Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.05.2011, Page 16

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The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 5 — 2011
Words
Haukur S. Magnússon
Photography
Ólafur Elíasson Studios
Osbjørn Jacobsen/Henning Larsen Architects
WHO IS óLAFUR ELÍASSON?
Start by telling me about your-
self. For the sake of our readers.
Who are you?
My parents were Icelandic. They emi-
grated from Hafnarfjörður to Copen-
hagen in the sixties. I guess it’s fair to
say that my father went there to find
his father, who had disappeared from
Iceland, and my mother followed him.
They were both incredibly young, and
soon after they got there, she was
pregnant. My father started study-
ing to become a chef; my mother to
become a seamstress. They settled in
Copenhagen, where I was born, but al-
ways maintained a close relationship to
Iceland. Had they not done so, I would
have probably been more Danish than
Icelandic.
Throughout my life I have fostered
a deep-rooted, emotional relation-
ship with Iceland. It’s maybe unusual
though: I’ve spent more time in the
countryside than in the city. My fa-
ther lived on the south coast, in Hella,
when he was still in Iceland, and an-
other friend of mine—my father’s clos-
est friend, actually—lived there too.
It was through the two of them that I
developed a very intense relationship
to the nature and landscape of Iceland,
especially the region around Hella and
Þjórsárdalur and the opaque line into
Landmannalaugar.
My father passed away ten years
ago and his friend Gunnar Örn passed
away four years ago. Both were my
travel companions and the fact that
they are gone has meant that I have had
less connection to Iceland lately. Since
then I’ve mainly visited in the company
of foreign friends, most recently with
my students, for hiking, driving around,
photographing and filming.
NEW AGE VIKINGS
You very frequently mention Ice-
land in your interviews. Can it be
thought of as a ‘launch point’ for
your art? Has it been a resource
for you? If so, how so?
Yes. It’s funny, because not being in Ice-
land has made it easier for me to work
with Iceland in many different ways, in
abstract ways. I have always been very
open about my close relationship to the
country, but I have also always made a
point to note that this was my relation-
ship, and that as such it would not nec-
essarily be relevant for others.
Iceland is thus more of a reference
point than a launch point. The things
I’ve been able to do there have certainly
shaped the way I think about art, but it
also inspires me on a more fundamen-
tal level.
However, there is always a chal-
lenge because Nordic romanticism has
influenced how a lot of people think
about Iceland, so bringing up the idea
of Icelandic nature in discussions about
art always entails a balancing act. In
discussions about Iceland, there is a
tendency to instantly develop a sort of
melancholy, with elves and so on, while
I have mainly been interested in car-
tographic questions, the history of the
compass... My interests are not con-
nected to mythology and mysticism.
I feel that over the years I’ve become
more confident in how I talk about Ice-
land and I’ve managed to do so in a
non-mystical way. This is important to
me because Iceland holds great po-
tential in the actuality of its landscape.
But I am very emotional in my feelings
connected to the land or landscape.
I’ve rationalised my relationship, to
liberate the language from all the new
age Viking stuff that Iceland seems to
be constantly flirting with, yet I still feel
I can have a highly emotional, rational
conversation about it.
The whole Viking new age stuff
gets boring after a while. One
can only imagine how musicians
like Björk, múm and Sigur Rós
feel about it...
Oddly, I think the music industry has
made better use of this image. I am
impressed with the kind of music that
comes from Iceland.
I should say that while I try to avoid
the new age Viking tendencies, it is
not something I transfer to how I think
other people should work or perceive...
I am merely discussing my own rela-
tionships. Usually I make a point about
being obsessed with not telling others
what to do and how. To moralise is not
very interesting or creative.
LOCAL MUSIC CULTURE
How did you get involved with
the building of Harpa?
Prior to the Harpa project, I had worked
on a number of artworks that involved
different spatial questions, and through
a few of my earlier attempts, I had got
close to a number of different archi-
tects. But essentially I backed out of
those projects because my place there
would have been to create more con-
ventional works of art, where the in-
tegration wasn’t really complete. My
art would be integrated into a wall
of a building that could well have ex-
isted without me. Typically, an artist is
brought aboard when everything has
been decided, and there is a little extra
budget remaining that the artist is al-
lotted to ‘do something creative with’,
to tack onto the building—or there
is a problem with some sort of dead
end and the architects are seeking an
art solution. The artist is brought in to
rescue a planning mistake. I had in the
meantime grown more interested in ac-
tually making a building by myself.
So when I was contacted by Hen-
ning Larsen Architects about collabo-
IS HARPA JUST
A FAÇADE?
ólafur Elíasson
Ólafur Elíasson finally talks about his involvement in
the long-awaited music and conference centre,
his hopes, ambitions and disappointments
Like it or not, HARPA, Reykjavík Concert Hall and Conference
Centre, is now open for business, permanently altering down-
town Reykjavík’s cityscape while revolutionising the con-
ditions for live music in the country. It’s been argued about,
obsessed over, protested, defended and a really long time
coming, as you may read in Egill Helgason’s ‘Troubled History
Of The Harp’ (page eight).
But while Icelanders have been throwing fits and hosting
screaming matches about the merits of erecting a fancy 27
billion ISK concert hall during a recession (actually everything
else to do with the building has been argued about), one voice
has remained conspicuous by its absence throughout all the
verbalising—that of the man responsible for Harpa’s outside
appearance, world renowned artist ólafur Elíasson. Just last
month he declined to comment on Fréttablaðið’s questions
regarding his fee for the project.
Imagine our surprise, then, when we received an e-mail from
his representatives, offering us ‘an exclusive interview’, say-
ing he wished to talk in-depth about Harpa, with an emphasis
on explaining why the building was being inaugurated even
though his contribution wasn’t ready. “Sure, that sounds in-
teresting,” we replied, thereby commencing an interview pro-
cess that at times seemed as agonising and lengthy as the ac-
tual construction of a 27 billion ISK concert hall.
The conversation itself was fairly pleasant, as you may read
below. The artist did not leave a lot of room for questioning,
he mainly talked and talked and talked, and then he talked
some more. Our purpose seemed confined to transcribing it
and trimming the fat, and this is mostly fine, as ólafur seems
like a thoughtful and eloquent person.
Did Harpa almost turn into a downtown shopping mall? Was
it too expensive to construct? Read on to learn what ólafur
Elíasson thinks of Harpa, its cost, his fee, detail, concerts in
construction sites and lots more.