Iceland review - 2012, Side 18

16 ICELAND REVIEW
ART
Staged in New York City, Bliss garnered major attention
from the city’s art community, with attendance growing
as the performance progressed. “To me it proved the might of
social networks such as Facebook and Twitter,” he smiles. On
the other hand, the preparation didn’t go all that smoothly. “I
thought that the casting would be easy. But as it turned out,
I couldn’t find an opera singer in all of New York City. ‘This
simply can’t be done,’ they all kept telling me.” Then, Ragnar’s
wife, Ásdís Sif Gunnarsdóttir, also a renowned visual artist,
joked that one should always go straight to the top, suggesting
that he contact Kristján Jóhannsson, Iceland’s grand tenor, who
has performed in the world’s most important opera houses.
“So I do that and his response is ‘Sure, no problem. Twelve
hours of Mozart? Piece of cake!’ What’s more, he took care of
the casting, bringing his friend Jóhanna Þórhallsdóttir and his
students, these wonderful non-professional singers.”
Now, Ragnar has just returned from Zurich, Switzerland,
where he staged another performance with the same group.
“It was the inaugural piece for the city’s new Migros Museum.
I based it on a song by Schubert called An die Musik, which
is about how art is beautiful and sacred and saves you from
killing yourself,” he smiles, bringing out his iPad for a quick
demonstration. “I distributed the cast between the rooms, each
one singing to their own rhythm for eight hours, accompanied
by a pianist. You see how in the last room, the noise has turned
into this satanic cacophony. The whole thing was very casual;
in between singing, they were having hot dogs and beer. All
of Europe’s art elite was gathered there, listening to a group of
Icelanders, including an accountant and an owner of a ground
fish patty factory in Grindavík, explain to them the meaning
of art,” he grins.
When searching for new ideas for his next project,
Ragnar turns to his sketchbook, which he always
carries, drawing in it pictures and jotting down ideas. “First
and foremost it’s about making connections,” he says, nam-
ing as an example an artwork he did in Moss, Norway, in
2006. “It all began with a joke. I noticed how the long and
fancy title of The Carnegie Art Awards ended with the words
“Scandinavian Painting.” Making fun of it, I crossed out the
last four letters. Later, looking for a location, I found this hut
in the Norwegian countryside befitting of a Munch paint-
ing. Then I thought of a 101 Reykjavík landmark, a pink
neon sign spelling out HOTEL HOLT. These three elements
turned into the artwork Scandinavian Pain. There is so much
to be said about that phenomenon; it is present in the works
of everybody from Ibsen and Strindberg to Bergman and Von
Trier… even ABBA, who credit it as the reason behind their
success. I wanted to incorporate it into nature like a trademark,
do homage to it,” he explains. “Icelanders, on the other hand,
don’t have this element,” he continues. “We’re simply not that
profound. We’re the Sicilians of the North, all about taking it
easy. Of course, we’re the current world champions in whin-
ing. We lost our cool in the so-called prosperous years and also
after the economic collapse. And we constantly criticize our
politicians, when Iceland is in fact regarded as a bit of a miracle
when it comes to recovering from a financial crisis.”
With his art so rooted in theater and performance, what
does he hope to get from his audience? “I want end-
less admiration; I want everybody to love me,” he deadpans.
“But to be honest, I think very little about my audience. My
only focus is on how I want my art to be, on making sure
that I’m content. Then, perhaps someone else will appreciate
it too. The best thing I ever learned at the Iceland Academy
of the Arts was that whatever you do, it doesn’t matter one
bit. Nobody cares! That was such a revelation! Besides, as an
artist, you can’t be afraid to experiment; you must embrace
your mediocrity. You can’t even believe in yourself. But you
have to be honest in what you do and believe that people will
appreciate what you have to offer. A long time ago, I worked
briefly in advertising, which I like to call my master’s program.
Like a different side to the same coin, advertising is also about
creating concepts. Its goal is to fake up a feeling towards, say,
a telephone. I don’t want to call it lying, but I suppose that’s
what it really is, whereas an artist is constantly telling the truth.
The heart’s deepest truth.”
Next up for Ragnar is a music-based artwork, sched-
uled to premiere at the end of summer at the Migros
Museum. “I will compose and record the piece and make the
video at the legendary Rokeby Farm, along with a group of
friends who are active in the Icelandic music scene. We will be
living there the whole time. Built by the Astor family, this huge
mansion in upstate New York hasn’t really changed since the
late 1800s. Now the descendants have little means to maintain
it but they sure maintain the spirit in a very creative way, so it’s
this crazy place filled with artists. Utter bohemian mayhem!” 
“i grew up in the theater, this romantic, exciting world brimming with creativity.
that’s in fact how it all began for me.”