Uncovering the arts scene across Iceland’s most remote regions

Iceland – the land of fire and ice, cascading waterfalls, black sand beaches and vast, volcanic plains. Perched right on the fault line between Europe and North America, Iceland is a living wilderness that marks a totally unique setting for its inhabitants and visitors. The landscape alone has been enough to inspire myths and sagas that have been passed down through generations for over 800 years, but alongside its rich folkloric traditions inhabits a growing contemporary art scene that is still finding its feet in the 21st century.

For a country that only claimed its full independence some 75 years ago, defining Icelandic culture in the context of the modern international art landscape has proved enigmatic. While Icelandic music has safely crossed the Atlantic and been received to critical acclaim, the country’s visual arts scene is lesser known. This absence of resources peaked writer Sarah Schug’s interest in the subject and prompted the launch of her latest project, a compendium entitled “Isle of Art” that seeks to remedy the lack of representation about contemporary Icelandic art.

The German-born and Brussels-based writer first encountered the magic and mystery of Iceland as a child, and “fell in love with the horses and turf houses and waterfalls” depicted in the Icelandic children’s television series “Nonni & Manni” based on the books by author Jón Sveinsson. After several visits, the author spent an extended period of time travelling around the island in 2017, during which she held a series of interviews with artists, gallerists and curators to find out how creative initiatives are thriving even in the most unlikely of settings.

The result of this research was “Isle of Art”, a directory and visual guide that pays homage to all the quirks and beauty of Icelandic culture and investigates the country’s integration into the international art world. The book, which features artists like Ragnar Kjartansson and Rúrí, follows Schug’s journey from the capital of Reykjavík to the far eastern shores of Seyðisförður, with stops at some of the most sparsely populated areas in the country along the way.

“The idea wasn’t to show “the best” artists,” Schug tells SLEEK, “but to paint a full picture of the art scene as a whole by bringing together a rich canon of different voices and perspectives from inside the Icelandic art community, a kind of mosaic if you will.”

Iceland has experienced something of an ebb and flow in the movement of its artists in recent times. “There is no doubt that globalisation, digitalisation, and the explosion of international travel have caused the island’s once rather closed-off art scene to become bigger, more professional, and more diverse,” argues the author in the book’s introduction. Having few options to pursue higher education in the field of the arts — the Iceland Academy of the Arts, the only higher arts education institution on a national level, was established in 1998 and no Icelandic arts institution offered education beyond Bachelor level until 2012 — a generation of artists migrated abroad to pursue their artistic studies and, as a result, introduced new methods and aesthetics upon their return. The legacy of famed conceptual Swiss artist Dieter Roth, who relocated to Iceland in the 1960s with his wife, “continues to be a major talking point in the context of Icelandic art today”, for example.

But here is the key to understanding the growth of the contemporary art movement in the Nordic country – they returned. While the Icelandic word for “stupid”, heimsku, may be synonymous with “one who stays at home”, as artist Ragnar Kjartansson tells the author, something about the remote and wind-beaten island keeps people coming back.

Sara Riel is an urban artist whose own tale highlights this phenomenon. After spending 6 years in Berlin, she was enticed to return to her homeland. “We all come back,“ Riel asserts in her interview with Schug. “There is a strong pull that is difficult to shake. It’s cold and dark but it pushes you to be more focused. I really evolved as an artist after I moved back.”

Whilst undertaking research for the compendium, Schug found that word about her journey with photographer Pauline Mikó travelled fast – “when we arrived up north, we were stunned to find out that the locals had already been tipped off about us” – and noted a certain unpretentiousness that made for a welcoming community of people who were driven by the sole passion of making art.

“Many artists talked about how no one really even thinks about selling, and they are shocked when going abroad how artists are very occupied with this thought already during their studies and run one-man-businesses,” Schug says, pointing to the generous state-supported funding opportunities available to Icelandic artists in their home country. “It’s a very different mindset when it comes to making art. This outsider position might be seen as a burden, but talking to the artists it widely seems to be considered as a boon.”

It is clear that a strong spirit of artistic freedom and collaboration lies at the heart of the contemporary works and creative initiatives produced in Iceland today. Artist Hrafnhildur “Shoplifter” Arnardóttir perfectly conveyed the playful sensibility inherent in Icelandic art with her exhibition at this year’s Venice Biennale. The New-York based sculptor turned a warehouse into a labyrinth of colourful, fluffy caves for her Chromo Sapiens installation.

In Schug’s opinion, the success driving the contemporary art scene ultimately lies in the “carelessness, fearlessness and confidence resulting in this very Icelandic “just do it” spirit. This sentiment is echoed by Börkur Arnarson, the owner of i8, Iceland’s oldest commercial gallery, who has witnessed the Reykjavik art scene grow from humble beginnings. “Everything here is proportionally wrong. We think we’re a very cosmopolitan capital, which we aren’t. We’re a small fishing town on a rock in the North Atlantic. But there comes a certain freedom with this.”

So what is the common denominator in Icelandic art? It seems like it wouldn’t be amiss to suggest that it is the character of the people who are making it. As a country long defined by its ancient myths and traditions, the artistic narrative today is drawing Iceland out of the imaginary and planting it firmly at the forefront of the world of contemporary art.

Isle of Art is available to buy now online and in selected arts bookstores, such as C/O Berlin.