From Sundogs
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Saturday, April 12 - Saturday, May 10
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If excess is the theme of Sundogs, an exhibition of new works by Icelandic artists, then last weekend’s opening reception started things off with a big bang. The show is packed with works by six contemporary artists from Iceland, ranging in media from drawings to projections and the aftermath of a booze-fuelled performance for the opening fete.
That evening, gallery-goers, musicians and cultural attachés seemed drawn to the full-to-bursting gallery by the mystique of Icelandic art, and the mood was celebratory if not a little perplexing. Erling T.V. Klingenberg assembled a “cowboy choir” of local musicians and artists, The Stimulators, to christen the evening with a set of four hilariously spirited country songs. Seeing a bunch of hillbillies (however staged) belting out tunes was emblematic of the western style that these foreign artists seemed to gravitate towards upon arrival in Calgary.
Gallery Director Renato Vitic speculates that the Icelanders were struck by western imagery because of the similar disconnect between contemporary life in Iceland and Viking lore. Tourists in Iceland want to dress up in horned helmets and ride in a big Viking ship, and to natives of the country it seems just as ridiculous as Calgary’s white hat ritual or Richard Branson’s chuckwagon-ride-cum-publicity-stunt. In any case, the artists in Sundogs had their own version of Wild-West fever and their cowboy hats, boots and western shirts added an extra performative element to their presence at the gallery.
Klingenberg’s dominating piece became even more layered when the artist himself popped out from under the stage, to reveal a tiny space where he was holed up during the music. Inside, a video monitor shows a close-up of the artist’s wrinkly dick, and a block of raw clay that he has fucked a hole into. There are nods to famed performance artist Vito Acconci here, but it would be generous to attribute new ideas on masculinity or the body to this act.
In many ways, the opening performance set the stage for a bunch of messy associations between mysticism and ritual, narcissism and the ego of the artist, sexuality and alcoholism, not to mention the formal pastiche of various media and approaches to making the work itself. Each of the works in Sundogs draws heavily on performance, the live presence of the artist and documenting day-to-day life as guiding philosophy in art making. Teasing out these connections is hindered by the lack of a detailed curatorial text, gallery map or listing of works, and a sense that something is lost in translation prevails throughout the show.
The most understated is a video projection by Hekla Dögg Jónsdóttir that depicts truly beautiful and scary footage of herself and a friend swimming through a natural crack in the Icelandic landscape. It’s full of water from hot springs, and the two women swimming in the deep crevice with walls of rock surrounding them presents a vision of Icelandic life that’s steeped in mystery and natural wonder. There’s no question that the two beauties are skinny-dipping, either. While the lure of Vikings might be completely hollow, Jónsdóttir’s work holds that the landscape of her country is a worthwhile theme for exploration in contemporary art.
Sirra Sigrun Sigurdardottir and Ásdís Sif Gunnarsdóttir’s installations both project video clips onto objects, with a particular focus on mirrors, reflection and transparency. Like the videos of waterways, Sigurdardottir’s shimmering installation has a fantasy-like mood and conjures the mysterious phenomena of light and weather that are unique to northern geographies. The six tiny glasses that balance on plinths are treated as a formal element in this work, rather than a narrative cue towards doing shooters with the gang.
Still, given Palli Banine’s overhead projector table for the alchemical mixing of ice and whisky poured from a wild turkey shot glass nearby, it’s easy to read into. As the smell of booze wafts from his warm projector surface, a vaguely psychedelic image washes over the receiving wall. His tight pen-and-ink drawings mimic old etchings, with archetypal references to religion, evolution and codified systems of meaning. Also in this space is an intensely self-obsessed (or at least autobiographical) video of Gunnarsdóttir costumed in an art deco-styled silver robe and negligee of gold pearls. A video still of her gilt-adorned chest is reproduced as part of the installation, with the French word “d’or” written across one of her tits. She dramatically prances around in juxtaposition with a bare-breasted public fountain, self-portraits in small mirrors and skewed views through a glass of wine held to the light. Candles are set up on the floor to frame this view, hinting again at some ritual significance.
A suite of drawings, two cityscapes in Truck’s office area and a tiny pile of paintings by Ragnar Kjartansson in the opposite corner round out the exhibition. The E Minor drawings are sketchy portraits of the artist in a grey suit — with a drink in his hand, natch. They bear the words “Troubled by Love (Killed by Death),” referencing a song by Motorhead and a performance work in which the artist strummed “the saddest chord” repeatedly for several hours. For those who notice, his 10-centimetre square paintings make the exhibition’s final reference to the Wild West and what city marketers now call the “new west.” Five scrappily painted plein-air views of the chuck wagon sign outside of Buzzard’s bar are contrasted with two images that speak to our contemporary landscape: cranes towering tall amongst office towers in Calgary’s downtown.
