I suppose it started with a general sense of nostalgia that I get when I look at photos from Strykejernet, and I do look through through photos from that period of my life quite a lot because it was at that point that the importance of documenting the process around my work became clear to me. As a consequence of that, paired with the fact that I worked more productively and systematically than ever before, I have several albums of photos from those months alone, including pure documentation of works, exhibition hangings, photo course work and general photos taken around the building. However these photos have more than nostalgia about them as they also have the function of transporting my mind to that specific creative point and I can use that as point of departure when I feel like I'm out of ideas or generally uninspired. Over the last few years I've found it to be a very fruitful method - I've also kept all my sketchbooks, stills and almost any other work or tool left from my time at Strykejernet to aid current creative processes.
However, these were not the photos refered to in the introduction. Those particular photos were taken from the other art school I went to before Strykejernet, Einar Granum School of Art. Looking back I've always thought they were kind of polar opposites in that Strykejernet focused much more creative processes, contemporary art practices, and finding your own voice whereas Granum was more about anatomy, technique and theory. In this way the two schools no doubt complement each other, which is why I think I'm fortunate to have attended both - however it is still Strykejernet that seems to have played the bigger part in shaping my own work and my thoughts around my own work. As I looked through the photos from Granum I felt almost ashamed that I had all but forgotten about my time there for so long.
I do have a lot of fond memories from those years, sadly much less documented than from Strykejernet, but what surprised me more than to find photos of old friends was the rediscovery of documentation of old works that are now destroyed or missing; works I had completely forgotten about.
Take this piece for instance. I remember it was the result of a course focused on space and we were asked to create "a comforting space". The minimalistic space I made includes a plaster cast of my father's palm - the cast of the back of the hand belonging to a kind volunteer in my class if I remember correctly, as the mold I made of dad's hand broke at that point. My interest in exploring sculpture in space never exceeded mandatory course work; I've never made anything like it since, which may be why it almost seems unreal that I created something like that at some point in my life, let alone at a point where my work had a much higher level of immaturity in general.
That's what made me reflect on the value of not discarding everything I've made before a certain point - which is what I've been guilty of since I left Strykejernet. For a time I've thought that what I was doing before Strykejernet, through some logic of my own invention, was void of meaning and consequence. Through a conversation with one of the guest teachers a few weeks into the semester I gained a new insight and starting point for the work that followed and from that moment on it became important to me to not look back at all. Now I wonder if it's time to at least glance over my shoulder for inspiration once in a while.
Not to say that I necessarily want to mimic the artistic expression I had at that specific point in time, but at least contrast it with what I'm doing now, reflect on the process - Have I gotten "lost" in myself, or found myself? Is it a development of a more or less coherent project, if so, how can it best be described? Is it possible to take one of my discarded ideas or past projects and use it as point of departure for something new? (The answer to the latter question will most likely be yes in many cases)
A case in point is my graduation piece from Granum, the documentation of which I was unable to find a digital copy of. The theme was unrelated to where my interests lie now, but it was a piece combining a painted canvas and printed/framed text, a form which I could very plausibly have used today. And I never thought I would have found such a direct connection between what I did then and what I do now, let alone through a piece that I had almost forgotten all about.
In closing I would emphasize that one thing in my life now of course has a direct connection with my years at Granum, even though I often neglect to think of its origin - my interest in art history.
My first year at Granum we had one whole day a week dedicated to art history, presented by Pierre Lionel Matte (shown here at the graduation ceremony where he was awarded with flowers). He has such enthusiasm for his field and more than any other he gave me the bug to delve into the history of art, other artists and their contexts. So come to think of it, Einar Granum school of Art has very much a relevance to where I am now, just as much as Strykejernet does, if in a somewhat different way.
