Why do we have public art? It was one of the questions a journalist asked me last week when I was being interviewed on the new guide to the art on Umeå university campus. There are of course many possible answers to this question; political, aesthetic and social, so I can only comment briefly on the subject in this blog post.

Historically public art was a way to expose power, either by commissioning a monument or portrait of/for yourself or your family/clan, or by donating an art work reflecting your agenda and placing it in a public area. In modern times more democratic reasons are to be detected in the question of public art. In Sweden there has been a policy since the 1930s that 1% of the building cost of public buildings (or larger renovations) should be spent on art. The reasons behind this policy of spending tax money on art are political. The main argument was that people should be able to see and experience art on an almost daily basis. You do not have to pay entrance to art museums or visit private art collections in order to study art, it can be found in your neighborhood, at work, at schools, in hospitals etc. The other argument is that this policy also guarantees a certain amount of jobs for artists through public commissions.

The commission of public art is organized in different ways depending on the various responsibilities in local or central governments and public institutions, but one very important actor is Statens konstråd (Public Art Agency Sweden: http://www.statenskonstrad.se/en/). For instance Statens Konstråd have until now commissioned 14 site specific art works at Umeå university, one of them is the above detail of Lage Lindell's 95 meters long mural painting from 1970-1972. (You can see the artist sitting with a pair of scissors in front of his very messy work desk, while his wife is studying his work behind it). Another one will probably appear during spring 2015 (outside the Faculty of Arts building). This kind of work is really an important opportunity for artists to make larger projects — and to meet new audiences. It is also a great chance for the staff and students of the university to experience contemporary art.

Art sure makes the space it decorates more interesting and it can be a point of reference, a ground for debate and discussion, or just a plain meeting point. Never forget that art is in many ways a collective experience, something we often encounter with other people — with more or less interaction, communication, talk and debate. The art works interfere in our daily life as much as we want to, occasionally in ways we are not aware of (until an art work is replaced). Sometimes we hate it! It may offend your ethics or aesthetic taste so that it makes you embarrassed for its presence, or feel bad since it does not represent your opinions. Sometimes we love it, because having a great piece of art in your environment can make you feel good, proud and smart! You can also love it because it provokes you, makes you think, argue well or completely change your perspectives. So my question would be: Why don't we have more public art?

On Friday I was devastated by news coming in from Glasgow. The wonderful Glasgow School of Art building by Charles Rennie Mackintosh was on fire. And it looked really bad on photos and films spread through social media with high flames from the roof and lots of smoke coming from the broken windows. Students were preparing for their final exhibitions, and fortunately no one was injured. But the building, its collections and particularly the wonderful library was in severe danger. I felt grief... Can you really mourn a building? I really battled with this question during the evening while my heart was aching...

I wrote my doctoral thesis on the interior design of Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Margaret Macdonald (finished 2003). During that project I had the fortune to work in the Mackintosh archive at the GSA, located in the library. It contained letters, reports from international exhibitions, documentation from local exhibitions, photos and unique, wonderful small water-colour paintings from both Mackintosh and Macdonald and their fellow students. Many tourists walking the guided tours tried to get a glance of the paintings I studied, asking me questions. The library itself was a architectural gem with the interior design and most of the furniture intact. On photos it might look dark and gloomy, but with floor to (over) ceiling windows it flooded with light. The small inserts of color glimmering on the dark pillars of wood created an impression of you being in a forrest — or perhaps more according to its size, in a grove. 

According to the latest news most of the collections and the archives seems to have been saved, together with most of the students works (see: http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2014/may/24/glasgow-school-of-art-fire-uk-government-help-pay-repairs). The building is not completely damaged, but the library is lost. Already plans are being made for the GSA-building to be renovated and the library reconstructed. There is some hope, but still ... can you really feel sad over a building? Short answer: Yes. Long answer: A building can represent a place of experiences, knowledge and aesthetics — if it is destroyed these immaterial values might also get lost. Photographs is a way to remember, but to actually visit and physically move around and use a building is a much more intense, unique and valuable experience.

Today I went for a walk in the park. During lunch I guided a group of visitors through Umedalens Skulpturpark, a public park filled with contemporary sculpture (see this link for more information: http://www.umedalenskulptur.se/us/). 

The collection of 44 sculptures really expose the great variety of this particular artform; sustainable material like stone, metal, wood, and concrete are mixed with more delicate works of textile and plastic. Some are really monumental and almost screaming for your attention. Others you risk missing because of size or form, they may look like they are part of the milieu. The interesting thing is when you look at art actively in an environment like this, everything created by man has a potential of being an artwork. Post-modernism is partly to blame, but you also start looking at the world around you with a different perspective. I notice this every time when I guide groups on art walks, people start looking for the next piece of art and notice potential candidates in a most active and creative way. Art is never just decorative or entertaining, besides containing some sort of message it also involves participation from viewers and this is often a collective experience. The more we share, the more we gain and understand — of the art, of our self and of our contexts.

Above is a detail of one of my favorites in Umedalens Skulpturpark, Jaume Plensa's Nostros (2008). A man sitting on the ground, with the hands folded round his knees, forms this open cathedral. In my photo from the inside, you can see how the head turns into a cupola. The surface is made of letters of eight different alphabets, a collection of knowledge from all corners of the world that unites into becoming the title - Ours. It may be the academic in me that finds hope and comfort in the written word and its possibilities of communication, but I do think there is a great need for a public sacral space for global understanding. This is what Plensa have provided for me in this sculpture and I am ever grateful.

Yesterday it was finally released - the long awaited guide over the art at Umeå university campus. Students, colleagues and visitors have often asked me (and others) if there is information available on the university's art collection. It was an interesting and fun job to be part of, analyzing artworks (both old and new to me) and writing short introductions. All the photos are new, as most of the texts, and it also includes an essay on the architectural developments on campus. The university have a collection of c. 1200 artworks, so it was a challenge to select the 51 that made it to the guide. We had to consider accessibility, variation and representation on many levels, but I am so proud of the book (that will be available in English in the future). But it is not just a book, it is also a free digital product so people walking around campus can find QR-signs near the selected artworks with both the information on the particular object and access to the whole publication. You can also find it here: http://umu-konstguide.onspotstory.com/sv/webapp/guide/sv/1251

In October 2013 I wrote a blog post on a signature of a weaver, Gunn Leander-Bjurström, that made a tapestry designed by Berta Hansson. Now it is time to present the artwork, Livets träd (The tree of life), 1960, and give you a small taste of Umeå university's collection of art. I have the luxury of seeing this masterpiece almost daily since it decorates a main corridor of Humanisthuset (Faculty of Arts building) where I work.

Berta Hansson (1910-1994) made her first solo exhibition in 1943 and was living on her art just a few years after her debut. She painted portraits, landscapes and religious themes. She has described how she after the Second World War was inspired by art she experienced as a child: bible cards used in the biblical teaching in church and the illustrated Bible of Gustave Doré. 

Livets träd can be read as a collage of these cards, mixing scenes from both the Old and the New Testaments; Adam and Eve, Noah, Moses and the life of Jesus. A common way of adapting stories from the Bible into a combined program of the Christian message of God's love and Salvation. Each depicted scene can be read as both evidence and witness of that the message is the truth. In this tapestry we see figures with reduced forms, almost a bit naive in expression with rather large heads. Grand rhetorical gestures makes the viewer understand what each figure wants to communicate. Yet it is also full of finer details; leafs, flowers, animals etc. that together with its strong colors makes it a vibrant and vital composition. The Biblical scenes follow models from early Christian art that makes them easy to identify if you are familiar with the textual and/or visual narrative. What scenes do you recognize? 

If you have read Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy you know that the answer to the question of life is 42. The problem is that nobody remembers the question. This image is something I keep coming back to in my research, being new to medieval studies. Since the Christian dogma pretty much was controlling societies within the Church, the answer to images, texts and all other artifacts describing and communicating messages was the same. God became human through his son Jesus Christ, born from Virgin Mary, sacrificed to free all believing humans from eternal sin when crucified on Golgotha… Well, I might have left out some details to the story but Salvation made possible through Incarnation is the main bit, while faith and obedience are important pieces of the puzzle.

The main point in Christian Medieval art is the various path to the images and the right answer. Different techniques were used in order to make the viewers read and understand what was depicted. Aesthetics was the experience of beauty, not an ideal of beauty - images should do, not just represent, something. They moved the viewers, made them active in faith and spirituality through prayer or meditation. Since the levels of knowledge and learning varied widely in most congregations, images must also be able to communicate  to a wide audience.

The Pietá from Endre parish church (Gotland) below is part of a larger program with multiple scenes from the Story of the Passion. The Virgin Mary holds her dead son in her arms and two other women (also called Mary) are witnessing and sharing her grief. The dead body of Christ is well exposed as a sign of the sacrifice needed for the Salvation. The image both expose emotions and very realistic and matter of fact information. It is taking the viewer to the place of the Virgin and one can experience her pain, and this is what makes the image true and believable. It also reflects the images of The Virgin with Child, so the image can also be said to contain the Incarnation. And, finally (for this post at least, because I am just scratching the surface here of all the possible ways of reading this single image) this sad moment is also a message of joy. Christ will resurrect and save all that believes in God and that he was born and died a human in order to free all Christians from sin.

Be good on the soon approaching Holy Week, enjoy some of the fantastic music composed on the theme of Stabat Mater, and I promise to be back after Easter.

I recently re-read Umberto Eco's novel The Name of the Rose (and I saw the movie as well but, as usual, the book is better) where the plot is based on if laughter and joy is equal of sin. A common stereotype of medieval culture is that it was dark, melancholy and very serious because of the Christian dogma that was pretty much organizing the society. And of course, you should be cautious and stay out of sin so that you would not be eternally damned in the afterlife. But as Mary Carruthers states in her latest book The Experience of Beauty in the Middle Ages (2013) laughter and play was also essential in order to balance your moods and bodily fluids for both spiritual and medical reasons. This is why images in churches might include puns and curiosities for both more intellectual and common visitors. Above is a prophet discussing with a monkey from Odensala church, and below a camel from Härkeberga church — both painted by the Albertus Pictor workshop - but there can also be scrolls with riddles and jokes. And yes, I was April fooled yesterday!

Since it is March 25 it is perhaps not a surprise that there would be a blog post on the Annunciation — the celebration of the Virgin Mary receiving the message through the angel Gabriel that she would conceive the Son of God. When she accepted this message the Incarnation could happen, that is God could become man. The story is being told in the Bible, Luke 1:26-38, and since the Incarnation is a most fundamental part of Christianity the story of the Annunciation have also been central in Christian art.

I first became fascinated with depictions of the Annunciation during a Ph D-course in Italian art history at the Istituto Svedese in Rome 2002. There were so many variations on the theme depending on what part of this short story the artist was focussing on together with the context of the image itself. Both the Virgin and the angel had different looks, various gestures and activities, and the scene was set in diverse places. Before this I thought the Annunciation strictly just followed both scripture and a given models for images. It kind of does, but especially from the renaissance on there are some interesting renditions of the motif. In this short post I can only present two of my Annunication favorites.

Above you find a medieval relief from a baptismal font of Grötlingbo parish church (Gotland, Sweden) made c. 1200. The angel approaches the Virgin from the left side with a palm leaf in "his" hand (angels are not human, and therefor also of no particular gender). The Virgin Mary is standing on the right side, facing the viewer frontally with her hands folded in front of her. Usually this is understood as a receiving gesture, as sign of how she accepts the angel's message. Her slightly tilted head shows that she is listening to "him" and her gaze to the ground depicts how she actually did not see the angel. Since Gabriel is shown in profile with the feet visible, we can read in some activity in this character. Compare it with the feet of the Virgin and we can see how she is depicted as standing still. Since this sculpture has so much fine detail (even if its color is gone) it is very decorative and moving. The problem is how one should interpret the Virgins expression. It is very easy to fall into anachronistic speculations because it seems so vivid.

Below you find a Annunciation of Antoniazzo Romano painted c. 1500 in Santa Maria sopra Minerva (Rome). It depicts a scene full of different characters but the angel Gabriel still approaches the Virgin Mary from the left, and she … well, what is she doing? Hardly listening or even noticing what is going on, even if we can see how God is sending the dove of the Holy Spirit to make her pregnant with the Son of God. Instead a man and a group of girls are getting the Virgin's full attention, and she is giving one of the girls a bag full of money. It was made for the chapel of a fraternity called Compania della Santissima Annunziata. It was founded by the depicted cardinal, Juan de Torquemada, and the aim of the fraternity was to collect money for dowries to poor women in Rome (and these were given to the selected women on March 25 - sometimes by the Pope). Antoniazzo Romano has combine the two narratives into his depiction of the Annunciation.

If you are curious of learning a bit more of this last image you can find a paper presentation I gave at Leeds International Medieval Congress in 2006 here (together with other interesting papers from other members of Umeå Group of Premodern Studies): http://www.org.umu.se/ugps/eng/working-paper-series/ Then remember to look for images of the Annunciation on your future church visits and discover all the fascinating variations - in looks, gestures, expressions, activities, locations and other characters.