Reykjavík Grapevine - 06.05.2011, Blaðsíða 27

27
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 5 — 2011
Suðurgata 41 · 101 Reykjavík · Tel. +354 530-2200 · www.natmus.is
The country’s largest
museum of cultural
history featuring a
permanent exhibition on
Iceland’s extraordinary
history from settlement
to present day.
Opening hours:
Summer
(May 1st – September 15th)
Daily 10–17
Winter
(September 16th – April 30th)
Daily except Mondays 11–17
National Museum of Iceland
Licensing and
registration of travel-
related services
The Icelandic Tourist Board issues licences to tour operators and travel agents,
as well as issuing registration to booking services and information centres.
Tour operators and travel agents are required to use a special logo approved
by the Icelandic Tourist Board on all their advertisements and on their Internet
website.
Booking services and information centres are entitled to use a Tourist
Board logo on all their material. The logos below are recognised by the
Icelandic Tourist Board.
List of licenced Tour
Operators and Travel
Agencies on:
visiticeland.com
In a great article in the last
issue of Grapevine (yes,
every conversation should
start with those words),
writer Eiríkur Örn Norðdahl reviews the
effects of the 2008 economic collapse
on the Icelandic arts scene. In it, he
mentions that I predicted that Icelandic
artists would not get much attention
abroad, post-crisis. This was not my
intention, as I hope I made clear some-
where. At the time, Iceland was seen as
the canary in the coalmine. It was here
that global capitalism collapsed first,
and I thought this, rather than elves or
trolls, would be what the outside world
would want to read about when it came
to the subject of Iceland.
As it turned out, I was (mostly)
wrong. First of all, the expected (or
hoped for) changes did not materialise.
The economic collapse in Iceland was
not the beginning of the world revolu-
tion, and so world attention was quick
to turn elsewhere.
MARKET METAPHORS
Secondly, the crisis, though on every-
one’s lips, is mostly hidden from view.
We feel it in higher prices, higher taxes
and fewer services, but we don’t see it
in soup lines or closed shops all over
town which might be more photogenic
and/or conducive to art. Who wants to
make a movie about the price of veg-
etables? For accounts of life in times
of economic crisis, turn to the angry
young men and women of Greece,
Portugal or Ireland. We seem kind of
spoiled by comparison.
The first time Iceland entered the
world’s eye after the events of 2008-
09, it was neither because of banks
or revolutions, but because of a vol-
cano. Unless you deposited money in
Icesave, you are probably more likely
to think of Iceland yes again a land of
elves and fire than as a metaphor for
the excesses of modern capitalism.
This will probably be the way Ice-
land will be portrayed at the Frankfurt
book fair this autumn. After all, who
wants to remind people their money
was stolen when you are trying to sell
them something? And even if the cri-
sis has crept into the Icelandic arts
in many ways, the voices that will be
heard abroad are still more likely to
be wrapped in pictures of geysers and
peaceful farmsteads rather than bank-
rupt banks, as Eiríkur also pointed out.
MINI-CARS AND MINI-CRISIS
The Icelandic boom can roughly be
divided into two periods. The first one
lasted from 2003, when the privatisa-
tions process of the banks was com-
pleted and the Conservatives were
elected into power yet again, and until
the beginning of 2006. During the sum-
mer of 2003, I returned to Iceland from
studying in the UK and took part in
founding the Grapevine. These were in
fact exciting times to be young. The war
in Iraq and the building of the Kárahn-
júkar dam led to protests on a scale not
seen in the apolitical ‘90s. Suddenly
everyone had an opinion and this was,
to some extent, reflected in the arts.
Admittedly, the major issue of the day,
the growth of the banking sector, was
not much addressed. Still everyone
felt that something fundamental was
changing, for good or bad. The politi-
cisation of Icelandic artists probably
reached its peak in January 2006, when
a major concert was held with many of
Iceland’s biggest acts to protest the
damming of the highlands. Sadly, and
perhaps illustratively, the thunder was
somewhat stolen when another major
concert was held that same weekend,
at the same venue and with some of
the same performers, sponsored by
Toyota to introduce their latest mini-
car. Among young people at the time,
there was some confusion as to which
event they had actually attended.
It was not Toyota-Aid in itself that
brought an end to the period of in-
creasing awareness in the arts, but
rather the so-called mini-crisis of early
2006. As the króna lost value and the
financial institutions faltered, it seemed
that the direst predictions of naysayers
were coming true. The banks, however,
survived this time around. It is tempting
to believe in hindsight that everyone
knew we were living on borrowed time,
but more probably most people now
believed that the worst was over and
that the banks were invincible. Hav-
ing so narrowly escaped, no one was
willing to listen to those who still sug-
gested things might go horribly wrong.
A strong team spirit mentality took hold
where it was generally believed that as
long as everyone thought things would
turn out fine, they would, and those
who disagreed were phased out of
public discourse. It was no longer such
a great time to be young.
THE END OF POLITICS
Artists had opposed the building of
the Kárahnjúkar dam but failed to stop
it. The arts seemed to be increasingly
exiled to their own little sphere. Artists
decorated the receptions of the banks
but were not supposed to worry about
what went on behind the counter.
These things were seen to be far too
complicated for artists (increasingly
called “cute”) to understand. This was
probably true, as the banks’ finances
seemed too complicated for even the
bankers themselves to understand.
Nevertheless, universal truths such as
an aversion to greed have long been
the concern of artists.
The arts by and large seemed con-
tent to remain in their own realm, but
the banks did not. In the summer of
2008, if one visited the former home of
writer Halldór Laxness (known for his
distaste of capitalism) turned museum,
one was handed an iPod branded with
the Glitnir bank logo. Surely, the col-
lapse could not be far away. It was not.
I do not mean to suggest here that
all art should be political, it shouldn’t. I
merely mean to question the notion of
art for art’s sake, so prevalent during
the boom, and suggest perhaps instead
art for humanity’s sake. The arts should
and must take an interest in what is go-
ing on around them, for the price paid
when the artists remain silent is a high
one. The events of 2008 should have
taught us this much, at least.
Art | Valur Gunnarsson
Whatever Happened to
Our Crisis?
“Who wants to make a movie about the price of
vegetables? For accounts of life in times of economic
crisis, turn to the angry young men and women of
Greece, Portugal or Ireland. We seem kind of spoiled
by comparison.”