Whenever I go back home to Sweden to visit my family, one of my favorite rituals is going to art exhibitions with my dad. He’s been involved in the art world for many years, so going with him always feels special. He knows what he likes and loves talking about it. Engaging both me and himself. What I admire most is how he’s always mostly curious about the person behind the work rather than the artwork itself. He really sees art as a reflection of the artist’s inner world. This always makes me more in tune with the idea of being grateful for sharing a vulnerable experience with the artist and how going into an exhibition is like being invited into someone’s brain. It’s special, and my dad is good at reminding me of that.
During my last visit, we went to see Pipilotti Rist’s exhibition at Accelerator, Stockholm University’s contemporary art space that explores the intersection of art and research. Rist’s installations felt like the perfect match for the kind of art my dad loves: very human and very expressive.
Before going into the exhibition, we went to the café at the entrance of the gallery. My dad and I had a coffee and a cinnamon bun. While we were sitting there and enjoying our Swedish “fika,” my dad pointed to the staircase. He told me that I had to go up the staircase and look at the floor. I was confused at first but followed his instructions. There, on the ground of the staircase in the café, was a small hole. A tiny, tiny hole. Inside the hole was a woman floating in the universe, almost looking as if she wanted to get into the real world. She was stuck inside the small hole and could only look out. It felt like a secret glimpse into another dimension. Making me even more curious about what was waiting inside.
The exhibition was called Gravity, Be My Friend, and walking into the exhibition felt like coming into a dream world. The room was dim, warm, and very calm. The colours were earthy and heavy in the room. There were two giant carpet-like landforms placed in the middle of the room, and right above them hung two irregular, cloud-shaped screens with moving images projected onto them.
My dad and I took off our shoes before stepping onto the carpets. The surface was thick and soft. They had many layers. We then lay down looking up. The videos above us showed bodies in water. They were glimmers of skin and nature. The images moved slowly and felt intimate. It didn’t feel like we were watching a screen. It felt like being inside someone else’s memory. That brought me back to the tiny artwork outside in the café, like we had now changed position. I was the one in the hole. She was before looking at me. Now I was looking at her. Through my own peekaboo hole.
When laying there I was amazed by how Rist had placed the videos in the ceiling and that we had to lie down to watch them. It was so calming. The body softens first, and the mind therefore kind of follows. It felt as if my body was receptive before my mind was. The mats on the floor could fit many people, and there were others lying there too. When people lie down looking up together it creates a whole new kind of intimacy instead of sitting upright and watching a screen. I liked how she could really use emotion. Not just through the video but through the situation she puts your body in. By changing the position of the viewer she changes how we feel and not just what we see.
The sound from the videos were also very calming. It was a sort of soft fluid soundtrack or breathing, water and soft tones that filled the entire room. It felt like being inside a body or even under water. Sometimes it felt as if I was inside a pregnant woman's belly. The images shifted between closeups of skin, hair floating in water and nature floating. Nothing was fast or abrupt, everything moved slowly and comfortingly.
When my dad and I finally stood up again and put our shoes back on, it felt like leaving a dream that I had shared with other people that I had never met.
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