It has almost been four years since the coronavirus was identified. We’ve got the strange pandemic period a bit at a distance. The period when we wore blazers and sweatpants, and had outdoor meetings at arm’s length. We have slowly come to terms with the extensive consequences the pandemic has had. This applies in particular to young people who lost parts of their social youth, and to old people who died alone in isolation in retirement homes. Few today would dispute that the infection control measures may have hit us even harder than the disease itself. But what traces of this state of exception do we actually find in art? This is a question that the Intercultural Museum at Tøyen in Oslo explores through the exhibition “Point Counter Point”. I don’t quite know how to interpret the picture of Damien Avajon. But the many layers of textiles (and sheets?) fascinate. Here, there is a photocopy of a seated woman who was first drawn and then embroidered, as a kind of echo. The color attitude is restrained. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby Form-wise a bit boring from Avajon, but thematically it’s exciting. When we suddenly had to keep our hands to ourselves, it made us aware of how disgusting it is that we constantly press the most bacteria-infected parts of our body against each other. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby But it also reminded us of how important this social ritual of shaking hands is after all. Although perhaps more of us use antibac a little more diligently than before the pandemic, we have resumed the habit of shaking hands. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby Radical deprivation of liberty It is a small and highly concentrated exhibition of textile art that reflects in various ways on questions that have their origin in the corona experience. Here we find everything from quite explicit parole works to more open reflections. Lisa Pacini is widely represented as an artist in the exhibition (a bit funny considering that she is also the exhibition’s curator). Her project is of the more direct variety. Through fascinating, embroidered textiles, she conveys various anti-infection and vaccine-critical slogans. Pacini fits into a tradition that cultivates the slow and artful fury. At the entrance to the exhibition there is a tailor’s doll. It varies greatly in terms of form and artistically exciting these various expressions. Several of them (“My body, my choice”) fall into somewhat flat slogans. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby On a cafe apron it is also embroidered: “No mask, no service”, which was the clear message many people received at various catering establishments. Photo: KRISTIAN AG LUNDBY The dorroll lamp base plays on the hoarding in March 2020. On a beautiful cloth, she has embroidered a rifle surrounded by elaborate flower vines. Here it is written (in my free translation) “Your only defense against mandatory forced vaccines”. Photo: KRISTIAN AG LUNDBY Here she creates contrasts between fierce anti-vaccine statements and beautiful, decorative decorative stitching. It varies greatly in terms of form and artistically exciting these various expressions. Several of them (such as “My body, my choice”) fall into somewhat flat slogans. One of the more interesting is the blue “Do not vaccinate”. DO NOT VACCINATE: Lisa Pacini has also created a cozy interior, where the textiles are loaded with rather rebellious messages, such as here: “Do not vaccinate”. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby Here the contrast between message and idiom is somewhat less conspicuous than in the others. The slogan statement and its surroundings are designed in the same style. You only notice the contrast when you read what is written. Whether she here again refers to older decorative stitching, or whether this time it is Chinese porcelain decoration, is not so decisive. It is the antiquated style against the activist message that is the core. Now I myself was someone who, during the pandemic, looked a little askance at people who didn’t wear a mask, or spoke negatively about the vaccine programme. In the rearview mirror, it is still easy to see that there is reason to reflect on the radical deprivation of liberty that the infection prevention measures actually represented. Quarantine reflections Another person who ponders the dilemmas of the pandemic through text embroideries is Julie Skarland. Skarland is undoubtedly the star of the exhibition, and one of our foremost textile artists and fashion designers. For 18 years, she was a hot name in the fashion metropolis of Paris itself, where she created her own clothing brand and ran a successful small design shop. Later, she lived in India for many years and gradually began to create outfits that function more as pure visual expressions than practical garments. And it is precisely such an outfit that she shows in this exhibition. Starting from a black sewing doll, she has created a strange appearance. I don’t think this is her strongest expression. I don’t see the relationship between the message pasted on the doll’s torso and this slightly creepy appearance. Here I think I would let the figure stand for itself, without any poster attached. The poster that is stuck on could also stand perfectly fine on its own. The figure is holding a fir tree, and the question of whether it is too early to decorate the Christmas tree is embroidered in beautiful letters. Here it is probably about the experience of having time that you need to fill with something meaningful. On small patches, she has also embroidered various reflections related to the somewhat claustrophobic life at home. “Lockdown day 22: The longer I stay at home, the more homeless I look.” Miriam Karlsen’s slippers lying on a green carelessly stitched cushion cannot at least be described as great design. There is also a rather unclear color tone in this work. But probably the dissolved and chaotic is the very core of the expression. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby I feel far more for her wounded lion. It grabs me in a way. Perhaps it is about the lion as an image of power and strength, and thus about the experience of being completely knocked out of the game? Photo: Kristian AG Lundby Humor and grave seriousness The exhibition is characterized by great seriousness, but also contains a lot of humor. A fun project is “Honks Good Trouble Brass Band”, a film showing brass players impressively managing to find a common rhythm and harmony through Zoom. Another work that also contains both the serious and the humorous is Tore Magne Gundersen’s textile figure, which is a kind of cross between the crucified Christ and the man with the scythe. But what the figure holds in his hand is not a scythe – but a bloody cotton swab. CORONA CONCERT: The brass band at Zoom forms a cheerful soundscape in the exhibition. After a while, however, you get a little crazy hearing the song on loop_ Photo: KRISTIAN AG Lundby I think this has become a good exhibition. Although the quality of the various artworks varies slightly, I think the exhibition as a whole manages to thematize the pandemic as a strong shared experience. The eerie figure with its shiny red face and pale green robe gives associations both to the crucified, but also to the man with the scythe. Here, despite a flowing form, there is a certain expressive power, and a kind of visual hierarchy. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby The bed with its bedspread with droplets and stylized viruses probably indicates corona disease. I’m left wondering why there’s wadding coming out of the pillow. Perhaps this is also a theme of a lack of control. Photo: Kristian AG Lundby It’s about the experience of loneliness, isolation and fear of death, but also this tenuous digital togetherness that, after all, flourished on Zoom and Teams. The fact that the works are designed in textiles emphasizes the longing for physical intimacy and closeness to others. Like the simple, sensual joy of a handshake or an embrace. news reviews Title: “Point Counterpoint” Time: 2 November 2023 – 31 March 2024. Place: Interkulturelt museum, Oslo Type: Group exhibition Curator: Lisa Pacini Artists: Lisa Pacini and Brit Marit Almskår, Julie Skarland, Astrid Runde Saxegaard, Kojo Bineys Student, Miriam Karlsen, Tore Magne Gundersen, Gidsken Braadlie, Ida Immonen, Damien Avajon, Andrea Galiazzo, Cathrine Constance Gjelsnes, Honk Estimated time: 20 – 40 minutes
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“Point Counter Point” at Interkulturelt museum, Oslo – Reviews and recommendations
