I
could be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky
By
Power Ekroth
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The idea
that finding a four-leaf clover brings happiness is globally spread, and originates
in a biblical story where Eve brought a four-leaf clover out of Paradise. The
artists Lena Malm and Nikolaj Recke worked simulateneously with clovers, in
very similar projects, in two separate countries, and without knowing about
each other. They both cultivated clovers in a long and demanding process in
order to develop and breed four-leaf clovers. When they had enough plants, they
arranged them into fields that then were exhibited in various contexts.
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Lena
Malm (Top) & Nikolaj Recke: Clovers
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I don’t
know if it is because I was born and raised in a real deep red hippie-community,
but the first things I did with the clovers, was to plant them in public parks
here in Copenhagen. For me there were some banal thoughts behind this, surely
with the simple thing in mind to give people (not the ordinary art audience)
a bigger possibility to find happiness. It has nothing to do with “utopia”
or “wonderworld,” but a simple gesture in order to make people happy.
(Nikolaj Recke)
Wanting
to make the fellow man just a little bit happier, and possibly a bit more fortunate,
would pass for “nice,” but actually undertaking this is indeed generous.
These artworks are many-faceted, and they open up a lot of questions –
not only about superstition and hope for luck, but also about what fortune really
is; about the politics of redistribution; or if it is possible to “clone”
happiness. One is easily led to the territory of ethics or moral philosophy
while contemplating this.
Then we have the dichotomy between nature and culture, which is a striking aspect
of the cloverfields that Nikolaj and Lena have exhibited inside the white cube.
It must be a really strange experience to walk into the gallery expecting an
“ordinary” art exhibition, and then to find yourself in a meadow connected
to the outside world, but actually inside. And then, after a while, you discover
that the meadow mainly consists of four-leaf clovers. It must be almost surreal.
To be able to create
an artwork that makes one forget that it actually is art you’re looking
at excites me, and I find this fascinating. This was also why I built the
Cloverfields. People just come in and forget that it is art. (Nikolaj Recke)
Power, you once wrote
that you were a ”sucker for experiences,”, which applies to me as
well, both when looking at art and in my own work. I want something to get
into my brain or into my heart… like a mental alien or something. (Lena
Malm)
This seductive Alice-in-Wonderland-feeling
is important for this exhibition, and highlighting this has been essential.
The ultimate starting point, however, was the fact that two artists made the
exact same artwork during the same period of time. What does this mean? It
may not be so unusual that two artists, having the same kind of background,
in the same period and both trained in Western art schools, would in fact
create similar kinds of art. But this is surely very rarely thematized as
such – in fact, it is more likely to come across as slightly embarrassing.
And still, in the age of re-re-reproduction, the Modernist discourse of originality,
uniqueness, and “who-was-first?” are essential rules in the game
of art, even though editions and multiples have become perfectly acceptable
phenomena. But would the fact that either Lena or Nikolaj were to have been
one day ahead of the other in any way change how we in look at the cloverfield-piece?
The artwork
remains there as a trigger of our experiences, and we still experience the same
fairytale-feeling when lying in the field counting leafs.
In this connection, it is a bit ironic that the four-leaf clover may be so interesting,
or ”fortune-bringing,” mainly because it is so distinctive and so
different from the other more common three-leaf clovers. The four-leaf cloverfields
twist this thought into absurdity, since the uncommon is elevated to something
quite common. The extraordinary and exceptional is engendered, repeated, and
multiplied, thus challenging our perceptions as well as our pre-conceptions.
Both Lena and Nikolaj
have earlier been preoccupied with questions relating to the original vs. the
copy, the multiple, and the re-making of art. Lena has, in an attempt to figure
out if there could be a “more true” original, been re-painting her
own paintings numerous times. Will the first painting be reduced to the status
of a sketch after the next painting has been made, or will the second painting
become a copy? Another piece that she did was directed towards her own self,
and is called “Have you ever wondered how many people have the same as
you? I did. ” For this piece she contacted every girl/woman in Sweden with
the same name as herself, “Lena Malm”. Every Lena Malm had their picture
taken by a local photographer, and the picture was enlarged and sent to Lena
Malm, the artist. Almost every Lena Malm that participated, 60 altogether were
flown in to Stockholm for the opening night at Moderna Museet, and they all
enjoyed a dinner together. Nikolaj
has made re-paintings of Yves Klein, as well as small “Robert Morris sculptures,”
and felt-installations. Minimalism and theatricality frequently occur in his
works, like in Party next door or Touched by Your Presence. In Party Next Door,
all that the spectator could perceive was the muffled sounds of a typical party
next door – thumping, screaming, singing along with the loud music, and
so on. The gallery was empty – there was just the sound from a real party
going on somewhere else.
In Touched by Your Presence
Nikolaj worked together with the artist ChristianHeide
to make an echo chamber. The room was empty in this piece as well, and when
someone spoke the words soon returned as a distorted echo.
The exhibition at Galleri Enkehuset already starts outside, in the green environment
of Enkehuset. Clovers have been planted in patches here and there around the
building, making it possible not only for the exhibition-goers, but for everyone
passing by, to find a special four-leaf clover, and hopefully feel just a little
bit more lucky. There is also a special treat for those that decide to go inside
the gallery, where a video is projected on the ceiling, portraying a special
phenomenon – hundreds of shooting stars. For those that dare, the artists
offer an unexpected possibility of experiencing their own participation in the
exhibition: the spectator is invited to climb a stretched net, a circus net,
one by one.
The processes before the exhibition have been important, since they have allowed
us to work out the parameters in an open “trialogue.” The overall
experience is important in the exhibition at Galleri Enkehuset, just as for
the four-leaf cloverfields. The exhibition connects with the cloverfields in
other ways as well – the falling star connotes wishful thinking about happiness,
and also deals with the correlation of nature and culture. Another parallel
would be the idea of duplication – is it possible to have numerous wishes
come true when wishing upon numerous falling stars – “the more four-leaf
clovers the more good luck you get,” as it were?
Another parameter has been the simplicity, an almost minimalist approach,
with an edge of conceptuality that is not immediately visible, although the
twist certainly lies there. What happens when two artists collaborate? And
what happens when a curator is interfering with the creative process? One
result is the exhibition at the Galleri Enkehuset presently, and the folder
in your hand.
Thanks
to: Lynx
Ed Simpson
Markus Karlsson Frost
(layout)
Thomas Broomé
Tove Helander
Nicos
Alexander Pock von Springer
Sven-Olov Wallenstein
Ulf Robé
