HANNE LYDIA OPHEIM KRISTOFFERSEN • BELONGING ...
HANNE LYDIA OPHEIM KRISTOFFERSEN • BELONGING ...
HANNE LYDIA OPHEIM KRISTOFFERSEN • BELONGING ...
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<strong>HANNE</strong> <strong>LYDIA</strong><br />
OPøIEN <strong>KRISTOFFERSEN</strong><br />
belonging<br />
17.02. – 24.04.2011<br />
GRÅMØLNA TRONDHEIM KUNSTMUSEUM<br />
SPRING <strong>•</strong> 2010 <strong>•</strong> Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper. Fra serien/from the series “Belonging” <strong>•</strong> 152 x 157 cm<br />
3
4<br />
Det NakNe SelvPoRtRettet<br />
I full PåkleDNING<br />
Portrettering som del av den kunstneriske praksis har til enhver tid vært anerkjent i<br />
den vestlige klassiske kunsthistorien og selvportrettet kan i enkeltes kunstnerskap<br />
være en sentral del av den kunstneriske produksjon. i hanne lydia opøien kristoffersens<br />
kunstproduksjon er selvportrettet et viktig bæreelement.<br />
i moderne tid har også det fotografiske portrett fått en god posisjonering og det<br />
fotografiske selvportrettet har i senere tid også fått en noe annen kunstnerisk<br />
tilnærming enn tidligere. kunstnere anvender nye strategier og virkemidler som<br />
gir betrakteren muligheten til nye analyser og lesbare referanser. det selvbiografiske<br />
materialet uttrykkes enten med direkte og sterke virkemidler eller det formidler<br />
underliggende og subtile referanser.<br />
Høstutstillingen 2006, hvor jeg jobbet som kunstformidler, var mitt første møte med<br />
arbeider av hanne lydia opøien kristoffersen. dette året var hun antatt med flere<br />
tegninger i store format som alle viste kvinneansikter delvis eller helt tildekket av<br />
herre- og dametruser. i formidlingsøyemed skapte bildene flere interessante<br />
utfordringer. For det første i form av å skulle formidles som kunstverk innen mediet<br />
tegning, da de oftest ble betraktet som manipulerte fotografier ved første øyekast.<br />
Bildene var imponerende fotorealistiske! For det andre oppstod det oftest<br />
situasjoner hvor publikum kun analyserte det kunstneriske uttrykket som en slags<br />
morsom lek med referanser til seksuelle fetisjer eller billige virkemidler fra en<br />
velkjent reklameverden. Andre, i alle aldre, opplevde bildene som urovekkende,<br />
ubehagelige og veldig nakne… Portrettene ble umiddelbart satt i relasjon til<br />
ulike kulturers kvinnesyn og pågående kjønnsdebatt, som i vår tid først og fremst<br />
blir eksemplifisert gjennom kvinners bruk av hijab, slør og andre hodeplagg.<br />
Kristoffersens tegninger stiller spørsmål ved truismer, det vi alle tar som små<br />
selvfølgeligheter eller ”naturligheter”. hvor går egentlig de naturlige grensene<br />
mellom tildekking - nakenhet, religionsfrihet – sexifisering, frivillighet – tvang, og<br />
hvordan formidles eller forklares grensene mellom portrett- og karikaturtegningen?<br />
hanne lydia opøien kristoffersen setter både sitt kunstneriske uttrykk og betrakteren<br />
på prøvelser på svært ulike nivåer. For det første er hennes tegneferdigheter slående,<br />
noe som gir henne en tydelig kunstnerisk signatur. Detaljrikdom, stofflighet og fuger<br />
i hud, ansikt og formidling av ulike tekstilmaterialer understreker tydelig hennes<br />
håndverksmessige ferdigheter og talent. kristoffersen arbeider (ironisk nok) med<br />
relativt store formater, samtidig som bildene påberoper seg noen interessante detaljstudier.<br />
hennes kunstnerskap kan plasseres innenfor en sterk fotorealistsk retning.<br />
I tillegg er hennes gjengivelser subtilt absurde, det kreves en egeninnsats fra betrakteren<br />
for å kunne plassere den portretterte inn i en større kontekst, både kunsthistorisk og<br />
kontemporært. hvorfor trer kristoffersen truser med ulike logoreferanser nedover hodet?<br />
og hva vil hun uttrykke eller fortelle oss tildekket i vinterklær og overlevelsesdrakt?<br />
utstillingen i gråmølna har fått tittelen Belonging og er hanne lydia opøien kristoffersens<br />
første kunstmuseale separatutstilling. det er samtidig første gang kristoffersen stiller<br />
ut videoarbeider og egne tekster sammen med portrettserier. serien Belonging viser<br />
bilder av en person med relativt androgyne trekk, delvis skjult bak hodeplagg, skjerf,<br />
votter, gensere og i enkelte tilfeller solbriller. Serien Portraits of a young woman,<br />
twenty three years of age at the time viser avbildninger av en ung kvinne, delvis<br />
skjult, også her bak hodeplagg og igjen; solbriller.<br />
gråmølna har gjennom historien skiftet identitet og funksjon av ulike årsaker huset<br />
ble bygd i 1860-årene som moderne møllehus på industriområdet Nedre Elvehavn, kort<br />
tid etter ble mølla omgjort til gutteskole. I gamlehuset har det i tillegg vært suppekjøkken,<br />
aktivitetsstue, politihus og sykestue. I dag representerer hele mølletomta et utstillingssted<br />
for samtidskunst og trondheim kunstmuseums samling verk av håkon Bleken og<br />
Inger Sitter. Gråmølnas ulike historier, identitet og tilhørighet kan leses i relasjon til<br />
den tematikken vi finner i kristoffersens arbeider. Portrettseriene forankrer hverandre i<br />
differanser og i nyansene om at hendelser, tid og sted innenfor gitte rammer kan bidra<br />
til å gi ulike bilder av sosial og kulturell tilhørighet. og det individuelle speilet som<br />
reflekterer vår identitet står samtidig i relasjon til samfunnet, tiden og vår kunnskap<br />
om eller forståelse av tilhørighet. Vi anerkjenner dessverre så altfor sjelden viktigheten<br />
av å reflektere og studere vår identitet og belonging på ulike nivåer.<br />
i anledning utstillingen Belonging i gråmølna tildeles hanne lydia opøien kristoffersen<br />
håkon Blekens kunstnerstipend. trondheim kunstmuseum gratulerer!<br />
Takk til kunstneren, Hanne Lydia Opøien Kristoffersen, for et interessant samarbeid i<br />
forberedelsestiden mot utstillingen. takk til tommy olsson for tekst til utstillingskatalogen.<br />
takk til håkon Bleken for interessante samtaler rundt arbeider og temaer som her<br />
presenteres.<br />
Merete Hovdenak<br />
Konservator i Gråmølna, Trondheim Kunstmuseum<br />
tHe NakeD Self-PoRtRaIt<br />
fullY DReSSeD<br />
Portraiture as part of artistic practice has always been acknowledged in Western<br />
classical art history, and self-portraits, in the artistic practice of some, can constitute<br />
an important part of their artistic production. in hanne lydia opøien kristoffersen’s<br />
art production, the self-portrait is an essential bearing element.<br />
In modern times the photographic portrait has attained high status, and in recent<br />
years it has also been attributed a somewhat different artistic approach than<br />
previously. Artists apply new strategies and means of expression that provide the<br />
viewer with new analytical possibilities and readable references. autobiographical<br />
material is either expressed via direct and potent means of expression, or it<br />
communicates subtle, underlying references.<br />
During the autumn exhibition of 2006, when I was working as an art lecturer, I had<br />
my first encounter with the works of hanne lydia opøien kristoffersen. that year<br />
several of her large-format drawings were to be exhibited, all of which showed<br />
women’s faces wholly or partially veiled by men’s or women’s undergarments. For<br />
the task of intermediating between the images and the public, several interesting<br />
challenges arose, first of all because it was a question of having to communicate<br />
works of art in the medium of drawing, whereas these were most often considered,<br />
at first glance, as manipulated photographs. The images were impressively photorealistic!<br />
Secondly, situations arose when the public most frequently only analysed the artistic<br />
expression as a kind of playful trifling with the sexual fetishes or cheap means of<br />
expression from the well-known world of commercial advertising. Other viewers, of<br />
all ages, perceived the images as disturbing, offensive and very naked... The portraits<br />
were immediately related to various cultures’ view of women and the current gender<br />
debate, which in our era is primarily exemplified by women’s wearing of the hijab,<br />
the veil, and otherhead coverings.<br />
Kristoffersen’s drawings challenge truisms, the things that all of us take for granted or<br />
that we consider “natural”. Where are, really, the natural boundaries between being<br />
covered and being naked, between freedom of religion – sexual fixation, willingness<br />
– coercion, and how can the boundaries between portraiture and caricature be<br />
communicated or explained?<br />
Hanne Lydia Opøien Kristoffersen puts both her artistic form of expression and the<br />
viewer to the test at very different levels. First of all, her drawing skills are stunning,<br />
an attainment that provides her with a distinct artistic signature. the richness of<br />
details, materiality and tones of the skin, face and rendering of various textile<br />
materials all clearly underscore her craftsmanship and talent. kristoffersen works<br />
(ironically as it were) in relatively large formats, while at the same time the images<br />
invoke some interesting studies of detail. her artistry can be placed within a strongly<br />
photorealistic current.<br />
In addition, her representations are subtly absurd and demand a personal effort on<br />
the part of the beholder to place what is represented into a broader context. Why does<br />
kristoffersen pull undergarments displaying various logo references down over the heads<br />
of her subjects? And what does she aim to express or tell us, the viewers, bundled up<br />
in our winter clothing and survival suits?<br />
The exhibition in Gråmølna has been given the title Belonging and is hanne lydia<br />
Opøien Kristoffersen’s first solo exhibition in an art museum. Likewise, this is the first<br />
time Kristoffersen exhibits video works and her own texts along with the portrait series.<br />
the series Belonging shows images of a person with relatively androgynous features<br />
partially concealed behind headwear, scarves, mittens, sweaters and, in some cases,<br />
sunglasses. the series Portraits of a young woman, twenty three years of age<br />
at the time depicts a young woman – she, too, partially hidden by her headdress and,<br />
once again, by sunglasses.<br />
Gråmølna has, throughout history and for various reasons, changed identity and function.<br />
The building was raised in the 1860s as a modern mill in the Nedre Elvehavn industrial<br />
area; a short time later, the mill was transformed into a school for boys. The venerable<br />
old building has been used as a soup kitchen, and activity centre, a police station and<br />
an infirmary. Today the entire site of the mill is a place for exhibiting contemporary art<br />
as well as trondheim art museum’s collection of the works of håkon Bleken and inger sitter.<br />
The various historical tales, identities and affiliations of Gråmølna can be seen in<br />
relation to the themes we find in kristoffersen’s works. the portrait series counterbalance<br />
one another in differences and nuances in the impression that events, time and place<br />
within given limits can contribute to creating differing reflections of social and cultural<br />
belongingness. and the individual mirror reflecting our own identity stands at the same<br />
time in relation to society, time and our knowledge about or understanding of the concept<br />
of Belonging. Unfortunately, we all too seldom acknowledge the importance of<br />
reflecting over and studying our own identity and our own belonging at different levels.<br />
In conjunction with the exhibition Belonging in Gråmølna, Hanne Lydia Opøien Kristoffersen<br />
has been named recipient of the håkon Bleken’s artist award. trondheim art museum<br />
extends our heartfelt congratulations!<br />
Our gratitude goes to the artist, Hanne Lydia Opøien Kristoffersen, for an interesting<br />
collaboration during the preparatory phase leading up to the exhibition. Thanks also<br />
to Tommy Olsson for the text for the exhibition catalogue. Thanks are due as well to<br />
håkon Bleken for interesting discussions on the works and themes presented here.<br />
Merete Hovdenak<br />
Curator, Gråmølna, Trondheim Art Museum<br />
5
6<br />
NoRDoveR, veD SjøeN<br />
Hit the North<br />
Manacled to the city<br />
All estate agents alive yell down the night in hysterical breath<br />
And from the back of the third eye psyche the inducement come forth<br />
Hit the North<br />
The Fall<br />
det blir umulig ikke å si noe om nord-norge i denne<br />
sammenhengen, så jeg kan like så godt gjøre det til<br />
selve innkjørsporten her. Jeg har, sant å si, aldri truffet<br />
et usympatisk menneske nord for trondheim. Jeg har<br />
heller ikke truffet en eneste som ikke har vært seriøst<br />
føkka på den ene eller andre måten. men det lurer jeg<br />
på om det muligens er en miljøskade som kommer av<br />
de dramatiske skiftningene mellom lys og mørke, eller<br />
det like dramatiske landskapet. eller en kombinasjon<br />
av disse faktorer. sant er at det intenst ville blikket<br />
til nesten alle med røtter i denne delen av landet<br />
bestandig har funnet en dyp resonans i meg, som jo<br />
kommer fra radikalt annerledes omstendigheter, men<br />
det er mulig det er en felles form for bipolar psykose<br />
som følger oss gjennom hverdagen. Helt oppriktig;<br />
jeg vet ikke, jeg noterer bare hva mine erfaringer sier<br />
meg så langt. Og hva jeg tenker; kan du på noen måte<br />
undgå å bli manisk depressiv når du vokser opp i en<br />
verden som enten er lys eller mørk, sort eller hvit, og<br />
bare unntaksvis mer nyansert? Jeg tenker i hvert fall<br />
det er noe å skylle fra seg på. En slags diagnose, eller<br />
bonus, en unnskyldning for situasjoner som krever en<br />
tilbakeholdenhet som er utenfor rekkevidde. denne<br />
unnskyldningen er noe jeg selv mangler og saktens<br />
kunne trengt noen ganger. det er ikke helt det samme<br />
å vokse opp midt i sverige når sosialdemokratiets<br />
formkurve fortsatt peker oppover. Jeg kan ikke peke<br />
på de samme ytre faktorene for hvorfor jeg er føkka.<br />
det er selvfølgelig en grunn til at jeg begynner med<br />
disse spekulasjonene. Jeg forholder meg til bilder<br />
som gjør det klinkende klart at det begynner å bli<br />
kaldt ute. men ikke bare det. Jeg har og nettopp sett<br />
tre videoarbeider fra en kunstner jeg nå har kjent i<br />
noe sånn som 22 år, uten å en eneste gang sett stå å<br />
fibble med et kamera. dette er altså ikke det samme<br />
gamle vanlige på noen som helst måte, selv om jeg<br />
skal passe meg for å si noe om at video er ”et nytt<br />
og spennende medie” for det har det ikke vært siden<br />
nam June Paik knuste et fjernsynsapparat på scenen<br />
det år jeg ble født. men her opptrer det altså for<br />
hva jeg tror er første gang. Det er definerte, nokså<br />
strengt komponerte arbeider – metodiskt ikke ulikt<br />
de fotorealistiske tegninger vi allerede kjenner fra<br />
før. narrativer som renner over av den latente vold<br />
som bestandig har fulgt dette kunstnerskapet som<br />
en subsonisk grunntone, ikke bestandig like lett å<br />
lokalisere, men alltid til stede. Nå spørs det om denne<br />
skummelt hverdagslige volden egentlig kan sies å<br />
ligge latent her, disse videoene er så tekstbaserte at<br />
det egentlig kan sies å være litterære arbeider, og<br />
ubehaglet ligger på ingen måte skjult i disse vonde<br />
historiene om mislykkede seksuelle overgrep og det<br />
nesten uutholdelig banale i det å skulle være nødt til<br />
å spise noe når man sitter på et dødsleie og venter<br />
på at noen skal trekke pusten sin for siste gang.<br />
Pizza, f.eks. Eller det jeg egentlig tok utgangspunkt i<br />
til å begynne med; en tekst om hjemmestedet, som<br />
ikke en eneste gang nevner det ved navn, men som<br />
i likhet med tegningene også skjuler et ansikt.<br />
denne konsekvente innpakkingen av ansiktet som<br />
er ute og går her, enten det nå er et par truser eller<br />
svære solbriller som dekker mesteparten, er noe<br />
kristoffersen har jobbet med før. da maktet hun å gjøre<br />
det skjulte ansikt til et møtested for problemstillinger<br />
rundt både det personlige, politiske og seksuelle i<br />
en eneste fokusert manøver. nå videreføres dette<br />
arbeidet til en synkronisert tvil rundt i hvor høy grad<br />
dette egentlig holder som grunnlag for en identitet.<br />
og da havner vi altså i nord-norge et sted. der det<br />
hele begynte, og fortsatt begynner. I det siste har jeg<br />
notert hvor mye folk jeg har rundt meg som kommer<br />
fra et annet sted. og hvor nest inntil identisk historie<br />
de forteller om familie og barndomsvenner. og det<br />
faktum at min egen historie er eksakt likedan. dette<br />
med at man har beveget seg ut av kontekst, og er helt<br />
alene – og tiår passerer uten at noen annen fra dette<br />
barndomslandskapet en gang vurderer å flytte over<br />
kommunegrensa. Bare en refleksjon som slår meg<br />
innimellom; det faktum at jeg trives best med de som<br />
er som meg – de som en gang flyttet hjemmefra og<br />
virkelig mente business. men det er også denne andre<br />
siden av det, hva mann så bærer med seg av spor fra<br />
dette tapte landskapet. Vi kan jo ta hanne ut av nord-<br />
Norge, men kan vi ta Nord-Norge ut av Hanne? Etter å<br />
ha sett Belonging et par ganger må svaret selvfølgelig<br />
bli Nei – vi kan ikke radere vår egen forhistorie, den<br />
vil bestandig være fundamental for hva vi velger å<br />
være. Eller det vi tror vi velger. Det vi liker å tro, at vi<br />
velger. stedet vi kommer fra vil uansett utøve en sterk<br />
gravitasjon på oss. det har skjedd at jeg passert mitt<br />
eget lille høl i bil noen ganger de siste årene. og jeg<br />
har tatt en ekstra sving rundt steder jeg ikke får ut av<br />
systemet, steder som ville gjort meg fullstendig gal<br />
hvis jeg måtte forholde meg til de på daglig basis,<br />
men som jeg likevel må oppsøke enten i hukommelsen<br />
eller rent fysisk når det går an, bare for å holde denne<br />
organismen noelunde på plass. Vi er ingenting uten<br />
denne forhistorien. ikke sånn at vi er noe spesielt<br />
uansett, men det har vist seg være vanskelig å helt lure<br />
seg unna disse tingene vi en gang løpte fra i panikk i<br />
den sene puberteten for å komme mest mulig vekk.<br />
Men vi vet jo også dette, denne den strengeste<br />
vintern på fryktelig mange år; man må kle seg<br />
godt. Eller være tøff i trynet; et år badet jeg naken i<br />
kirkenes de siste dagene i september. men jeg traff<br />
også en gang en kar i tromsø som sa han ikke badet<br />
på sommern en gang. og her kryper tegningenes<br />
inneboende logikk over meg; er dette egentlig et<br />
spørsmål om anonymisering? er det ikke i like høy<br />
grad sånn at svaret på spørsmålet er beskyttelse?<br />
og hva velger vi å beskytte oss med? og bortsett<br />
fra minusgradene; hva burde vi beskytte oss mot?<br />
Tommy Olsson<br />
7
8<br />
NoRtHwaRD, BY tHe Sea<br />
Hit the North<br />
Manacled to the city<br />
All estate agents alive yell down the night in hysterical breath<br />
And from the back of the third eye psyche the inducement come forth<br />
Hit the North<br />
The Fall<br />
it is impossible not to say something about northern<br />
Norway in this context, so I might just as well say it<br />
here at the very outset. I have, it is true, never met<br />
an unpleasant person north of trondheim. i have<br />
also never met a single person who has not been<br />
seriously fucked up in one way or another. But what i<br />
wonder is whether this is possibly an environmental<br />
maladjustment due to the dramatic changes between<br />
light and darkness, or due to the equally dramatic<br />
landscape. or maybe a combination of these factors. it<br />
is true that the intensely wild stare of almost everyone<br />
with roots in this part of the country has found a deep<br />
resonance in me, which of course comes from radically<br />
different circumstances, but it is possible that this is<br />
a common form of bipolar psychosis that follows us<br />
through our everyday life. Quite frankly: i don’t know.<br />
I simply note what my experiences tell me so far. As<br />
well as what i think: can you in any way avoid being<br />
manic-depressive when you grow up in a world that is<br />
either light or dark, black or white, and only nuanced<br />
on an exceptional basis. I think, at any rate, that it<br />
represents good grounds for making excuses. A kind<br />
of diagnosis, or a bonus, an excuse for situations that<br />
demand an attitude of reserve that is out of reach. this<br />
excuse is something I lack myself and admittedly could<br />
need on occasion. it’s not the same thing to grow up<br />
in central sweden when social democracy’s degree<br />
of fitness is still on the plus side. i can’t blame the<br />
same external factors to explain why I am fucked up.<br />
of course there is a reason why i choose to start with<br />
these speculations. i am reacting to pictures that make<br />
it crystal clear that it is starting to get cold outside.<br />
But not only that. i have just seen three video works by<br />
an artist I have known for nearly 22 years and whom I<br />
have not once seen fiddling with a camera. so this is<br />
in no way the same old, usual thing, although I shall<br />
be careful not to say anything about video art being “a<br />
new and exciting medium”, because it has not been<br />
so ever since nam June Paik broke a television set on<br />
stage the year i was born. But here it is encountered<br />
for what I believe is the first time. These are defined,<br />
quite strictly composed works – methodically not<br />
unlike the photo-realistic drawings we already know<br />
from the past. narratives that overflow with the latent<br />
violence that has always accompanied this artistry like<br />
a subsonic, basic tone, not always easy to localise,<br />
but ever-present. now of course it might be asked if<br />
this sinister, everyday violence can be said to be lying<br />
latent; these videos are so text-based that they might<br />
rather be described as literary works, and the aversion<br />
is in no way veiled in these painful tales of failed<br />
sexual abuse and the almost insufferable banality of<br />
having to eat while sitting by someone’s deathbed<br />
waiting for someone to draw the last breath. Pizza,<br />
for example. Or what was my starting point above: a<br />
text about a place of origin without once mentioning<br />
it by name, but like the drawings, concealing a face.<br />
The consistent covering of the face used here, whether<br />
it is a pair of knickers or large sunglasses covering<br />
most of it, is a technique Kristoffersen has worked<br />
with before. in the past she managed to make the<br />
concealed face a meeting place for issues involving<br />
the personal, the political and the sexual in a single<br />
focused manoeuvre. now this effort is pursued to<br />
invoke a synchronised doubt about the extent to which<br />
this is a tenable basis for an identity. and then we<br />
wind up in northern norway somewhere. Where it all<br />
began, and is still beginning. Lately I have taken notice<br />
of how many people i have around me who come from<br />
one place or another. and how all of them have almost<br />
identical stories they tell about family and childhood<br />
friends. and the fact that my own personal history is<br />
exactly the same. The fact that one has moved out<br />
of context and is totally alone – and decades pass<br />
without any other member of this childhood landscape<br />
ever even considering a move out of the confines of<br />
the municipal borders. Just a reflection that strikes<br />
me from time to time: the fact that i am most at home<br />
with those who are like me – those who once left<br />
home and really meant business. But there is the other<br />
side of the coin - the traces that one brings with one<br />
from this lost landscape. We can take hanne out of<br />
Northern Norway, but can we take Northern Norway<br />
out of hanne? after having seen Belonging a couple<br />
of times, the answer must of course be No – we<br />
cannot obliterate our own background; it will always<br />
be fundamental for what we choose to be. or what<br />
we think we choose. What we like to think that we<br />
choose. Our place of origin will always, unavoidably,<br />
exercise a strong gravitational force on us. It has<br />
occurred that i have driven by my own little hole of a<br />
town a few times in recent years. and i have made a<br />
few rounds past places I can’t get out of my system,<br />
places that would have driven me completely mad<br />
if i had to relate to them on a daily basis but which<br />
i nevertheless have an urge to revisit either through<br />
memory or physically when I can, just to keep this<br />
organism somewhat intact. We are nothing without our<br />
personal backgrounds. not that we are special in any<br />
respect at all, but it has proven difficult to disentangle<br />
oneself from these things that we once fled in panic in<br />
our late puberty in order to get as far away as possible.<br />
But we know this – the harshest winter in many,<br />
many years; one has to dress warmly. Or be tough<br />
as nails; one year I swam naked in Kirkenes in<br />
late september. But i also once met someone in<br />
tromsø who said he didn’t even go swimming in the<br />
summertime. and it is here that the inherent logic<br />
of the drawings washes over me; is this actually a<br />
question of depersonalization? Isn’t the answer to<br />
the question to an equally great extent that we seek<br />
protection? and with what do we choose to protect<br />
ourselves? and aside from the sub-zero degrees on the<br />
thermometer, what should we protect ourselves from?<br />
Tommy Olsson<br />
9
10<br />
SuRvIveR<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
11
12<br />
folDeD<br />
2009<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
13
14<br />
SelfCoMBuStIoN<br />
2009<br />
Farveblyant på papir/coloured pencil on paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
150 x 150 cm<br />
15
16<br />
wooD<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
17
18<br />
MaNSwoRlD<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
19
20<br />
tHe IRaNIaN DINNeR<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
21
22<br />
tHe StoRM<br />
2010<br />
Video<br />
12 min.<br />
It was building up; it could be sensed as a different light. There was pressure, a heaviness<br />
in the air. Early in the morning, warm, not yet hot. The sun was concealed behind the<br />
approaching wall of weather. The sea lay calm and crystal clear. As if it was waiting,<br />
subservient to what was approaching. they sat on a little stone jetty. he had just taken<br />
a dip in the still water. she sat with her legs tucked under her body with a hammer in her<br />
hand. They were on a headland, a majestic protrusion in the seascape. The path departed<br />
from the main road and wound its way down to the sea. The house stood at the bottom,<br />
behind large gates.<br />
she had been inside the big house and picked up the hammer. it must have been easily<br />
accessible. She was thinly dressed, the short skirt made it harder to conceal her legs,<br />
made it more difficult to draw her legs up while covering her pants. it was painful sitting<br />
on the stones. She felt that now, now that her head had cleared.<br />
She had been to bars, dancing. Had hung out with two English girls. They were younger<br />
than her, in their mid-thirties. She thinks she got too drunk, since they left. Her head was<br />
hot and her face flushed; everything was blurry. She had sat in the bar by herself; she only<br />
just got served. she was wearing a miniskirt and a sleeveless top.<br />
Suddenly she was on the street. It must have been daylight, a grey light. She sat on the<br />
pavement. a white van had stopped and she got in automatically. the van started driving.<br />
Past her hotel. It drove through long bends, the road rose up out of the landscape. She<br />
threw her sandals out the door as the car sped along; now she was barefoot. The car<br />
suddenly left the road and descended along a gravel path to the house, behind the tall<br />
gates.<br />
it was hard to make out the contours of him. it was as if he was faceless. the alcohol lay<br />
like a thin veil over the pulse, throbbing in her stomach. She had her mobile phone, tried<br />
to reach her sister at the hotel. it was a foreign country and the dialling code was not<br />
recognised. she started shivering and dropped her phone among the stones.<br />
He began touching her. It was then she got the hammer and sat with it in her hand – “If<br />
you come near me, I’ll kill you!” She tried to conduct a conversation. He did not speak<br />
English, only a little German. She knew a few words. He told her where he was from. She<br />
hated that country. It was then he took off his clothes and dived in. He came up, milky<br />
white. He sat in front of her naked. She waited for him to get bored, to take her back. She<br />
talked about her family. her family back at the hotel.<br />
The air was still. The storm was on its way, steel grey. It was indescribably beautiful, a<br />
bitter contrast. They got in the car; it had been hours. Nothing had happened. She lay<br />
down the hammer; she did not need it anymore. The car climbed up the gravel path. It took<br />
a sharp turn and stopped abruptly in front of a small cabin.<br />
It happened so quickly, she was taken by surprise. He dragged her out of the car and into<br />
the cabin. a small room with a bed and a tiny bathroom. a frosted glass pane in the door.<br />
He locked it and flung her onto the bed. He threw himself on top of her, forced her down.<br />
She cried for help, he hit her in the face. She thought the more she fought, the harder he<br />
would become. He went down on her, lay his body the other way. His organ was by her<br />
face; he was limp. She cried, was passive. He forced himself inside her. A shadow loomed<br />
through the glass pane. someone shouted. he dressed and went outside.<br />
She was alone, ran down the road. Her clothes still on, he had not bothered to remove<br />
them. It was sunny. On a little veranda sat an elderly couple. She cried; was asked to sit<br />
down. they covered her naked arms with a towel. they said he had done it before. they<br />
made a phone call.<br />
a car arrived. a policeman in plain clothes. he was like all men from this country. he<br />
drove her to the hotel, waited outside. Her son was still sleeping. Her sister was pale. Her<br />
parents came to see to the boy; she barely dared to look at them. She and her sister sat on<br />
the backseat on the way to the island’s capital.<br />
they waited in a sparse corridor for ages. men went in and out of offices. they typed with<br />
one finger. They talked, smoked. They said they had to find someone who could speak<br />
english. she gave evidence over the telephone. gave details. the sister waited outside in<br />
the corridor. many hours passed. the window of the office was open. the voices from the<br />
street were audible. she thought now everyone can hear. it was completely black outside.<br />
thunder and lightning. a downpour. the storm had arrived.<br />
They wanted her to go to the hospital. The thought of being examined by a man was<br />
unimaginable. they wanted her to press charges. that meant returning from her homeland<br />
to witness. she declined.<br />
the police fetched her one more time before they left her alone. she stayed in the hotel<br />
room all day; her parents came to take her son out to swim. A tour guide arrived. He said<br />
this happened more frequently on the other islands. A doctor came. She gave her some<br />
pills for the swelling on her face. Gave her some tranquilisers; she did not touch them. The<br />
doctor told her to go home. she decided to stay. there were eleven days left.<br />
They hired a car. For several days they drove around the island, like the other tourists. They<br />
left the incident behind, as if it had never happened. They lay in the sun. In the evenings<br />
and at night they sat on the terrace. she and her sister. the child was asleep. they felt<br />
like someone was watching them from the darkness. They saw movements in the bushes,<br />
heard knocking on the walls. they bought a torch and shone it into the night.<br />
One morning, as they were leaving the hotel room, the maid came in. The woman<br />
examined her face – “did he hit you?”<br />
she said. it was then she realised that the whole island knew. the return journey began<br />
at the crack of dawn. everyone from the same hotel stood by the main road with their<br />
luggage. they were waiting for the bus to the airport. she saw him. he cycled past.<br />
She only told one friend when she returned, was talked into going to a refuge. They<br />
were discreet. Followed her up with tests and examinations. She said it had not been<br />
consummated. she said she had decided not to tell. they respected her decision. her<br />
husband never knew. She thought of his reaction, she believed she could not have<br />
defended herself. they carried on as usual. For him it was a continuation. For her it was<br />
afterwards.<br />
23
24<br />
PIZZa aND DeatH<br />
2010<br />
Video<br />
3,40 min.<br />
he had been ill for a long time.<br />
outside the window there was an enormous chimney that penetrated the layer of clouds.<br />
it reminded me of a crematorium.<br />
he was awaiting his turn.<br />
It was June, but everything was grey.<br />
the north wind was icy.<br />
every day he became less of himself.<br />
he was becoming something else.<br />
he was gasping for breath for three days.<br />
We were on tenterhooks; we did not recognize him or ourselves.<br />
on the final day we were desperately hungry.<br />
We had to have food to follow him into death; it could take all night.<br />
The hospital was huge, but there was nothing to eat.<br />
We jumped in the car and found a random pizza place.<br />
The man behind the counter was a foreigner; he was unusually friendly.<br />
We were given garlic sauce for free.<br />
We returned to eat it in the waiting room.<br />
the staff were alone with the dying patient.<br />
We only managed a few mouthfuls.<br />
a young nurse arrived and asked us to come through.<br />
He gasped one last time; it was quick.<br />
We stood around him. This is it, said the nurse.<br />
i asked for a chair.<br />
We had promised him we would be there and made it just in time.<br />
25
26<br />
BeloNGING<br />
2010<br />
Video<br />
5 min.<br />
my friend was talking about a book. earnestly. i finally got it as a present. it was about the part of the country where i grew up. about the place i got<br />
my dialect from. Where my father was born. A place that is missing a season, where they head straight into summer. Where the icy wind from the<br />
north blows as the sun shines. Where the women swear as intensely as the men while they look you straight in the eye. Where the fog is at crotch<br />
height. Where it snows on midsummer’s eve and it is impossible to light the bonfire. Where the sea flirts before it murderously changes its mind.<br />
Where the Midnight Sun prevents you from sleeping, and you are always tired. Where the Northern Lights dance across the darkness in August. Where<br />
nature offers you a love so cold and passionate that you never forget. From which I never get any rest, even when I am far away from home.<br />
27
28<br />
INvISIBle<br />
2009<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Portraits of a young woman, twenty three years of age at the time”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
29
30<br />
BIG oRaNGe<br />
2009<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Portraits of a young woman, twenty three years of age at the time”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
31
32<br />
SMokING<br />
2009<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Portraits of a young woman, twenty three years of age at the time”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
33
34<br />
SIlveR<br />
2009<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
110 x 85 cm<br />
35
36<br />
PaRkING<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
110 x 85 cm<br />
37
38<br />
tHe StReet<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper.<br />
110 x 85 cm<br />
39
40<br />
I aM a BloCk of flatS<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på papir/coloured pencil on paper.<br />
150 x 150 cm<br />
41
42<br />
tHe Sea<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
43
44<br />
MeNoPauSe<br />
2010<br />
Farveblyant på sort papir/coloured pencil on black paper<br />
(Fra serien/from the series “Belonging”)<br />
152 x 157 cm<br />
45
46<br />
MIStakeN<br />
2010 (For lydia)<br />
I thought<br />
I had come<br />
home<br />
that time<br />
in Barcelona<br />
do you remember the borrowed room, a bed,<br />
a desk, the toilet<br />
was<br />
broken, sunlight,<br />
mid-morning and<br />
the book by Pablo Neruda<br />
so strong<br />
was the feeling<br />
of having met<br />
you said<br />
what animal am I?<br />
and I was supposed to guess, but was mistaken<br />
the certainty of having walked down the right street and<br />
come home<br />
was so<br />
great<br />
that I<br />
was wrong<br />
lYDIa oPøIeN <strong>•</strong> skuespillerinne/actress <strong>•</strong> 1894–1961<br />
47
HaNNe lYDIa oPøIeN kRIStoffeRSeN<br />
Born 1964, Trondheim. Lives and works in Oslo, NO<br />
www.hannelydia.com<br />
GRaNt<br />
2011 Recipient of the Håkon Bleken’s Artist Award, NO<br />
eDuCatIoN<br />
1991–1992 The School of Art and Crafts, Stockholm, SE<br />
1987–1991 Academy of Fine Art, Trondheim, NO<br />
SeleCteD Solo SHowS<br />
2012 Buskerud Center of Visual Arts, Drammen, NO<br />
2011 BOA Center of Visual Arts, Oslo, NO<br />
Gråmølna Museum of Visual Arts, Trondheim, NO<br />
2009 The Arcitcht`s Daughter, Tromsø Cultural Center, NO<br />
ID, Haugesund Artcenter, NO<br />
Kunst1, Sandvika, NO<br />
2008 True Identity, Kunstverket, Oslo, NO<br />
2007 Citizen, The White Tube, Oslo, NO<br />
Take it in hand and make something of it, Tegnerforbundet, Oslo, NO<br />
2005 The woman who could not draw, Tromsø Center of Visual Arts, NO<br />
2004 Remote control, Akershus Center of Visual Arts, NO<br />
Looking back in anger, Rogaland Center of Visual Arts, Stavanger, NO<br />
2003 Domestic violence and other boring stories, Kunstverket, Oslo, NO<br />
2000 Enlightenment – Illumination, Vestlandske Museum of Arts and Crafts / BOB, Bergen, NO<br />
1998 Ich heiratete/I got married, Kunstvereien auf dem Prenzlauerberg, Berlin, GE<br />
Selected Group ShowS<br />
2011 RED, .NO Gallery, New York, US<br />
2010 13 Drawers, Alta Center of Visual Arts, NO<br />
2008 REAL, Haugar, Museum of Visual Arts, Tønsberg, NO<br />
Supermarket 2008, International Independent Art fair, Stockholm, SE<br />
2007 It`s drawn well, Kunstbanken, Hedmark Center of Visual Arts, NO<br />
2006 The Projectroom 93 – 06, Galleri F – 15, Moss, NO<br />
2004 The Drawingbiennial 2004, Stenersen Museum of Visual Arts, Oslo, NO<br />
aNNual SHowS<br />
2006, 2001, 1994, 1993 The National Annual Exhibition of the Visual Arts, Oslo, NO<br />
2006, 1989 The Annual North Norwegian Exhibition, NO<br />
1992 UKS Annual Springexhibition, NO<br />
ColleCtIoNS<br />
2009 Haugesund Center of Visual Arts, NO<br />
2007 ATV, NO<br />
2003 The National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design, NO<br />
1997 Tromsø Center of Visual Arts, NO<br />
1996, 1991 Arts Council, Norway<br />
CoMISSIoNS<br />
2008 E. C. Dahls Stiftelse, Chief Administrative Officer of Trondheim County, NO<br />
2007 1. Nordic Conference on Violence and Treatment, Oslo, NO, temporary<br />
2006 Tronka, The State Building Commission, Trondheim, NO<br />
SeleCteD BIBlIoGRaPHY<br />
2010 Anne Schäffer, Numèr # 85, magazine for drawing and illustration<br />
2008 Kari Brantzæg, ”Drawings that grip you” , Dagbladet<br />
Daniel Østvold, ”Real, Young Norwegian Realism” , Catalogue<br />
2007 Mona D. Gjessing, “Delicate vs hardhitting at The Drawing Center”, NO , Billedkunst, # 2<br />
Harald Flor, ”Panties and threats” , Dagbladet<br />
Truls Ramberg, ”Drawings on the right track” , Aftenposten<br />
Line Ukleiv, ”Citizen” , Kunstkritikk.no<br />
Tommy Olsson, ”Take it in hand and make something of it”<br />
Ingvild Johnsen, ”Selfportait with boxer, Man Basic” , Argument, # 1<br />
Asbjørn Larsen, ”The women” , Virkelig, # 1<br />
2003 DIN, ”Violence” , magazine for religion and culture<br />
2000 Jorunn Haakestad, ”Enlightenment – illumination” , Catalogue<br />
Randi Nygaard Lium, ”Hjemløshet, Outside home,<br />
Synliggjøring, Illustrating the invisible” , Catalogue<br />
48 49
50<br />
takk tIl/tHaNkS to<br />
Nyebilder.no (Ivan Rios, Arash Nejad, Thomas Bjørnflaten),<br />
Håkon Bleken, Merete Hovdenak, Hanne Ekkeren, Tommy Olsson,<br />
John Coltrane, John, Gunnar, Lille Lydia, Store Lydia, Kaja Kristine.<br />
oversettelser/translations: natalie o`donnell<br />
Tekster/Text: Hanne Lydia Opøien Kristoffersen<br />
Foto/Photography: nyebilder.no<br />
design & layout: scanpartner<br />
ISDN<br />
Ebit, int derum qui blatus<br />
nimus earum voluptate<br />
ne num la nonsequos<br />
sunto velibus rae<br />
nullorrunt, aces velecus<br />
arit hita nobit fuga.<br />
It, tem quatur sapicit<br />
velenis aut voluptaqui<br />
ipiet latis mi, co
Gråmølna - Trondheim Kunstmuseum <strong>•</strong> Trenerys gt.9 <strong>•</strong> 7042 Trondheim <strong>•</strong> Tel. +47 73 53 81 90 <strong>•</strong> www.tkm.museum.no