The Nordic Summer University (NSU) has commissioned 10 artists and researchers to trace the spread of NSU’s values across the world. At the forefront of creative techniques in archiving, philosophy and creative methods, the projects will culminate in a mini-festival in Norway in Summer 2020 to celebrate NSU’s 70th anniversary – truly the oldest Nordic institution of its kind!
Follow links on the bar to the left to explore our history as it is revealed…
In a text submitted for one of the most recent anthologies to be published in the NSU context, Artistic Research: Being There (2018), I described at length a constellation of voices belonging to a few friends and co-creators I happened to be sharing a lodging with during springtime 2015, in Mooste, southeast Estonia.
I remember them as they sounded to me. Their voices together in that place, as a family of consonant sounds. John, soft spoken and quiet even in motion, almost all breath and no tone in his often lingering words. Evelyn, resonant and sharp in her mezzo-soprano harmony of briskness and warmth. Sebastian, a soundscape of crescendos in his open, inviting tone, words following thoughts, climbing and descending, always gathering strength for a higher peak. Luisa, the voice of a listener and a storyteller, with a quick, lithe and rich tone, and a confident hesitation that allows others’ voices to rest with hers. Ming, both tentative and booming, a hyper masculine and well-rounded baritone, at times undercut by breathless reticence. Elsie, their child’s voice vibrating in low shy clarity, reminded me of the subtle presence of a single glass marble rolling, swerving and throwing sparks of light. Kathleen, the voice of a speaker and a witness, combining coloratura of expression with matter-of-factness of punctuation. Myna, her tone paused and deeply rooted, balancing arresting sobriety with an undertone of flashing curiosity.
In the current phase of my anniversary project – Lived Anthologies – I have been thinking about voices a lot, because I am actively searching for speakers for vocal narration. There is so much to consider when thinking about a voice, it brings with it not only the whole body, but also a biographical aura, a cultural context, and the radical lived presence of an acoustic soul.
Soul. Hard to use this notion meaningfully nowadays, if not metaphorically or poetically. The ancient Greeks had a lot to say about the soul. At least one of them, in at least one book, discussed it as a chariot pulled by two horses. One horse was good, the other not so much. The uneven communion which is the human soul therefore would move much like a sinewave. Sometimes going up towards heaven, other times falling down to earth. Pulsing imperfectly, vibrating constantly. Like its Greek namesake, the butterfly (ψυχή). Like a voice.
When listening to someone’s voice, one is shaken. Literally. If it is a rattle or a sway, a quiver or a surge, a swell or a drop – the associations are lively and active when we become aurally engaged. To frame and fasten the voice, the right one for the task at hand – for the saying, telling, or singing even of the kind of truth inherent in a text – is not easy. And these are not poetic texts I am dealing with. These are science, most of them, in the sense that science is when it aims at making sense non-sensuously. Sense and sensuous are the key terms, and it is voice that bears the brunt of the task, the heaviest corner of the pilgrim’s icon throughout the procession.
So I listen and make choices, and layer sounds upon sounds, sounds under sounds, masking and enveloping, sometimes outright misleading, using all the tools available to create a sensorially rich aural scenography of meaning. From letter to utterance, from utterance to swelling composition, with a more than healthy pinch of constant doubt thrown in. It is the due owed to creative bringing forth. Hope you listen for it when its summer embodiment comes around for a visit.
One of our artists, Guilia Mangione, let us into her process:
“For my project Oleana I decided to work with analog film photography. The process is a bit lengthy but, in my opinion, totally worthy. In my working flow I alternate digital and analogue techniques to reach the final print. After the rolls of film have been developed by the photo lab, I usually go to the darkroom to make some contact sheets. On these prints I can see small reproductions of the entire negative on one sheet of photosensitive paper. Through these, I make a rough selection of the images I think are more interesting or better framed, and mark them. After that I move to the digital lab and I scan the images I selected in high resolution in order to see them in large size on my computer screen. After making the very final selection, I go back to the darkroom and print only the one image from one shooting session that I think looks best.”
NSU’s Archive is a treasure trove of impressions – unexpected photos, books, leaflets, costumes and documents. If only we could have had Guilia’s process throughout the years of our history: a slow, considered look at the flickering pieces of the past, making it possible to delicately select the most powerful piece to keep in the collection.
Archivists: How on earth do you choose what stays and what goes?
“By turning names into things we create false models of reality. By endowing nations, societies or cultures with the qualities of internally homogenous and externally distinctive and bounded objects, we create a model of the word as a global pool hall in which the entities spin off each other like so many hard and round billiard balls.”
Eric Wolf from Europe and the People Without History
The sculpture EŦNICITY INC. (or ethnicity incorporated) is an eclectic piece designed to question the impact of the very notion of ethnicity. It attempts to recontextualise the concept itself and its material impact on the conditions of the living. Indeed, ethnicity as a concept has served as a tool for externally categorizing and arranging people in the present and the past, within evolutionary, ethnocentric, colonialist and racist frameworks. It also serves as a political weapon, both giving weight to nationalist rhetoric but also serving as a defensive legal tool for indigenous minorities’ rights to self-determination and protection of land; although, as we will see later, it too often fails to protect these very people, their ecosystems or resources.
At first glance, the sculpture is a bust: the canonically “western” format for representing a human individual endowed with some form of authority or power, it is almost always a political artifact. Here though, instead of a classical bust, the sculpture is an anthropomorphized spoon: the Saami spoon; recognizable by its short handle, pear shaped bowl, the hoops and rings on its sides and the decorative carvings. The saami spoon, both in archeology and in contemporary material culture, has been an effigy for saami “ethnicity”. Indeed, the saami people in the history of archeology have constantly been conceptualized as the “other”, they are seen as “ethnic” while the majority group of the Swedes are regarded as “non-ethnic”. They are the norm, the civilization, whereas the saami became a people without history, an ethnographic object, static and unchangeable. Where the saami spoon has become this intemporal effigy or artifact of saami ethnicity, its origins point in fact to diverse origins. Moreover, the evolution of the spoon is intertwined with other histories, inner socio-cultural struggles of the saami people and its place in a wider economic frame of markets.
The sculpture is designed to be observed from top to bottom. Indeed, the pseudo-realist portrait is the first thing that calls our attention. The portrait is a phantasm of the Saami “ethnic” physionomy; it materializes the inherent racism of associating physical traits to a kind of ethnic “geist” or essence. Its eyes are closed, becoming only a screen devoid of any inherent meaning. The meaning does not come from within but is projected onto it by the gaze of the one looking. Going further down along the handle or neck, we only see a decorative piece of furnture, the true meaning of the sculpture lies further down still in the bowl of the spoon, the part that is designed to bring the sustenance. The concavity of the bowl is placed in lieue of the convexity of the belly. In this sort of cave, we can then see engravings of pictogramms that reveal the true story at play.
The story is one of people devided by arbitrary borders, but also ecosystems cut-off by roads, pipelines, traintracks, etc. The people are alone and, in the center, you find the sea and an offshore deepwater drilling station. This one specifically is the Snohvit platform, a particular point of contention between the interests of big oil industry capitalists and the indigenous populations who also depend on the resources of the sea to maintain their mode of living. On each side of the platform is inscribed C. 169 – a reference to the Convention 169 of the Organization of the United Nations – concerning the rights of native and tribal people in independent countries. One of the articles states that governments need to take measures in cooperation with these people to protect and preserve the environment that they inhabit.
In the end, this artifact serves as a direct criticism of the commodification of culture and identity in the framework of neoliberal capitalism. It materializes the hypocrisy of paying lip service to alterity and “ethnic tokenism” so long as it can be consumed in one way or another and so long as their liberties do not infringe on the interests of capital. This last part is emphasized by the presence of the title of the sculpture engraved in its back like the brand of an item of clothing, it is incorporated. It is quite literaly just paying lip service to the actual living culture, turning it into a brand : the saami Ŧ (th), itself already a product of acculturation, the saami culture not having originally had an alphabetical system of writing. To finish with a quote from Denise Ferreira Da Silva:
“On the one hand, there are those governed by interior motives and capable of self-determination and, on the other, those prone to exterior affectability. As a result, those “affectable subjects” are destined to be governed by a force external to them, be it the sovereign God of Christ, sovereign reason of enlightnement or the sovereign Nation State of modern geopolitical order, they are always situated in the waiting room for the exercise of freedom.”
People, material culture and environment in the north. Proceedings of the 22nd Nordic Archaeological Conference-GUMMERUS KIRJAPAINO (2006)
Toward a global Idea of Race. Denise Ferreira Da Silva (2007)
The Climate of History, Four Theses. Dipesh Chakrabarthy (2009)
The largest part of the research has been done… collecting all the different study circle programs from all the years that the Nordic Summer University has been active. Seventy years of data, in Swedish, Norwegian and Danish. Only since 2013 were all the (titles) of the study circles in English. This month Sara Wengström helped me to translate all the study circle programs into English, so over the next months I can start analysing and write up my findings, to present at the Summer Session 2020 in Norway.
Almost as old as the Nordic tradition of summer schools – to which Nordic Summer Univeristy is indebted – is that of the Winter School. Generations of writers, thinkers, artists and mercenaries have met during the long days of darkness across Scandinavia to refuel: to learn, to discuss, to keep their brains warm.
Our 9 study circles each meet during the winter months, around February, for mini-symposiums. Pick a subject and find out more:
The dedication to extreme conditions marks the “winter school” experience – and we have been happy to hear that this typifies other, similar institutions!
As Bohuslav Balcar and Petr Simon recount for 25 years of winter schools on “Abstract Analysis” for Acta Universitatis Carolinae, “The worst living conditions were at Strazne 1979. It was necessary to break the ice if you wanted to wash your face or to use your toothbrush. One foreign participant arrived late evening, suffered through the whole night and escaped the next morning forever”.
Hopefully we have never been beset by such conditions – but it certainly brings back memories from our 1995 session, as you can read about here!
A psychoanalyst, metascientist, philosopher and music theorist, Carl Lesche (1920-1993) was a member of the Nordic Summer University in its earliest days from 1952.
Also a member of the radical music group Fylkingen, Lesche was a theorist in the experimental music and performance field. His travels took him all the way to the Soviet Union, where he made some of the earliest recordings of orthodox liturgical music.
(from ‘A Short Biography and List of His Scientific Writings’ By Åke Åredal)