Noonday Demons
Until November 21; CCA, Glasgow

I’ve never known much about Iceland, except to assume that if climate has anything to do with character, then Icelanders must be rather withdrawn. In fact even more withdrawn than we are. I can’t be far wrong, judging by Noonday Demons; showcasing the work of four female Icelandic artists, its theme emerged quite naturally: melancholia.

My dictionary describes melancholia as an indulgence in thoughts of pleasing sadness. The definition itself, acknowledging a certain pleasure in sadness, seems to me quite melancholic. The exhibition goes one step further; almost everything in it bears the intimation of violence, most often sexual.

Terrible things are happening to the ugly, knobbly creatures in Sigga Bjorg Sigurdardottir’s drawings. These hairy, decrepit beings penetrate eachother, excreting fluids and gushing blood from large gaping wounds. Both parties seem to accept the inevitability of such gruesome rituals, as a necessary hardship in an unremitting life. Still they are luminous and beautifully drawn. You are bound to admire the elegance of these vomiting monsters, wherein lie the “thoughts of pleasing sadness”.

The grotesque Boschian sado-masochism continues with Gunnhildur Hauksdottir’s glossy, black, squashed skulls, chained together through their gaping eye sockets. Some are adorned in jewels and others in cruel spikes. Each pairing suggests a hierarchy, an adorer and an adored, a power game which ties all concerned in knots. You have to watch for those suspended chains, too, or you’ll get tangled up yourself.

Asdis Sif Gunnarsdottir is the only artist whose work avoids violence, stopping short at unease. Her beautiful installation, Kingdom of You/Youth in Control, evokes a teenager’s bedroom – or perhaps the inside of their head – full of growing pains and anxious uncertainty. Gravity is suspended as baubles and scraps dangle above the floor, lights bounce off swinging plastic, and hazy, wavering video projections creep about the wrinkled floor and walls.

Gabriela Fridriksdottir’s work suffers by comparison, her drawings a pale reflection of Sigga’s and her videos like clunky zombie-flicks gone wrong.

Now that I’ve seen Noonday Demons, I’m not sure whether I know more about Iceland. If this show is representative, I have to worry about the population’s general state of mind. But perhaps, at least, they find pleasure in this sadness.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 31.10.04