For 17 years, the Nobel Peace Center has presented the peace prize through an exhibition. Often they have hired a press photographer or a photo artist who has communicated the award through a picture narrative. This year, it is the Belarusian human rights defender Ales Byalyatski who receives the peace prize together with the Russian and Ukrainian human rights organizations Memorial and Center for Civil Rights. The format of the exhibition is difficult to understand. It is not a question of any ordinary journalistic photo essay, and it cannot be considered an art exhibition. As a critic, I tend to show up with as little prior knowledge as possible, so that I can see how effectively and vividly the exhibition conveys its narrative. EXISTING PHOTOS: The exhibition is based on photos that already exist, such as this one of Peace Prize winner Oleksandra Matvyychuk, head of the Ukrainian Center for Civil Rights. Photo: Johannes Granseth Unusual thinness Every single year I think of the peace prize exhibition as a kind of visual argument for why this material cannot only be presented through a magnificent book or a lecture. Several times I have allowed myself to be convinced, but this year the “reasoning” is perceived as unusually flimsy. The reason is not difficult to understand: it has simply been difficult to send a photographer on a mission to the relevant areas due to the war. The exhibition is thus based on images that already exist, many of which the peace prize winners themselves have brought. Scattered and uneven It has unfortunately become quite a scrambling and uneven cavalcade. The starting point is of course very exciting. There are strong stories and interesting thoughts. Here it is told about the courageous human rights and democracy defenders’ tireless fight against the authorities. But the exhibition plays up the poignant and dramatic potential that lies in this fabric. The exhibition suffers from the lack of an aesthetic whole. There is no story telling that ties it all together. PHOTOGRAPHY: The exhibition consists of large amounts of photography. But it is not a photo essay. Photo: Johannes Granseth / Nobel Peace Center But the problem is not really that you have not had access to interesting image material, it is more about how you have organized the elements. Through the text-heavy presentation, we are massively bombarded with information, without the material being given a clear visual hierarchy. Here, everything is equally strong and equally emphasized. As viewers, we have to read a lot of text for the various images to make sense. However, the exhibition is not without some interesting image constellations. An example is a photograph showing an old jacket juxtaposed with the image of a Russian mass grave. In the interaction between the two photographs, associations are set in motion, and a small story is created. Unfortunately, there are far too few such examples of something exciting happening between the pictures. SUCCESSFUL: The image of an old jacket together with the image of a Russian mass grave creates associations. Photo: Ingvill Bryn Rambøll / Nobel Peace Center Invisible text An exhibition should always be as visual as possible. It turns out that people can’t bear to read more than three or four lines of text on a wall, and then these must be set in a large and legible font. The elegant uppercase font designed by Rudolf Koch used in the headings of the exhibition is soft and human and suitable for the context, but breaks with the more mechanized grotesque in the main text. This break in style is perceived as slightly disturbing. In most cases, if we have chosen the right font, it will in practice be invisible. After all, we don’t want the letters in a novel to occupy our attention. In this sense, there is something profoundly paradoxical in that text becomes a supporting element in an exhibition at all. A LOT OF TEXT: Parts of the exhibition are text-heavy and in small print. Photo: INGVILL BRYN RAMBØLL / Nobel Peace Center Looks like a brochure In addition to the text-heavy section that deals with the peace prize winners, the exhibition has a section that deals with ordinary people’s opportunity to stand up to power through demonstrations. In this department, which is far more visual, we find, among other things, expressive photographs from Hong Kong and Iran. Although the role of civil society is central to this year’s award, and the various freedom struggles are each both important and interesting, it is still felt as a derailment. CLOSE: Hong Kong was paralyzed by large demonstrations in the summer and autumn of 2019. Photo: Chien-Chi Chang / Magnum Photo Creating an exhibition is a bit like writing an academic text: You have to choose one issue and stick to it. As viewers, we have more than enough to get our head and feet on this year’s complex peace prize, if we don’t have to deal with all possible other riots around the world at the same time. “No one plans to give up” is the title of this year’s peace prize exhibition. And I hope the Nobel Peace Center has no intention of doing that either. But there is no doubt that they have great potential for improvement when it comes to exhibition design. The Peace Prize exhibition is important, and it’s a shame when it looks like a three-dimensional brochure. SEE THE REVIEW: Mona Pahle Bjerke talks about the exhibition in Nyhetsmorgen. news reviews Title: “No one plans to give up” What: The Peace Prize exhibition When: 12 December 2022–20. November 2023
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