Nature is not only encompassing it also resides in us preventing us from distinguishing clearly between outer reality and inner perception. This is why Hrafnkell Sigurðsson is preoccupied with nature as the one who realizes that he belongs to it completely. He pitches his cusped, prominent tents – foreign elements in style of symmetric space laboratories or oriental pagodas – in front of the snow-white surroundings. His whimsicality towards nature is characterized by a provocative boldness whereas the surroundings cannot assume his orderliness and must consent to a position of a neutral background to his staging. Our inner nature is however amply revealed in Buchers´ Duel, a video of two symmetric butchers, holding on to hooks in mid-air as fighting Samurais dressed in pastel coloured freezing plant outfit against a black background, ready to attack one another with long daggers, which however never touch.

Another challenge appeared in 2024 in form of Aerials, as continuation of Freeze Frame, a video loop installation on five LED screens exhibited in Ásmundarsalur, Reykjavik, in 2020. Both series are the result of innumerable climbing to the summit of Mount Skálafell, dating back to 2017, where the snow laid aerials and the sculptor’s supporting iron rods covered in clay seems obvious. The difference is that Hrafnkell is not involved with the modeling but satisfies himself with documenting the attacking snowdrift, the result of nature’s elements thus approaching creation itself yet avoiding any appropriation of its product.

Hrafnkell Sigurðsson (b. 1963) lives and works in Reykjavik. He graduated as Master of Arts from the Goldsmiths College in London, in 2002, after studies at the Jan van Eyck Academy in Maastricht, 1988-1990, and the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts, 1987. According to himself, he provides the structure on which nature relies, photographs it and processes in a computer, partly assisted by artificial intelligence. The human hand, nature’s elements and digital technology are combined in a complete process where the final result appears in the form of photographs.

LOFTNET

Náttúran er ekki bara allt um lykjandi heldur leynist hún sömuleiðis innra með okkur og hindrar okkur í að draga skörp skil milli ytri veraldar og innri vitundar. Þess vegna glímir Hrafnkell Sigurðsson við náttúruna eins og sá sem veit sig vera óaðskiljanlegan hluta hennar í einu og öllu. Hann spennir hornótt og áberandi tjöld sín - framandi aðskotahluti í líkingu við samhverfar geimstöðvar eða austurlenskar pagóður - andspænis mjallhvítri fönninni alltumlykjandi. Leikur hans í náttúrunni einkennist af ögrandi hvatskeytni af því umgjörðin getur ekki fylgt honum eftir í reglufestu en verður að láta sér nægja að vera hlutlaus bakgrunnur sviðsetninga hans. Innri náttúra mannsins birtist hins vegar í öllu sínu veldi í myndbandinu Buchers´ Duel, einvígi tveggja samhverfra slátrara, hangandi á krókum í lausu lofti eins og stríðandi samúræjar í pastelleitum frystihússbúningum á svörtum bakgrunni, tilbúnir að vega hvor annan með breddum sem fá þó aldrei snortist.

Annars konar gestaþraut birtist nú í Loftnetum Hrafnkels, sumpart framhaldi af Fæðingu guðanna, sem hann setti upp í Ásmundarsal 2020 í formi myndbandssnöru á 5 LED-skjám. Hvort tveggja er afrakstur ótal ferða upp á hátind Skálafells, allt frá 2017, þar sem loftnetin þjóna sem grindur til að veiða mjöllina sem á þær hleðst með tilviljanakenndum hætti. Hliðstæðan við burðarteina myndhöggvarans sem hleður þá leir virðist augljós. Munurinn er sá að Hrafnkell kemur hvergi að sjálfri formmótuninni heldur lætur sér nægja að skrásetja ágang veðuráttunnar, afleiðingu náttúruaflanna og komast þannig sem næst almættinu án þess að slá eign sinni á áþreifanlega útkomuna.

Hrafnkell Sigurðsson (f. 1963) býr og starfar í Reykjavík. Hann útskrifaðist með MA-gráðu frá Goldsmiths College í London (2002) eftir nám við Jan van Eyck Listaakademíuna í Maastrict (1988-1990) og Myndlista- og handíðaskóla Íslands (1987). Að eigin sögn leggur hann til form sem náttúran byggir á, tekur af þeim ljósmyndir sem hann vinnur svo áfram í tölvu, að hluta til með aðstoð gervigreindar. Mannshöndin, náttúruöflin og stafræn tækni renna saman í heildrænt ferli þar sem endanleg niðurstaða birtist í formi ljósmyndaverka.

HRAFNKELL SIGURÐSSON in collaboration with HRAFNHILDUR ARNARDÓTTIR / SHOPLIFTER.

In the luminous expanse of the gallery, evoking the grandeur of an observatory, there arises an ethereal rendezvous where the realms of inter space and reality intertwine, beckoning to the curious soul. Here, two virtuoso artists, Hrafnhildur Arnardóttir and Hrafnkell Sigurdsson, coalesce in a mesmerising dance of phenomenology and embodiment.

Arnardottir, weaving her magic with an object oriented ontology, brings forth masterpieces that echo the sacred and the animistic. Her works, bathed in the gentle beam of illumination, offer a tranquil transition between the tactile and the ethereal. They are the kinetic response to sensory data, a requiem for the unexpressed, resonating with the endlessness of our collective unconsciousness.

Adjacent to this, Sigurdsson's artistry takes us on a transit through time and dimension. His creations, reflecting the relativity of perception and the visceral nature of experience, capture moments of both catastrophic meltdown and pure joy. In his pieces, we sense the glitch in our matrix, the sizmistic shifts in our understanding, and the ebbs and flows of our frontal lobe. As our gaze meets these focal points, it's akin to an encounter with an alternate entity, a game changer that channels both the micro intricacies and the vastness of parallel universes.

The fusion of their talents serves as a prism, refracting not just light, but also thoughts, emotions, and an entire spectrum of experiences. Their artworks act as transitors, gateways into dimensions where particles of intuition dance with waves of emotion, allowing for telepathic-like connections and a sub-communication hinting at the infinite destination of understanding. With every piece, there's an evident force and energy, an ectoplasmic resonance that challenges our paradigms. The tranquil vortexes created offer moments of epiphany, as if we're on the precipice of a new frontier. It’s as though we're tethered by an umbilical link to the very core of the art, pulled into its warp, oscillating between the microscopic details and macroscopic vastness. Yet, this isn’t merely a subscription to an artistic vision. It’s a temporal transportal, a melding of materialized ideas and subconscious sensors, bridging the conscious to the para-conscious states. Such is the profundity that words like 'transcendence' and 'fluidity' seem almost elementary in their description. In this serene confluence, as we navigate the gallery, moments of intiumate connection and intense contemplation punctuate our journey. Art here is more than visual; it's an experience, a testament to the transformative power of collective genius. The amalgamation of Arnardottir's fluid forms and Sigurdsson's vast vistas elevates the viewer, ushering them into an odyssey that defies the finitude of mere existence. In culmination, this celestial alchemy stands as a beacon, a testament to the promise of art’s capability to redefine, recalibrate, and reimagine. One leaves not just with an impression but an imprint, a lasting resonance of having glimpsed the very edge of artistic immeasurabilty.

Site specific installation in Gryfja, Defrag Vortex, in collaboration with KURT UENALA.

Samstillt vitund Hrafnhildar Arnardóttur og Hrafnkels Sigurðssonar.

Í bjartri víðáttu Ásmundarsalar, sem minnir helst á glæstan stjörnuskoðunarturn, á sér stað sér stað samruni hugverka listamannanna þar sem undirmeðvitund og raunsæi fanga athygli hinnar forvitnu sálar. Hér sameinast tveir listamenn, Hrafnhildur og Hrafnkell í spegilmynduðum sýningarveruleika.

Hlutbundin veruleit Hrafnhildar framkalla verk sem enduróma hið hátíðlega og fjöruga. Verk hennar verpast frá því jarðneska til þess óáþreyfanlega, böðuð uppljómunar sem af himnum ofan. Þau hreyfa við skynrænum gagnaheimi, sálumessa hins ótjáða, bergmál af endurtekningum sameiginlegrar undirmeðvitundar okkar.

Samhliða þeim rýnir Hrafnkell með okkur í gegnum tíma og rúm. Sköpunarverk hans endurspegla afstæði skynjunar og áþreifanleika upplifunar, augnablik eyðileggingar og sköpunargleði. Í verkum sínum gefur hann til kynna bilun í flóknum vefnaði skilningarvitanna, skjálfta í sannfæringu okkar, flóð og fjöru framheilans. Brennipunktar sem hugsanlega miðla bæði örflækjum og víðáttu ólíkra tilvistarþrepa.

Samruni listsköpunar þeirra er fjölbrotinn glerstrendingur, sem brýtur ekki bara ljós, heldur einnig hugsanir og tilfinningar í litróf samtvinnaðrar upplifunar. Sameiginleg listaverk þeirra eru gáttir inn í orkuvíddir þar sem innsæisagnir leita jafnvægis á öldum tjáningar, hugsanaflutnings og yfirskilvitlegum samskiptum í leit sinni að sannleika meðvitundarinnar.

Í hverju verki er lúmskur kraftur og orka, útfrymiskennd ómun sem dregur alla hugmyndafræði í efa.

Við erum tengd naflastrengi við kjarna listsköpunar, dáleidd að afsprengdum veruleika hennar og sveiflað milli smásjárlegra smáatriða og víðáttubrjálæði þess endalausa.

Þetta er hvorki áskrift né uppskrift að listrænni sýn heldur hugvíkkandi samruni á efniskenndri sýn listamannanna sem undirmeðvitund þeirra tengir saman og brúar bilin milli óútskýranlegrar sannfæringar þess efniskennda og dulúðar þess ósýnilega.

Auk þess fengu þau hljóðlistarmanninn KURT UENALA til að vinna með þeim innsetningu í Gryfju er ber heitið Afbrotunar Iða.

Eyðing og sköpun

Hrafnkell Sigurðsson sýnir verk í Hverfisgalleríi og ber sýningin yfirskriftina Tjónverk / Recondestruction. Efniviðurinn er sóttur í brotin skíði, stóla, spýtnabrak, snjóþotur og beygluð skilti í kjölfar snjóflóðs sem féll á skíðaskálann í Skarðsdal í Siglufirði síðasta vetur.

„Verkin eru skúlptúr sem ég bjó til á Siglufirði í sumar þar sem ég dvaldi í listamannavinnustofu,“ segir Hrafnkell. „Ég lagði leið mína upp í skíðasvæðið í Skarðsdal og gekk þar fram á drasl sem var á víð og dreif í snjóskafli í gili fyrir neðan skíðasvæðið. Þetta reyndist vera brak úr skíðaskálanum sem varð fyrir snjóflóði og splundraðist. Ég skynjaði mátt náttúrunnar í þessum brotum, hversu miklir kraftar hefðu valdið þessari eyðileggingu. Ég ákvað að smíða eitthvað úr þessum brotum. Svo leit ég í kringum mig og hugsaði með mér að gott væri að reisa skúlptúr á stöpli. Allt í einu sá ég glitta í steyptan kassa í gilinu sem var eins og hann hefði verið gerður fyrir skúlptúr.“

Spurður hvort ekki hafi kostað mikla vinnu að smíða verkið segir Hrafnkell: „Það var brjáluð vinna að skrapa saman, negla og skrúfa og hlaupa upp og niður gilið. Ég fór í ham.“

Hrafnkell segist hafa gert skúlptúrinn með það í huga að mynda hann. Afraksturinn er fimm ljósmyndir sem sýna skúlptúrinn frá mismunandi hæiðum. „Skúlptúrinn er rúmir tveir metrar á hæð. Til að ná þessum bláa himni fyrir aftan skúlptúrinn án þess að sýna fjöll og umhverfi þurfti ég að nota langa linsu. Fjarlægðin varð að vera mikil og það kostað hlaup með myndavélina upp bratt gil, fram og til baka í hvert sinn sem eitthvað þurfti að laga.“

Hvað vill hann að áhorfandinn skynji þegar hann horfir á myndirnar? „Þessi skúlptúr er óregluleg kaótísk samsetning, eins og sprenging. Það er eins og augnablikið þegar snjóflóðið féll á skálann sé komið í mynd. Með verkinu er ég að endurbyggja sjálft augnablik eyðileggingarinnar; setja saman eyðileggingu og mína sköpun. Það er ekki til neitt orð sem sameinar þessar andstæður, eyðileggingu og sköpun- þannig að ég bjó til nýtt orð recondestruction eða tjónverk,“ segir Hrafnkell.

Auk mynda af skúlptúrunum er á sýningunni lítil mynd sem sýnir snjóflóðavarnarefni, sem notað sem sem stoðefni í snjóflóðagarða. „Mig langaði til að mynda þetta efni til að undirbyggja ákveðna sögu eða frásögn sem er í verkinu og tengist snjóflóðinu á þessu augnabliki. Ég kalla myndina Fyrirbyggingu/Precondestruction. Það er ekki búið að byggja úr efninu en einmitt það hefði getað komið í veg fyrir að skálinn splundraðist.“

Fæðing guðanna / Freeze Frame.
Ásmundarsalur, Reykjavík 2020.
Video loop installation on five LED screens.
Duration 90-120 minutes with sound.
Photograhps, dimensions variable.

I remember attending an art exhibition with my friend and seeing the work of Hrafnkell Sigurðsson, clear plastic bags floating in water. The plastic bags appeared shrouded in phantasmagorical light, almost like living creatures, like poetically static nature, creating beauty which was pure and yet ingratiating and a bit uncomfortable, eerily dancing, there also had to be some kind of irony involved but it was not apparent. The symmetry was absolute, creating a conflict against a subject which was naturally rather unattractive. My friend asked; Are you allowed to do that? Can something so bad be allowed to be so beautiful?

To me, the artist captured a certain reality which previously had not been captured in the same way. Photographs of rubbish heaps existed, as did artwork created from trash, but this was another point of view which gave the viewer a jolt, not least because of the quality of the photos, their size and “beauty”.

The same might be said about the artwork which was created on the garbage heaps in Álfsnes even if there, the beauty was not as lofty and the ugliness more apparent; household refuse in carrier bags with the appropriate labels; Bónus, Þín verslun, Hagkaup, many of which are flowing and feather-light.

We speak of the anthropocene, age of man, where the effects of man are on a par with the great forces of geochronology; ice ages, continental drift and meteor storms. The plastic bag being in the water and the rubbish heaps can be viewed as one of the clearest manifestation of our times. In a service society where most people are consumers and produce little or nothing, the garbage heaps in Álfsnes are the main produce which we leave for future generations. Unlike other living creatures and the whole biosphere, where one being’s waste is another’s nutrition, we create waste which is useless and harmful, toxic and can be lethal to other living beings, even all of them.

Hrafnkell’s photographic work presents, analyses and examines, sometimes even glorifies in an unsettling manner, but it doesn’t take a stand and therein lies its power. Although the subject is glaringly obvious, the artist manages to maintain his analytical position, he doesn’t judge the subject, only presents it, like any other work. The plastic bag works, which were reflected around a central axis, resembled colourful Rorschach tests. Perhaps they asked the question without phrasing it directly: Are you insane?

Regardless of whether the artist was aware of the context or not, the new works in Freeze Frame appear a logical continuation of his previous work which captures the anthropocene. Iced sculptures revolve slowly in front of our eyes, make us examine and analyse the forms which slowly transform into other shapes.

This may sound like a shortcut, to make ice freeze on a frame, to let nature do the work and photograph the outcome, but actually the work behind the images demands much more perseverance. The artwork is created in collaboration with natural forces; through repeated journeys up Mt. Skálafell, through constant weather watch, looking for the right light and humidity, repeated experiments with which grid creates the right shapes, and then you need to capture the work in the correct light, either photograph it or film it. You track, capture and seize impermanence. This is actually the typical method for a sculptor, who starts out with a grid which forms the base for the clay or plaster. Here, it is ice and rime which accumulates on the grid.

As previously mentioned, this can be seen as a logical continuation of the artwork which captured the anthropocene, the plastic bags and the rubbish heaps. This could even be viewed as atonement in a world which has upset the global ice caps. The consumer society, where each person first and foremost produces waste, has caused the ice to yield. In the last thirty years, the earth has lost around 28 trillion tons of ice. 28 million millions of tons. Working with ice cannot be seen as a neutral undertaking today, to attract ice, work with it, sense its beauty and grow it like a flower or a tree. Freeze frame, what does the artist mean? Maybe the context will be clearer in a hundred years, when the sea has risen and ice has become a rarity in the world. We will remember the times when we were guarded by ice in distant corners of the world, when it stayed in one place. Perhaps people will climb mountains and try to revive the old gods which lived on mountaintops and protected the shorelines. People will summon the rime and worship the old hoarfrost gods and beg them return to the mountains. Maybe they can be brought back in certain conditions and they appear for a fleeting moment on the frozen frame, Freeze Frame, before they return to the ocean.

Text by: Andri Snær Magnason
Translation: Ingunn Snæland

FÆÐING GUÐANNA

Hrafnkell Sigurðsson

„Ég man þegar ég fór með vini mínum á myndlistarsýningu þar sem verk Hrafnkels Sigurðssonar af glærum plastpokum marandi í vatni voru sýndir. Plastpokarnir birtust okkur í draumkenndu, ljósi, nánast eins og lífverur, eins og náttúra í ljóðrænni kyrrstöðu svo úr varð hrein fegurð en þó ísmeygileg og örlítið óþægileg, dansandi og draugaleg en svo hlaut að vera einhver írónía þarna en hún blasti ekki við. Formfegurðin var alger og myndaði spennu á móti viðfangsefninu sem var í eðli sínu ljótt. Vinur minn spurði. Má þetta? Má eitthvað sem er svona slæmt, vera svona fallegt?

Listamaðurinn fangaði fyrir mér ákveðinn veruleika sem hafði ekki verið fangaður með þessum hætti. Það voru til ljósmyndir af ruslahaugum og verk unnin úr rusli en hér var annað sjónarhorn og það var stuðandi, ekki síst vegna gæða myndanna, stærð þeirra og ,,fegurð".

Hið sama má kannski segja um verkin sem voru gerð á ruslahaugunum í Álfsnes þótt fegurðin þar hafi ekki verið eins upphafin, ljótleikinn blasti betur við, baggað og óflokkað heimilissorp í burðarpokum með tilheyrandi vörumerkjum, Bónus, Þín verslun, Hagkaup en mörg þeirra eru svífandi og lauflétt.

Það er talað um mannöldina, the Anthropocene, þar sem maðurinn og áhrif hans eru á skala við helstu öfl jarðsögunnar, ísaldir, flekahreyfingar og loftsteinaregn. Segja má að plastpokalífveran í vatninu og ruslahaugarnir séu ein tærasta birtingarmynd þessa tíma, í samfélagi þar sem flestir eru neytendur í þjónustusamfélagi sem framleiða lítið sem ekkert, eru haugarnir á Álfsnesi helsta afurðin sem þetta samfélag skapar og skilur eftir sig fyrir komandi kynslóðir. Ólíkt öðrum lífverum og öllu lífríki, þar sem úrgangur eins er næring annarrar lífveru, þá höfum við skapað úrgang sem er gagnslaus og skaðlegur, eitraður og jafnvel banvænn öðru lífi, jafnvel öllu lífi.

Ljósmyndaverk Hrafnkels birta, greina og skoða, upphefja jafnvel á óþægilegan hátt en það er ekki hægt að lesa úr þeim beina afstöðu og þar lá kannski galdurinn. Þrátt fyrir afar augljóst viðfangsefni, tókst honum samt að halda í auga greinandans, hann dæmdi ekki viðfangsefnið heldur birti þau, á sama hátt og hann hefði birt önnur mannanna verk. Plastpokaverkin sem voru spegluð um miðásinn urðu reyndar eins og litrík Rorsach próf. Þau spurðu kannski án þess að spyrja beint: Ertu brjálaður?

Hvort sem listamaðurinn var meðvitaður um samhengið eða ekki þá eru nýju verkin í Fæðingu guðanna eins og rökrétt framhald af þessum fyrri verkum sem fanga mannöldina. Hrímaðir skúlptúrar sem snúast hægt fyrir augum okkar. Fá okkur til að skoða og lesa í formin sem breytast síðan löturhægt í önnur form.

Það gæti hljómað eins og stytta sér leið, að láta hrím vaxa utan á ramma, að láta náttúruna sjá um vinnuna og ljósmynda útkomuna, en í rauninni er vinnan bak við myndirnar líkara þrautseigjuverkum. Listaverkið er unnið í samvinnu við náttúruöflin, við endurteknar ferðir upp á Skálafell, stöðugar veðurathuganir í leit að hárréttu birtu og rakastigi, endurteknar tilraunir með hvaða grind laðar að sér réttu formin og svo þarf að grípa verkin í réttri birtu, ljósmynda eða kvikmynda. Það er verið að veiða, fanga, grípa og festa hið forgengilega. Í rauninni er um að ræða klassíska aðferð myndhöggvarans, sem byrjar með grind sem verður undirstaðan fyrir leir eða gifs sem síðan er hlaðið utan á, hér er unnið með hrím og ís sem hleðst á fyrirfram mótaða grind.

Í rauninni má líta á það sem rökrétt framhald af verkunum sem fönguðu mannöldina, plastpokana og ruslahaugana. Það mætti jafnvel líta á verkin sem friðþægingu í heimi sem hefur komið ísnum úr jafnvægi. Neyslusamfélagið þar sem hver og einn framleiðir fyrst og fremst rusl hefur valdið því að ísinn lætur undan. Á síðustu 30 árum hefur jörðin misst um 28 trilljón tonn af ís. 28 milljón milljónir tonna. Að vinna með ís getur ekki talist hlutlaus athöfn í samtímanum, að laða til sín ísinn, að vinna með honum, að finna fegurð hans, að rækta ísinn eins og blóm eða tré. Fæðing Guðanna / "Freeze frame", hvað á listamaðurinn við? Kannski verður samhengið ljósara eftir hundrað ár, þegar sjávarmál hefur risið og ísinn er orðinn sjaldgæfari í veröldinni. Við munum muna þá tíma þegar ísinn á fjarlægum heimshornum verndaði okkur, þegar hann var kyrr á einum stað. Þá munu menn kannski klífa fjallstinda og reyna að endurlífga þessa fornu guði sem bjuggu á fjallstindum og vörðu strandlengjur heimsins. Menn munu kalla til sín hrímið og menn munu ákalla þessa hrímguði og grátbiðja þá um að snúa aftur til fjalla. Það verður kannski hægt að laða þá fram við réttar aðstæður, þeir birtast þá kyrrir augnablik á frosnum rammanum, Freeze Frame áður en þeir snúa aftur til hafs."

Höfundur: Andri Snær Magnason

Current Space / Straumrúm.
Installation, site specific sculpture and photographic prints.
Einkasafnið, Eyjafjarðarsveit, Iceland 2020.

Upplausn / Resolution 1-5, Ed. 1/3 + AP, 2018-2020
Diasec mounted linkjet print (antireflective, UV protected acrylic glass)

80 x 80 cm
159,7 x 159,7 cm

The premise of this work lies in an extremely vague idea, more of a feeling, which was at the same time inscrutable, dark and deep.

This vague notion has to do with a blank surface, some sort of print. What lies down in this deep void? I decided to enlarge a part or a pixel of a photo of the sky. It was easy to take this further, by enlarging a part of a photo taken in deep space from the Hubble telescope, a well-known photo of galaxies the way they looked a few million years ago. An ancient light, the light behind the colours and patterns. A blank space in between the galaxies which has been blown up to peer into the blackness of the sky. The project, and the equipment at hand, offered a parallel to astronomical research of the blank space. Tiny areas, without any discernible forms, were picked and then zoomed in between the pixels. With the aid of photo editing tools it was possible to distinguish particular areas to elicit outlines where none had been visible before. These outlines were then sharpened and saturated, to define colours and shapes.

In the first half of the process, there were limiting rules regarding tool use. In the second half, filters were allowed. In one of the works a tool to enhance and saturate colour was used, with an aim of revealing what was invisible to the naked eye. Four of the images all have a very dark background. By removing the darkest areas the lines beneath it lit up and were realised, like water is separated from the ground to form the sky above the creation. At this point there was no longer a need to find the actual, objective item in the picture, because of their tiny size they were a part of the creation, embodied in a fictional world. The space in the universe, the nanospace within the pixel – the computer’s electronic world and creation, floating in the infinitesimal uncertainty.

The diminutive world doesn’t like research. The uncertainty principle censors the findings so that no two things can be explored at the same time. Here, the uncertainty had become a part of the creation like it is the central influence in quantum mechanics. The tragedy of the material world is inescapable, it does not recognise and misreads its appearance for powers that are inherent to it.

The photo editing tools opened up a world, parallel to themselves. The world of the image was a fingerprint of a law which contributed to its own impermanence. The background noise of colours and forms, long since disappeared into the fabric of space. The work was the result of the triumph against uncertainty. The search and time merged with the light which reveals them, on a two-dimensional surface where time doesn’t pass. The journey into the void was the journey into the uncertainty’s fictional world.

This is when the light and the material came into being, and the journey towards the primary pixel ended.

A conversation with Daníel Magnússon

Synopsis

“I tried to be open to the whole experience and was often guided by coincidences and failure. Underneath I kept hoping that the work would turn out as geometric abstractions, but maybe the images can show the development from hard-line to organic. At some point I felt I was close to creation itself, where the fictional world lies parallel with the laws of reality. 

The work probably to some extent shows myself and the way I chose to go. The process demanded integrity which I sensed very clearly and was the only way. A journey into the light sphere, piercing the electronic gas veil, only the will and the fiction managed that. I accept that these five images are the finished project.”

//

Forsenda þessara verka hófst í óljósri hugmynd, sem kalla mætti tilfinningu. Tilfinningu sem var allt í senn óræð, dimm og djúp. Tilfinningin tengist auðum fleti, einhvers konar prenti. Hvað liggur í hinu djúpa tómi?

Ég valdi að stækka upp einn myndhluta eða pixel úr ljósmynd af himninum. Hæglega mátti fara lengra, með því að notast við ljósmynd sem tekin var djúpt út í geim úr Hubble sjónaukanum.
Fyrir valinu varð þekkt mynd af vetrarbrautum eins og þær voru fyrir nokkrum milljörðum ára. Gamalt ljós, ljósið sem liggur á bakvið mynstrið og litina. Autt svæði á milli vetrarbrautanna sem stækkað hafði verið upp til að píra inn í svartan flöt í himinhvolfinu.

Verkefnið og tækin sem ég hafði buðu upp á hliðstæðu við rannsókn stjarnvísinda á hinum auða bletti. Valin voru örsmá svæði sem virtust auð og þysjað inn á milli pixlanna. Með notkun áhalda úr myndvinnsluforriti var hægt að auðkenna tiltekin svæði til að fá fram útlínur sem ekki hafði markað fyrir áður. Útmörk þessi voru síðan skerpt og mettuð, til að afmarka í þeim liti og formleysur.

Í fyrri hluta ferlisins voru settar takmarkandi reglur um notkun áhalda. Í seinni hluta ferlisins var bætt inn notkun á síum. Í einu verkanna var til að mynda notað áhald til litauka og mettunar, með það að markmiði að draga fram það sem þar lá ósýnilegt berum augum. Fjórar myndanna hafa dökkan grunn. Með því að fjarlægja dekkstu myndfletina raungerðust þær línur sem lágu undir fletinum og lýstust upp, líkt og vatn væri aðskilið frá jarðvegi til að mynda himinhvolf yfir sköpuninni.

Á þessum stað þurfti ekki að uppgötva atriði myndarinnar sem hlutlæg, þau voru vegna smæðar sinnar hluti sköpunarinnar en holdtekin í heimi skáldskaparins. Rýmið í alheiminum, nanórými pixlans – rafheimur tölvunnar og sköpun, fljótandi í örsmæð óvissunnar. Heimur hins ofursmáa þýðist ekki rannsókn. Óvissulögmálið ritskoðar niðurstöður þannig að ekkert tvennt verður kannað samtímis.

Óvissan var hér orðin þátttakandi í sköpuninni líkt og hún er miðlægur áhrifavaldur skammtafræðinnar. Harmleikur efnisheimsins er óumflýjanlegur, hann þekkir ekki og misles birtingu sína fyrir krafta sem eru honum eðlislægir. Verkfæri myndvinnslunnar höfðu lokið upp heimi sem lá samsíða þeim sjálfum. Heimur myndarinnar var fingrafar þeirra lögmála sem stuðluðu að hverfulleika sínum. Bakgrunnssuð lita og forma sem voru löngu horfin ofan í vefnað rúmsins.

Verkin voru niðurstaða úr sigurverki óvissunnar. Leitin og tíminn runnu saman við ljósið sem birtir þær, í tvívíðum fleti þar sem enginn tími líður. Ferðin inní tómarúmið var ferðin inní skáldskap óvissunnar. Á þessu andartaki varð ljósið og efnið til og ferðinni að grunnpixlanum lauk.

Samtal Daníels Magnússonar við listamanninn.

Synopsis

“Ég reyndi að vera opinn fyrir öllu sem gerðist og lét oft mistök og tilviljanir leiða mig áfram. Ég var undir niðri alltaf að vona að þessi verk yrðu geometrískar abstraksjónir, en kannski má greina þau í skala sem sýnir ferðalag frá harðlínu yfir í lífrænu. Á einhverjum stað fannst mér ég kominn nálægt sjálfri sköpuninni, þar sem heimur skáldskaparins er samsíða lögmálum raunheimsins. Mögulega fjalla verkin að einhverju leyti um mig sjálfan og þá leið sem ég valdi. Ferlið gerði kröfur um heilindi sem ég skynjaði mjög sterkt og reyndust eini valkosturinn. Ferð innfyrir ljóshvelið, í gegnum rafgasið, þar fór aðeins skáldskapurinn og viljinn í gegn. Ég sætti mig við að verkefnið sé klárað með þessum fimm myndum.”

induction 1-2
dyptych
color photographs

Like a crystal, the work that you see here grew almost as if by natural forces out of the site. 

Surely, I had spread the word that I was looking for scrap iron, searched dumpsters and scrap graveyards, contacted the farmers around.  My thought was that this material, having been torn down from original functions, left to rot, would be reintroduced the possibilities of shaping its own future manifestation.  I felt the urge to gather things together, believing that the different bits and pieces would manifest their inner logic and resilience and grow, blossom (of væmið?) into crystalisations that would build up a logical inner sense.  What has been torn down, would be torn up.

This could only make sense rooted within a local context, and I was assisted by a local driver and (krana- og vörubílstjóri) – who much to my amazement suggested humongous items, that I had for obvious reasons outruled due to their bulk. 

The sculpture took a crucial leap in scale, the whole idea resting on a foundation of two giant steal beams.  Their crossing marks a crucial point of departure, roots the rising sculpture within a very particular place.

The elements ascended from there in a very common-sense, almost practical fashion, the old capelin silo standing firmly on for legs on top of the cross.  I had foreseen some kind of a body, hence the symmetrical rule of thumb in the process of bringing pairs of items together, beginning with two huge truck floors resting face to face on the silo.  Then two giant showels, two wagons, a boat wagon paired with a truckbody, on top of that a refrigirator and finally ... a chair.

These were laid on the floor of the harbour, wielded together and finally erected on top of the base structure.

Aesthetics as we commonly talk about it was never a motor in the process, the various items were supposed to be able to manifest whatever form they demanded out of gravity, the inner balance of the different pieces and elements coming together. 

Nevertheless, in hinsight, it appeared and reflected a surprising reflection of man’s challenge, life and battle on excatly that site; how you choose a place, how you capture whatever that place offers from the sea, guarding it untill it is showeled up and away, untill it scales down, reaching the human realm by ending up in someone’s fridge – and finally you pracitacally feel the person sitting in the kitchen chair, nourished and energized by whatever started in the x below. 

The sculpture has now withstood particularly bad weathers during it’s first winter – but still stands strong and unmoved, reflecting at least to me its inner balance, power and resilience, echoing beginning and end of life’s history on the site and essentially, life’s circle.

Revelation from 2014, underlines this intention with images that appear almost magical. Each print shows a mysterious, undulating light and shadow, the light coming from above. There is an intense, almost erotic quality to the im- shapes accentuated by the strange light, almost impossibly soft, that caresses each fold. The shapes are in fact sheets of bubble wrap, pho- below the surface of a lake. This revelation in no way detracts from the beauty of the image, though

we may be surprised to realise that such beauty can be found in such an unremarkable material. The series does, however, tell us a lot about Sigurðsson’s method and the nature and half in the making, the creation

of these photographs involved his learning to scuba dive and then end- less experiments in several locations he was searching for – the sort of effort we normally associate with wildlife photographers who trek for months through the jungle to shoot the title of the series refers to, and that seems to sum up the artistic intention of Sigurðsson’s whole body of work, is that such wonders can be found right in front of our eyes – if only we have an eye for them.

revelation ix-i
colour
photographs
145 × 96 cm

Concrete Conceptions from 2014 that shows images of plain concrete – the most common and unremarkable material in our man-made environment – taken through an electron microscope. - structures, sometimes crystalline and sometimes looking disconcert- ingly organic.

Smíð / Fabrication.
Installation.
Skúrinn, HB Grandi warehouse, Reykjavík 2013.

Var mig að dreyma? Er ég vaknaður? Var ég einhvers staðar?

Manni finnst maður vera einhvern veginn – sem einstaklingi og sem hluta af heild, samfélagi, byggð, þjóð. Við speglum okkur í fólkinu í kring og það í okkur; við verðum endalaust tilbrigði við okkur sjálf, leikum spegilmynd okkar, spegilmynd spegilmyndar. Íslensk sjálfsmynd er eins og glerið, sterk og brothætt: hún sýnir velgengni og kjafthátt, vöðva og þrjóskulega staðfestu, í henni blandast væg gúanólykt kölnarvatninu, rösklegt verkstjóra-jæja ómar þar undir teknóinu og gavottunum, íslensk gleði snýst um dugnað fremur en hamingju. Og maður er aldrei viss, aldrei alveg viss,  aldrei viss, var mig að dreyma? Er ég vaknaður? Grundvöllurinn riðar undir manni: kannski er engin höll, bara vinnuskúr, kannski maður sé bara í pásu og ekki staddur í raunverulega lífinu?  Kannski er þetta lygi, hverfull draumur, einhver að spila með okkur, var ég einhvers staðar, gerðist eitthvað? 

Var mig að dreyma?

Og svo vitjar manns allt í einu þessi minning um gleymdan unað, vissan um að hafa einu sinni upplifað sælu og hinn undursamlega óumræðileika. Maður telur sér trú um að til sé staður í alheiminum þar sem þetta allt sé að finna. Þetta sé staðurinn þar sem maður eigi heima og hann sé órafjarri og undurnærri. Inni í okkur er höll og einn góðan veðurdag kvikna öll ljósin þar á ný. Einhvers staðar djúpt í okkur býr minningin um eilífðina. 

Two screen video 2012.

The 2011 series Sides was part of an exhibition that included a video and large flag stitched together from oily rags discarded by workers at the dry dock where the photographs were also taken. They show details of the hulls of ships being repainted in the dry dock. At first sight they look like abstract paintings and in a sense they are: Abstract paintings discovered in the wild. Only a closer look reveals more details that betray the photographic origin of the image. These photographs are presented in pairs with each pair showing two very similar but subtly different images, in fact the two sides of the hulls, starboard and port. The effect is of an image bisected, a slight shift or displacement that is mildly disconcerting and lends an unexpected tension to the experience, as if these were stereoscopic images meant to be somehow merged. The pieces also document different stages of the painters’ work, from the first stage where patches of primer paint have been applied to cover the most worn parts to the final, finishing coat. In the former, we can still see a lot of detail in the worn sections of older paint but in the latter we are presented with flat areas of colour where the only detail is in the welds and small bumps in the steel plates – the image has become more abstract and impersonal. A further complication lies in the fact that each frame is split horizontally across the middle with one colour above and another below. On the ship this marks the waterline but in the images the effect is of a painterly decision, a deliberate, Rothko-like device to enhance our experience of the colour fields. It is surprising that so much can be packed into what would seem to be perfectly simple photographs of something our gaze would normally hardly register but this is precisely what makes Hrafnkell’s approach so captivating. The photographs don’t show anything new or unexpected, no hidden aspect of our world or unique moment, and there is no trick involved. Rather, their fascination lies in how they play on our perception and what they reveal about how our gaze orients our visual world.

sides v
2012
two colour photographs
156 × 125 cm each

sides iii
2012
two colour photographs
156 × 125 cm each

sides i
2012
two colour photographs
156 × 125 cm each

sides ii
2012
two colour photographs
156 × 125 cm each

sides iv
2012
two colour photographs
156 × 125 cm each

Autocast no. 01-10

2011
Pigment inkjet print on photo rag paper
37 x 47 cm

Edition of 3

The Autocast-series is another piece where Hrafnkell Sigurðsson takes the abject of the winter-scape and elevates them, making them into aesthetic objects. The objects he presents us with are haphazard clumps of snow, the remnants of snow and ice that gather under the bodies of cars in heavy snow, creating hard clumps of ice that then break off. They are in that sense “automatically cast” by the body of the car, bearing marks of tires and other objects that cover the underside of vehicles. In winter these tend to clutter the sides of the roads, covered in oil, tar, and grime, beinga nuisance to those passing by. Hrafnkell Sigurðsson, in drawing attention to these haphazard and ephemeral casts, is extending a practice common to modern and postmodern art. They function in a similar way as the series of photographs surrealist artist Salvador Dali had made for the magazine Minotaure in 1936. Those were images of torn and crumpled pieces of paper, or seemingly formless clots of chewing gum, that Dali had photographed and enlarged in order to to reveal beautiful and charming structures. The Autocast-series also share affinities to the works of Gabriel Orozco, who in his photographic works focuses on the beauty of haphazard objects in a chaotic environment. Hrafnkell Sigurðsson, is in Autocast working within a similar frame of reference, by drawing attention to the importance of minute details that for others do not merit attention. The title of the works, Autocast, also is a clever reworking of the term “outcast”. As such it shifts the attention to the down and out in society, to those unfortunates that cannot help but being cast outside of society as such; people that no one cares about or wants to know about. Thus the title of the work involves a tacit political twist.

A doctored and mediated photo construction, concerning the hyper-mediated Eyjafjallajökull volcanic eruption of 2010, in which a seemingly serene shot of snowy mountains and a blue sky (the whole image has been manipulated by the artist) can be opened to reveal stupendous billowing smoke as captured in a stock photograph. Call it a window of sorts, a faux window that reveals a stylized volcanic eruption, a manipulated view of a geological event that quickly turned into a global media frenzy, and it is one of numerous nature-culture collisions in the exhibition. Still, Sigurdsson’s manipulated work is majestic, awe-inspiring, and transportive, and retains an aura of a nature-based sublime.

eruption 1
2010
colour photograph triptych
100 × 75 cm closed
100 × 150 cm open

eruption 3
2010
colour photograph triptych
100 × 150 cm open
100 × 75 cm closed

Concret Credit.
Listasafn Íslands 2009.
Engraved concrete.

Bales of rubbish, in the series Uplift from 2008, hang as if floating in a dark space but sensuously lit to intensify the colours of the plastic bags of which they are composed. 

uplift 5
2008
colour photograph
182.5 × 110 cm 72

uplift 4
2008
colour photograph
182.5 × 110 cm 73

uplift 2
2008
colour photograph
182.5 × 110 cm 74

uplift 1
2008
colour photograph
182.5 × 110 cm

7 minute video, 2008.
Soundtrack by: Steingrímur E. Guðmundsson

Seven minute video loop with sound, 2009.

The video 7x7 (2008) is based on material shot outdoors in the east highland of Iceland. Sigurdsson organised a performance of forty-nine men, dressed in orange work overalls with hoods on, standing in a grid in the winter landscape. A simple synchronized choreography with the group shifting the body weight from one foot to the next is sustained by a rhythmical soundtrack by Steingrimur E. Gudmundsson.

It progresses from the ambient sound of stamping in the snow to a digital beat. For the most part the camera is positioned in the midst of the group, displaying close-ups of the backs of the moving men.

The orange attire fills the screen so that there is little or no figurative image to hold on to. Occasionally there is a wide crane shot displaying the whole scene. Still, the viewer never sees the individual performers; this anonymous mass of men is only seen from behind. The work emerges out of a local discourse on the largest single construction project in the history of Iceland, a hydro electric power plant that required hundreds of foreign guest workers to stay in the barren highlands for extended periods of time. The overtly futile, yet strictly organised ritual, reflects a shift in man’s relationship to nature. The solitary experience of the romantic individual, a classic subject in art history, is replaced by the impassiveness of the homogeneous group. The work has been displayed in different ways, always as a large-scale projection but with different mirroring devices in the space, so that the image is multiplied.

Butchers’ Duel (2009) is a single screen video projection displaying a mirrored image that was actually shot simultaneously from two opposite sides and then juxtaposed. In a black space we see Sigurdsson dressed in the custom gear of a butcher, posing awkwardly with one hand extended holding a knife and the other latching onto a meat hook. His position exceeds all logic as the image is tilted. The juxtaposition of the two angles makes him appear to be confronting himself with the knife and as he strains to keep the pose, the two blades seem to be just about to touch all the time – but they never do. The video shifts between a wide angle, displaying the artist suspended in the air, and a close up of the tip of the unsteady knife. The symmetrical image is loaded with tension, underlined by an eerie soundtrack, composed by musician Ragnhildur Gisladottir. The piece was commissioned for an exhibition in an abandoned slaughterhouse in a town in the east of Iceland.

Conversion 2007–2008, drives the ambivalent message home. It is a triptych that shows a beautiful winter landscape when open but closes to reveal a rubbish dump, framed close and in nauseating detail. This piece was exhibited in the Louvre during Paris Photo in 2006 and attracted much attention. Many interpreted it for
its environmentalist message but if that were its only statement it would we must see it in the context of Sigurðsson’s mission to question our sense of beauty and our understanding of ourselves and our desires. Like the earlier series, Con- version plays on the frisson between the subject and its presentation, and the ambiguity of presenting man made rubbish as being somehow the equivalent of the landscape.

Looking at these images of rubbish we are torn between revulsion and attraction, disgust and desire. the image beautiful. This aspect of Sigurðsson’s art can be expanded into Freudian territory but the artworks do not seem to invite such an interpretation over any other. They are subtle but their effect is immediate and one can then unpack the associations and analyse one’s response at leisure – like the start of an affair when everything is revealed but remains to be enjoyed.

eighth conversion
2006–2008
colour photograph 165 × 110 cm closed
165 × 220 cm
open

seventh conversion
2006–2008
colour photograph 165 × 220 cm open
165 × 110 cm
closed
fold-out

first conversion
2006–2008
colour photograph

closed:
110 × 165 cm
open:
110 × 330 cm

Filling 1
2005
colour photograph 165 × 110 cm

Filling 2
2005
colour photograph 165 × 110 cm

Manuprints
Gallerí SUÐSUÐVESTUR, Reykjanesbæ, 2006

There is probably nothing that we are more determined to let pass unnoticed than our own waste and rubbish, making the 2004 series Bags all the more provocative. Showing plastic rubbish bags set out on London streets, these images invite us to focus on their colours: under the street lights or a set like sentries in the night.

This was rubbish and the next one appeared already in 2005 with Filling, images of compacted domestic rubbish, baled up for transportation to a the tall bales a dignity that contrasts jarringly with the details of what the bales contain.

Untitled 1-7

2003-2004

colour photograph 84.5 × 125 cm

Nýbygging 1-7
2001–2004
colour photograph
120 × 140 cm

Video still 2002.

untitled
2001 colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2001
colour photograph 101 × 150 cm

untitled
2000
colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2000
colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2000
colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2001 colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2000
colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2000
colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2001 colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm

untitled
2001 colour photograph 74,5 × 110 & cm 110 × 165 cm

untitled
2001 colour photograph 74,5 × 110 cm & 110 × 165cm

Hrafnkell Sigurðsson's tent-landscapes are among the works that have gained him most acclaim. Each of these is composed in the same way—a single tent positioned in the centre of the frame in a largely featureless snowy landscape. These are made photographs in a systematic manner. One could say that they defy composition by way of their strict adherence to regularity. The framing is similar to the works of earlier conceptual artists, such as those of Berndt and Hilla Becher in the seventies. The tents are all similar, although with differences in style and color. All of them are dome tents, as those used while hiking. On some of them the outer covering has been removed so as to reveal the transparent inner skin. In the last image of the series the tent has been placed upside down, like it was floating in the snow.

These images relate in a somewhat strange manner to landscape tradition. The tent is an intrusion in the natural landscape, just asas the snow-mountains intrude in the urban landscape. They, and their fabricated cloth, is the central element of the image, with the surrounding elements of “natural” environment, the landscape withits depth of field, becoming a frame—a Derridian “parergon”. The curved shape of the tents contrasts with the snowy steppe; a totally alien structure in the landscape. It disrupts the perceived depth of field, blocking what could otherwise have been a sublime and far-reaching landscape. The general effect is that of flatness, with the tent functioning as a strange compositional device within the frame.

Alien to the landscape, it is easy to imagine that these tents have been erected by some solitary traveller. The images evoke a kind of nomadic body in their presentation, suggesting, as Hrafnkell Sigurðsson mentioned in a recent interview, a body of a heroic traveller sleeping within the tent itself. The presence of the singular tent in the wilderness provokes such an interpretation—within the abstract form and ritualized composition we also have an invocation of a bodily presence, some physical being hidden within the structure.
 

The series Urban Mountains shows piles of snow left by city workers when clearing the streets, a man-made temporary landscape thoughtlessly shovelled up and left to melt but still clearly evoking the more majestic mountains of Iceland’s highlands. These images completely redefine and also complicate the representation of landscape and our relationship to it: How can we continue to think of the nature as sublime and irreplaceable when it can be so casually reproduced in our cities without our noticing? They also show us how Hrafnkell was to achieved this: The isolated subject, framed so as to separate it clearly from its context, allowing the camera to capture its sheer visual beauty, all the more captivating because it surprises us.

mirrored landscape 3
1996
olour photograph
209 × 128 cm

mirrored landscape 1
1996
colour photograph
209 × 128 cm

mirrored landscape 2
1996
colour photograph
235 × 128 cm

mirrored landscape 4
1996
colour photograph
235 × 128 cm