The artist type divined from Sveinn Fannar Jóhannsson’s work—always laboriously preened for capture—is an impassive one. A book featuring portraits of Jóhannsson taken by waiters acts as a self-conscious contemplation of this parasitical figure. It can be a strain to be waited on, if you are attuned to how the procuring and preparing of sustenance is separate from its ingestion, to how this divide can shine an unfavourable light on the organism doing the eating. At best, such task differentiation sacrifices our self-reliance in order to create a larger subject of interlocking, specialised functions (such as a family or society), for which you are of vital importance. Worst case: the function you assume for yourself is specious—and kept in operation by children in the Congo farming rare earths for the tech that connects your precious product to its sparse consumer base. There’s an existential murmur arising from Jóhannsson’s remakings, paraphrasings and appropriations; interspersing his regurgitation of post-conceptual art’s detached procedures are inexplicable bouts of community-oriented action, like collecting discarded clothes and transforming them into public sculptures. None are welcome, of course, but they serve as atonements, nonetheless.
Untitled (Holes), 2016
Ink jet prints on Alu-Dibond, pine, white aluminium
metallic paint, cement, sand, water and stainless steel
double countersunk chipboard screws
Recent Works and Other Myths, 2018
Inkjet print on Canson Platine Fibre Rag, iBond and bookpage on Canson Conservation Board, Schott Mirogard Plus glass/Framed
Each 35,7 x 27,6 x 3 cm