Art

Art

When Politics Divides, Art Refuses to Stay in Place

When Politics Divides, Art Refuses to Stay in Place text Jahwanna Berglunds   In a world increasingly fractured by war, political polarization, and rigid borders both physical and ideological, it is easy to assume that cultural dialogue is breaking down. Governments clash, narratives harden, and positions calcify into identities. Yet, amidst this discord, art operates on an entirely different plane.    Art moves with a rare fluidity. It traverses boundaries, resists simplistic interpretation, and refuses to be confined to a single perspective. Where political discourse often demands clarity and alignment, art embraces contradiction. It holds tension without needing resolution, offering space for ambiguity in an era that increasingly demands immediate answers.   This became especially clear to me during Stockholm Art Week, not as an abstract idea but as a lived experience. At the Market Art Fair, my attention was drawn less to the explicit “meaning” of each work and more to its “doing.” Across booths and exhibitions, there was a quiet but persistent engagement with global realities: identity, migration, memory, and belonging. These themes were not presented as statements or slogans, but as fragments, gestures, and questions that resisted closure. Perhaps it is in this resistance that genuine cultural dialogue begins – not in agreement, but in proximity.   Cultural exchange, in its most authentic form, is rarely neat or conclusive. It does not culminate in consensus but unfolds in liminal spaces between cultures, interpretations, discomfort, and recognition.   Anders Krisár High Diver, Stockholm Art Week, ODALISQUE  Issue 17  Katherine Bradford Encounter In The Sky, Stockholm Art Week, ODALISQUE Issue 17 This idea gained sharper resonance during a conversation hosted at the Residence of the U.S. Ambassador to Sweden, Christine Toretti. The discussion, led by Destinee Ross-Sutton and featuring Rugiyatou Ylva Jallow, Jordan Zayas Kelly, and Chuck Ohlson, stood out for its candor and openness. It was not about reaching agreement, but about creating exposure allowing diverse positions, backgrounds, and lived experiences to coexist without being reduced to a single narrative. In a climate where conversations often feel pre framed, managed, or performative, this openness felt radical. It created room not only for speaking, but for listening across perspectives that do not need to align. Outside these rare spaces, there is constant pressure toward simplification: to choose a side, define a position, and compress complexity into something immediately legible. But art resists this urgency. It slows perception, inviting us to remain with ambiguity rather than resolve it too quickly. Still, it would be naïve to suggest that art alone can bridge political or cultural divides. It cannot. It does not replace diplomacy or resolve conflict. What it does offer is more subtle but equally important: it creates space – space for contradiction, nuance, and voices that might otherwise remain unheard outside formal structures of dialogue.     This is why long-term cultural initiatives are becoming increasingly significant. Programs connecting cities like Stockholm and New York, bringing artists into sustained residency, offer a different model of exchange. These are not symbolic encounters but lived engagements; not representation from a distance, but participation within shared time and space. True dialogue does not happen in passing. It requires time, friction, and a willingness to remain in relation even when understanding is incomplete.   We are witnessing a broader shift. Cultural landscapes once seen as stable shaped by geography, history, and inherited narratives are now in constant reassembly through movement, migration, and the circulation of images, ideas, and people. What emerges is not the replacement of one culture by another, but a layered condition: a continuous negotiation of identity that resists final form. Art exists within this condition. It absorbs what was, responds to what is, and gestures toward what could be. Increasingly, it feels less like representation and more like an atmosphere shared but not owned, sensed rather than defined. A language that may not translate cleanly, but still communicates deeply. “EARL”. Deborah Roberts, In Changing Black Voices curated by Destinee Ross Sutton Image Curtesy Of The Artist. Art is not a solution or an answer. It is a space where things can remain open without being forced into closure. This, perhaps, is the most lasting impression from Stockholm: not clarity, but a different relationship to complexity. A reminder that cultural dialogue is not measured by agreement, but by the willingness to remain open within difference. In a divided world, that openness is not softness, it is work.

Art

Chellis Baird Redefines What a Painting Can Be 

Chellis Baird Redefines What a Painting Can Be text Anna Mikaela Ekstrand body suit Capezio  tights Falke  trenchcoat Lapointe  heels Christian Louboutin Over the past decade, of showing at prestigious galleries, institutions, and the odd member club, her work has been presented by leading galleries in New York and Paris. We visited her Long Island City studio to talk about how her work pushes boundaries by combining dress, movement, and the mechanics of fabric in new ways.   “After visiting the Museum of Modern Art, in my late twenties, I remember standing in front of a Barnett Newman painting and starting to cry. It was at that point that I knew I was going to share my art with the world,” Chellis Baird commented in a 2023 interview. In her early twenties, she was living in New York and working as a designer at Ralph Lauren, making her own art when she was off the clock. A dream for many, but she hadn’t quite made it yet. Hailing from a South Carolina textile town and educated at the Rhode Island School of Design—known for fostering cross-disciplinary education—Baird not only had a deep understanding of fabrics and their innovation from the get-go, but a passion for continuing to push their boundaries. Movement is deeply embedded in her practice, dancing ballet multiple days a week, she sees it as a hobby, but when a principal dancer from the New York City Ballet saw her, he likened her to a professional. She’s a Type A creative.          When Baird transitioned into making art full-time, living her dream, she literally painted the town red. The Touch of Red at the National Arts Club is among the many exhibitions that centered on her signature hue, red. Her works are sculptural paintings, or painterly sculptures—twisted, draped, and bound fiber that is dyed and painted. They are hard to pinpoint because she has created her own artistic language. Arguably, she is the leading artist who is moving the needle in fiber, painting, and sculpture, all wrapped up in one. She is also preparing for a museum presentation at the Bo Bartlett Center from August through December 2026, with a larger gallery footprint, she is thinking more expansively about spatial rhythm, duration, and how viewers physically move through and between the work. “I am especially interested in using color as atmosphere and shadow as a structural force,” she explains to me on a sunny afternoon.    Baird has had an extraordinary year with a major solo show in Paris with RX&SLAG and several shows with Hollis Taggart in New York, and during Miami Art Week, marking a significant expansion of her gallery presence. It’s really a big break, but to Baird, it feels less like a sudden opening and more like time finally cracking the pavement. We are in her Long Island City studio. The studio is a daily ritual for the artist, for her creation is a form of breath, like her ballet practice. Correcting me, she explains that rather than a breakthrough her work is a continuation of ongoing discipline, diligence, and an obsessive devotion to her craft.  dress Emma Krikorian  heels Christian Louboutin dress Emma Krikorian  heels Christian Louboutin  All around us are pieces from different times in Baird’s artistic career, finished and in progress, as a testament to her hard work. Her sun-drenched studio is filled with reference material as well—fabric and color swatches on hand and many museum catalogs on fashion, textiles, and art tucked away in various places. To avoid high shipping costs, ahead of her show in Paris, the gallery set her up with a local studio where she constructed a new choreography of making. Keeping a sketchbook recording color formulas, fabric techniques, title ideas, and personal notes. As she temporarily was away from her husband and very young children, Paris gave her a greater freedom, a fluid daily structure. Working under an intense deadline, the long, focused days, often seven to ten hours, and then moving through the city at night, dancing or lingering over late dinners, reminded her of her student years at RISD, when time felt expansive and porous. This sense of freedom and the city’s material palette and chromatic range — living near the Picasso Museum and the Centre Pompidou — deeply informed what became her most colorful body of work.  body suit Capezio  tights Falke  heels Christian Louboutin Embodiment, being in one’s own body, is spoken about when it comes to performance, but not often discussed when it comes to painting or sculpture; however, this grounding and playful aspect of the body is present in the art-making process. Sartorial experimentation helps guide Baird; sometimes she cosplays when she makes work—wearing period-style clothes to feel connected to her lineage and labor. “Clothing shifts posture, tempo, and emotional tone,” Baird explains.   At other times, she dresses formally to slow her gestures. Through these actions, the studio becomes a private territory where she can experiment with identity without external scrutiny. “Overall, the body is one of my most important tools; knowledge lives in muscle memory, in gesture, in rhythm, which is why I wear specific fabrics or silhouettes to harness a mood,” she continues. Having formerly worked as a clothing designer and now exploring textiles, Baird has a sophisticated understanding of fabrics, and her work delves into their composition, movement, and history. “High heels, for example, create elegance through precariousness. They reorganize the body’s relationship to gravity and time. These tensions, structure and softness, constraint and freedom, directly inform how I sculpt material,” Baird explains. In Paris, she began using the heel of a stiletto to create physical ruptures in the canvas, a gesture that is both elegant and violent. Acclaimed craft historian, Glenn Adamson described her piece Lace III, 2024 as representing the DNA of his group exhibition Drop, Cloth, as her work reveals rather than conceals the substrate, one of the conceptual bases of his show.  This new monochromatic body of work explores lace, explores

Art

Changing Black Voices Curated by Destinee Ross-Sutton

Changing Black Voices Curated by Destinee Ross-Sutton This April, curator and gallerist Destinee Ross-Sutton will present a special exhibition at the 20th anniversary of Market Art Fair in Stockholm, marking six years since her groundbreaking exhibition “Black Voices/Black Microcosm.” The presentation coincides with a concurrent show at her new Stockholm gallery, revisiting the ideas that helped shift global attention toward contemporary Black art.   Ross-Sutton first emerged as a leading voice during the 2020–21 season after curating three influential exhibitions: “Black Voices/Black Microcosm” at CFHILL in Stockholm (8 April–9 May 2020), the only physical exhibition to open as the world shut down due to Covid-19; “Black Voices: Friend of My Mind,” her inaugural gallery exhibition in New York; and the widely discussed “Say it Loud” series at Christie’s New York.   The Stockholm exhibition closed just 13 days before the killing of George Floyd sparked the global Black Lives Matter movement. Arriving at a pivotal moment when interest in contemporary art from the African diaspora was accelerating, these exhibitions helped expand the artistic canon and the art world’s commitment to artists of color. Since then, Ross-Sutton—splitting her time between New York and Stockholm—has continued to curate and advise independently.   “Honestly, I personally do not like too much attention,” she says when we meet for her third interview with Odalisque. “I prefer the work to speak for itself.” Often described as a visionary curator and tastemaker, Ross-Sutton has built a reputation for championing emerging artists—particularly young and underrepresented artists of color and female artists—often giving them their first gallery exhibition or international debut, something that most commercial galleries deem to “risky” financially. She is also an advocate for artists’ rights, implementing resale restrictions in her sales agreements since 2021 to help support a more sustainable secondary market. Her curatorial work spans major international platforms. She internationally debuted Khari Turner during the 59th Venice Biennale and co-curated “4000+ Years of African Art” at the Wall House Museum on St. Barths. Artists including Kehinde Wiley, Amoako Boafo, Tim Okamura and new stars like Vanessa Raw, have cited her as a muse, inspired by her dedication to reshaping the art world. “EARL”. Deborah Roberts. Image courtesy of the artist.  Through her foundation, Black Artist Collective, Ross-Sutton supports emerging African artists, LGBTQ+ artists, and women artists. Her 2024 Venice Biennale exhibition “Unapologetic WomXn: The Dream is the Truth” brought together thirty-four artists aged 25 to 89 exploring female sexuality and identity through the female gaze. The project grew out of conversations she began in 2021 with her husband about the complexity of womanhood—shaped by culture, race, economics, politics, and social expectations.   Continuing to prioritize international female and underrepresented voices, Ross-Sutton remains committed to a globally engaged program. On her opening her first gallery outside New York, Market Art Fair Director and CEO Sara Berner Bengtsson says, “I think you will contribute so much to the Stockholm art scene.”     We meet the 30-year-old curator on her way back to New York after the Cape Town Art Fair, making a brief stop in Stockholm for the opening of “Listening to Light” with Iranian painter Rey Hosseini. Born in Tehran, Hosseini describes the portraits as reflections of self-examination. Created in the aftermath of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement, the exhibition resonates with ongoing struggles for women’s rights in Iran.     Ross-Sutton’s Stockholm gallery opened in 2025 with “A New Beginning,” featuring Somali painter Najaax Harun and Sudanese-Somali ceramicist Dina Nur Satti—artists connected to regions long shaped by political unrest.                   Alongside curating and collecting internationally, she advises institutions and collectors on acquisitions, particularly contemporary African and African American art, but not limited to. Artists remain central to her approach. “I’m pretty much the complete opposite of 95% of the individuals at these art fairs,” she says with a laugh, with her colorful braids and being a young Black female. Born in Harlem in 1995, Ross-Sutton closed her first six-figure deal at Art Basel Miami Beach at age 23, placing works by Yinka Shonibare and Deborah Roberts with a foundation. Growing up in Harlem in the 1990s and early 2000s shaped her worldview. She left journalism studies in 2016, disillusioned with sensationalist media and convinced that curating exhibitions could have a deeper cultural impact. Her return to Stockholm was symbolic, marking five years since “Black Voices/Black Microcosm,” which brought together 31 artists from the African diaspora and introduced Scandinavian audiences to voices such as Amoako Boafo alongside artists who had never exhibited internationally. photography Jheyda McGarrell “Suspended Lotus”. Dina Nur Satti. Image courtesy of the artist. August 5th, 2023 (In Memoriam)”.Jordan Zayas Kelly.Image courtesy of the artist. Naomi Osaka and The Divine Mother”. Vanessa German. Image courtesy of the artist.   The project was followed by “Say it Loud: I’m Black and I’m Proud” at Christie’s in summer 2020, amid global protests against racism and police brutality, and later by “Black Voices – Friend of My Mind” her inaugural show at her New York gallery—then the largest exhibition dedicated to contemporary Black art in the United States.In total, fifteen artists—twelve female and three male—are included, with smaller works presented at the fair and larger pieces shown at the gallery.   Joshua Adokuru (Nigeria) – Rita Mawuena Benissan (Ghana) – Amoako Boafo (Ghana) – Phoebe Boswell (Kenya/UK) – Cydne Coleby (Bahamas) – vanessa german (US) – Najaax Harun (Somaliland) – Rugiyatou Ylva Jallow (Gambia/Sweden) – Jordan Zayas Kelly (US/UK) – Turiya Magadlela (South Africa) – Buqaqawuli Nobakada (South Africa) – Deborah Roberts (US) – Dina Nur Satti (Sudan/Somalia) – Larissa de Souza (Brazil) – Khari Turner (US).   “Artists reflect the times we live in,” Ross-Sutton says. “Otherwise, is it not simply decoration? Art should make you feel—it can provoke peace or shake you, asking you to confront your ideas.” Yellow Nails”.Amoako Boafo.Image courtesy of the artist Opening of “Listening to Light”. Destinee Ross-Sutton and Rey Hosseini. ROSS-SUTTON GALLERY, Artillerigatan 8, 114 51 Stockholm

Art, Uncategorized

Guerin Projects observes The Passage of Time

Guerin Projects observes The Passage of Time The Tenderness of Time brings together new works by painter Gigi Ettedgui and photographer Robin Hunter Blake, on view at 15 Bateman Street, London (W1D 4AQ) from 4–9 June 2026. Curated by Marie Claudine Llamas, the exhibition explores how time, perception, and human experience unfold through Ettedgui’s durational oil paintings and Hunter Blake’s analogue photographic studies of movement and emotion. Together, their practices offer a contemplative counterpoint to today’s accelerated visual culture, inviting viewers to encounter images shaped by patience, vulnerability, and attentive looking. photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Robin Hunter Blake photography Gigi Ettedgui photography Jamie Sharp photography Gigi Ettedgui photography Gigi Ettedgui

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WANÅS KONST: an amusement park for art and feelings

WANÅS KONST: an amusement park for art and feelings text Natalia Muntean photography Sandra Myhrberg When you arrive at Wanås Sculpture Park, you are invited to use a map, but the real invitation is to wander,  to see where the path leads you, what you stumble into around the next bend. The sculpture park, run by the non-profit Wanås Foundation located on the a historical estate and beech forest surrounding a medieval castle, belonging to the Wachtmeister family, who have lived here for generations. Wanås functions less like a gallery and more like what it actually is: an amusement park for art. Except the nearly 80 rides take you for an emotional spin. The permanent collection holds works by Yoko Ono, Antony Gormley, Ann Hamilton, and others, that carry you from whimsy to deeper, heavier feelings. Eduardo Navarro’s I Found a Forest at the Bottom of the Ocean (2024) sets the tone early. Navarro has used an oak tree to create a jellyfish sculpture adorned with chimes that visitors can play with sticks picked up from the ground. It is playful, whimsical, almost childlike, and engages the forest as an instrument.  Further along, Jenny Holzer’s Wanås Wall (2002) runs as inscriptions engraved into a stone boundary wall: 260 lines of text at regular intervals across 1.8 kilometres of the park’s perimeter, drawn from her Truisms and Survival series. Lines like protect me from what I want and the future is stupid emerge from the stone so naturally that you could walk right past them without noticing. They are observations about power, vulnerability, and human contradiction carved into the landscape as if they had always been there. Katarina Löfström’s Open Source (Cinemascope) (2018) offers a different kind of encounter. In the beech forest, the artwork mirrors trees and sunlight in a panoramic screen of moving sequins. It looks fragile, silk-like, almost tactile, and moves with the wind and the light around it, absorbing the landscape and returning it transformed. Marina Abramović’s contribution takes the form of a totem, a pole with animal horns, speaking to the circular logic of what we take from nature and what we owe back to it.  Each year, artists from around the world are invited to create temporary works for the unique landscape. On May 9th, the park welcomed a series of new bodies of art signed by Carla Zaccagnini and Chiachio&Giannone, and a series of films created by Isabella Rossellini a while ago and found a home in the walls, by the lake, in the cafe on the Wanås premises.  A peep show in the best sense: Isabella Rossellini’s Take (a Good Look Isabella Rossellini’s short films about animal mating rituals, seduction strategies, and parenthood are being shown as an installation for the first time in the Nordic countries at Wanås. The three series span different registers: Green Porno covers the sex act itself; Seduce Me focuses on courtship and technique; Mamas addresses parenthood and how different species solve it. At Wanås, the films are scattered across the park, with screens hidden in a tree, tucked into a stone fence, set into a tower’s wall, inside the café, or on the edge of the lake. Finding them feels like a treasure hunt.  The installation was designed around the animals that actually live in the park, such as worms, bees, and flies, so that the park itself becomes a kind of collaborator. With the oldest films dating from 2008, these were written, produced and directed by Rossellini, the actress also starring in nearly 40 of them. Each screen is intimate, one-on-one, being, as the curators themselves put it, “a little like a peep show, in the best sense.”  Chiachio & Giannone: Fortune and Abundance The Argentine duo Chiachio & Giannone presents their first solo exhibition in Sweden, with works displayed both indoors, in the gallery hall, and outdoors, in the sculpture park. Their practice began in painting, specifically in the management of colour, and when they transferred that craft to embroidery, they say they never felt a limit, only a new challenge. Embroidery requires a different kind of time than painting. It’s longer and demands more dialogue. “The long times of embroidery allow us to have a dialogue, disagree and move forward,” they explain. The decisions are always, in the end, Chiachio & Giannone’s, not one or the other, but both. There is also an intention in two men working in embroidery that goes beyond technique. “Being a technique executed by us as men,” they say, “helped us to reinforce our intention to erase the boundaries between gender and task.” That erasure, between craft and fine art, between masculine and feminine, between Latin American folk tradition and the contemporary gallery, runs through everything they make. The centrepiece of the outdoor commission is Guardians of the Desires, two large Ekeko figures carved from fallen beech trees in the forest. The Ekeko is a pre-Columbian Andean figure of good fortune, and the project has been developing in their practice since approximately 2010, approached across different materials: embroidery, porcelain and now wood. The process for the Wanås Ekekos began in Buenos Aires with the scanning of a porcelain Ekeko of their own making, and was completed through high-precision milling here in Sweden. The Ekeko arrives in a home without its hat; the family dresses it, whispers their wishes and hangs miniature objects from its outstretched arms. If the Ekeko grants your wish, you owe it a cigarette every Friday. The wood shavings left over from the carving become confetti that visitors are invited to throw at them while making a wish. Chiachio & Giannone describe their work as inseparable from where they come from: “We were born, raised, educated and live in Argentina, so we are crossed by its culture, and this is part of the DNA of our work.” Whenever they have the opportunity to show internationally, they say they want to bring that culture with them, not as local colour, but as a genuine way of producing

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V&A East: Celebrating the Power of Making and Creativity

V&A East: Celebrating the Power of Making and Creativity Jutting on an imposing corner in East London’s Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park stands the newly opened V&A East Museum. Its curatorial approach differs from that of its West London counterpart, stepping away from archival collections and instead leaning into co-creation, and honouring East London’s creative pulse and emerging creatives who live, work and study in the borough. “East London is one of the most dynamic areas of human production, culture and creativity,” says V&A East Director Guy Casely-Hayford, noting that its rich human fabric inspired the museum’s collaborative approach. “We want people to feel the presence of polyvocality in the stories that are told, in the makers and communities that are platformed, and in the sense that this is a museum still in conversation with the people around it,” says Afia Yeboah, Senior Producer for Community Partnerships and Participatory Practice. The permanent Why We Make Galleries exhibition perfectly reflects the museum’s co-creation ethos. Developed together with the next generation of creatives from East London, their experiences re-imagine the V&A’s collection of art, design and performance as starting points for conversations about burning issues in the world today. “If people leave feeling that this is a museum that listens, evolves and makes space for them, then we are on the right path,” Yeboah exclaims. Keith Kahn carnival costume, 1988, and Hew Locke’s 1998 Spellbound from the series ‘Mercenary’, on display inside V&A East Museum’s Why We Make galleries © David Parry for the V&A Molly Godard’s 2019 Daria dress and Maud Sulter’s 1989 Urania (portrait of Lubaina Himid), on show inside V&A East Museum’s Why We Make galleries © David Parry for the V&A Entrance to V&A East Museum’s Why We Make galleries © David Parry for the V&A Co-Creation at the Heart of V&A East In an area where, historically, regeneration and investment have largely led to gentrification, co-creation serves as a trust-building exercise — a way for V&A East to introduce itself, learn from its neighbours and ensure the museum is shaped by the communities and creative environments already here, rather than imposing on them. “It has pushed us to think more seriously about whose knowledge counts, whose voice is visible and how authorship can be shared across different kinds of expertise — curatorial, artistic, lived, local and intergenerational,” explains Yeboah. Youths, local residents, grassroots organisations, artists, educators and creative practitioners across East London share authorship and are invited to shape ideas, test approaches, challenge assumptions and influence outcomes in meaningful ways. “They have helped us move beyond a singular institutional voice towards something more expansive, where multiple perspectives can sit alongside one another and shape the character of the museum,” says Yeboah. For Casely-Hayford, it’s about respect for the people who will be using the space and coming as audiences, as well as for the artists who have created much of what visitors see around them. “Many of the stories and narratives actually connect back to the places of origin of the communities in this area,” he says, adding that he hopes for “people coming in here feel inspired, but also see this as a place of resolution and catharsis.” The Music is Black: A British Story V&A East’s first landmark multisensory exhibition, The Music is Black: A British Story, is the largest ever exhibition of the voices, talent and stories of Black British music and its impact globally. “We’re travelling over 125 years,” says Africa and Diaspora Performance Curator, Jacqueline Springer, who’s responsible for telling this “beautiful, clever story about modern music.” Through four acts, the exhibition recounts the resilience, innovation and joy that characterise ever-evolving Black British music. From British colonialism and transatlantic enslavement to the sounds of the African diaspora and present-day Afrobeats and Drill, the collection features an overflow of familiar sounds that shaped whole generations. Accompanied by a curated playlist streaming through Sennheiser headphones, it’s a beautiful sonic and visual feast that brings objects and lores to life. True to the make-do ethos, the exhibition charts how low-tech, often the only available avenue for aspiring artists, shaped some of today’s most iconic tunes. “It makes you smile thinking how the socio-economic position of these artists was so modest that a new way of making music was sought out,” Springer says, noting the Atari computer used by pioneering drum and bass artist Goldie, or Jme’s Super Nintendo and Mario Paint game where he riffed music and melodies before founding grime collective and record label Boy Better Know with his brother Skepta. “It shows how music lives within people and burns its way out. These artists needed a way to express themselves, so they used technology — whatever that technology is,” says Springer. “It’s sheer inventiveness.”  The Music is Black: A British Story tickets are available here. Outside V&A East Museum’s Why We Make galleries © Hufton+Crow A Place of Refuge and Visibility ‘Crafting Stories’ section inside V&A East Museum’s Why We Make galleries © David Parry for the V&A  As visitors step through V&A East, there is a recognition of the value of its people-first lens that is less concerned about imposing a fixed narrative, rather than inviting museum-goers to engage with a fluid one. To that aim, Yeboah stresses the importance of humility: “We are not arriving into a vacuum; V&A East is entering an area with long-standing creative communities, social histories and grassroots organisations.” It is a museum that makes room for critical debate, social context and multiple voices as the museum programming evolves, she adds. A month on since its opening, V&A East continues the exchange of culture and creativity East London is known for. Across the exhibitions, visitors are invited to partake in the culture, not only to observe it. This marks a foundational truth whereby culture exists in local stories, contemporary commissions and community narratives all around us. As Yeboah explains, “co-creation at V&A East is ongoing. It is part of the museum’s character: an iterative, responsive way of

Art

Landet Stay and WAY Gallery Bring Art Into the Swedish Landscape

Landet Stay and WAY Gallery Bring Art Into the Swedish Landscape Text by Natalia Muntean “From the first time I experienced Landet Stay, I felt it was a dream project to curate,” says Francesca Berlin, co-founder of WAY gallery in Stockholm. Just outside Trosa, one hour south of Stockholm, a new kind of artistic residency has been taking shape as a result of the collaboration between WAY Gallery and Landet Stay. The cabin hotel, founded in 2024 by Umberto Garabello and Ted Wachtmeister and designed by Andreas Martin-Löf and Tobias Vernon of 8 Holland Street, has been hosting six emerging artists-in-residence this May. “Art has been important to me ever since I was a kid, so it felt very natural for it to become part of Landet Stay from the beginning. We never wanted it to feel like just a hotel in nature, but a place shaped by creativity, culture and thoughtful people,” says Umberto Garabello about the initiative. The residency brings together Tove Eklund, Johan Bjurmar, Anna Mörner, Thyra Weiss, Elsa Ekman and Rebecca von Matern for an open-ended stay on site. There is no fixed brief and no formal exhibition outcome. The works are integrated into the cabins and shared spaces rather than presented as a formal exhibition. Several works have already been installed, and additional works are being created by the artists on site during the residency period. So while guests encounter the works naturally as part of their stay, quietly and without ceremony, the artworks are very much present within the environment. Founded in 2020 by Francesca Berlin, Estelle Graf and Felicia Berlin Baumgardt, WAY Gallery has been seeking a different format to work with art, and the approach developed together with Landet Stay reflects a deliberate departure from the conventional gallery model. “From the very first time I experienced Landet Stay, I felt it was a place where art could exist differently, not confined to white walls, but integrated into the atmosphere, architecture and nature,” says Berlin. Works are available to acquire, offering guests a more direct and personal entry point into collecting. “What also excites me is the idea that guests will encounter these works in a more intimate and unexpected way during their stay, living with them, even briefly, rather than simply viewing them in a traditional gallery setting. The fact that the works are also available to acquire opens up a more personal and intuitive way of engaging with collecting outside the conventional gallery walls.” Elsa Ekman Tove Eklund Rebecca von Matern The artists, for their part, have responded to the conditions the setting offers: more time, fewer distractions, and a material and sensory environment distinct from the urban studio. For Thyra Weiss, who explores the boundary between presence and disappearance through weaving, the landscape became inseparable from the work itself. “My soft materials, meeting the scent of moss and misty landscapes, inspired the creation process. I am interested in what remains hidden around us at all times, things that only become visible if you look very closely,” she says. In her weavings, forms slowly emerge from the surface in a search for the threshold between life and death, lightness and dissolution – “life, grief, and love woven together within the same surface, where memory carries not only loss but also tenderness and warmth.” Tove Eklund, meanwhile, found herself drawing on immediate surroundings rather than memory and imagination for the first time. For Rebecca von Matérn, the experience went further still: “The pieces I created for Landet Stay came from a feeling of being spiritually sheltered and held. I feel connected to the idea behind Landet Stay, that an atmosphere itself can hold you.” “What excites me most is the idea that guests will encounter these works in a more intimate and unexpected way during their stay – living with them, even briefly, rather than simply viewing them. The fact that the works are also available to acquire opens up a more personal and intuitive way of engaging with collecting outside the conventional gallery walls,” concludes Berlin. Thyra Weiss

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Nadine Byrne on sisterhood, inherited materials, and learning to be here now

Nadine Byrne on sisterhood, inherited materials, and learning to be here now text Natalia Muntean photography Saskia Clarke I knew I wanted to talk to Nadine Byrne as soon as I saw the title of her new show at Saskia Neuman Gallery in Stockholm, and saw an image of one of the pieces that moved me. Mothers and Sisters and Daughters is Byrne’s second solo show with the gallery and is an exploration of relationships that tie us as women. “For years, I worked alone. I felt that I needed that solitude, but something shifted a while ago, and I started wanting to be with people,” she tells me. The building that houses the studio she shares with her architect husband is home to approximately 80 other artists. The day I visited her studio in Stockholm, she was putting the finishing touches on everything before it was packed and sent to the gallery. “I’m not usually this last minute,” she laughs, “I’m still learning how to work while also having a child.” Her interest in digging deeper into these relational chains comes from her own relationships with her mother, her two sisters and more recently, from her becoming a mother herself. Sisterhood, she says, is where it all begins and where it keeps returning. NM: How do you think being a middle sister influenced you?NB: Very much. I grew up most closely with my older sister. She was very influential to me from a young age – showing me things, or me sneaking into her room, going through her records. She was my idol growing up. My sister, my mother and I were kind of tightly knit together. So that relationship, mother, sister, daughter, has been in the background of everything I’ve done somehow. NM: This exhibition marks a shift in your work, from grieving inward to something more relational and outward. What changed?NB: I think I’ve been very open about the grief work; it’s been hard to hide. But it’s more that I want to move away from that conversation. And now, having a daughter, you’re so forced to be here now. I’m happy about being more here now. I’m still very much interested in memories; memories have always been my inspiration. But in my private life, I need to be more present. And my artistic practice mirrors my life, always. So even before I had a child, I had come to that conclusion. I wanted to be here more now. That’s kind of why I shifted towards sisterhood, because that’s present. And then I had a child, so becoming a mother is also now part of the exhibition.  NM: The show features photos of your sisters. When you photograph them, are you looking for resemblance or difference?NB: I think I’m interested in the merging of identities. That’s something I’ve been exploring for a while – how sisters can create their own language, how identity starts to blur between them. I made a work two years ago, a commission for Elektronmusikstudion, here in Stockholm, and part of it was a story about three sisters – about how, when their home had disappeared, there were no longer any boundaries between them and their identities started to merge. So that’s kind of also present in the piece called Klotho, Lachesis and Atropos/Deino, Pemphredo and Enyo/Dike, Eunomia and Eirene. The three figures have the same face, but I gave them different features, so they become separate. There’s an elasticity when it comes to sisters. The boundaries are not the same as with other people. You can be treated in ways that no one else would treat you by your sister. And you treat them the same way. Then again, you would do almost anything for each other. But where else do you find that? And that’s actually in the poem scattered amongst some of the works. One of the fragments says: entangled and pulled taut. That is an attempt to describe the relationship. NM: You can see that the poem is there, but you can’t really read it clearly. Was that intentional?NB: Yes, that was intentional. I didn’t want the text to take over the work. I wanted the pieces to have a life of their own without the text defining everything else. And I’m just a fan of things not being too articulated. I have a fragmented visual language. If you want to read it, you have to get very close.  NM: What’s the poem about?NB: It’s about being sisters. I was also listening to a lot of music while I made these works, a group called the Roches, from the 70s and 80s. It’s three sisters who sing in harmony, and I was listening to them a lot at the same time as I wrote the poem.  NM: The three mythological triads, the Moirai, the Graiai and the Horai, each carry very different energies. What drew you to all three?NB: I came to them by thinking about my own sisters, trying to mirror that. When it comes to sisters or women, the powers are always divided. Three sisters, three different forces. Why? Why have they been split that way? I think perhaps it is just an early account of how sisters work – you have different roles. One is more nurturing, one is the wild one. I find that true in my case, too. NM: Your mother died when you were twenty, and you inherited things from her that you use in your works.NB: I inherited a lot of fabrics and things, and I started working with them quite early. When you clean out an apartment after someone dies, you become acutely aware of how important material objects are for keeping a relationship with someone alive, someone whose bodily presence is gone, but who has left these things behind. You can continue the relationship through the material. And memories are linked to the material, too. I’m very interested in how objects, how costumes, can have this transcendent quality of maintaining

Art, Uncategorized

Olga Krüssenberg on Navigating the World Between Art and Film

photography Sebastian Sanchez Olga Krüssenberg on Navigating the World Between Art and Film text Koshik Zaman 2024 Royal Institute of Art MFA graduate Olga Krüssenberg is part of a new wave of artists working across film and visual art, alongside peers such as Salad Hilowle, Victoria Verseau, Sophie Vukovic and Kasra Alikhani. Currently developing her first feature film — set in Svalbard, in the Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean — I met Olga in her studio at Korvfabriken, a former sausage factory turned studio collective and art space in Stockholm’s Meatpacking District, to talk about navigating between film and art. During a recent residency in Mexico City, Krüssenberg found herself in a state of sensory overload — a dense, shifting environment of sound, movement and social intensity that contrasted sharply with the quieter northern landscapes she often works with. Not speaking Spanish at first made her dependent on others in unfamiliar ways, but gradually learning the language changed how she moved through the city and how she related to it. At the same time, she became aware of the dynamics of gentrification in certain neighbourhoods, especially the presence of English speaking communities, and the discomfort of being implicated in those dynamics. Looking back, she sees the residency less as a defined period of production and more as something that subtly altered how she thinks about presence, attention and place; themes that continue to shape her work today. Koshik Zaman: You’re currently working on your first feature film, for which you also wrote the script, and I understand you recently began shooting on location in Svalbard. Why Svalbard—and how is the process coming along so far? Olga Krüssenberg: I first went to Svalbard in November 2019, when I was living in Tromsø during an exchange at the Art Academy. A friend asked if I wanted to join her for research for an exhibition, and without really knowing where I was going, I said yes.   Svalbard came to me first as a place of contradiction: it’s geographically remote, yet deeply entangled in global systems, whether political, ecological, or economic. I was drawn to that tension, and to the people living there in a kind of in-between state.   The process so far has been slow and somewhat fragmented, which also reflects the film itself. The project was initially conceived as a documentary, but when the main character chose to withdraw, I began to rethink the form. That shift led me toward a hybrid approach, where an actor takes on the central role. It’s not a linear narrative, but something that grows out of encounters, conversations, and situations on site. I’m still developing the script together with my partner, Andy Allen Olivar, who has been an important support in that process.   I don’t come from a background in scriptwriting, and I find the format quite resistant. In my previous films, I’ve worked more intuitively, following threads that gradually unfold during filming and editing. The film takes shape in the process, rather than being fully defined in advance. But when applying for fiction funding, you’re expected to present a finished script, and that creates a certain tension for me. photography Olga Krüssenberg photography Sebastian Sanchez K.Z: What initially drew you to film as a medium? When did you realise you wanted to incorporate it into your art practice? O.K: I think I was drawn to film through questions of memory and time. I was interested in how something can be both documented and constructed at once. I remember studying at Ölands Folkhögskola, where we worked with a different medium each week. When we were introduced to film, I immediately felt a kind of recognition, as if I had found a language that made sense to me. I was drawn to duration, and to the possibility of layering image, text, voice, and sound in a way that felt closer to how memory actually operates. Memory has also been a recurring theme in my work, perhaps more than I initially understood. Dementia runs in my family, and I carry an awareness that memory is something fragile, something that can shift or disappear. I think that awareness has quietly shaped many of my works over time. K.Z: As an artist working across both film and visual arts, what differences or similarities have you observed between these fields from the perspective of an emerging filmmaker? O.K: One clear difference is the level of structure. Film often requires a more defined production framework, with funding, timelines, and collaboration on a larger scale. In the visual arts, I’ve experienced more flexibility and openness in terms of process. At the same time, I’m interested in working in the space between these fields. I try to bring a certain openness and fragmentation from visual art into film, while also embracing the collaborative aspects of filmmaking. I am a very structured person, which helps me a lot in both fields. I spend a lot of time applying for funding, both for film and art projects, which has so far allowed me to sustain my practice after art school. What has been most rewarding about entering the film field is collaborating with very talented people, and something I would like to integrate more into my visual art practice as well. Since I didn’t attend a formal film school, these collaborations have, in many ways, become my education. I remember the first day of shooting on Svalbard with a bigger crew and an actor for the first time. I was so nervous; everyone was looking at me, waiting for me to say “action”, and I just looked very confused (yes, it was caught on camera, unfortunately). But I had decided beforehand to have a team with whom I could feel very vulnerable and lost, and they were very patient and supportive. That experience has stayed with me. It reminded me that filmmaking is not only about control, but also about trust. K.Z: You’ve already gained recognition for your films, with screenings

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