Pocket Universe at the Icelandic Pavilion

I meet Ásta Fanney Sigurðardóttir in Berlin ahead of her exhibition at this year’s Venice Biennale, where she represents the Icelandic Pavilion. She is soft-spoken, and her process of constructing ideas and thoughts into sentences has a lightness that at first seems contrary to their complexity and layeredness. At the same time, and in no uncertain terms, she asks seemingly simple questions that unfold into substantial journeys. I don’t think these require answering, but instead prompt multiple starting points that she explores in Pocket Universe. In the exhibition, she focuses on ideas of beginnings, the dismantling of existing systems, and how they might be reimagined. Myths, stories, journeys, and adventures recur throughout the work. A boat appears, voices call out, and lights guide the way – evoking the promise of departure and a new destination.

Sigurðardóttir is a poet, composer, filmmaker, and visual artist. Her work merges text, sound, and visual media into ephemeral performances and live actions that move between the experimental, mystical, and conceptual. Her use of language as a living material produces vocal structures that open hidden layers of meaning and invite audiences into encounters that are fluid, improvised, and collaborative. She has a refreshing clarity and playfulness, looking at the world from a slightly different angle and, in doing so, opening up possibilities we can be part of – just feel out your inner pocket.

Nisha MeritWhat is your general art practice about, and what is the idea for the upcoming Venice Biennale exhibition, Pocket Universe?

Ásta Fanney SigurðardóttirI work very intuitively, and I improvise a lot. When I’m creating an artwork, film, or performance, I tend to incorporate my surroundings – and what I find within them – into what I do. I’m trying to exist within this kind of scenario, but, being the person I am, I want to take things apart. There’s that structure, and I have a tendency to dismantle it and ask what happens if we do things differently.

I’m very curious about that – whether we could change the rules or place things into another kind of relation. That is one of the main aspects of Pocket Universe – finding different starting points. It is about different perspectives on what is possible and about shifting how we think about universes, because you can create a different reality when you change your point of view. I was thinking about these perspectives and possibilities as pockets that we wear – without being aware of them. It is also about charged objects that we carry, and charged locations – this invisible energy that we place into everything around us. Or lucky charms. It’s present in religion, in myth, in storytelling – and then there is the role of words and language within that. As a poet, I am very interested in linguistic meaning.

It is also about misunderstandings. I was reading the myth of Pandora’s box and realised it wasn’t actually a box – it was a mistranslation. It was more like a vase. With that shift, so much changes visually. I became obsessed with this image. So you have this vase of hope, and I began thinking of glowing vases – present for humanity. Then I connected this to Venice and Iceland, both surrounded by water, and to these buoys. From the first day in Venice, I was fascinated by these objects in the water. They mark where it is safe to sail. They float, yet remain anchored to the deep. They feel highly symbolic. Some of the buoy shapes are very similar to a vase, so I began connecting the two – morphing forms and meanings together.

NMHow does the site in Venice – just off the main exhibition spaces of the Giardini and Arsenale, at a former dock station by the water – feature in your work? How do you approach its spatial interplay?

ÁFSWe looked at many spaces, but when we arrived at these docks, I immediately felt at home. I thought, “This is a place for my friends to gather.” And by that I mean visitors to the exhibition. It’s also a place for boats – these vessels of transport. That interests me: things that hold something within themselves and navigate through a world.

Perhaps that is also why I am drawn to buoys – they connect directly to this place. I’ve been reading myths from different cultures and weaving them together – braiding folk stories across geographies. I give myself permission to reshape everything; it’s not fact-based, it’s more like working with clay. There is a boat in Nordic mythology called Skíðblaðnir. It’s extraordinary – it always has wind in its sails, wherever it wishes to go. There is space for everyone aboard, and when it is no longer needed, it can be folded and placed into your pocket. I am drawn to this sense of infinite possibility – a deeply optimistic outlook. The logical mind might say this is impossible, but how do we know what is possible? Everything we believe to be possible is shaped by what we have been taught – by the structures we are born into. Yet there is so much we do not understand about the nature of the universe. I want to emphasise this openness – this movement from the body–mind towards the spirit–mind.

NMCan we delve further into the concept of (Icelandic) faith, and the friction between imagination and reality – both central themes in your installation?

ÁFSBefore Christianity arrived in Iceland, there was a strong belief in Nordic traditions – in nature and in multiple gods. When Christianity came, there was an attempt to reconcile these forces. The decision was that Iceland would be Christian, but people were still allowed to maintain other beliefs in secret. What remains central today is a deep connection to nature. For instance, part of my work was filmed in Japan, where there is also a strong relationship with nature and animism – spirits that inhabit the natural world. In Iceland, we have similar ideas, such as elves – not in a commercialised sense, where it becomes detached from the people and absorbed by tourism or corporations, but as something rooted and protective. These are the kinds of vessels I am interested in.

NMThe vase is often associated with abundance. As you were saying, there is also a moment of realising that everything is already there…

ÁFSYes, what you need is already in your inner pocket. Everything is there – just slightly invisible. In the exhibition, things are present but not always visible – they exist if you decide they exist. This connects to my use of lucky charms and amulets – for protection and fortune. If you believe in them, they become real. I’ve also been thinking about hope. It is paradoxical – it often emerges in moments of despair. But what if you decide that you carry an inexhaustible source of hope within you? That becomes as real as the sun or the movement of the Earth – as constant as the laws of physics.

NMA strong idea in your Venice work is that of beginnings and the notion of “Creature Zero”. What does this represent, particularly in relation to our current moment?

ÁFSI’ve been looking at ancient board games – their textures, colours, and forms are beautiful. What fascinates me is that I don’t know the rules. That makes them mysterious. And without rules, anything becomes possible – I can invent them myself. So I began combining games, altering rules, taking them apart, and reassembling them. This becomes a starting point – as in any game. I started thinking about multiple beginnings within the exhibition, reflecting where we are as humanity and as a planet. We need change. We’ve been playing the same game for so long, and perhaps that’s why the world is as it is. But what if we reimagined it entirely? I think it is important to consider a ‘step zero’ – before any beginning – opening the mind to what might be possible. That is what I am exploring in the exhibition.

NMLanguage is central to your work as a poet, and you describe it as a living material. Could you share an example of why it is so important to you?

ÁFSI was searching for a word to describe a moment – when someone steps into uncertainty, into the unknown, when logic dissolves and nothing is certain. You must rely on faith, because the next step is invisible. I wondered if such a word existed, and I found one in Tamil – one of the oldest languages in the world. The word is Nambikkai. It translates to hope, trust, confidence, or faith. It represents a positive belief in someone or something, often associated with resilience, inner strength, and courage in the face of uncertainty. Finding it felt significant.

My work is layered – composed of many threads. I allow myself to follow these paths, even when there are forces telling me not to. The work remains materially simple, yet conceptually complex, with hidden connections that ultimately form a kind of circular structure, linking everything together.

NMIt’s like returning to faith – to certainty – even when you don’t know if something is there. You step forward, even when the ground may not exist beneath you.

ÁFSYes, it’s about moving step by step into uncertainty, holding onto a vision even when others say it’s impossible, and having faith in that process. It’s about allowing yourself to shape the world you want to inhabit. There is a video work in the exhibition based on a Japanese creation myth. Two divine beings create the Earth by stirring the ocean with a jewelled spear. The first drop that falls becomes the first stone. I wanted to visit this stone – located near a small island in Japan – and to bring that connection into the work. I allowed myself to gather myths, to blend them, and to reshape them. And now, this stone has become part of the exhibition.