ARCH+ features: Post-Capitalist Architecture
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Wieder, Axel
Nango, Joar
In this zoom-conversation, Joar Nango and curator Axel Wieder sitting in Bergen Kunsthal and Stefan Gruber, co-editor of the ARCH+ edition An Atlas of Commoning: Places of Collective Production from Pittsburgh, discuss the relevance of museum spaces understood as public places, the relationship between art and architecture, the ongoing dominance of colonial attitudes in post-colonial settings, and the potentials of common knowledge as post-capitalist resources. Bergen Kunsthall´s Festival Exhibition starts this year with the format of a TV series by Sámi architect and artist Joar Nango on “architecture after the fall of capitalism”. The series has been made in response to the global Covid-19 pandemic. Nango’s Festival Exhibition at Bergen Kunsthall was supposed to open on 21 May, but has been moved to the fall, 4 September – 8 November 2020. Each episode of the TV series will introduce key themes that will be further developed in his exhibition, and open Nango’s working process during the ongoing pandemic to the public, leading up to the exhibition in Bergen. Joar Nango was born in Alta in 1979 and lives and works in Tromsø. He is educated as an architect, and in his diverse practice he tackles issues such as indigenous identity and decolonialization, often based on observed contradictions in contemporary architecture. His artistic practice includes site-specific installation, sculpture, photography, architectonic structures, social projects, clothing, publications and theory. The works often explore the boundaries between design, architecture, philosophy and visual art.
 Good morning, or good afternoon. Welcome to an online conversation with Sami artist and architect, Yohar Nango and Axel Lieder, curator and director of the Bergen Kunsthalle. Yohar and Axel are currently collaborating on the 2020 Bergen Kunsthalle Festival exhibition, a solo exhibition of Yohar's work that will open in early September. Now, before we dive in, I would like to thank Eich Plus for providing the platform for this conversation and inviting me to act as a facilitator. I believe a number of issues we will touch upon today are reoccurring matters of concerns in the work of Eich Plus, even in the most current issue dedicated to architectural ethnography, but also in previous issues that look at, for instance, property and the land ownership, as well as the ongoing traveling exhibition, an EFA exhibition entitled An Atlas of Commonning, which I was involved in. My name is Stefan Grober. I'm currently in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on the land of the Adina, the Hopewell, and the Erochi people. And Axel, maybe you can help set the stage by telling us a little bit about the Bergen Kunsthalle that you directed since 2018. That's correct. Thank you very much for the introduction and for initiating this conversation also to Eich Plus. I'm initially born and raised and have been professionally active in Germany and know the magazine and admire the magazine since a long time. So it was part of my, I guess, architectural education. So I'm very happy that we can have this connection to the magazine with this exhibition. Bergen Kunsthalle, it's an old institution in Bergen, established initially as Bergen Kunsthalleinig in 1838, modeled actually after the German Kunstvereine, so as a membership association and through the donation of a prominent Norwegian artist, Jay Z. Dal. We are an art institution and it's one of the maybe most active and most well-known institutions for contemporary art in Norway, having a track record for important, big, newly produced exhibitions in this field of contemporary art. It's also a very public institution because of our location and because of the long history. It's a place that people in the city really know. And so we have a relatively high attendance of visitors. Which makes it interesting as a place that is in a very direct sense very public. So we have a conversation with many people. It's a very social space. So in a way, like when having arrived working here a few years ago, one of the ideas that I kind of had abroad to the place was an institutional model, which is almost going a bit into a direction of a community center. Yeah, we decided maybe one and a half years ago to invite Joar for this format and exhibition. We were looking forward to him developing an exhibition with us which extends and deepens this understanding of an institution and its exhibition spaces as basically a space for encounter and critical investigation and dialogue on architecture and how to live together. Maybe Joar, this is the opportunity to bring you in the conversation. And I thought that a possible starting point would be a biographic question. I'm very much interested to hear about your experience of being trained or educated as an architect. And also your discomfort with the profession, its canon, its inherent complicity with dominant power structures. Your art practice was a way to come to terms or tackle architecture even more radically as an attempt of deconstructing, unsettling, and reappropriating it. Um... Yeah. Um... Yeah, that's a very timely and interesting question. I believe architecture is very narcissistic. There's something about the incapacity of architecture being self-reflexive. And I think that the role of architecture in... political, historical movements is something that's very rarely addressed in a critical way from the field of architecture itself. It's like... I would say that architecture is really conservative. And I would say that... my experience has been quite colored by that, starting from when I was a student of architecture. Just a very personal experience of being Indigenous, being Sami, following a curriculum on a Norwegian university about architecture and the space that it was giving these kind of conversations that were starting to grow in me. I felt that there were a lack of space, a lack of platform, a lack of discussions about these kind of issues. So, as a student, I started reacting towards that. And my diploma, my master thesis in architecture, is basically it's an attempt to make a platform for discussing these things. And that's 15 years ago, and I'm still doing the same. And it's like, I don't know if I should be embarrassed or proud, but somewhere in between. In a way, I'm kind of doing the same as I did when I was a student. But I think that I've been lately more capable to create larger spaces around it. So, to step a little bit out of the conversation, per se, and into more of that sort of aesthetics or the sort of spatial, physical parameters of that discourse, how to create the space for the discourse and how architecture actually can sort of reflect these needs or how we can create a space for discussion, not only as sort of immaterial discussion itself. And I think that the TV show, PCI-TV, post-capitalist architecture is an example of that. And my project, the Sami Architecture Library, which is also quite a physical sort of shaped installation and a space, it's an example of that. But also the very, very sort of old beginning of things, which was a fan scene or a magazine called Sami Hoekstendai, the Sami art of building translated. So it's a small magazine dealing with indigenous architecture that I started 13, 14 years ago. I mean, Sami architecture is rooted in a kind of a, in a temporality. Due to its kind of nomadic tradition, is the kind of the focus also on the kind of more ephemeral and temporal one kind of important aspect of challenging the kind of conservative character of architecture, that its tendency to kind of reproduce and reinforce existing or prevalent power structures. What role does time play both in a kind of, in a tradition, but then also in your work? I think there's a really beautiful moment, you know, this post-capitalist architecture TV series that we just produced in the second episode, which is about flow. There's an interview that we're doing with actually a lawyer and a Joik, a Joik is this traditional Sami way of doing music where you use your voice as the only instrument to basically recreate, to create a sonic landscape that resembles a landscape or a person or an animal, different kind of phenomenons. And I think it's one of the oldest forms of music in Europe, still practiced. And the Joik is, you know, philosophically described as something that moves in circle and doesn't really have a beginning or an end, something you tap into and improvise around. And the Joik and the zombie, which I'm referring to in the TV series, he described a specific philosophy and a specific sort of cultural idea or kind of a perception that deals with exactly this sort of the flow or the way we perceive time as a cyclical thing. And he referred to the Joik as a metaphor, using the Joik as a metaphor for that way of thinking and calling it the Joik way of thinking. And that became a really beautiful sort of way to describe how you can perceive time and how you also can somehow maybe see architectural design to sort of step a little bit out of that sort of bird's eye perspective and into the cycle of things itself. And somehow trying to let loose or let go of your own control or this need for having control that I feel like a lot of architecture very often tries to do. So that's something you find in a lot of indigenous thinking and in a lot of indigenous philosophies. This really beautiful, very inspiring metaphors, which are as simple as this. Instead of linearity, you think cyclically, holistic worldviews, it's in some ways described in ways that can easily become very romanticizing and almost cliche-like. But there also is a lot of potentiality in those images. And I think that architecture and or design, the act of creating itself can tap into those things. Yeah, one really beautiful moment in Ande Zombie's description of the Joig way of thinking is when he says that the core question is what do we do now? And I think that the ability to really respond in the moment and to the coming together of multiple agencies versus something that is in a way much more predetermined. It reminded me actually of an essay by designer Othel Eicher that was actually published in Eicher plus, I think in 89. That's been really influential on me, where he distinguishes between planning and steering. And he actually compares design to the steering of a sailboat, where the target destination can never be fixed once and for all, but needs constant readjustment, the changing of winds and currents and so on. And so you continuously have neither a feedback. I mean, he was in the cybernetics mindset, right? But you constantly need to reassess where you are and where you're going. And it cannot be something that is fixed. But I think one thing that is beautiful about the way he talks about it is he also then makes a political argument that steering is the moment where we enter the realm of freedom in a way, that planning is kind of suggesting what's ought to be versus steering is really just about exploring possibilities. And I think that open-mindedness is something that is really important in the way you engage with the built environment and the spatial practices too. But maybe you can talk a little bit about the kind of the political dimension that you see in these practices. Because on the one hand, you speak about the dualism, but it's not just pure pragmatics, right? You kind of see an act of emancipation also and kind of reclaiming this as a reframing of social relations. Yeah. No, thank you. That's a really nice, another form of metaphor that I also really like. And yeah, it's nice to talk about freedom. But it's maybe also somehow important to talk about situativeness. And I think that talking about freedom, if you say that, you're also sort of a little bit stuck in sort of the human mind and the human realm in a way. I think that many of these images that helps us challenge the human need for control can maybe best be served if you include nature, if you include the context, the qualities, and the power, and the way that that move, that need to be taken into considerations. And it needs to be somehow given its own weight. I guess I started to look very directly at nomadism as a concept, as an architectural and spatial type as a phenomenon. And trying to step a little bit out of the very sort of, I guess, self anthropological aspects of my own culture. Not only looking at sort of my own communities, but trying to look more wider at it and more universal on an even international kind of scale. I discovered something that for me was like it was sort of an example of this situativeness in a way. And it was this, and I saw the same sort of home. And I saw it, especially in the areas around people's houses. And I also saw it in reservations in Canada, traveling in Greenland, in the more kind of indigenous sort of cultures. There was still sort of living off the land, on the land. I saw this phenomenon of self-built, improvised structures. And it's like sort of design quality, which I found really inspiring, which was like some, it was like showcasing this kind of attitude, this kind of capacity amongst the people living there that you could sort of see and read from the built environment. Where people were, they were improvising with whatever was available to solve problems there and then. And they were like, there was this, I found a lot of this like super interesting and beautiful and sometimes quite humorous examples of DIY designs in the backyards. There was very culturally specific and ever really sort of feeding off of the sort of accessible materials, leftover materials or stuff that's very easily available in these kind of environments. And I sort of thought about that as a very interesting phenomena that I first called some, I call it the Sámi competence of improvisation. And then moving on from that through a project I did with another Sámi designer, Celia Figginska, Tuersen Ornames, which sort of, we gave a project that we did the name Indigeneity, the Indigeneity project in English, which is, it's like a word play on the word indigeneity and ingenuity. So it's like this kind of indigenous inventiveness or something like that, which I think became a very, it became a really like a door opener to speaking about things and to categorize it and to sort of continue to do research within. And you know, someone should do a PhD or something on that specific topic because there's a lot of interesting material and conversation to draw from it. And yeah, these indeed examples of indigeneity definitely have a political dimension. They can be thought about as acts of resistance. There's something about when you take a Coca-Cola bottle and you stick your knife in it to de-rust it, to maintain your most important hunting tool. Or it's something about experiencing washing your hands in Heinz ketchup after you've eaten fermented walrus fat. Because that's the only thing that's accessible and acidic enough to get the taste away. So it's more sort of the smell away from your fingers. So there's something about that sort of, that really the big like sort of, yeah, this like reprogrammation of this very sort of commercial, commodified, Western type of objects that are just happening that I find a lot of joy observing and talking about and sort of raising awareness about. And that's why I chose to write about it as a manifest or to create some kind of a manifest, to sort of to praise this phenomenon and to give it some kind of a value and maybe inspire people to appreciate it a little bit more than people maybe are. Because I've experienced people in my home community, especially my aunt, for example, she's like, she connects a lot of these things to poverty. And yeah, that's also important to discuss and she's very right about it. But I think at the same time, there's something so sort of anti-consumerist about it. There's something beyond and before, it's something that's a phenomenon that existed before capitalism and will definitely exist when capitalism collapses, which we're seeing right now. I love how you're bringing up the Heinz ketchup, because you know that the Heinz ketchup is actually probably one of the most famous products from Pittsburgh actually. So you've kind of actually rolled a connection. I didn't know that. I have a quick... Maybe there was an interesting point before when you talked about the everyday and then also improvisation. And there's a couple of other terms like flexibility or adaptability. What's so amazing about your work is that it never just looks into Sami culture, for example, or it never just sticks with the phenomenon, but it always tries to bind it back to the power relations that the situations are embedded in or confronted with. So for example, you made this project which was about indigenous hip hop. That's maybe a good example. It shows how an element of a language of mostly American youth culture is adapted and modified by indigenous cultures and used for an articulation of their own standpoint. But so this type of like the cultural practices that you recorded and collected, they're not just about indigenous cultures, but they kind of describe this relationship to other forms of culture and to an experienced oppression and actually to the field of power that indigenous cultures are embedded in or that they have to relate to or that they were oppressed from. So in a way, what's interesting is that the power relationship is always described as well. Do you know what I mean? It's basically like colonization is not the problem of the colonies. It's actually something that exists between the colonizer and the colony. I think that's something that has since the very first experience as a young architecture student, I think that it's already there in the meeting with the way that the architectural history of Norway, for example, is taught and it's sort of communicated from an institutional level. You're meeting it already then. And before I started studying, I was also involved in Sami politics a little bit as youngsters, aspiring politics. To be honest, there was more to sort of socialize and to meet friends, other Sami friends, than maybe to sort of stand on the podium and change the world. But there's something about that that I'm a bit conscious about. And that's the way you build social relations and the way you sort of situate your creative energy and how you which kind of bonds a network. You're actually structuring and strengthening with your activity as an artist. And I think my experience with sort of indigenous or Sami politics from an early age has colored me and given me a lot of direction. Because since the 60s and 70s, there have been this international indigenous, circular East-West kind of bonding happening through the United Nations. And some of those kind of organs. And through the arts scene, especially, I'm not the first indigenous or Sami artist to work, for example, transatlantic with Canadian or First Nations artists from that part of the world or from Third Island. And that's something that's been happening since the 70s. The framework that the indigenous political discourse or cultural art production can offer is a very fruitful one. It's just something that strengthens the conversation. It's really great for me as a Sami artist or architect to speak with indigenous architects or artists from Canada and to share experiences and to sort of gain confidence through that. I think that's really needed and important. I think when I first graduated, there was really little space for me to enter into working with indigenous architecture. I sort of had to go into art because the art world had the much more of an open, generous, and another kind of interest for what I was doing. And I've been there for 10 years. But now lately, I feel that the world of architecture is starting to maybe open up and to be more interested in these kind of conversations that we indigenous architects have been having with each other in more sort of closed spaces for quite some time already. Talking about decolonization is something that's reaching further now. Maybe another series of works you have done is the contemporary Sami architecture, a photo series. Is that the title? Where you portray buildings that have been created in Sami, but often from Norwegian state agencies trying to do something that looks like responsive architecture that responds to the cultural context, but is often like terribly wrong or delivering a cliche rather than really understanding these principles that you describe like flexibility or working with the uncertainties of nature, for example, and instead reproduce something that looks like an image of Sami architecture. Yeah. That was for a while almost like a little bit of a fetish for me. I was like super into documenting. It's a bit like Robert Venturi type of investigation where I'm looking at the use of symbolism and architecture. And our traditional architecture with the love is like a very iconic and of course very recognizable type of apology. It's like a vernacular architecture. It's like something that all people unfamiliar with Sami architecture or Sami culture per se would like, of course, that's the first thing you meet. That's also something that stands out so much that it's an obvious sort of place to start your architectural transformation of traditional cultural architecture into something contemporary and modern. But it became a little bit funny when I started to realize that there were this same type of projects that have been happening since the first one I discovered was made in 50s already. The first architectural example where an architect known Sami had been tapping into the love as an iconic symbolic role model for a modern type of architecture. And since then it's been made maybe in 40, 50. And I started to map them and putting the images next to each other, showing this typology. And it became a bit like an obsession. I was hunting down these giant levels which I started calling them and also describing this design phenomenon as the giant level syndrome. So giving it some kind of a negative connotation, trying to raise awareness around it, and also trying to create a little bit of a critical perspective from a Sami point of view. That our culture is actually more than this. We have a lot of other interesting aspects. And you can actually, it's also OK to make Sami architecture that doesn't look like Sami architecture. That's also like an option here. So trying to sort of open up this just the whole debate a bit from a Sami perspective. So make the Sami community a bit more aware of what was going on, but also toward directing a bit of a critical comments to a crumb comment towards the architects on the field of architecture. So that sort of the, yeah, but I guess, yeah, the architects can feel, could start reflecting on how do we as contemporary architects translate traditional culture into modern architecture, modern building. There's so many amazing concepts to pull from. They can be, yeah, I can just start with material technologies, for example. There's so many interesting. It was just a new book that I just picked up, the other day called Low Tech, which is looking at that, which is like, I have some critical viewpoints on that, of course, also. But that way of gazing at traditional architecture at communities, at indigenous knowledge, indigenous technologies, I think that's amazing. And I've just been waiting for that to happen. I was so glad to see that publication, because it is doing exactly that. It's like racing a much more diverse and actually architecturally more complex sort of way of negotiating these kind of relations. Indigenous cultures are much more than these romantic symbols. So that conversation was very important for me at the very early age. And it brought me into a lot of different conversations. Yeah, I mean, this book, Low Tech, that you mentioned is interesting, because I think it also makes an argument that it's, I think, similar to your work, although there's also important differences. But I think similarly, it argues not just for kind of learning from the kind of the local knowledge and expertise with working with materials from nature and so on. But I think it suggests somehow that the transfer is not one of symbolism. I mean, you mentioned Robert Venturi in somewhat of a critical way also, but much more in terms of an attitude towards how you actually kind of engage with the world and translate into kind of a spatial practice. I mean, I think what is really interesting to me is that because of the harsh climate in the North and the kind of unpredictability of nature, I think there's always been this, I mean, what we've discussed, the kind of a challenging of the fantasies of power and control. It's basically not possible. But I mean, with the kind of accelerating climate crisis, this is not a condition that is kind of specific to a singular region anymore. It's become kind of a global challenge. And I think that really implies that these modes of thinking and design, we all need to learn from it as potentially kind of a way to prevent the expansion. So I don't know. I wonder what is your attitudes towards kind of translating these modes of thinking into very different conditions, more urban conditions, and also maybe more historically comfortable climates. No, I think actually that sort of ambition in translating sort of indigenous technologies, which is very often kind of connected and thought about as a very rural kind of phenomenon into sort of a discussion about urbanism or entering urbanist perspective, which that booked us. I think it's a very ambitious one. And it's something really freeing about that ambition in a way. It's like something, there's something that really brings it all into a very speculative and experimental, almost with like utopian kind of niveau, which I think has a lot of potentiality. And I think that it's freeing yourself or ourselves a little bit from the very sort of worldly traumas that the discourse on colonization often ends up with and sort of stumbles in. But at the same time, it's also important to not sort of move too fast and not forget about those worldly traumas or not to forget about the real communities that these thoughts are sort of extracted from. Who, how does this research or how does this sort of knowledge production give something back to where the concepts come from? The idea of extraction, it's at the very sort of backspin and the very core of all colonial activities. And I think that also goes for architectural knowledge producing extraction. And we should be aware of that. Maybe this is an opportunity, Axel, to loop it back to your work as part of an institution. Where do you see opportunities to kind of apply indigeneuity in a kind of a process of decolonizing the art institution? And good question, which has to do with, I guess, it's questions that institutions all over the world deal with or should deal with at this point. Like, and it has to do a lot with the question of representation, which is at the core of artistic practice, like how to give an image to society, how to give a society a chance to depict itself or themselves. And in what way is an institution doing that? And how far is it inclusive? And I mean, I guess, in exhibitions such as yours, it's alone the fact that it's a very collaborative exhibition. It kind of counters this idea of a kind of single master artist or so. Collaboration is so much at the core of the practice. We discussed about it just before in a planning meeting how to actually make the kind of level of collaboration visible within the communication of such a show. But this is like incorporated in the practice. It's a lot of people take part. It's we bring people as much as possible to Bergen to work with us on this exhibition. There's some publication and extensive events program, which includes music, talks, film screenings. And it considers the exhibition space as an active place where things are actually happening. So a discussion or an exhibition, not as a passive experience that kind of hands something over to people, but something where people also participate actually in the production of a kind of discursive space around the exhibition. Joa mentioned the library, for example, which is a kind of very usable element of the exhibition. There will be some outside elements. And this all is for us as a kind of working. It's a project that we're working on, but it's also a project we, as an institution, are involved in where we also learn and develop further. And that's a very pragmatic thing. We plan in different way for this exhibition than some other exhibitions. But it's also happening on the level of discussion within the team also about the topics. And it's, of course, a discussion we have with people that visit. I find that last aspect very interesting, because of course, there's the programmatic side of making exhibitions that can address these issues. But then there's also the back of house, right? It's like, how do you kind of modes of thinking and production in a way also organize an institution? Yeah. And in that way, it's a very, I mean, the exhibition, the whole preparation of the show has been so far very generous, because we have been involved in on many levels. And now actually with the postponing even twice. So we plan basically for two different shows. So we had different stages. Yeah. So you've had to, in a way, kind of apply the same kind of competences that you are describing in terms of flexibility and risk. Yes. And then the postponing to, I mean, dramatic changes that none of us ever kind of imagined, right? Yes, yeah. Absolutely. Yeah, I think that that's such a, it's been such a, no matter how the exhibition is received or how it goes with the whole final production stages now, it's already been very, I think, very constructive and rewarding type of conversation happening where I feel really included by the institution. And I feel like there's been all these sort of forced flexibility, situations of flexibility that we've been sort of thrown into together. It's been a really communal sort of experience for me. Or like a feeling of some kind of collaborative. We found the way out of it or into it through collaborating and through sort of keeping a conversation alive. And that was a really good experience for me. And I think that that's what's really needed. And sort of in the climate of today is that we really sort of, that we have the sort of capacity to look at ourselves and to look at what we represent and who are we giving voices to. And just like we talked so much today about this term Judaism, right? And just look at us now. Like we are three men here sitting talking. And I think we need to sort of, and this can be really hard to talk about and find any sort of constructive, I guess, ways out of it at the first sort of, through just talking about it. But I think that we just, I think we need to sort of raise that mirror in front of ourselves. And that really goes for institutions. And it goes for all of us as individuals or members and representatives of groups in society. It's like this is super important to step a little bit away from that sort of very often, like narcissistic self-awareness that we have and try to, I don't know how to be a less do this architect. I really want to and I want to try. But it's just to ask me myself that question. It's such a stupid question in a way. But and it's uncomfortable also. But I think it's really important how to de-dudify your architectural practice. That's what it's all about for me right now. In a way, I feel like this maybe sounds like a perfect kind of closing of our conversation to leave our audience with these questions about how to de-dudify our practice.
 Good morning, or good afternoon.  Welcome to an online conversation with Sami artist  and architect, Yohar Nango and Axel Lieder, curator  and director of the Bergen Kunsthalle.  Yohar and Axel are currently collaborating  on the 2020 Bergen Kunsthalle Festival exhibition,  a solo exhibition of Yohar's work that will open in early  September.  Now, before we dive in, I would like  to thank Eich Plus for providing the platform  for this conversation and inviting me to act as a facilitator.  I believe a number of issues we will touch upon today  are reoccurring matters of concerns in the work of Eich Plus,  even in the most current issue dedicated  to architectural ethnography, but also  in previous issues that look at, for instance, property  and the land ownership, as well as the ongoing traveling  exhibition, an EFA exhibition entitled  An Atlas of Commonning, which I was involved in.  My name is Stefan Grober.  I'm currently in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania,  on the land of the Adina, the Hopewell, and the Erochi people.  And Axel, maybe you can help set the stage  by telling us a little bit about the Bergen Kunsthalle  that you directed since 2018.  That's correct.  Thank you very much for the introduction  and for initiating this conversation also to Eich Plus.  I'm initially born and raised and have been professionally  active in Germany and know the magazine  and admire the magazine since a long time.  So it was part of my, I guess, architectural education.  So I'm very happy that we can have this connection  to the magazine with this exhibition.  Bergen Kunsthalle, it's an old institution in Bergen,  established initially as Bergen Kunsthalleinig in 1838,  modeled actually after the German Kunstvereine,  so as a membership association and through the donation  of a prominent Norwegian artist, Jay Z. Dal.  We are an art institution and it's  one of the maybe most active and most well-known  institutions for contemporary art in Norway, having a track  record for important, big, newly produced exhibitions  in this field of contemporary art.  It's also a very public institution  because of our location and because of the long history.  It's a place that people in the city really know.  And so we have a relatively high attendance of visitors.  Which makes it interesting as a place that is in a very direct  sense very public.  So we have a conversation with many people.  It's a very social space.  So in a way, like when having arrived working here a few years  ago, one of the ideas that I kind of had  abroad to the place was an institutional model, which  is almost going a bit into a direction of a community center.  Yeah, we decided maybe one and a half years ago  to invite Joar for this format and exhibition.  We were looking forward to him developing an exhibition with us  which extends and deepens this understanding of an institution  and its exhibition spaces as basically a space for encounter  and critical investigation and dialogue on architecture  and how to live together.  Maybe Joar, this is the opportunity  to bring you in the conversation.  And I thought that a possible starting point  would be a biographic question.  I'm very much interested to hear about your experience  of being trained or educated as an architect.  And also your discomfort with the profession, its canon,  its inherent complicity with dominant power structures.  Your art practice was a way to come to terms or tackle  architecture even more radically as an attempt  of deconstructing, unsettling, and reappropriating it.  Um...  Yeah.  Um...  Yeah, that's a very timely and interesting question.  I believe architecture is very narcissistic.  There's something about the incapacity of architecture  being self-reflexive.  And I think that the role of architecture in...  political, historical movements is something  that's very rarely addressed in a critical way  from the field of architecture itself.  It's like...  I would say that architecture is really conservative.  And I would say that...  my experience has been quite colored by that,  starting from when I was a student of architecture.  Just a very personal experience of being Indigenous,  being Sami,  following a curriculum on a Norwegian university  about architecture and the space that it was giving  these kind of conversations  that were starting to grow in me.  I felt that there were a lack of space,  a lack of platform, a lack of discussions  about these kind of issues.  So, as a student, I started reacting towards that.  And my diploma, my master thesis in architecture,  is basically it's an attempt to make a platform  for discussing these things.  And that's 15 years ago, and I'm still doing the same.  And it's like, I don't know if I should be embarrassed  or proud, but somewhere in between.  In a way, I'm kind of doing the same as I did  when I was a student.  But I think that I've been lately more capable  to create larger spaces around it.  So, to step a little bit out of the conversation, per se,  and into more of that sort of aesthetics  or the sort of spatial, physical parameters of that discourse,  how to create the space for the discourse  and how architecture actually can sort of reflect these needs  or how we can create a space for discussion,  not only as sort of immaterial discussion itself.  And I think that the TV show, PCI-TV,  post-capitalist architecture is an example of that.  And my project, the Sami Architecture Library,  which is also quite a physical sort of shaped installation  and a space, it's an example of that.  But also the very, very sort of old beginning of things,  which was a fan scene or a magazine called  Sami Hoekstendai, the Sami art of building translated.  So it's a small magazine dealing with indigenous architecture  that I started 13, 14 years ago.  I mean, Sami architecture is rooted in a kind of a,  in a temporality.  Due to its kind of nomadic tradition,  is the kind of the focus also on the kind of more ephemeral  and temporal one kind of important aspect of challenging  the kind of conservative character of architecture,  that its tendency to kind of reproduce and reinforce  existing or prevalent power structures.  What role does time play both in a kind of, in a tradition,  but then also in your work?  I think there's a really beautiful moment,  you know, this post-capitalist architecture TV series  that we just produced in the second episode, which  is about flow.  There's an interview that we're doing with actually a lawyer  and a Joik, a Joik is this traditional Sami way of doing  music where you use your voice as the only instrument to  basically recreate, to create a sonic landscape that  resembles a landscape or a person or an animal,  different kind of phenomenons.  And I think it's one of the oldest forms of music in Europe,  still practiced.  And the Joik is, you know, philosophically described  as something that moves in circle and doesn't really  have a beginning or an end, something you tap into  and improvise around.  And the Joik and the zombie, which I'm referring to in the TV  series, he described a specific philosophy  and a specific sort of cultural idea or kind of a perception  that deals with exactly this sort of the flow or the way  we perceive time as a cyclical thing.  And he referred to the Joik as a metaphor,  using the Joik as a metaphor for that way of thinking  and calling it the Joik way of thinking.  And that became a really beautiful sort of way  to describe how you can perceive time and how you also can  somehow maybe see architectural design to sort of step a little  bit out of that sort of bird's eye perspective  and into the cycle of things itself.  And somehow trying to let loose or let go of your own control  or this need for having control that I feel  like a lot of architecture very often tries to do.  So that's something you find in a lot of indigenous thinking  and in a lot of indigenous philosophies.  This really beautiful, very inspiring metaphors,  which are as simple as this.  Instead of linearity, you think cyclically,  holistic worldviews, it's in some ways described in ways  that can easily become very romanticizing  and almost cliche-like.  But there also is a lot of potentiality in those images.  And I think that architecture and or design,  the act of creating itself can tap into those things.  Yeah, one really beautiful moment in Ande Zombie's description  of the Joig way of thinking is when he says that the core  question is what do we do now?  And I think that the ability to really respond in the moment  and to the coming together of multiple agencies  versus something that is in a way much more predetermined.  It reminded me actually of an essay by designer Othel Eicher  that was actually published in Eicher plus, I think in 89.  That's been really influential on me,  where he distinguishes between planning and steering.  And he actually compares design to the steering  of a sailboat, where the target destination can never  be fixed once and for all, but needs  constant readjustment, the changing of winds and currents  and so on.  And so you continuously have neither a feedback.  I mean, he was in the cybernetics mindset, right?  But you constantly need to reassess where you are  and where you're going.  And it cannot be something that is fixed.  But I think one thing that is beautiful about the way  he talks about it is he also then  makes a political argument that steering  is the moment where we enter the realm of freedom in a way,  that planning is kind of suggesting what's  ought to be versus steering is really just  about exploring possibilities.  And I think that open-mindedness is something  that is really important in the way you engage  with the built environment and the spatial practices too.  But maybe you can talk a little bit  about the kind of the political dimension  that you see in these practices.  Because on the one hand, you speak about the dualism,  but it's not just pure pragmatics, right?  You kind of see an act of emancipation also  and kind of reclaiming this as a reframing  of social relations.  Yeah.  No, thank you.  That's a really nice, another form of metaphor  that I also really like.  And yeah, it's nice to talk about freedom.  But it's maybe also somehow important to talk  about situativeness.  And I think that talking about freedom,  if you say that, you're also sort of a little bit stuck  in sort of the human mind and the human realm in a way.  I think that many of these images that  helps us challenge the human need for control  can maybe best be served if you include nature,  if you include the context, the qualities, and the power,  and the way that that move, that need to be taken  into considerations.  And it needs to be somehow given its own weight.  I guess I started to look very directly at nomadism  as a concept, as an architectural and spatial type  as a phenomenon.  And trying to step a little bit out  of the very sort of, I guess, self anthropological aspects  of my own culture.  Not only looking at sort of my own communities,  but trying to look more wider at it  and more universal on an even international kind of scale.  I discovered something that for me  was like it was sort of an example of this situativeness  in a way.  And it was this, and I saw the same sort of home.  And I saw it, especially in the areas around people's houses.  And I also saw it in reservations in Canada,  traveling in Greenland, in the more kind of indigenous sort  of cultures.  There was still sort of living off the land, on the land.  I saw this phenomenon of self-built, improvised structures.  And it's like sort of design quality,  which I found really inspiring, which was like some,  it was like showcasing this kind of attitude,  this kind of capacity amongst the people living there  that you could sort of see and read from the built environment.  Where people were, they were improvising with whatever  was available to solve problems there and then.  And they were like, there was this,  I found a lot of this like super interesting and beautiful  and sometimes quite humorous examples of DIY designs  in the backyards.  There was very culturally specific and ever really sort  of feeding off of the sort of accessible materials,  leftover materials or stuff that's very easily available  in these kind of environments.  And I sort of thought about that as a very interesting phenomena  that I first called some, I call it the Sámi  competence of improvisation.  And then moving on from that through a project I did  with another Sámi designer, Celia Figginska,  Tuersen Ornames, which sort of, we gave a project  that we did the name Indigeneity,  the Indigeneity project in English, which is,  it's like a word play on the word indigeneity and ingenuity.  So it's like this kind of indigenous inventiveness  or something like that, which I think  became a very, it became a really like a door opener  to speaking about things and to categorize it  and to sort of continue to do research within.  And you know, someone should do a PhD or something  on that specific topic because there's a lot  of interesting material and conversation to draw from it.  And yeah, these indeed examples of indigeneity  definitely have a political dimension.  They can be thought about as acts of resistance.  There's something about when you take a Coca-Cola bottle  and you stick your knife in it to de-rust it,  to maintain your most important hunting tool.  Or it's something about experiencing washing your hands  in Heinz ketchup after you've eaten fermented walrus fat.  Because that's the only thing that's  accessible and acidic enough to get the taste away.  So it's more sort of the smell away from your fingers.  So there's something about that sort of, that really  the big like sort of, yeah, this like reprogrammation  of this very sort of commercial, commodified,  Western type of objects that are just happening  that I find a lot of joy observing and talking about  and sort of raising awareness about.  And that's why I chose to write about it as a manifest  or to create some kind of a manifest,  to sort of to praise this phenomenon  and to give it some kind of a value and maybe inspire people  to appreciate it a little bit more than people maybe are.  Because I've experienced people in my home community,  especially my aunt, for example, she's like,  she connects a lot of these things to poverty.  And yeah, that's also important to discuss  and she's very right about it.  But I think at the same time, there's something  so sort of anti-consumerist about it.  There's something beyond and before,  it's something that's a phenomenon that existed  before capitalism and will definitely exist  when capitalism collapses, which we're seeing right now.  I love how you're bringing up the Heinz ketchup,  because you know that the Heinz ketchup is actually  probably one of the most famous products  from Pittsburgh actually.  So you've kind of actually rolled a connection.  I didn't know that.  I have a quick...  Maybe there was an interesting point before  when you talked about the everyday  and then also improvisation.  And there's a couple of other terms like flexibility  or adaptability.  What's so amazing about your work is that it never just looks  into Sami culture, for example, or it never just  sticks with the phenomenon, but it always  tries to bind it back to the power relations that the situations  are embedded in or confronted with.  So for example, you made this project  which was about indigenous hip hop.  That's maybe a good example.  It shows how an element of a language of mostly American  youth culture is adapted and modified by indigenous cultures  and used for an articulation of their own standpoint.  But so this type of like the cultural practices  that you recorded and collected, they're not just  about indigenous cultures, but they kind of describe  this relationship to other forms of culture  and to an experienced oppression and actually  to the field of power that indigenous cultures are embedded  in or that they have to relate to or that they were oppressed  from.  So in a way, what's interesting is  that the power relationship is always described as well.  Do you know what I mean?  It's basically like colonization is not  the problem of the colonies.  It's actually something that exists between the colonizer  and the colony.  I think that's something that has since the very first  experience as a young architecture student,  I think that it's already there in the meeting  with the way that the architectural history of Norway,  for example, is taught and it's sort of communicated  from an institutional level.  You're meeting it already then.  And before I started studying, I was also  involved in Sami politics a little bit as youngsters,  aspiring politics.  To be honest, there was more to sort of socialize  and to meet friends, other Sami friends,  than maybe to sort of stand on the podium and change the world.  But there's something about that that I'm a bit conscious about.  And that's the way you build social relations  and the way you sort of situate your creative energy  and how you which kind of bonds a network.  You're actually structuring and strengthening  with your activity as an artist.  And I think my experience with sort of indigenous or Sami  politics from an early age has colored me  and given me a lot of direction.  Because since the 60s and 70s, there  have been this international indigenous,  circular East-West kind of bonding happening  through the United Nations.  And some of those kind of organs.  And through the arts scene, especially,  I'm not the first indigenous or Sami artist to work,  for example, transatlantic with Canadian or First Nations  artists from that part of the world or from Third  Island.  And that's something that's been happening since the 70s.  The framework that the indigenous political discourse  or cultural art production can offer is a very fruitful one.  It's just something that strengthens the conversation.  It's really great for me as a Sami artist or architect  to speak with indigenous architects or artists  from Canada and to share experiences  and to sort of gain confidence through that.  I think that's really needed and important.  I think when I first graduated, there was really little space  for me to enter into working with indigenous architecture.  I sort of had to go into art because the art world had  the much more of an open, generous,  and another kind of interest for what I was doing.  And I've been there for 10 years.  But now lately, I feel that the world of architecture  is starting to maybe open up and to be more interested  in these kind of conversations that we indigenous architects  have been having with each other in more sort of closed spaces  for quite some time already.  Talking about decolonization is something  that's reaching further now.  Maybe another series of works you have done  is the contemporary Sami architecture, a photo series.  Is that the title?  Where you portray buildings that have been created in Sami,  but often from Norwegian state agencies trying  to do something that looks like responsive architecture that  responds to the cultural context, but is often  like terribly wrong or delivering a cliche rather than really  understanding these principles that you describe  like flexibility or working with the uncertainties of nature,  for example, and instead reproduce something  that looks like an image of Sami architecture.  Yeah.  That was for a while almost like a little bit of a fetish for me.  I was like super into documenting.  It's a bit like Robert Venturi type of investigation  where I'm looking at the use of symbolism and architecture.  And our traditional architecture with the love  is like a very iconic and of course very recognizable  type of apology.  It's like a vernacular architecture.  It's like something that all people unfamiliar with Sami  architecture or Sami culture per se would like, of course,  that's the first thing you meet.  That's also something that stands out so much  that it's an obvious sort of place  to start your architectural transformation  of traditional cultural architecture  into something contemporary and modern.  But it became a little bit funny when I started to realize  that there were this same type of projects that  have been happening since the first one I discovered  was made in 50s already.  The first architectural example where an architect known Sami  had been tapping into the love as an iconic symbolic role  model for a modern type of architecture.  And since then it's been made maybe in 40, 50.  And I started to map them and putting the images  next to each other, showing this typology.  And it became a bit like an obsession.  I was hunting down these giant levels  which I started calling them and also describing  this design phenomenon as the giant level syndrome.  So giving it some kind of a negative connotation,  trying to raise awareness around it,  and also trying to create a little bit of a critical  perspective from a Sami point of view.  That our culture is actually more than this.  We have a lot of other interesting aspects.  And you can actually, it's also OK to make Sami architecture  that doesn't look like Sami architecture.  That's also like an option here.  So trying to sort of open up this just the whole debate  a bit from a Sami perspective.  So make the Sami community a bit more aware of what was going  on, but also toward directing a bit of a critical comments  to a crumb comment towards the architects  on the field of architecture.  So that sort of the, yeah, but I guess, yeah,  the architects can feel, could start  reflecting on how do we as contemporary architects translate  traditional culture into modern architecture,  modern building.  There's so many amazing concepts to pull from.  They can be, yeah, I can just start with material technologies,  for example.  There's so many interesting.  It was just a new book that I just picked up,  the other day called Low Tech, which is looking at that,  which is like, I have some critical viewpoints on that,  of course, also.  But that way of gazing at traditional architecture  at communities, at indigenous knowledge, indigenous  technologies, I think that's amazing.  And I've just been waiting for that to happen.  I was so glad to see that publication,  because it is doing exactly that.  It's like racing a much more diverse and actually  architecturally more complex sort of way  of negotiating these kind of relations.  Indigenous cultures are much more  than these romantic symbols.  So that conversation was very important for me  at the very early age.  And it brought me into a lot of different conversations.  Yeah, I mean, this book, Low Tech,  that you mentioned is interesting,  because I think it also makes an argument  that it's, I think, similar to your work,  although there's also important differences.  But I think similarly, it argues not just  for kind of learning from the kind of the local knowledge  and expertise with working with materials from nature  and so on.  But I think it suggests somehow that the transfer is not  one of symbolism.  I mean, you mentioned Robert Venturi in somewhat  of a critical way also, but much more in terms of an attitude  towards how you actually kind of engage with the world  and translate into kind of a spatial practice.  I mean, I think what is really interesting to me  is that because of the harsh climate in the North  and the kind of unpredictability of nature,  I think there's always been this, I mean,  what we've discussed, the kind of a challenging  of the fantasies of power and control.  It's basically not possible.  But I mean, with the kind of accelerating climate crisis,  this is not a condition that is kind of specific  to a singular region anymore.  It's become kind of a global challenge.  And I think that really implies that these modes of thinking  and design, we all need to learn from it as potentially  kind of a way to prevent the expansion.  So I don't know.  I wonder what is your attitudes towards kind of translating  these modes of thinking into very different conditions,  more urban conditions, and also maybe more  historically comfortable climates.  No, I think actually that sort of ambition in translating  sort of indigenous technologies, which is very often kind  of connected and thought about as a very rural kind of phenomenon  into sort of a discussion about urbanism  or entering urbanist perspective, which that booked us.  I think it's a very ambitious one.  And it's something really freeing about that ambition in a way.  It's like something, there's something that really brings it  all into a very speculative and experimental, almost  with like utopian kind of niveau, which I think  has a lot of potentiality.  And I think that it's freeing yourself or ourselves  a little bit from the very sort of worldly traumas  that the discourse on colonization often ends up with  and sort of stumbles in.  But at the same time, it's also important to not sort of move  too fast and not forget about those worldly traumas  or not to forget about the real communities  that these thoughts are sort of extracted from.  Who, how does this research or how  does this sort of knowledge production  give something back to where the concepts come from?  The idea of extraction, it's at the very sort of backspin  and the very core of all colonial activities.  And I think that also goes for architectural knowledge  producing extraction.  And we should be aware of that.  Maybe this is an opportunity, Axel, to loop it back  to your work as part of an institution.  Where do you see opportunities to kind of apply  indigeneuity in a kind of a process of decolonizing  the art institution?  And good question, which has to do with, I guess,  it's questions that institutions all over the world  deal with or should deal with at this point.  Like, and it has to do a lot with the question of representation,  which is at the core of artistic practice,  like how to give an image to society,  how to give a society a chance to depict itself or themselves.  And in what way is an institution doing that?  And how far is it inclusive?  And I mean, I guess, in exhibitions such as yours,  it's alone the fact that it's a very collaborative exhibition.  It kind of counters this idea of a kind of single master artist  or so.  Collaboration is so much at the core of the practice.  We discussed about it just before in a planning meeting  how to actually make the kind of level of collaboration  visible within the communication of such a show.  But this is like incorporated in the practice.  It's a lot of people take part.  It's we bring people as much as possible to Bergen  to work with us on this exhibition.  There's some publication and extensive events  program, which includes music, talks, film screenings.  And it considers the exhibition space as an active place  where things are actually happening.  So a discussion or an exhibition, not as a passive experience  that kind of hands something over to people,  but something where people also participate actually  in the production of a kind of discursive space  around the exhibition.  Joa mentioned the library, for example,  which is a kind of very usable element of the exhibition.  There will be some outside elements.  And this all is for us as a kind of working.  It's a project that we're working on,  but it's also a project we, as an institution,  are involved in where we also learn and develop further.  And that's a very pragmatic thing.  We plan in different way for this exhibition  than some other exhibitions.  But it's also happening on the level of discussion  within the team also about the topics.  And it's, of course, a discussion we  have with people that visit.  I find that last aspect very interesting,  because of course, there's the programmatic side  of making exhibitions that can address these issues.  But then there's also the back of house, right?  It's like, how do you kind of modes of thinking and production  in a way also organize an institution?  Yeah.  And in that way, it's a very, I mean, the exhibition,  the whole preparation of the show  has been so far very generous, because we  have been involved in on many levels.  And now actually with the postponing even twice.  So we plan basically for two different shows.  So we had different stages.  Yeah.  So you've had to, in a way, kind of apply  the same kind of competences that you are describing  in terms of flexibility and risk.  Yes.  And then the postponing to, I mean, dramatic changes that none  of us ever kind of imagined, right?  Yes, yeah.  Absolutely.  Yeah, I think that that's such a,  it's been such a, no matter how the exhibition is received  or how it goes with the whole final production stages now,  it's already been very, I think, very constructive  and rewarding type of conversation  happening where I feel really included by the institution.  And I feel like there's been all these sort of forced  flexibility, situations of flexibility  that we've been sort of thrown into together.  It's been a really communal sort of experience for me.  Or like a feeling of some kind of collaborative.  We found the way out of it or into it  through collaborating and through sort of keeping  a conversation alive.  And that was a really good experience for me.  And I think that that's what's really needed.  And sort of in the climate of today  is that we really sort of, that we have the sort of capacity  to look at ourselves and to look at what we represent  and who are we giving voices to.  And just like we talked so much today about this term  Judaism, right?  And just look at us now.  Like we are three men here sitting talking.  And I think we need to sort of, and this  can be really hard to talk about and find any sort of  constructive, I guess, ways out of it  at the first sort of, through just talking about it.  But I think that we just, I think we need to sort of raise  that mirror in front of ourselves.  And that really goes for institutions.  And it goes for all of us as individuals or members  and representatives of groups in society.  It's like this is super important to step a little bit away  from that sort of very often, like narcissistic self-awareness  that we have and try to, I don't know how to be a less  do this architect.  I really want to and I want to try.  But it's just to ask me myself that question.  It's such a stupid question in a way.  But and it's uncomfortable also.  But I think it's really important how  to de-dudify your architectural practice.  That's what it's all about for me right now.  In a way, I feel like this maybe sounds like a perfect kind  of closing of our conversation to leave our audience with  these questions about how to de-dudify our practice.
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