here so we closed ranks and resisted. It ended with
a very verbal clash and Birgitte was clearly shaken when she left the meeting. We,
on the other hand, waited for the dust to settle and to see what Birgitte would
decide and how Grasslands would get back to us. We waited for a while and agreed
68 69

that if the collaboration had ended then we would go ahead and build our hut and
small barbecue, just as we had originally intended.
Fortunately the collaboration continued
Happily, Birgitte dusted herself off, and she and Lene returned, with more focus
on us. Things begin to take shape in a way where we felt more involved and we
became more and more appreciative of what was happening. From the beginning
we had an enormous focus on the project’s sustainability, because the maintenance
and upkeep of the park rests on a little group of ‘the same old people’.
We’re not complaining about that, it’s simply a condition that we accept. But we
do want to support a project like this. It’s good, and fun, to do something together
that you can enjoy afterwards. And it’s no secret either that when the plans for
this park where finalised there wasn’t a dry eye in the house – everyone was
looking forward to it.
Everything we wanted
This place is so wonderful – it’s a little park now. Notice how the recently planted
beech hedge is watered, here in the summer heat as we sit here chatting. The area
contains all the functions we original wanted: space for a bonfire, barbecues,
places to sit, sheltered from the wind and viewpoints with sun-heated bricks to sit
on. At the inauguration everything was perfect. EVERYONE was glad and everyone
lent their participation and support. It was a wonderful party day!
to take shape for the residents and people from neighbouring areas – we have put
a lot of effort into signalling to the community that this is a public place and you
are allowed park and sit down.
So now we are quietly working away at the idea of a tiny, little local museum
about the demolished houses in a microscopic dilapidated ice house, here beside
the park.
Not everyone has changed their opinion on art and artists – because the process
was so unsightly, many prejudices live on.
After the rain comes the sun
We wouldn’t have ended here without art as a catalyst, and it was good and instructive
for everyone that a process can go so horribly wrong and yet come on
an even keel again. We wouldn’t have arrived at this solution without the artists’
intervention and for that we are grateful.
But we have to conclude that we are very obstinate people in Junget, who
won’t be led like a horse to water by either the authorities or artists. We wanted it
our way and we got it.
A place we share with others
The park is now in use and we are creating new traditions here. For example, our
Midsummer Night’s bonfire will take place here. Gradually the space has begun
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Interview with the residents of Thorum
Jens Kristian Kristensen (Kesse), Sexton, Thorum and Junget Churches and Chairman of the
Citizens Association. Erik Høgh, pensioner, former manager, Skive Abattoir and Chairman for
Thorum Gamle Købmandsgård. Both live in the village. Our meeting takes place in Thorums
Gamle Købmandsgård, which after renovation includes a small park, the Local History Archive,
a carpentry workshop, a smithy and an activities house.
The ill-advised art in Selde
We had been able to follow the process in Selde at a distance, and it’s no secret
that little of the ‘ill-advised art over there in Selde’ was to our liking. So when
Grasslands approached us, we were on our toes, because we weren’t just going to
accept any old suggestions. We wanted some influence on proceedings.
We were already busily at work
Of course, this is because we’d been working on renovating the building we’re
sitting in, for years. These renovations are now completed and the building functions
as an activities house for the village. At the same time, the idea for a village
forest was already in place, even before we had decided that it would be the right
solution. So with that in mind, we weren’t interested in Grasslands setting a new
and totally different agenda. We wanted to develop some of the ideas we were
already working on. So in the beginning there was a lot of resistance, lots of
prejudices and it wasn’t easy for Grasslands to get across their abstract thoughts to
a group of practically minded people like us.
That German guy
But we’re not deaf, and little by little, we began to listen to each other. All the talk
about that German guy (Joseph Beuys) and the oak trees and the basalt stones in
that town in Germany (Kassel) where they hold some sort of world famous art
exhibition (Dokumenta), did get us interested, despite everything, and bit by bit
we got behind the idea of the oak trees and the basalt stones standing as a marker
for the village, out by the main road.
It was a good idea and it’ll be lovely when the trees are fully-grown and the
grass is cut so that you can see the stones. But the idea of Crowd funding and
planting hundreds of trees afterwards was silly – anyway, it’s not going to happen,
because it’s way too expensive. And the stones have to be brought from
China – that makes no sense at all.
The art of binding things meaningfully together
Anyway, after much toing and froing, we finally reached a decision that in addition
to the basalt stones and oak trees, we would, in cooperation with Grasslands,
work on establishing a village forest on a plot of land in Thorum. When these two
ideas were brought together it became a ‘win-win situation’ and things quickly
began to take shape: The State Horticulturalist from Skive Municipality had already
made plans for the distribution of fourteen species of trees. That set the
ball rolling, and many people got involved and the area was quickly cleared – the
farmers willingly helped as much as they could. Everyone could see it was a good
idea, so there was lots of support. We were going to plant all these trees by hand,
but then Hede Denmark got involved and planted 7000 trees by machine in one
go. The inauguration on the 4 th of August was a totally fantastic day. There was a
125 people in the afternoon and 50 that evening – even though the weather was
appalling! It was great to see all that enthusiasm and we celebrated with a party,
barbeque and the works!
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Interview with the residents of Åsted
A new situation
Even though it is still young and not yet full-grown, the village forest already
contributes as something beautiful – it is ‘cultivated’ and close to the community
hall – there is now traffic in the area. People go for walks with their families on
birthdays, people sit on the benches, chatting and relaxing. This didn’t happen before.
The process of transforming Thorum Gamle Købmandsgård began in 1995,
the house opened in 2000 and this was the beginning of better possibilities for the
community in the village. The forest is a natural continuation of this.
Something to laugh about
We probably still think that art is a bit lofty and that internationally it’s expensive,
difficult and not necessarily good. We also see things a bit differently in the different
villages and towns – for example, no one here is very keen on murals on
houses – they can keep that kind of thing over in Åsted.
But art has contributed something new in all the villages, obviously. It’s also
brought new vigour to our yearly Review, which now attracts people from the
whole hinterland, because the spread of art here in the Fursund region has meant
that here is something to laugh about and be challenged by! It’s really fun and believe
it or not over a 100 people came two nights in a row to our little community
hall, with its stage and everything!
The “way we’ve always done things” is dead
You could say that the ‘way we’ve always done things’ has died a death here in Thorum,
we’re more open and curious, thanks to this process. We’re still on the lookout
for new ideas and we’re more effective when we spot them. It’s broken the ice and
there’s more confidence in the village now, even though we still hear people say ‘It’s
great what you’re doing’ despite the fact that they’d never lift a finger themselves.
I meet Hanne Bavnsgaard, Tove Lillian Prüsse Gravesen, Simone Bech, Bodil and Helge Pinholt
and Bo Futterrup at Pinholdts farm, close to the village of Åsted. We meet under the parasols,
sheltered by the trees and bushes in their large courtyard, for afternoon coffee and cake, in front
of the farmhouse.
The residents present their personal backgrounds very thoroughly, emphasising
their expertise and connections to the area. I have condensed this below:
Bo Futterup; self-employed with his own company in Åsted, local and married
to an outsider. Hanne Bavnsgaard; former employee at the furniture factory,
now working as a child minder, local and married with a local. Bodil and Helge
Pinholt; run their own company from a farm North of Åsted. Both are locals.
Tove Lillian Prüsse Gravesen; former head of Home Care, together with her husband
moved to the area. Simone Bech; former nurse, moved to the area, selfemployed
and married to a local farmer.
Third time lucky!
Our first reaction to Grasslands was on a practical level: this sounded exciting. This
was something we wanted to support. We’re generally open to new ideas. We’ve
had similar initiatives focussing on village rejuvenation and life in rural areas
twice before, without any noticeable results, so with Grasslands we decided: ‘third
time lucky’.
Nevertheless, there were a number of prejudices around those artists and
there were a little too many rumours flying about in the beginning. We all knew
someone in Selde, and knew that their art project hadn’t gone down so well with
some of the locals. In the beginning we had to simply find out how it was all going
to work, and therefore we got off to a slightly slow start: on the one hand we
wanted to be able to influence the proceedings and on the other many of us had a
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feeling that there was already a ‘plan of action’ in place in advance, and that this
would put off people who had trooped up in the initial stages.
It turned out that the ‘plan of action’ was something we had to create ourselves.
There were several meetings and a workshop about Åsteds DNA, for which
we found old pictures from the archives, and people with roots in Åsted and the
surrounding areas supplemented with private photographs. This led to the idea of
the gable wall murals.
For every gable mural, a party
Gable wall murals on our houses! »No-one is going to volunteer their house for
that!« is what many of us thought. But actually, there were, and now there’s even
more who want their walls used for new murals.
The whole village has experienced how much fun it is to make them at night,
with all the things you need: projectors, cooperation, materials, labour and then
beer, wine, coffee and cake. What an amazing atmosphere! And when it rained,
we had to help each other find creative solutions so we could paint under shelter.
The nicest thing of all is that it is perfectly legitimate to just troop up, look on,
and be curious when the paintings are being made. In that way EVERYONE can
be involved, the atmosphere spreads to the whole village and people driving by
stop and ask »What’s happening here?« Some people park, get out and end up
hanging around. When we were painting the ‘digger’, some people on their way
home from the Festival of Culture on the island of Mors passed by. They came to
a screeching halt, reversed and wanted to know what on earth was going on. That
was funny!
New life – new perspectives
The process that Grasslands kick-started has functioned as a boost for the village of
Åsted! Particularly for the older generation. We have revived stories from earlier
times: some people participate with their own personal stories and history, others
as part of the positive story of this village. We’ve something to share again. And not
least, we’ve been given the opportunity to brighten up the village, in an educational
and fun way. It’s been infectious and encouraged involvement, especially for people
who have moved here and are our age. Here’s something we shared: a desire to
improve the village and an interest in the lives and former times here.
We were given an opportunity to challenge the attitudes and prejudices that
prevail in some quarters about the idea of a peripheral Denmark and about rural
living in general. And also the more local scepticism, the sort of »are you from
Åsted? You couldn’t possibly live there!« got a drubbing when the murals were
finished.
Positive attention
This rubs off on us of course, and on the attention Åsted gets in the nearby areas.
We have a Facebook page: Gable Murals in Åsted, which also has drawn lots of
attention.
Rural Forum – an enormous surprise
Rural Forum, held last year at Østergaard, was a fantastic experience involving
everyone from the village. We’d been invited to participate, which many of us did
and which we got a lot out of. In reality we had no idea what it was we were arranging.
The purely practical side of it was much easier than what the artists and
researchers were coming with. We just threw ourselves into it and helped each
other in a good way, and little by little, we realised what was going on. Imagine
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Endeavouring to live in the world together
– How a contemporary and participatory art project
like Grasslands can revitalise the legacy of the artistic
ideals of the 20 th century avant-garde
that, here in the medieval castle Østergård in Åsted, people from nine countries
(including an EU Commissioner) were gathered to discuss rural development.
The workshops we participated in gave us so much new understanding – we were
totally high!
The Trampled path
The Trampled Path is another good example. Students from Krabbesholm Højskole
came here and trampled back and forth for 24 hours (interrupted only by
a torrential downpour). The students thought it was marvellous to walk from
sunset in the beautiful landscape, all night with burning torches in the summer
twilight, to a very dazzling sunrise.
Some very special outsiders
It is important for us to point out that the fact that two outsiders have come here
and facilitated these things in the form of money, good connections to various
authorities and a broader perspective on things has been crucial to the developments.
We would never have supported ‘one of our own’ who had dared to stand
up and say »here’s what we’re going to do«. But when strangers come tramping
on to the scene, in just the same particular and very fine way Birgitte and Lene
did, then something takes place, then we’ll support it and things can begin to happen!
At the same time it is important to emphasise that it’s not only us who have
learned something from this process: just ask Lene and Birgitte if they haven’t
learned a thing or two along the way too. Lene, Birgitte and Leo are unbelievably
nice and helpful. AND they’ve learnt a lot about talking to and with us and not
being too abstract. They have the visions that enrich us and we have the labour
that they need – ergo: we both need each other and are enriched by each other.
Trine Rytter Andersen
Art critic and artist
Since the 1990’s an increasing number of Danish artists have become involved
with communities that work actively and inter-disciplinarily with identity, history
and social structures.
Playgrounds, community allotments, urban parks, fixing rooms, dinners,
blind dates and democracy workshops have been established or arranged, among
other things. Typical for all these projects is that that they intercede in daily life
and try to strengthen communities while simultaneously attempting to mobilise
and qualify citizens’ initiative, agency and self-determination. Another common
trait is that they support the proposition that art, as edification and contextualisation,
can motivate those it mobilises to engage in binding democratic processes
that benefit both the community and the individual.
The development of the avant-garde in the 20 th century
The idea that art should play a role in society and contribute to citizen’s awareness
and commitment is not new. Ever since the inception of the historical Avantgarde,
around 1910, the question of how to free the individual from the oppressive
structures of society has been to the fore. Avant-garde artists employed
different strategies from each other, but shared the same goal. They wanted to
develop a coherent political, existential and social life practice. They also wanted
to challenge convention and habit to awaken the individuals’ aesthetic and social
understanding, so that he or she would be better equipped to protest and empower
themselves.
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Paradoxically, this emancipatory aspect did not really resonate with the general
public. They reacted, for the most part, with indignation and scorn to the
avant-garde artists’ provocations and vocal manifestations, even though this
was the group the artists were trying to enlighten. Therefore, the ideas of the
avant-garde were primarily discussed in the shuttered spaces of the elite. Nevertheless,
that the avant-garde movements have, down through the years, provided
concepts, which have influenced our understanding of the individual, the development
of society, and the use of power, is indisputable. Nor that the avant-garde
has paved the way for those artists exploring the possibilities for actively influencing
society, today.
Feminism and Relational Aesthetics
At the end of the 20 th century, an unexpected resurgence in the desire to embark
on socially engaged practices emerged on art scenes around the world. This happened
in fields where feminism and equality played a central role, among others.
In 1998, French philosopher Nicolas Bourriaud published his book »Relational
Aesthetics« describing and giving name to an art that engaged with the world
around it. In it, Bourriaud set about re-actualising contemporary art, which in the
1990’s had been the subject of heavy-handed and often misjudged criticisms for
being ‘blindly political correct’ and ‘too conceptual’. The book had an enormous
impact on the art world in Denmark, where it was received as a sort of contemporary
theoretical manifesto, as it gave expression to an engagement with the world
that was well under way and which has expanded in contemporary art ever since.
Establishing possible meetings
According to Bourriaud: »Each particular artwork is a proposal to live in a shared
world«. He downplays the idea of the artwork as an individual and abstract focal
point, in favour of experimentation with the work’s relationships in a given social
field. He also argues that socially engaged art should involve the establishing of
possible meetings. The meetings must occur voluntarily. They must be reciprocal,
ideally as power free, transparent spaces of edification and platforms for reflection
and engagement in whatever the involved parties agree is important.
Artists such as Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen and Lene Noer work in a contemporary
orientated and societal-engaged context. They are involved in the world
around them and devote considerable time to their research. Connecting the aesthetic
with the social is self-evident for them. It is also perfectly natural for them
to delve into complex structural and social situations and invite local citizens in
to exploratory groups, as they have done in connection with Grasslands. In this
way, a reciprocal awareness and joint co-ownership is established that creates a
sounding board for a nuanced and skilled art project that speaks to the intellect,
emotions and senses.
Like Bourriaud, they see the aesthetic as the product of a creative process that
arises from encounters, which draw equally on intellectual, physical and material
capital. At the same time, the creative process contributes to the social and
cultural edification of both the individual and the group, as well as to the wider
debates in society, in general. A project such as Grasslands thus supports both a
consolidation of the local village community and citizens self-awareness, while
at the same time forming a nuanced voice in the ongoing debate on the centre
contra the periphery.
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Micro-revolutions
In Relational Aestetics, Nicolas Bourriaud tries to describe how contemporary art can
relaunch the historical avant-garde’s ideas, liberated from dogmatism. He formulates
the concept of micro-revolutions in an effort to revitalise art with a supple revolutionary
and utopian potential. He attempts to revive contemporary arts’ critical
potential, guided by an ideal of everyone’s voice being heard. As might be expected,
this perspective has become less idealistic and more down to earth, over time. He recognises
and stresses the power of small movements, for their ability to develop and
accumulate meaning like ripples spreading in water. Nicolas Bourriaud’s emphasis on
these small micro-revolutions corresponds with contemporary art practices currently
unfolding within the framework of a gentler, humanist thinking.
A new paradigm
The ideal of giving everyone a chance to be heard, plays in my view an important
role in the artistic sensitivity and responsiveness, that today can be seen in many
of the feminist, socially engaged forms of practice in contemporary art. A characteristic
attribute is that the involved artists listen to others than themselves, in direct
contrast to the classic avant-garde and more masculine artist types.
We see here a new aesthetic paradigm, which more than ever before, takes its
point of departure in feminine virtues such as sensibility and social engagement.
For example, engaging with a group of people and collectively examining a topic
and creating a work. It is a paradigm that implies that the artist renounces part of
their autonomy and control of the work, creation, process and form, in favour of
a shared ownership. The strength of the shared ownership lies in the multiplicity
and nuance, with all the hassle that this may involve, and with all the inconsistent
and ambivalent relationships that can be revealed along the way.
Art paves the way for humour and community
Grasslands is a living example of this hassle and how the encounters with four
different villages resulted in four widely differing narratives. As each project unfolded,
each village’s narrative about itself was vocally negotiated and contested
by the active residents groups and the artists. Grasslands is also the story of how
the individual village community manifests a common identity with a distinct
temperament, and with attendant conflict zones that must be ventilated and massaged
by the artists and the residents, en route.
At the same time, I have been impressed by how the focus on the concept of
the Fursund region has helped dispel former grudges and differences between
the villages in the region. The residents are themselves very aware of this. Art has
»given us something to laugh about, to meet around and to surprise us«. Today,
where many of the villages’ traditional activities have moved elsewhere, the entire
area congregates around cultural and social activities. There is no doubt that
an area and a village community can benefit from an artistic intervention. Nor
is there any doubt that a focus on cultivating an open, appreciative and inclusive
local culture can make both the rural and the urban, attractive, active and vibrant.
Fighting for dignity and influence
In the interviews I conducted with them, the resident groups expressed unhappiness
with the derogatory stereotypes, in particular those formulated by the
capital’s media about people and their lives in Denmark’s rural periphery. They
feel stigmatised. They do not want to be dictated to. They want to be perceived
and regarded as equal members of society. In line with this, they describe their
reservations about a group of artists, arriving with their abstract ideas and their
lack of ability, at times, to meet the more practically orientated local residents on
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a level playing field. Particularly in the second phase, where Grasslands moved on
from the initiating white plinth in the middle of Selde, to the other nearby village
communities, the artists faced resistance in the new host villages, simply because
of »all the strange art over there in Selde«.
The residents of the four villages Junget, Selde, Thorum and Åsted also express
that they became involved in the Grasslands collaboration in order to gain
influence and through this actively contribute to the project and thus their own
success. They also attach great importance to understanding their collaboration
with Grasslands as part of an already ongoing positive development, which they
themselves had been instrumental in, before the arrival of Lene Noer and Birgitte
Ejdrup Kristensen.
Moderating one’s artist-ego for the benefit of the whole
Project managers Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen and Lene Noer describe how they
experienced the different village communities as places, each with their own personality.
They also describe how they, during the process, had to learn to cooperate
with these personalities each with their very distinct set of characteristics.
Lene Noer has throughout the entire project served as a sort of ‘midwife for
everything’, taking care of the many meetings and debates that were necessary in
the rapprochement process. Further on in the process, Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen
would find her place as a practising artist, in the context of hosting the many
workshops. A role, that in phase two, in accordance with Bourriaud, she had to
moderate in the efforts to meet the residents’ needs and to understand their interests
and wishes. This conflict of interest came to a head in Junget, leaving all on
edge until the parties finally reconciled and agreed on a way forward.
The distinct abilities of the artists are appreciated
What one unequivocally must admire the two project leaders for is their ability
to meet the residents, enter a dialogue with them and to learn from this, along the
way, while maintaining their vision and willingness to see the project through,
despite opposition, misunderstandings and myths, as well as a multitude of practical
and economic challenges along the way. The residents also specifically commended
this passion and drive, pointing out that they would never have given so
decisive a mandate to one of their own, and therefore would never have been able
to get so far, if Lene Noer and Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen had not appeared and
taken on the role of midwives.
There is no doubt that after tears come smiles and that all involved have
grown through the collaborative process, and that there still exists a relationship
of trust, as this former proud furniture-producing area of Fursund, has already
established a new ‘chair project’, which at the time of writing is finding its own
four legs to stand on.
There is no singular truth about the results of Grasslands
I have personally been very absorbed in how the different residents groups have
formulated the stories that have meant most to them. This kind of post-rationalisation
and editing of our narratives is quite common. It is a distinguishing
charac teristic of us as human beings that we create meaning in life by establishing
and editing our narratives about ourselves. The trick is to make room
for these idiosyncrasies, ambivalences and contradictory insights. No one should
have a singular ‘truth’ about the results and successes in such a complex project
as Grasslands.
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Empathic art and culture
The revolutionary movements of earlier times were demonstrative, authoritarian
and violent. The new micro-revolutionary ripples on the water-mirror of art are
the exact opposite: they are anti-authoritarian, compromise seeking, inclusive
and empathic. In this light art becomes less spectacular, demonstrative and masculine,
and more processual, inclusive, investigative, and feminine. Precisely on
this basis, art has a micro-revolution potential when it contributes to a shift in
consciousness for both the artists and those individuals that it wants to establish
a sociable and exploratory dialogue with.
Illustrations of the process by resident Anne Berggren
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Essays
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Selde: Skivevej 13
A plinth, a stage, a sculpture
Maria Kjær Themsen
Author and critic
Architecture is always dream and function,
expression of a utopia and instrument of a convenience
– Roland Barthes (The Eiffel Tower and Other Mythologies)
A Village Story
Skivevej 13 could really be in any random village in Denmark. Nonetheless, this
work has been created, site-specifically, for Selde in Jutland, by artist Birgitte
Ejdrup Kristensen (b. 1975). In the wake of a television documentary about deteriorating
conditions in rural Denmark, the inhabitants of Selde were incensed
by, the in their mind undeserved, depiction of their village as illustrative of how
bleak things had become in the provinces. As they wanted to lend nuance to this
representation of a peripheral and marginalised Denmark, they subsequently secured
an art project for their village. Its significance does not limit itself to this
one specific reason, because Selde resembles so many other villages. As does its
story.
It reminds me precisely of my own childhood town; a small village in South
Zealand called Bårse that consists of a country road, a local shop, a baker, a
church, a village school, a small football stadium and a community hall, and
about 500 inhabitants.
It may sound like the most forlorn place on the planet, but this is what constitutes
much of Denmark. Like tiny islands of locally lived life, village gossip and
unanimity. Like small reservoirs of lived-out dreams, which in some cases had
become a brutal social-realism, but for the vast majority are still small communities
where people simply want the local shop to stay in business, the school not
to close, the bus to continue running and the depiction of their place in the world
to be presented in a little less negative light.
I can easily conjure up in my mind several possible places on that short route
through my childhood village where Skivevej 13 could be. In the old butchers, for
example or the house on the corner across the road, that for as long as I can
remember has resembled something ready to be torn down. Even so, Bårse was
named Village of the Year in 2012 and our baker is still renowned across South
Zealand.
In that sense, Skivevej 13 is, undeniably created specifically for Selde, taking
the former business and house at that address as its point of departure. Yet this
project is almost universal, pointing to some of the recurring problems Denmark
has experienced in recent years, where villages suffer when the local school, the
shop and the community hall close. The spaces where friendship and community
belong. Instead, the village is reduced to a mere row of houses, where the inhabitants
have no shared space, no beating heart where they can meet and that can
send life out to the rest of the small society.
At the same time, we now see a counter-reaction to the depopulation of rural
areas in recent decades. That the young migrate to the cities is nothing new. However,
we are increasingly seeing a desire to move back to the provinces. The New
Dream is not necessarily to live centrally, cramped and expensively, in the city
any more, but to have both peace and quiet, and plenty of space to unfold one’s
life aspirations. And who knows what the old villages will look like in twenty
years’ time? If the dream again becomes greater familiarity amongst fewer people?
There are signs that this might be the case.
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Skivevej 13 and negative space
It is an extraordinarily prosaic title for a work, Skivevej 13. There used to be a shop
once, in the house at the address Skivevej 13. It was called Tatol, and here the
ladies of the town could purchase nylon stockings and nail varnish.
The house is gone now and a work constructed in its place, a sculpture, reminiscent
of a plinth or a white stage. When you see pictures of it on your screen, it
most closely resembles a photo-shopped architectonic model, a digital sketch in
the middle of reality. As real as the surroundings unfold, as unreal appears the
sharp-edged, white and sketch-like work. Like an almost non-monument to what
once was, and a space for reflection over the dreams that will shape the future of
the town.
In 1990, Rachel Whiteread (b.1963) created the Turner Prize nominated work
Ghost. This piece consisted of a plaster cast of the interior of a Victorian parlour
from an abandoned house in London. She described her method, and the title, as
a way of ‘mummifying the air in the room’, by fashioning the empty space into a
solid. Whiteread works in this way with negative space, all of what is between us,
which does not exist in solidity but which nonetheless must be termed ‘a space’.
In 1993 Whiteread created House, for which she finally received the Turner Prize
(becoming the first female artist to do so). House was a concrete cast of the interior
of a whole house on the periphery of London. The house, and the entire interior
of ‘empty’ rooms that the concrete cast was moulded around, was already slated
for demolition. The concrete cast included all three floors of the building, from
cellar to attic. House was exhibited in situ, where the original house had been. And
was then torn down the day Whiteread received the Turner Prize for her project.
Similarly, Skivevej 13 consists not merely of the plinth that is standing there
now. It also includes the history of the space, its former function as a business,
one at the heart of the village, and the history of its decline. All of which can now
only be found in memories and reminiscences of village life as it once was. Like
Whiteread, Kristensen is working within a form of negative space.
In Skivevej 13, the white painted foundations and front steps up to the house
have been preserved and former rooms can be detected by the varying levels in
the floor surface corresponding to the original spaces. For example, the original
doorways have been marked out so you can sense the flow of movement through
the rooms of the house. This creates a framework, a silhouette, of something that
is no longer there. The void becomes a meaningful form in itself and even though
it cannot be touched, it can be glimpsed and sensed with both the eye and the
mind.
Through this, the negative aspects that the house represented, the history of
decline, a symbol of the more general lack of maintenance and care of houses,
the ghost houses of the provinces, now becomes a void, in a sculptural sense. But
it also becomes a memorial, and a platform for new dreams. What has gone to
ground has created the soil for new forms of contact, conversation and visions
for the future. Skivevej 13 has become a contemporary animation of something
long abandoned and forgotten.
Anarchy, architecture and continuing dreams
An art historical precursor in relation to working with neglected spaces in the urban
environment, in-between plots and abandoned houses is the American artist
Gordon Matta-Clark (1943-1978).
He coined the term anarchitecture – a combination of anarchy and architecture.
In the early 1970’s he purchased, for a tiny, symbolic amount a number of
overlooked spaces and micro-plots of land through the project Fake Estates, which
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he then photographed and used in various projects to highlight and increase their
visibility. In 1974, he performed his first ‘deconstruction’ by cutting away the
facade of a house. (Bingo). For the Biennale de Paris in 1975 he cut a large hole in
the facade of an old house beside Les Halles, where the Centre Pompidou was to
be constructed. Most famous are his Splittings – buildings that he sliced through as
if they were cake (Splitting, 1974), and which one could then walk through. A little
like Mattis’s Castle in Ronja, The Robber’s Daughter that was split in half during a
storm when she was born. Matta-Clark created an intervention in the abandoned
houses that unexpectedly transformed them into a kind of sculpture in the urban
space. They were no longer useful as houses – as a framework for the dreams that
had once created them – but were forgotten zones in the city that Matta-Clarke
through his holes and incisions transformed into something new.
Skivevej 13 is, correspondingly, both a continuation of some of the most radical
and interesting approaches to engaging with old, forgotten houses – Whiteread’s
negative space and Matta-Clarks’s anarchitectonic interventions – and a sitespecific
sculpture created for Selde. In Selde, the project points to the past, but
opens up to the future. As a monument to the future.
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For Time and Eternity: Transformational Art in Junget
Maria Fabricius Hansen
Associate Professor, Copenhagen University
Change is a natural condition for us as human beings, both in our private lives
and in society as a whole. Oddly enough however, it continually surprises us.
Most of us believe that what we call the real and quotidian will continue to be so.
We have a tendency to experience change with a certain amount of heartache, a
certain yearning after how things used to be, a longing that perhaps, in reality, is
a longing after our youth, our friends, our life-changing events intertwined with
our memories of the past.
But change also includes all the best aspects of our lives. It can represent new
interests that we discover and develop over the years, it can be encounters with
people we did not know before and which bring us happiness, it can be children,
marvellous and surprising, unique individuals who did not exist before, and who
grow up amongst us, entirely themselves from the very beginning and yet, at the
same time, constantly evolving and in a state of transformation. In this sense,
change is the only true consolation against melancholy thoughts of impermanence,
as change is always about the potential life of things in the future, not
precisely as we recognise them, but nonetheless unmistakeably as a continuation
of the existing.
Changes in our society and our personal circumstances can appear dramatic
to our understanding of them, in part due to their acceleration in recent de cades.
This can be directly substantiated in the depopulation of country towns and
villages around the country. Centuries of agrarian culture have shifted towards
methods of industrialisation while urban lifestyles continually attract more and
more people. The empty houses dotted about the countryside are a physical testimonial
to something that once existed and yet is difficult to imagine returning.
There appears to be no easy or palpable way of dealing with this. It is impossible
to maintain village culture as if it were a museum, and yet at the same time it is
not only in the individuals’ interest, but also society as a whole, that people thrive
in their distinct lives irrespective of an urban or rural setting.
Throughout this difficult process of transformation, art has proven adept
in renewing meaningfulness for people in varied societal contexts; also on a
modestly defined, local, quotidian plane. One can almost, in amazement, observe
that art in this configuration, as a form of applied art, can in fact play an important
part in our lives, nor merely in Denmark, but the world over.
For instance, this may be in the form of projects devised in collaborations
between artists and architects, facilitating transformations of urban space on a
larger or smaller scale and enabling new forms for cohabitation.
In this context, the work of a visual artist is not something that is tacked
on to a particular place as a form of aesthetic decoration. When successful, it is
something that integrates into the existing space, in order that something new,
that was not there before, can emerge. The melancholy of loss is countered by the
new that is created.
In Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen’s project in Junget, it is the actual physical remains
of demolished village houses that are transformed into fixtures in a novel,
communal urban space. Moreover, it perhaps surprises us that these elderly
bricks actually contain an exquisiteness that a modern industrial brick in its uniformity
and predictable monotony lacks. It is precisely this indication of time in
the worn materials that renders the new village fixtures so appealing, in that the
old bricks are incorporated into contemporary forms. The intrinsic element of
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time contained in the materials and the composition of old and new, side by side,
suggests continuation and change simultaneously. The care that has been put into
the actual execution, both back when the bricks were originally produced, and in
the bricklayers’ current, professional precision in building the fixtures, is itself an
expression of a materialisation of time.
We live in a prolongation of the epoch of industrialisation and modernity,
where constant development of the materials and technical conditions of the
past, and the striving towards constant growth, has been regarded as an unequivocal
ideal. But in the industrialised part of the world, it appears increasingly
obvious that it is necessary to cultivate other values rather than, on the one hand,
endlessly producing and building new structures, and on the other, the continual,
reckless removal of the old. Even a cursory examination of our built surrounding
will increasingly compel us to recognise that we must, to a much great degree,
learn to reuse and transform the already existing fabric. There is simply not
enough space to continue expanding our cities, nor is there space left over for all
that becomes redundant, if we only demand the new.
Our current societal upheavals may bear, in a larger architectural-historical
perspective, comparison to some centuries during the Middle Ages, where people
reused and transformed buildings rather than constructing new from scratch.
Visiting Rome or many of those other cities in southern Europe that were once
part of the Roman Empire, one understands that much of the admirably solid
buildings of classical antiquity remain. However, on closer examination, you will
also notice how much of subsequent medieval construction consists of ancient
bricks, columns, ashlar blocks, marble tiles and other reused building materials.
As the Roman Empire gradually declined from AD 300 onwards, and the population
decreased drastically, a large number of monumental buildings remained,
which people had little use for or energy to maintain. Occasionally, however, the
need for buildings with a new purpose arose; for example, churches, which had
not existed before the recognition of Christianity in the beginning of the fourth
century. And so they repurposed an existing building, altered it or simply took
building materials from older buildings that were no longer in use, and reused
them. Only those buildings that could be repurposed or whose materials could
be used in entirely new constructions survived in to the present. Temples that
could be consecrated as churches were maintained. Otherwise, they were left to
decay. Structures that could be occupied were reused, and if not, they too decayed
or were gradually demolished over time as their materials were used in other
buildings. This all combines to give Rome its unique atmosphere of transience
and timelessness. The course of history is readily apparent, so to speak, as one
wanders the streets. What might strike one in passing as sad, that the Rome of
Antiquity could not survive, paradoxically becomes a thing of beauty and value
in the present. Even those reconstructions over time that characterise the city,
indicative of something that has been lost , comprise at the same time a powerful
life-affirming delight in change. In this way, transformational building can both
remind us of the past and point to the future in an acceptance of the present. It
can simultaneously contain both conservation and renewal, so that change in
itself is not simply melancholic but also adds something that we did not know or
were aware we would be grateful for in the future.
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Thorum: 7007 Oaks
Peter Brix Søndergaard
Associate Professor, Aarhus University
Approaching the village of Thorum along the Fur road, in North Salling in the
Fursund region, stand seven very young oak trees, flanked by seven, meter-tall
upright basalt stones. As you come closer to Thorum, you can see a new forest of
7000 oak trees gradually taking shape on the now defunct playing fields beside
the community hall in the centre of the village.
The seven oaks and the seven basalt stones that you pass on your way in to
Thorum are artist Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensens artistic supplement to the village
forest project driven by the residents of the village. Her work was, and still is, an
element of Grasslands, a project included in the European City Of Culture, Aarhus
2017, under the theme Rethink the Village/Coast to Coast. This artistic aspect of
the village forest takes form as a piece of living art, directly relating to change and
the processes of nature. One could also call it a natural or earth-based artwork,
somewhere between sculpture and landscape architecture, which, as implied, is
site-specific, encompassing a distinct relevance to this particular place, and yet in
no way preventing the work – and its hopeful and anticipated expansion across
the landscape – from referring to other national and global meanings.
Regarding national connotations arising from the content of the work, 7007
Oaks associates to the status of the oak (in strong competition with the Beech)
as the national tree of Denmark, a symbol of strength and resoluteness. The
oak appears in this guise in Olaf Rudes painting Danish Landscape that hangs in
the Danish Parliament, where a row of twisted oaks with stones lying at their
foot, stretch out into the landscape. In addition, the so-called Constitutional and
Women Oaks, planted to commemorate the introduction of the Danish Constitution
in 1849 and women’s right to vote in 1915, often with a corresponding stone
memorial, come to mind.
Unlike the shifting and growing trees, the basalt stones appear as constant
and unchanging markers in the landscape, functioning, so to speak, as a measuring-stick
for the growth of the oaks. For the moment, the upright stones dominate
the trees that will with time, grow and spread their crowns above them. The
basalt stones, like the trees, are firmly connected to time. They hold astonishing
geological eras in situ, as silent witnesses to the development of the planet. As
art historian Lucy R. Lippard writes, »Stones affect people because they imply
immortality, because they have so obviously survived«. Moreover, the stones
draw parallels to mysterious prehistoric megalithic centres like Stonehenge on
Salisbury Plain in England or Carnac in Brittany, with their standing stones or
menhirs, erected in circular or long, vertical rows.
The most important of the more contemporary references is to the German
ar tist Joseph Beuys and his processual art project 7000 Oaks, begun in Kassel, Germany
as part of the exhibition Documenta VII in 1982 and completed, in 1987,
shortly after his death. This project began with Beuys depositing a large number
of basalt stones in front of the exhibition space, in the form of an arrow, pointing
towards a small oak tree he had planted. For every oak that was planted in the wider
city of Kassel, with an associated basalt stone marker, the original pile of stones
diminished until all 7000 trees had been distributed and spread in the urban area
based on suggestions from the city’s residents, schools, neighbourhoods, etc.
The aim was to transform the city’s asphalt to green areas, subjecting the city
to a Verwaldung, a ‘reforestation’ that would facilitate a social exploitation of the
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urban space. Similar projects have been implemented around the world since, in
Oslo, Sydney and New York and with 7007 Oaks Thorum has become a part of this
worldwide network.
7000 Oaks is an expression of Beuys concept of social sculpture, which he developed
in the early 1970’s, and according to which the materials of art could not
only consist of marble, bronze or pigments on canvas, but could actually include
all of life – thoughts, actions, relationships, conversations and objects – and thus
could be performed by anyone. Beuys aspired to the activation of the audience
as a social community, as participating and performing players, and were it up
to him, the distinction between art and life should be completely abolished. As
7000 Oaks demonstrates, Beuys’ action-based, collective sculpture projects were
often underpinned by a strong awareness of ecology and the environment and,
interestingly, he was a co-founder of the German Green Party. In Thorum, the
project 7007 Oaks, (which Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen has very appropriately called
the work, in a sort of tribute to Beuys and his legacy) has the potential to counteract
and transform the many changes imposed on rural areas, which can easily
be observed in villages in the form of abandoned and decaying buildings.
Beuys’ thoughts were later expanded on, by among others, French curator
and critic Nicolas Bourriaud, who in 1998 introduced the concept of ‘Relational
Aesthetics’, an artistic method, that through a variety of processes aims to develop
social spaces, by identifying alternative forms of cohabitation. Art, in this
sense, must communicate social interaction rather than merely creating aesthetic
objects. A work of art, according to Bourriaud, must contain an impulse to inhabit
the world together. This is an art presented outside the art gallery or museum,
and whose ambition is to be public and democratic, with a focus on temporary
and more permanent interpersonal relationships.
Both Bourriaud’s views and Beuys’ works and theoretical considerations are
relevant here in relation to the narrative behind the creation of Thorums 7007
Oaks. The process involved in the project testifies to a new way of understanding
and making art, where the artist takes a step back and working as a facilitator or
catalyst for an artistic process involving the local community and its needs in
the form of a dialogue based on communal discussions. The residents of Thorum
have therefore discussed the location of the seven oak trees and basalt stones in
depth, and their conversations with the artist and each other have been decisive
in deciding where the next round of marked trees, to be sourced through crowdfunding,
will stand.
The project also expresses a new vision of nature as something that we cannot
merely regard through a distanced appreciative gaze, as when we examine framed
landscape paintings or photograph a particularly attractive tourist view. We have
become more aware of our dependence on nature – and possible more importantly
– nature’s dependence on us for survival.
A project such as 7007 Oaks, which deliberately sets out to establish a synergy
between the needs, ideas and plans of the residents of Thorum, here in the form
of an urban forest, can help to strengthen this awareness.
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Åsted: Groundworks
Deirdre O’Mahony
Artist
The Lure of the Local by art writer Lucy Lippard, is a critical reflection on how public
art practice can work in rural places and remains relevant today as rural places
are increasingly under pressure caused by changes in farming, reductions in public
services and changing populations. Writing about how artists and producers
might address such issues, she argues
The potential of an activist art practice that raises consciousness about land,
history, culture, and place and is a catalyst for social change cannot be underestimated
… They can expose the social agendas that have formed the land,
bring out multiple readings of places that mean different things to different
people at different times rather than merely reflecting some of their beauty
back into the marketplace or the living room. 1
As an artist working mainly in rural contexts, my research and art practice is
grounded in collaborative engagements with different publics and contexts. I
met Lene Noer and Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen when they presented on their
curatorial work at the Rural Forum in Amsterdam in 2016, and recognised
the socio-political context they described of multiple communities, decli ning
services, abandoned buildings and changing demographics from my own
experience in Ireland. Lene and Birgitte invited me to spend some research
time in Åsted in 2016 to meet residents and see if I could develop a proposal for
Grasslands. This initial visit was very important. Given a limited timeframe I
saw my role as the »idiosyncratic outsider« – artist Suzanne Lacy’s term for
making conscious use of the outsider position to surface narratives that are less
heard, or never heard. 2 In the context of Åsted, I was dependent on the curators
and participants to guide the project and understand and prepare the ground and
surface histories, narratives and positions that might offer ideas for the future
of the village. Hospitality was offered, and coffee and cake consumed. It was
very clear that many were anxious about the future, and one moment in the
village’s recent history stood out, the closure and sale of the community hall.
This is a large building that sits on the outskirts of the village with meeting
rooms, a fully equipped kitchen and seating and tables for over a hundred
people. After years of being managed and maintained by a voluntary local
committee, a decision was made to sell it some years ago. Rather than see it
demolished, an entrepreneur from Selde bought it for a very low sum and it
is now rented out for events and parties. For me, this incident signified a kind
of collapse of the collective wellbeing of Åsted – a withdrawal in the face of
indifference towards a future that perhaps, presented too bleak a prospect
to contemplate. Visiting some of those who looked after the space for many
years, it was clear that this was a painful subject. One person, had carefully
preserved scrapbooks containing the history of village life in the form of
newspaper cuttings, photographs and documents which had been thrown out
when the building was sold. I asked that these be scanned as in previous projects,
I have used archives 3 as a catalyst to open up conversations about issues;
whether social, economic or cultural, that have shaped the life of places.
I put forward a proposal to make use of the archive to activate this reflective
process which was accepted by the villagers. In January 2017 an open
invitation was sent to all residents to take part in installing an archive in the
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Village Hall over a five-day period. People were also asked to bring photographs,
objects and images that they believed had significance in the history of the village;
photographs, tools, old tickets and traces of community plays and performances.
The archive was collated by participants and images and texts organised
around key ideas and issues: community life; heritage; political interventions;
the local economy; leisure and cultural activities. Some image/texts were selected
for projection as large scale drawings and a workshop was held on how to make
drawings from projected images. Few participants took part in the assembly of
the archive however, a dinner of Irish stew brought many to see the archive and
drawings reproduced about the history of the area.
The assembled stories and images spoke powerfully about village life and the
changing landscape: Farming and the local economy, the utopian aspirations that
drew many to live and work in the countryside, the plays put on by drama groups
and re-enactments of life in Oestergaard castle, the keep-fit and gymnastic classes
run for the children in the village. There were also negative aspects – the
closure of rights of way, empty houses bought for demolition by the council, the
former egg factory closed because of a salmonella outbreak, the renovation and
subsequent closure of the village hall and efforts to maintain the village shop. The
archive allowed efforts made repeatedly over the years to maintain a healthy social
life in the village to become visible, a reminder of communal conviviality and
political will. One participant suggested adding paintings to gables of houses, and
the archive was a ready-made source material to draw upon, a public statement
about the history of the village in the context of the EU capital of culture.
This proved successful in beginning a conversation on what might happen
with the collection of images. Mock-ups were made of what these might look
like as murals gave an idea of both the scale and the overall appearance. Learning
how to reproduce the archival images and texts took place during the next visit
to the village and workshops were held to allow participants to gain skills and
confidence. The first mural was made on the outside of the old furniture factory
in the centre of Åsted, painted from a 1982 newspaper photograph of Frilev Sieg
in his Messerschmidt car. Frilev came to see the work being made, returning for a
celebration to mark the first mural the next day. The fact that the work was made
by a group of the villagers was important – the tools of production were not the
exclusive domain of the artist, but rather with the participants.
At a subsequent event, a vote was taken on what images should be reproduced
for further murals and in August, participants painted five further houses in time
for the European Rural Forum meeting in Oestergaard Castle. Artist Leo Sagastuy
Solis, supported the group as their paintings became increasingly ambitious
in scale and complexity. The space that opened up in the process allowed some
discussion on the social life of the area and served as a reminder of co-learning
processes that used to be a part of village life; whether making reproductions
of medieval costumes for plays in the castle, house visits for communal meals.
More paintings are planned for the future as the Åsted residents plan to continue
to change and add to the collection over time. The ownership of the project
remained in the hands of the participants – a tool with which to further engage
others in the future.
None of this would have been possible without the production support of Lene
Noer and the curatorial input from Lene and Birgitte. As an artist from another
rural place I can bring a certain amount of perspective and experience to thinking
through some of the issues, however, for the process to continue to gain traction
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and engage with the reality of rural life in all its complexity, it has to unfold over
time. This will be the legacy of the 2017 EU Capital of culture – space that allows
the kind of transformative process Lucy Lippard described, to take hold, reflecting
and affecting the social and cultural lives of the village’s inhabitants.
Notes and literature:
1 Lucy R. Lippard The Lure of the Local (The New Press: New York), 1997, 19
2 American artist Suzanne Lacy uses the term to describe her role in public art projects
who consciously makes use of her outsider position to articulate and extend the
notions of what art is, and what can be done, in the name of art.
3 Hal Foster notes that the »will to connect what cannot be connected in archival
art practices »is not a will to totalize so much as a will to relate – to probe a
misplaced past, to collate its different signs (…) to ascertain what might remain
for the present.« Hal Foster, An Archival Impulse OCTOBER 110, Fall 2004
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Concluding remarks
Dear reader. So we’ve made it this far. We hope that the material you have been
presented with in this book, the works themselves, and the citizens and our own
and others reflections on the processes and works will give you food for thought.
The project contains many experiences, that in part have been internalised
but which we have aspired to convey and share with a wider circle of people with
this book. When we give talks about the project, we are often asked for five good
pieces of advice on citizen participatory art projects. These could be as follows;
1) Listen, 2) Don’t arrive with preconceived, finished ideas, 3) Try to understand
the social dynamics, 4) Conduct a poll of expectations and be clear about roles
and responsibilities, 5) TIME.
Another piece of advice would be, from the very outset of the project, to
encourage the setting up of teams consisting of, for example, the municipality,
citizens groups, one or more artists and where responsibilities and tasks can
be divided between several partners. This will strengthen the project, creating a
broader sense of co-ownership and activate extra resources at appropriate times.
But in reality every project is different and it is impossible to predict how
the process will unfold. Fundamentally, one can say that it takes time to understand
and create something new from complex circumstances involving people,
places and interpersonal relationships. This realisation was the decisive contributing
factor when we chose to continue the project after Selde. We had a sense of
beginning to understand the area and the people, and that there was a growing
confidence and curiosity among the residents, and we were therefore at a place
where it would be interesting to continue and explore where that road would take
us. After four more years of work, we have to conclude that we still have much to
learn. And yet at the same we have a feeling that we have discovered something
important.
With Clair Bishop’s words; »Participation in art is about assigning art a constructively
active role in the world« the participatory element, or participatory
art, points forward towards a wider, unexplored field of possibilities where art
can play a decisive role in far more contexts than it does today. The involvement
of art in concrete situations is not an attempt to instrumentalise art but rather to
point to an additional, but not fully exploited or recognised potential.
What do we get, then, when we involve the recipients of the work in its creation?
Or involve the artist in a complex situation that one wants to change or set
in motion? Well, then we get ‘something else’. Perhaps something more empathic
and feminist as Trine Rytter Andersen suggests in her essay Endeavouring to live
in a world together. Perhaps an artistic practice that voluntarily operates with a social
responsibility and an interest in addressing and uncovering new solutions
to societal problems, as Sofie Maj Thomsen cites Clair Bishop for in the essay On
‘artist participation’. Dutch artist Sjoerd Wagenaar would say that we artists have to
abandon the creation of objects and instead concentrate on the processes, where
the artistic element consists of a ‘push’ that moves the situation forward without
defining or locking it into an end point.
Art can be one of the many factors involved in numerous contexts, indeed
there are no limits to the imagination in this respect. Art cannot save a village,
nor is that the intention. But art and artistic methods can illuminate certain conditions
that would otherwise be difficult to spot. It can draw traumas and taboos
into the light. It can create focus and thus enable a discussion around common
concerns. If even only for a brief time, it can lift a group of residents from a
small rural village out of a sense of being isolated, forgotten, worthless to society,
superfluous and redundant. And perhaps the artistic interventions can cause a
micro-revolution, creating rings in the water and carrying other micro-revolu-
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tions with them. We have seen it happen in Selde, which is flourishing and even
has experienced a slight population increase. And in the pride and pleasure felt in
Åsted, Thorum and Junget over having succeeded together, whether it was with
murals, a village forest or a new village square.
Lene Noer og Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen
Artists
Grasslands – Citizen involved art in the Fursund region is published in 2019 by
Forlaget Wunderbuch
1st Edition, 1st Impression
Copyright © 2019 by Forlaget Wunderbuch, Grasslands, Lene Noer
www.lenenoer.dk, Birgitte Ejdrup Kristensen www.birgittekristensen.dk
This book is published in connection with the art project Grasslands 2013-
2018 www.grasslands.dk
Grasslands – Citizen involved art in the Fursund region is designed by Per Andersen
and Klaus Gjørup. The text is set with the typeface North, designed by Trine
Rask. Narayana Press has printed on Munken Kristall Rough 150 grams and
the binding is by Bookbinders S.R. Büge in Celle. The book is published in a
Danish and an English version. Proof reading by Lone Manicus. Linguistic
editing by Stine Wium Olesen. English translation by Phillip Shiels. The
edition consists of 900 Danish and 300 English copies
Photographs pages 10, 14, 36, 60, 106-113, 118-125, 131-137 by Per Andersen
Photographs page 8, 12, 88, 95-101 by Kurt Nielsen
Process photos Leonardo Sagastuy Solis, Reinhard Federer, Lone Manicus,
Barbara Katzin, Kurt Nielsen, Elle-Mie Ejdrup Hansen, Lene Noer, Birgitte
Ejdrup Kristensen et al.
ISBN 978-87-93557-21-5
eh
Skovbakken 35
7800 Skive
www.forlaget-wunderbuch.dk
post@forlaget-wunderbuch.dk
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BIRGITTE
EJDRUP
KRISTENSEN
& LENE NOER
CITIZEN
INVOLVED ART
IN THE FURSUND
REGION
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