Interview: Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen (english)

Are you in fact 'big L', or is the capital L – so readily associated with the de Stijl-chair’s disembodied fetishism of the right angle – the shape of the exhibition space?

It is a plural reference. It obviously refers to the shape of the physical space, but 'big L', too, is what one of my friends calls me. I believe using that name in this context adds another dimension to the title. Late nineties black rapper Big L was shot of course. And thereby he fulfilled the archetypical urban myth that we know by heart, and yet have no real understanding of.

Due to the word order so evidently sophomoric, one must presume that the exhibition title is putting on airs, and equally sneers at your own exit-project MILES; a display that, if anything, used art as a sociological room, to create ethical affect on account of practical effect. How, given this background, do you understand the exhibition SAVE THE WORLD – NOT?

You need to note the decisive addition or big L contemplation room, which in my opinion displaces the apparently populist title. This is not least because it, as I just explained, contributes with its own pop-cultural nuance. I have chosen the rhetorical way out, as it’s quite a precarious affair to be asked to do a climate exhibition in connection to the COP15. The interplay between the title’s two parts states that I very well know my exhibition is not going to save the world, but that I concurrently consider it a room of understanding. Thus, the exhibition shouldn’t be seen so much in the light of my Exit-project, but rather be read the other way around, as the broader basis upon which the project MILES could, and still can, be conceived.

Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen: HORNS REEF BY BLÅVANDSHUK, 2005-2009.

The reason I ask is that, back then, your installation mainly took place as a kind of staging. You undertook a distinct aestheticization of your scale model, which in reality would be able to reduce the transport sector’s carbon emission significantly.

Yes, and that is of course why I have worked hard to expand the frame of understanding specifically within the cultural context, where art exhibitions do take place. One might say that the strength of photography is to show things the way they really are. Or perhaps rather, because photography always presents the viewer with just a piece of the total picture, it contains the possibility to show reality just the way I would like people to imagine it. And that’s where the great potential lies. But it is also quite the challenge, because it is so easy to walk into a trap, and create mass media imagery.

Thematic pictures?

Yes, polar bears sweating, or treading water, because there are no icebergs left. These motifs appeal only to a very specific set of emotions, and we have become quite immune. But pictures ought to, and do have the ability to, be used for something else, which is why I have agreed to do this show.

I agree. In continuation of avant-garde speculations in art’s principled possibility to dissolve into another kind of mundane life, I therefore allow myself to ask: “If art can in fact save the world, and thus itself, why hasn’t it done so a long time ago?

I think it might have done this already. But the question is whether we can avail ourselves to acknowledge it. Perhaps the art world’s historic contribution has been absorbed to the point where it has become an almost invisible part of contemporary mass-culture. At least that is what I think, and therefore I have explicitly worked with some of the modernistic models. I have tried to implement them in the exhibition, as an underlying challenge that can help us understand what it is we actually see.

Truly, modernism is characterized by an array of utopian ideas concerning the potential of art, architecture, and philosophy, most of which we have since disposed of in terms of what we call postmodernism. Take for instance de Stijl’s and Malevich’s 1:1 utopian ideas about an entirely new human being, which should emerge on the basis of original formal expressions. This proved neither to work the first, the second, or the third time. How would you explain that art has ‘saved the world’, whilst maintaining that the modernistic references are present as a challenge, as something which should be complied with?

First and foremost, they represent a conscious way of dealing with the world, but at the same time we apply this approach with such ease that unfortunately it has become mere consensus. ‘Innovation’, for instance, has become an industrial convention. Such truisms, which were once utopian, I would very much like to map. For now, we can’t see anything being serially produced without thinking within the framework of Fordism, in terms of the industrial revolution. That’s why a project like MILES is interesting, because the approach is not modernistic, but rather an expression of a wide, cultural approach to an infrastructural problem, which no one has yet succeeded in solving.

Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen: BLACK SQUARE, 2009.

You involve some physical objects, which I, in need of a better word, would call ‘sculptures’. They constitute a presence quite foreign to the representational means of photography. Are you hereby suggesting ‘readymade’ and ‘appropriation’ as the avant-garde’s less utopian, hence more productive way out?

I don’t quite follow.

Until now, the two of us have used the expression ‘modernism’ almost synonymous with avant-gardism, i.e. in the broad sense, which implies that modernism, as opposed to postmodernism, contains some distinct utopian goal. However, one can also understand the avant-garde, by its opposition to high modernism, as something essentially new, wanting to emulsify art and life; a transformation supposedly happening in two different disablements of the artwork’s traditional aura. On the one hand, the idealistic attempt to dissolve art into a new and more vital existence, and on the other, to name something concrete, something from everyday life, a piece of art.

Well, rather than either/or, I think it is both/and. I don’t believe the two directions exclude each other. This is the reason, I have strategically chosen to present the photographs accompanied by quite a few accessories, which are, by the way, only identified as such, because they are exhibited at Photographic Centre. This, of course, only emphasizes the importance of them being present here. They make you aware of the context, by which you determine everything in the exhibition, including the objects themselves.

I would like to return to the exhibition subtitle. As early as the Middle Ages, contemplation was the institutionalized vehicle of metaphysic experience, and since it has been purified to become the modernistic art experience per excellence. The problem, however, has always been that the soul is full of context, of actual time and space. Wanting for art to move beyond such restrictions, Michael Fried had to confine the productive relation between these categories within his morally condemned concept of ‘theatricality’. Given this, there seems to be something very ‘theatrical’ about your exhibition?

Naturally it depends on how you look upon it, which again has got to do with the viewer’s horizon of expectation. You could enter, and browse the exhibition in five minutes, whereby you let your preconceptions determine its narrative. If you, on the other hand, are to follow its logic past the exact frame of understanding, with which you arrived, then it's necessary for you to play along. To make the audience take on this challenge of mine, is quite the challenge to me, as a visual artist.

If I understand you correctly this means, you can either take a walk, observe what’s in the pictures, and then on the way out note that there is also some odd selection of objects, which you find it difficult to actually comprehend. Or you can take the time to understand that all of this is actually a radical staging of the fact that you are looking at some photographs?

With a space like Photographic Centre, which points in so many different directions, I thought it necessary to deliver some kind of indication of how to see the show, a rhythm. Therefore I took guidance in the room itself, featuring modernistic, black leather furniture, and a bookshop. These are the things that initially meet the eye, and they are rather decisive in terms of mood. By underlining my own consciousness of the room, as I found it, I can move beyond it, and at least to some extent create a different kind of encounter.

Installation view

Since the art institution critique of the 70s, and the subsequent downfall of the white cube, one of installation art’s finest characteristics has been to expose the exhibition space to more or less radical physical interventions. In an almost psychoanalytical manner, artists have tried to address its supposedly repressed discursive nature. Despite the prestigious address, the exhibition space, which we are in right now, has definitively not maintained the aura of Gl. Strand. Rather, it gives you a sense of some indefinable welcome-centre. It seems as if you, quite deliberately, have subjected your exhibition to the temporary housing of Photographic Centre here at Amaliegade?.

I didn’t see the Christmas decoration coming. But then again, if the leather furniture hadn’t been here I would have had a hard time making people associate BLACK SQUARE with a coffee table.

Photographs do tend to end up as coffee table books.

It is a dysfunctional object, just like the speakers. The odd, wooden chairs are somewhere in between, as they are of course functional, but not really. They have been painted with a very dry pigment paint, which easily comes off, and which is extremely sensitive to knocks and dents.

As objectified photography, the piece BLACK SQUARE seems to be mediate between the pictures and the objects around. It makes fun of painting, photography, and sculpture as media, so perhaps, rather than the obvious allusion to Malevich, one ought to se it as a paraphrase of Mel Ramsden’s Secret Painting? His piece consists of a small, black painted canvas, and a printed text that reads: “The content of this painting is invisible; the character and dimension of the content are to be kept permanently secret, known only to the artist.”

It sounds like a magnificent work of art. My black square’s point of departure is definitely conceptual, because it doesn’t, like most photographs, represent anything straight out of the so-called real world. Perhaps it somewhat equals theoretical physics. It is not so much concerned with a sensuous world, as with our ideas about it. Going back to basics, whether it be Malevich or Duchamp, BLACK SQUARE gives you an indication of my exhibition as a continuation of the neo-avant-garde, especially in the form of American conceptual art. This will also become clear if you sit down, on this couch for instance, and read the publication, which is readily available in the rack. Aesthetics is no longer a clear-cut case. The artistic, political, and economical perspectives, depicted in the text, can be used to decode the photographs. And conversely, the presence of the physical objects does shed new light on the trail of thought that lead to the MILES-project.

True. When I take a look around, idly reclined in this leather sofa, I must unwittingly ask: “What is actually part of the exhibition?”

It is a combination of several factors: 1) That, which I am actually exhibiting. 2) That, which I am designating in the room. 3) Photographic Centre’s organization of their space in relation to my contributions. 4) The viewers’ opinions on what actually belongs here. But of course one could just as easily say, “it’s what is presented in the exhibition overview."

Which, in the meantime, only consists of the titles, totally without measurements or material designations. That makes it slightly difficult to determine what piece you’re actually looking at. For that matter, the title of the cash register could be the Tracy Chapman quote? The demarcation lines of the exhibition seem fully punctured.

There is still, however, a relatively clear distinction between the artworks, and all of the other stuff. The objects obviously modified can be counted as art pieces. But one of the things, of which I had my doubts, was whether to make the overview more distinct, and it’s still quite possible that I will do just that. One of the privileges of exhibiting in a place like this is that I have the opportunity to see if people can actually follow my reasoning – for example, whether the liberty of being able to juggle the titles a bit makes sense, rather than a cartographic overview.

One might say that any contemplation room is fluid by nature, and that it therefore seems quite natural to present the audience with two kinds of maps: The text/title overview, and the picture/object diagram. One tries to match everything up so as to apply it to reality.

Yes, an alternative direction is, for instance, pointed out by the cross-reference between the pre-existing postcard stand – for which I have produced the POSTCARD WITH MILES PROTOTYPE – and the publication rack. While it holds INNOVATIVE REFLECTIONS PRESS PUBLICATION ABOUT MILES, its distinct serial quality makes it kind of a Juddesque wall object.

Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen: RUIN, ANDALUCIA, 2009.

But what, then, is in fact the status of the photographs? I have a feeling they are not pictures of something so much, as they are images of ‘pictures of something’.

Working with one specific media, is no longer to be taken seriously. This is the constructive challenge inherent in the photographic context of this show, and the reason why I have used several other media, in addition, to contextualize the climate debate. Just as no artist can seriously base his work on media-specific issues, he can’t just simply produce pictures either. Trough a recontextualization, mainly achieved by means of installation, my images try to avoid the classical photographic tradition, which I – e.g. via the use of a medium format camera – owe a great deal. I take pictures of things with which we are familiar, but with a different focus. Take for instance the image RUIN, ANDALUCIA; at the top of some mountain you see the remains of a building surrounded by quite a lot of horizon. It is characteristic that the work is more about the view, than it’s about this specific ruin. Therefore, I have chosen to enlarge the picture to such an extent that one almost disappears in the vast space. Focus is one the trade route once monitored from this guard tower. Another example is the image LYSERØD SKY OVER KULKRAFTVÆRKET I ESBJERG, [eng. PINK CLOUD ABOVE THE COAL-FIRED POWER PLANT IN ESBJERG], which, in an odd way, is also dictated by its location. But it’s a place that you don’t really notice, because of the irritating pink splotch. In the process of digital editing, I hit the picture with a shitload of magenta. If you bother to ‘google’ ‘coal-fired power plant in Esbjerg’ you will discover that it is in fact an experimental plant, which from 2005-2008 experimented with the recycling of carbon dioxide. Connecting to the stories behind, you get a sense of what it is that brings the distant places together. DAM UPSTEAM FACE is a 1935 photograph of the Hoover Dam, which I have been allowed to use. It is a ‘before’ picture, the camera being placed at the bottom of the reservoir, now full of water. This narrative about function runs through the entire exhibition. There are pictures of things from before they have been finished and put to use, and many of the things depicted while functioning point either forward or backwards. And then there are the ‘after’ pictures, like for instance the ruin. But, all in all, the subject is the same: Infrastructure, and its relation to energy and transportation. I would much like to point out some new perspectives on technological development in general.

Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen: PINK CLOUD ABOVE THE COAL-FIRED POWER PLANT IN ESBJERG, 2005.		Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen: UNTITLED, 2005.

All the photographs are accompanied by massive oak frames, which, quite intentionally, are not proportioned according to the size of the pictures. This supports the meta-feeling I noted earlier.

The frames are what make the images come together. The pictures are not taken, as part of a classical photographic series, but in very different places, and over a long period of time. They have all been selected, because they contain something that contributes to the theme of this exhibition. Due to the relatively heavy frames, the small pictures gain an almost iconic status, like pictures of holy saints in the Russian tradition. The tiny photograph DON’T YOU KNOW TALKING ABOUT A REVOLUTION SOUNDS LIKE A WHISPER is an example. And if we compare it to HORNSREV VED BLÅVANDSHUK, [eng. HORNS REEF BY BLÅVANDSHUK], which I also used at the EXIT 09-exhibition, we have a good example of how differently the frames work. Both pictures have been taken in the same area of the North Sea, and one could say that one depicted technology represents the status quo, while the other points ahead. However, at the same time the two completely different formats demand an outmost attention.

Installation view

Because the type of technology soon to be obsolete has been given the iconic status, while the windmills stand distantly in the horizon?

The gas flame, which burns high above the oilrig, is something with which we are tritely familiar, while perhaps we feel more visually, and mentally, challenged by the large landscape picture. It is obviously photography ‘proper’; the negative has been scanned and enlarged. The windmills, far in the horizon, are almost like a mirage inducing an uncertainty; one doesn’t quite know how to relate to the picture. So the frame plays an important role, enforcing a photographic authenticity. But, accordingly, it is hard to recognize its significance. As opposed to the iconic situation, we instructively accept the frame as part of the photograph.

DAM UPSTEAM FACE,1935 (Courtesy U.S. Bureau of Reclamation)

While containing the feeling of something unreal, the photographs, and especially the video featuring the Iranian highway, carry a sense of peculiar authenticity. Even in the case of appropriated material, this aura of authenticity must have something to do with the media of photography. It simply acquires the presence of the photographer at the specific time and place of the picture. An authenticity, that is, you evidently stage in the work HORNSREV VED BLÅVANDSHUK [eng. HORNS REEF BY BLÅVANDSHUK]; the picture looks way more like a dusty countryside road in Nevada, than the actual North Sea. To what extent are the photographs by you, pictures of you?

Some people believe that all the pictures you take are really self-portraits. I don’t know about that, but there is always an important selection and articulation present in the motifs I end up choosing. Of course the status of the pictures differs, depending on whether they are actually mine, or appropriated material, but perhaps it’s even more important by which means of production you present them. To name two liminal cases: DAM UPSTEAM FACE is a black/white inkjet-print, whereas the lighthouse by Blåvandshuk has been reproduced by photogravure. In addition to the digital, colour photographs, and the use of the medium-format negative, this produces an exhibition rather heterogeneous, and with a large span in techniques of reproduction. This results in a feeling of oscillating authenticity. However, I think that all the pictures point back at some form of intimacy, simply because all of the photographic techniques require an articulated artistic presence. This is the basis of communication. The two images from Esbjerg, hanging almost like exit alters, are largely characterized by their difference. As part of my general staging, LYSERØD SKY...[eng. PINK CLOUD…] has, as I already mentioned, been digitally manipulated. That’s the romantic nomination. The other picture, previously shot at the harbour, is however rather neutral. To a great extent, this allows for the white cubes to stay weird on their own account. Thus, the image is named UNTITLED . Taken together, these two images show my relationship to this particular site. Within each individual picture, but especially among the manifold works, a discussion takes place: “What do you actually see?” and accordingly, “how, and why do you see exactly this.” The absence of uniformity, e.g. the lack of an overall colour-grading, underlines the exhibition as one large composition. Or illusion if you will.

Especially because the pictures in turn are overtly, almost hysterically harmonized by the identical frames?

Immediately, the exhibition might seem very abstract. The frames are to give the viewer some clear indication of my standpoint, thus enabling him to explore their expanded field.

Lasse Ernlund Lorentzen: CROMA KEY, RED AND BLUE CHAIRS,

What does your neon colours signal? Your gratuitous use of fluorescent paint makes it seem like a signal concerning signalling effect?

CROMA KEY, RED AND BLUE CHAIRS are two copies of the famous Rietveld-chair from 1917, painted in the green colour used in green-screen technology. In a way this makes them demonstrative non-objects, stating that they are here in fact without really being present. It refers to the invisibility, which we discussed earlier on, shrouding the entire modernistic take. I see it as my job to point out this mystery. Thus, the two chairs are posing on each side of a Montana-module, on top of which I have placed the exhibition poster featuring the black square. And right behind this set-up, you’ll find the work UNITLED, the white cubes of which are actually separate houses for windmills, ready for shipment. If this exhibition is to present a proper perspective on the climate challenge, as a particularly complex cultural phenomenon, I have to seep behind unquestioned minimalism, just to name one. In the stand the postcard is almost invisible, whereas the two pink speakers are allowed to make some visual noise.

As with any proper welcome, be it in the supermarket, in the bookstore, or in the church, one is accompanied by music. And obviously the sound is not coming from the two fluorescent speakers, which are not connected to anything at all, but from a stereo in the back of the room. How is the relationship between sound, noise, and silence orchestrated? A relation, which seems to be equally about absence and presence?

I assessed that an exhibition of this kind would be in desperate need of a narrative in addition to the architectural frame, something temporal, which could accommodate the manifold expressions. Contrary to spatial objects, you cannot physically circumvent sound. That’s a great advantage, and therefore I asked Morten Skøder Lund to make a soundtrack for the exhibition. To feel a sense of intimacy, you need to be present in some sort of narrative, and that’s what the interplay between the room and the sound attempts to create. It’s important, because the images can only be actualized if they’re exposed to the viewer’s outmost presence. If there is no reflection, there is no art. You know, “when a tree falls in the woods and no one hears it…”

Installation view

Due to its specific placement, the music seems much like a soundtrack for the video, the moving picture of an endless road, which equally unfolds in time.

That’s true, and the video’s authenticity is further enhanced by the materiality inherent in the use of a low-resolution camcorder. This makes it quite exotic in an exhibition dominated by high technical standards. One is lost in ‘the ride’, the movement, and the visual noise, is simply pacifying. And that’s how I want my audience.

Passive reflection? Well, properly that’s rather close to contemplation as a form of enlightenment?

Having lost yourself in the video, you’re able to approach the photographs differently. In a state, where you have given up your pre-conceptions, you can genuinely reflect upon the exhibition. This might be the perfect mixture of church and supermarket, faith and capital. But, as opposed to Fakta*, you can’t do it in 5 minutes, not if you want a slice of the pie. It might take you 45 minutes, which is the exact playing time of the soundtrack. Because it is a room for contemplation, I would much like for you to stay a little longer.

Thank you.

*Transl. note: For several years now, the Danish supermarket chain Fakta has run a commercial saying: “It only takes 5 minutes, but we would much like for you to stay a little longer.”