Silencing Storms
Listening towards resistance in a city that grows quiet
Written by Joel Albinsson
On a Wednesday afternoon in early August, as the storm Hans swept over Sweden, I marched over to the ABF building in central Stockholm. Determined to reduce the long list of unseen exhibitions that had accumulated over the course of the summer, I descended the stairs toward the art space Mint. There, I encountered Cara Tolmie’s exhibition Cascade Bend Chamber.
Seeking shelter
Instinctually or pulled by some unknown force, I quickly passed through the first listening rooms, not pausing before reaching the furthest part of the gallery. Prior to entering the innermost room, I took off my shoes as instructed by a sign. I was then met with a long hallway, partitioned by organically shaped hanging pieces of fabric placed at regular intervals, each reducing the visible space of the chamber. Speaking plainly, this hallway had taken on the form of a cave, deep, dank, and alluring. The opening beckoned me forward, drawing me across the reflective floor, to a spot within.
The cave was already inhabited by Susanna Jablonski’s ceramic sculptures. Following their example, I sank down to the ground, to a state of rest. Surrounded by sounds of breathing, dripping, moaning, while seeing the wave pattern of light reflected in water dancing across the walls, the cave swallowed me. Little by little, I came to accept this place as my new reality. A space away from space. Isolated, safe, and entirely my own.
This comfortable awakening into Tolmie’s practice of internal singing was interrupted by the realisation that the circular breathing, sounding on inhalation and exhalation, was not dissimilar to the whining of the wind. A puff of cold air, the jagged silhouette of textile turned stone. Certainly, the cave hid me, but it wasn’t as far removed from the outside as I had first thought. Hans was still raging out there, right on my threshold.
The storm subsides
Later that week, as the storm began to subside, Fylkingen, Stockholm’s premier venue for experimental music celebrated their 90th anniversary. Tolmie performed as part of a three-day festival intended to highlight both the association’s importance as a platform for interdisciplinary sonic art and new music, as well as their historical position. On paper this would be a joyous occasion - to be able to mark nearly a century of continuous activity for this platform for innovation, experimentation, and cross-germination within the sonic field. This is truly something remarkable.
The historical significance of this artist-run space cannot be understated. Together with Sveriges Radio, Fylkingen introduced electroacoustic music to Sweden in the 1950s. They organised the first concerts for computer music in the early 1960s, and over the years, they’ve hosted internationally renowned sound artists such as John Cage, Iannis Xenakis and Catherine Christer Hennix. Beyond this, they’ve been vital in the development and presentation of music and sound for generations of artists. This 90th anniversary then presents a great opportunity to both look back and to look forward, towards the future of experimental sounding art in Stockholm.
Or rather, this would have been a great opportunity, if not for the fact that Fylkingen has been evicted. Concerns about sound generating activities paired with limited possibilites for the landlord to extract profit has forced them out of the space they’ve been operating in since the 1980s. In November, they will start to dismantle their equipment, and by the end of the year they need to be gone. And so, one of Europe’s oldest independent cultural institutions has been unhoused.
Howling winds
It is now late October. The storm Hans has long since passed. But out there, the winds are picking up. Fylkingen’s future is uncertain. And they are not alone.
You don’t need to look far to see the pattern repeated. Take for example, Musikaliska Kvarteret, Nationalmuseum, and Naturhistoriska Riksmuseet. Three cultural institutions that are currently in precarious positions due to different pairings of rent increases and neglected maintenance. Not to mention the multitude of clubs and small music venues that have been shut down over the last few years, ranging from Debaser (Slussen and Medis) to Kägelbanan. The list can be made long, and so can the list of writers who have eloquently elaborated on each individual case [see further reading]. As a collective phenomenon, this has been given name: club death, stage death, culture death.
In every instance, the story is the same. Cultural actors should be able to pay. Because if they can’t there is always someone else who can. Someone quieter, less demanding, and more profitable. At every turn, the space for movement is diminished, and the avenues for experimentation, exploration, and creation are reduced. The city grows ever more silent. And what will happen then? What are we left with?
In a different climate, this text could have been a lauding of Stockholm’s vibrant sound art scene as a stage for experimentation that is increasingly being adopted into spaces for visual arts. It could have contained a simple encouragement to listen actively in the interaction with art and to allow hearing to become the dominant sense, if only briefly. For this attentive listening to guide the experience in the meeting with artworks both loud and subtle, and for listening to become a path towards the discovery of something new in the near silent.
Now, that attention also needs to be directed outwards, towards the conditions for listening. To, in the consumption of art and in the hunt for cultural experiences also listen for the cracks. To make oneself aware of the space art can move within, and from that point, to make noise when needed. It is not enough to listen within the safety of the cave, we must also listen to the winds that are howling outside.
Joel Albinsson
Joel Albinsson (b. 1997, Örebro) is a Stockholm based curator whose work engages with the temporal and spatial qualities of sounding art, as well as with questions regarding democracy, urbanities, and the power over the city.
Albinsson has recently finished his master’s degree in curating art at Stockholm University. He holds bachelor’s degrees in cultural studies and art history from the University of Gothenburg and Stockholm University respectively. Recent curatorial endeavours include the public sound installation empty space / enclosed dissolved, the performance piece En Kör Möter at Accelerator with co-curator Hanna Mara Noor Bargheer, and the publication Humanitet for Folkrörelsernas konstfrämjande.
Further reading:
Leonidas Aretakis - När scenerna dör blir Stockholm en trist kommersiell avkrok
https://www.dn.se/kultur/leonidas-aretakis-nar-scenerna-dor-blir-stockholm-en-trist-kommersiell-avkrok/
Martin Aagård - Kulturarv är bara fint när det inte kostar något
https://www.etc.se/kultur-noje/kulturarv-aer-bara-fint-naer-det-inte-kostar-naagot
Anders Q Björkman - Förnuftiga beslut gör Stockholm tristare
https://www.svd.se/a/xgrlJQ/andersq-bjorkman-fornuftiga-beslut-gor-stockholm-tristare
Matilda Källén - Kan storstaden leva utan att få låta?
https://www.dn.se/kultur/kan-storstaden-leva-utan-att-fa-lata/
Lars Strannegård - Det är befängt att kräva att kulturen ska vara lönsam
https://www.dn.se/kultur/lars-strannegard-det-ar-befangt-att-krava-att-kulturen-ska-vara-lonsam/
Follow-up: after this text was published, Fylkingen announced that they are relocating to a temporary venue in Bredäng, read more about it here: http://fylkingen.se/node/3199