The neat stacks of Mosfellsbær Library do not suddenly stop at the door of the exhibition that hides behind it; rather, they seem to stay inside. The first piece, hung from crisp white walls, looks more like a stack of shelves, or maybe some kind of play shelf. After all, it’s made of cloth – hardly something that librarians can arrange their books on. In addition, the metal frame forms the shape of a chair. From a distance, it appears to be three-dimensional, but a closer inspection shows that it is flat against the wall, as incapable of functioning as the “shelves” that preceded it. Together, these objects form the entrance to Guðlaugur Míu Eyþórsdóttir’s new exhibition ‘Between Parts’.
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Let it be
“It is a reference to an Icelandic saying we have,” says Guðlaug and explains the origin of the name of the exhibition. “‘Lies between parts,’ which means ‘lies between parts.’ It’s a bit like ‘let it be’, so it’s a pun. I could say that the meaning of the show itself lies between the parts. “
“The meaning of the exhibition itself lies between the parts.”
Although this sounds a bit like the English phrase “reading between the lines”, there is no true direct translation of the Icelandic saying.
“It makes more sense in Icelandic,” laughs Guðlaug. “When you read between the lines, the meaning is still there, but with ‘lies between parts’ you throw the meaning aside. You just let it lie, you do not read into it. Is there any meaning or simply no? “
Known but still not familiar
Like the title, the show repeatedly teases the viewer with meaning and then with its absence. Every thing is familiar but not alien: almost recognizable as an everyday thing, but never quite. Is it a closet? Well, like that, but definitely not one you could store anything in. In addition, there are no titles or cards to help the viewer. Instead, each piece stands anonymously, evenly distributed throughout the white room, silently asking questions but answering no one.
“You create the meaning with your presence in the space,” Guðlaug answers. “My starting point is the shapes that surround us everyday: texture, shapes, materials. And I take these shapes and shuffle them up – try different colors or scales. You could come here and see what looks like a closet, and then what looks like a shelf and you decide it’s office space. You develop your own meaning from the familiar things that surround you. “
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Guðlaug Mía Eyþórsdóttir. Photo by Art Bicnick
Calculate it
Although Guðlaug draws her inspiration from everyday things, she admits that her ideas often start in a more abstract way: with the atmosphere or space. This particular show started with the idea of a library, the one it shows in. Guðlaug’s early idea suggested a series of objects – a shelf, drawers – and when placed in the exhibition space, those objects would create their own meaning in relation to each other. One viewer, she explains, could look at them and see a library; second, bedroom. That’s why Guðlaug does not explain, or perhaps does not, where every single inspiration comes from, even when she walks around the show: it is more fun for the viewer to have to realize it for himself.
“Things live longer than people and forms live much longer than things themselves.”
The basic thing is what fascinates Guðlaug, she emphasizes, the form. She quotes the Danish art critic Rudolf Broby-Johansen: “Things live longer than people and forms live much longer than things themselves.” It is an attitude that is easy to see when faced with her work.
Guðlaug’s forms are at once familiar but still strangely unfamiliar, representing everyday objects, but never fully taking on the shape of objects. In “Between Things”, she abandons the limitations of things and retreats to a Platonic form: a form that retains beauty but exists without activity.
Source: The Nordic Page