Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.03.2017, Page 25

in time, I’d do it again. It had such an
intense effect on Reykjavík cultural
life. We had the option to put people
from theatre, music, art and design all
under one roof without having to pay
anything. We had spaces for concerts,
exhibitions, work-
shops. We even
had seminars in
civil disobedience
from the people
who started the
Pots & Pans revo-
lution. In a space
funded by Lands-
bankinn!”
R a g n a r r e -
m e m b e r s t h e
m o o d d u r i n g
the controversy.
“There were some
artists who were
patting themselves on the back for not
being at KlinK & BanK,” he says, “and
criticising us for compromising our
art and humanity for cheap rent. I re-
member feeling it was like the Dan-
ish resistance in World War II—it was
mostly after the Germans left that
the Danish resistance really woke up.
Their reputation is not that they were
brave when it was happening. It felt a
bit like that. So yeah, KlinK & BanK
got some shit—but honestly, I think
most people were happy that it hap-
pened.”
One highlight from the sprawling
programme was a show by German
artist Christoph Schlingensief. “There
was a lot of mayhem around that
show,” smiles Ragnar. “Schlingensief
came with his retinue, so the town
was full of dwarves and giants. I was
watching it come together from the
sidelines. It was an environment that
you walked through. Like when life be-
comes more than a Fellini movie.”
Another mem-
orable exhibition
was a collabora-
tion with interna-
tional art star Paul
McCarthy and Ja-
son Rhoades. “We
built a factory in
there, to the dis-
may of everyone
else in the house,”
remembers Daníel.
“ We were m a k-
ing soap into the
form of oversized
butt plugs, from
sheep fat and lye. We had five tonnes
of sheep. The whole place reeked.”
“It was a shame when it ended,”
says Erling, “but on the other hand, it
was almost a relief. Doing three events
every week for almost two years was
quite intense.”
The Reykjavík ghetto
In 2008, the gallery relocated to the
central downtown street of Hverfis-
gata. At that time, it was yet to be de-
veloped into the smart, bustling shop-
ping street that it is today.
“When we were offered the space,
there were a couple of rollerskating
guys living in the house,” says Daníel.
“I think they were home-growing weed
or something in the space. The own-
ers threw them out and offered us the
space if we would clean it up—playing
that gentrification card.”
“It was quite gritty,” he continues.
“There were shooting galleries. It was
just fifty metres from the other house
we’d been in, where we sometimes even
forgot to lock the door, and never had
any trouble. But on Hverfisgata we were
broken into twice in the first week.“
Growing pains aside, this location
quickly became synonymous with Kling
& Bang, and was where they hosted a
vastly popular exhibition of Ragnar
Kjartansson’s ‘The Visitors’. Ragnar,
by now, had become arguably Iceland’s
biggest art star, and a well known fig-
ure on the international art scene.
“Ragnar is an old friend of the gal-
lery,” says Daníel. “He had his first
private exhibition in Kling & Bang.
He wasn’t taking his art career seri-
ously then—he was a pop star, and
working in an advertising agency. He
gradually got quite involved in various
group exhibitions. The reason that ‘The
Visitors’ ended up in Kling & Bang was
maybe more that Raggi was doing it as
an homage to us. We’ve always stayed in
these run-down houses, so it was really
something to have 30,000 people or so
coming through that show. We extend-
ed the run by three weeks. I remember
I had to make people wait in queues.”
For Ragnar, Kling & Bang was the
natural option. “‘The Visitors’ is re-
ally a portrait of that generation of the
Icelandic music scene—my peers,” he
says. “It was made in the spirit of KlinK
& BanK. It had to be in Kling & Bang.
But also, I wanted to show it where it
would be cool to show it. Where the
cool kids would come, and think it was
cool! It was as basic as that.”
Game changer
Given this history of memorable hap-
penings, powerful creative outbursts
and hit ‘n’ run success stories, it seems
fitting for Kling & Bang to take a swing
at living in the Marshall House. Yet
still, the step up from derelict base-
ments to a shiny new museum space
is a noticeable change of gear for the
organisation.
“We’re a little bit shy about the step
of moving into this physical palace,”
laughs Daníel. “For thirteen years we
had the idea that Kling & Bang would
be a period in our lives. Now, there’s a
lot of interest—both local, and glob-
al—on this new arts house. The pos-
sibilities are limitless, really. But the
core element of letting things fall as
they may—it’s important that we cher-
ish that.”
It could prove to be a decisive move
not only for Kling & Bang, but for the
city’s art scene in general. “Icelan-
dic art history is not that long,” says
Daníel. “Up until 1940, it’s a history of
individuals. You had Einar Jónsson,
Kjarval and Ásmundur Sveinsson, all
not really speaking to each other. Af-
ter that, it became a small, tight-knit
community—like a dysfunctional
family. It was basically the grassroots,
and then the museums. But now, for
the first time in this history, you have
something that’s between. That’s the
Marshall House. It ’s a total game-
changer in some ways, and it will be
interesting to see what impact it has
on the local community.”
Commercial break
All of the people involved in Kling &
Bang are mindful of maintaining the
gallery’s atmosphere and approach,
despite their fancy new surroundings.
“We did discuss becoming a commer-
cial gallery,” says Daníel. “That option
was there at one point. But nobody had
that ambition, I think.”
“The question of Kling & Bang be-
ing a commercial gallery rolled on for
years,” continues Erling. “It comes up
every year or two, and goes back and
forth, but it never leads anywhere. We
have sold works—it’s just never been
the focus. It would be nice if someone
in a suit would pop up and take care
of all that stuff. Because Kling & Bang
is artist-run: we are all artists, more
concerned with making things happen
than selling them.”
The gallery doesn’t maintain a col-
lection, either. “If you go that way, it’s a
huge responsibility,” says Daníel. “You
become like a snail with a huge house
on its back. But we have still three of
the Sheep Plugs by Paul McCarthy and
Jason Rhoades, and some other inter-
esting things. We’re still trying to fig-
ure out what to do with them.”
Instead, Kling & Bang continues in
its original core mission: to offer an
outlet to the youthful and experimen-
tal side of Icelandic art. “The gallery’s
mission has never been properly de-
fined,” says Ingibjörg, “which is our
biggest disadvantage, but also our big-
gest advantage. I’ve been most com-
fortable describing it as a platform.
The exhibitions and gallery space are
the core elements of Kling & Bang,
but then, we’ve been offered shows as
artists in our own right, as a collec-
tive, even though we don’t necessarily
collaborate that way. So, it’s sort of a...
force. An alliance of people that really
care deeply about art.”
“There’s a lot of experience that ac-
cumulates over fourteen years of run-
ning an artist-run space,” she finishes.
“It felt like it was worth trying to use
that experience on a different level.
We thought it was worth a shot.”
“The Marshall House is
a total game-changer.
It’s directly between
the grassroots and the
museums... it will be
interesting to see what
impact it has on the
community.”
- Daníel Björnsson
25The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 03 — 2017