Reykjavík Grapevine - 28.08.2010, Page 12

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The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 13 — 2010
Perspectives Of Cultural Night
Culture Night | Recap
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1 CULTURE MORNING
My Menningarnótt started
bright and early at eight
in the morning as I got a
ride out to Árbær to get my hair done
and put makeup on seven women. Af-
ter two months of speculative vision and
two weeks of frantic technical prepara-
tion, I was about to launch into my first
ever performance in my adopted city of
Reykjavík. On one of the biggest cultural
events of the year. At one of the busiest
intersections in the downtown area. RL
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1 CULTURE OF SPORTS
Ten o ćlock sharp. I wake
up to the sound of some
live interpretation of Four
Non Blondes' “What’s Up?” I get up,
stand on the balcony for a while to locate
where the music is coming from, but I
can’t figure it out. Are these the death
throes of last night’s rúntur? Or the first
sign of life of this year’s Menningarnótt?
My mission for today: exploring Culture
Night in the morning. I leave the apart-
ment and enter the city.
What I need first is a large cup of
coffee, so I visit the first Culture Night
venue for today. At Mokka-Espresso-
Kaffi on Skólavördurstigur, I find people
sitting around, having breakfast and no
one seems to take notice of the exhibit
of black and white photographs by Karl
R. Lilliendahl hanging on the walls of this
little coffee shop. I feel like the only per-
son in this place aware of the fact that it
is Culture Night morning.
Out on the streets I expect to see
some drunks who couldn’t find their way
back home. That’s the only reason I can
think of for being on the streets this early
on a Saturday morning. Instead I find
rested-looking tourists, sporty-clothes-
wearing persons with numbers on their
chests and others working to close
streets and install cotton candy booths;
preparing the city for its big day.
After spending an hour in the Art
Museum Kjarvalsstaðir, I go to an office
on Ingólfssræti which, for today only, will
be serving as a gallery. Chatting with
the artist of paintings “inspired by other
planets” as she explains, I try to feel the
cosmic energy I am supposed to feel, but
I fail. Yeah, this is a nice and odd experi-
ence. I want more of that kind.
And I’m lucky! Getting to Lækjargata,
I spot the next extraordinary event of the
day. Hundreds of sport fanatics block
the street, doing simultaneous aerobic
moves on the pavement. A very blond
aerobic instructor pushes the crowd to
some very loud dance music. Now I know
where all these sporty people came from
(before I wasn’t sure, as a non-sporty, if
this might be a regular Saturday morning
ritual I usually miss). The masses get in
motion, about to embark on the Fun Run,
the short 3 km jaunt for everyone who
sat out the Reykjavík Marathon, which
started at started at 8:40 this morning.
Watching a young girl dressed up as
Superwoman run away, I decide to end
my Culture Night experience at 1 p.m.
WW
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13 BUILDING CULTURE IN
THE SKY
Several hours of hairspray
and glitter later, we some-
how drove through the entirely barri-
caded city streets to our performance
locale, the studio spaces of local design-
ers Mundi and Bóas Kristjánsson. The
streets were already bustling with activ-
ity as we loaded our storage bins and
bags of material up to the balconies we
would soon be transforming into a surre-
alistic rainbow-waterfall. Mostly a crowd
of families, fellow performers and su-
premely hungover event photographers.
Last minute scrambling to prepare went
in the form of chopping and rolling up
streamers, running next door to Prikið to
steal their tape and makeup touch-ups.
Finally our two dance teams, The Mighty
Night Warriorz and Uppsteyt, were ready
to get our show on the road – literally.
I stepped out onto the upper-balco-
ny with an arsenal of 20-40 metre long
strips of coloured fabric, which would
eventually make their way over to the
balcony of the restaurant Sólon. As our
ground team took their positions in the
street, gesturing wildly, their sequined
capes shimmering in the cold sun, the
fun began and I started tying strips
onto the balcony and dropping them to
the balcony below me. The crowd in the
street gathered densely below, looking
up and around in confusion and amaze-
ment. No matter how things went now, it
was worth seeing this. RL
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13 OvERWHELMING
CULTURE
Feeling overwhelmed af-
ter reading through the
Culture Night event listings in the pa-
per, I decide to venture into the people-
packed streets of Reykjavík without any
set plans for the day. As I step out the
door my friend calls to ask if I plan on
going on a tour of the Icelandic Free-
mason’s temple. What?! Yes! Immedi-
ately, I hurry to Skúlgata 53-55 before
the temple closes. I run up Laugavegur,
by-passing the many lava rock jewelry
stands, hotdog vendors, artists selling
homemade crafts, and racks of Icelandic
sweaters. EB
The concept of time seemed to dis-
appear as I became engrossed in the
physical work of the installation while
maintaining character and delivering
the performance. The two-hours we
had given ourselves to complete the
task passed in the blink of an eye, things
actually started to take shape exactly as
planned. While I simultaneously built and
watched our piece, techno duo Karíus &
Baktus started loading into the studio
to take over the balcony after me. This
was a relief since I couldn’t handle the
delta blues-rock vs. acoustic twee mash
up any longer. I put shiny streamers on
the balcony for the finishing touch, the
dancers over at Sólon’s balcony tied the
last strips of fabric on their end and our
water-rainbow-laser-fall was done. And
the crowd was still gazing up in amaze-
ment. RL
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13 FREEMASON CULTURE
After a twenty-minute
speed-walk, I spot a group
of elderly men dressed in
black tuxedoes and bow ties. Must be
the Freemasons. I walk up to the temple
and they welcome me inside along with
a massive crowd of people eager to get a
glimpse at the headquarters of the secret
society. No cameras allowed
Pictures of distinguished members
covered medallions and pins, that would
make any boy scout or rap star jealous,
hang on the walls. Glass boxes holding
cufflinks, gavels, pendants and other
jeweled trinkets with Masonic symbols
such as the square and compasses and
the eye fill the corners of the main rooms
and hallways. Many of the smaller rooms
are roped off with a handful of Free-
masons patrolling every area. Although
friendly, the tuxedoed Freemansons with
their watchful eyes come off as a little in-
timidating.
I wander up a winding staircase
where a few people trickle out of a room.
Just as I decide to by-pass the room,
which I assume is another boring office,
one of the Freemasons whispers to me,
“Do you want to see the meeting room?”
Slightly curious and a little weirded out, I
answer, “Uh, urmm…I guess?” I walk up
a few steps and turn the corner into the
main meeting room. It takes a few sec-
onds for my eyes to adjust to the dark-
ness. The ceiling is covered in glowing
constellations. I see about a hundred
fancy blue chairs and what looks like a
stage or alter at the back of the room.
I ask one of the Freemasons what
the fake stars are all about and he tells
me it’s a view of the sky on the night the
building was founded in the 1800s. I peak
into to a few rooms afterward, but the
meeting room remains the highlight of
my tour. I leave the Freemasons temple
no more informed about the organisation
than I was before entering, but definitely
more curious. Later on, Culture Night
turns into a haze of fun and debachaury,
but the Freemasons temple tour remains
my favorite activity of the day. EB
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13 CULTURE BY NIGHT
We arrive at the Sykur
concert to see house duo
Captain Fufanu play, after
we had surrendered the plan of having a
performance alongside the concert see-
ing as all the jailbait “skinkas”, whom we
had asked to show up and dance, didn't
venture to come.
However, passers-by and concert at-
tendees are confronted with something
even more bizarre (and symbolic for
Culture Night): an afro'd woman is danc-
ing madly on the top floor balcony of a
building across the street. She throws
down a stuffed falcon and candleholder
and then a middle-aged man keeps ap-
pearing and disappearing next to her,
wearing nothing but underpants. The
police come and put her in her place,
but after they leave she starts dancing
again. Eventually, the woman is arrested
and spends her Culture Night in a jail
cell. Later I read that she was actually
arrested for indecent exposure, which is
total bullshit because she was on a stone
balcony so you couldn't see anything. It's
either a racist thing with the police or
they simply think dancing is criminal.
Considering this come-uppance,
what strikes me as symbolic for Culture
Night is that almost everyone present
isn't minding the concert, the ACTUAL
cultural event, but gazing at a drunken
woman dancing. Culture Night is a night
of debauchery, amidst seemingly high-
brow culture and arts. Do we go down-
town to experience our culture and be
stimulated by it, or do we go downtown
to get wasted?
We watched the fireworks from a
whale-watching boat by the docks. ÞIJ
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1 CULTURE MORNING
Later, on walk home, there
are still people looming
around. ÞIJ
GRAPEvINE STAFF
HvALREKI AND HöRðUR SvEINSSON
Culture Night so was full of cultural happenings this year. But it was also lacking in free waffles. If you
missed out on the good times or just want to see how your cultural experience stacks up, some fine
Grapeviners have compiled their individual experiences for your enjoyment.