Atlantica Magazine
04 2011
By Ásta Andrésdóttir
Photos by Páll Stefánsson and courtesy of the artist
In the Name of the Rose
To say that Kristín Gunnlaugsdóttir’s latest artwork is striking would be an understatement. Her raw, sexually charged images of naked women, sewn with yarn on fencing canvas, are a shocking departure from her dreamlike, detailed paintings inspired by the iconography tradition. She told Ásta Andrésdóttir the reasons for the drastic change.
“For a long time, I had been heading towards a dead end. I had grown tired of knowing what my painting would look like before I began, and of doing what was expected of me,” explains Gunnlaugsdóttir. “Of course I’m always grateful for selling my work, but the joy of creativity was subsiding. Therefore, I decided to do something completely different, even if it obviously meant a huge financial risk. I had no idea what I wanted to do. It took courage, but then again, courage comes because you don’t see any other way out. In fact, making a change is necessary for every artist. To stand on a cliff, throw yourself off it and try to find your wings. It doesn’t happen instantly, you slam into the edge of the rocks, you get hurt, lose your self-confidence, cry and moan. The 2008 crisis was very invigorating. Surviving as a single mother and artist has always been a struggle but in the wake of the crisis, my world was also falling apart in my personal life, going through a divorce. I decided to harness this energy—I demanded of myself to tell the whole truth.“
Despite appearing so utterly different, Gunnlaugsdóttir’s older and newer works are in fact two sides of the same coin. “My artistic creation has always revolved around being in touch with one’s nature; embracing and manifesting the unfettered power that lives within us; the power of the subconscious. I create from my personal, female point of view, drawing from my own reality. I wish for my art that it always contains great joy and energy. Before, I focused on the spiritual and dreamlike, whereas these works address the mundane and the carnal, showing unfettered and raw feminine power. This time I wanted to peel away the layers and expose the core. I was very tempted by the canvas, that bland, rough everyday material with an earthy quality. The same goes for the yarn. They both are an integral part of the woman’s world I want to celebrate. So many things don’t get properly acknowledged, including the homemade and the hand-sewn. This gave me tremendous freedom because I could resume drawing, one of my strongholds, which I had neglected.
Here, I’m also addressing taboos by flaunting women’s exploration of their libido, how they experience themselves in that moment of power and control, as an objection to presenting standard preconceived notions. Some people get embarrassed when seeing women’s genitals transformed into a flower, whereas to me it is natural and normal. However, shocking and embarrassing others wasn’t my goal. I simply refused to shy away from addressing issues because they might ruffle a few feathers.”
Gunnlaugsdóttir is best known for her art using the medieval technique of gold leaf and egg tempera, in the style of iconography; a method she learned in Rome and Florence. Now, the imagery has become cruder but she still has not turned her back on the iconic style. “The Single Mother is for example a poignant piece, depicting a woman past her prime, sagging breasts and all, carrying grocery store plastic bags. This is the reality most women live in; they age and there is nothing wrong with that. I chose to present that fact with a certain esthetic by creating an icon-inspired image with authentic gold leaf and egg tempera on wood. I am fascinated by that conflict between the elevated esthetic and raw reality, which contains enormous beauty. That is what must be done after the economical collapse. To dare to face the situation we have gotten ourselves into, not put ourselves down but to learn from the situation and move forward,” she says.
“Spending a year in a convent in Rome, I remember feeling how comfortable the Nuns were in their own skin, unconcerned with looks, diet, money and other matters we are obsessed with, instead focusing on more important issues concerning spirituality and society. Being exposed to that was very liberating and eye opening. I had been working as a model and of course came from a country imbued with a certain outlook. What would they have thought of my latest works? I suppose they would have been tolerant about it. They train themselves to live with love and acceptance. But it is not exactly what they would hang on their walls.”
According to Gunnlaugsdóttir, her new artwork, first exhibited in 2010, has been well received, even if it criticizes society. For that she is thankful. “My fellow artists and other people of the art scene have been particularly supportive. They realize that artists require certain freedom. The Icelandic Museum of Art purchased the two largest pieces, which was a precious pat on the back. However, I’m especially proud of women’s positive reactions. Some burst out laughing, others simply thank me. We are much better to one another than we think,” she smiles.
“As an artist, I find it highly gratifying when people experience liberation and joy when beholding my work. Especially when I’m dealing with the world of women in this manner. Everywhere we look, modern society celebrates youth, which is unfortunate because we miss out on the experience of older people. Aging is a beautiful thing. Women must accept themselves as they are. All I can do is choose that path myself and hope that it emanates out into society in a positive way.”
A beautiful new book, edited by Páll Valsson and published by Eyja, covers Kristín’s artistic career from 1987 to 2011. It is entitled Undir rós, which translates as Beneath the Rose. “Now I have obviously begun to say things as directly as can be. But sometimes wonder whether that is ever possible. In my work, the rose is a common theme. I like how it is sensual, beautiful, feminine and mysterious but at the same time can be direct and provocative. It is about manifestations of energy. A rose represents a mother with a child, an energy chakra and also a sexual organ. It is an essential part of creation and assigned to us all with the purpose of giving us sexual pleasure, as well as the pleasure of creating new life.”
Gunnlaugsdóttir says she doesn’t know what the future holds and likes it that way. “I wouldn’t mind painting again some day. But first I must break from the weight of my own tradition. I don’t know how long that will take.”
