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
