PRESS RELEASE

Stalke Gallery inaugurates its new premises at Vesterbrogade 184 with the exhibition
"NILS ERIK GJERDEVIK MEETS ALBERT MERTZ"
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Stalke Gallery is pleased to announce the opening of its new premises at Vesterbrogade 184. After spending the 1990s in a building where more than 150 exhibitions were held in the "underground gallery" in the backyard, we have chosen to focus on the artists and ourselves in a slightly smaller but significantly more charming exhibition space with a large storefront facing the street.

With Stalke's newly established department, Gallery Kirke Sonnerup, and the ongoing series of Stalke Out Of Space projects, the idea is to make Stalke Gallery in Copenhagen a more classical gallery. In connection with the relocation, we have also chosen to set up a permanent project space within Stalke Gallery, which will run parallel to the gallery’s regular exhibition program.

At the inaugural exhibition, Stalke Gallery is particularly pleased to present Albert Mertz and Nils Erik Gjerdevik in dialogue. Mertz bid farewell and gave thanks for his 13 years of life before passing, but his distinctive work with its unique combination of humorous popular culture sensibilities, experimental drive, conceptual sharpness, and spiritual dedication still exudes vitality and continues to inspire contemporary artists and the current art discourse. Stalke Gallery last exhibited Mertz as one of the students from the Academy of Fine Arts, with Jens Brich and Søren Andreasen curating the exhibition.

Now, it is Nils Erik Gjerdevik who hangs Albert Mertz's works and those of Stalke Gallery's walls. Or, to be more precise, on the walls that Gjerdevik has painted directly on. In his explorations of Denmark's mysterious and complex universe, Gjerdevik has previously worked with wall paintings, but this is the first time these form the background for another artist's works. Gjerdevik will showcase less-known aspects of Mertz's work from the '70s and '80s, creating a visual, conceptual, and physical space for dialogue between the two, focusing on color, compositional peculiarities, and the doubts about health signs among the discussed themes.

The exhibition has been realized with the help of Lone Mertz.

It can also be mentioned that at Gallery Kirke Sonnerup on February 15, a major solo exhibition with new video works and drawings by Nikolaj

Recke

Stalke Gallery
Vesterbrogade 184
1800 Frederiksberg C

Defy gravity!

Interview. Wall-to-wall painter Nils Erik Gjerdevik fills several of Copenhagen's art spaces with his ethereal paintings. He aims to liberate the possibilities of painting.

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By LISBETH BONDE

WEEKENDAVISEN introduced the 40-year-old painter, ceramicist, and much more, Nils Erik Gjerdevik, during a visit to his studio in a former factory building in Valby. Gjerdevik is active on multiple fronts as an exhibitor. He recently participated in the Carnegie Art Award exhibition at the Kunstforeningen, and currently, one can view his exhibition of drawings at Niels Staerk Contemporary Art in Njalsgade, as well as at Stalke Galleri—an exhibition he curated himself, where he also appears tête-à-tête with the late Albert Mertz. In June, he will also be present at the X-room in the National Gallery of Denmark (Statens Museum for Kunst) and will participate in a group exhibition at White Box in New York with Malene Landgreen, Malene Bach, Bodil Nielsen, and Milena Bonifacini. Moreover, he has recently delivered a large mural for the new buildings of Copenhagen University in Njalsgade.

Nils Erik Gjerdevik began as a wild painter—extremely wild—and he still doesn’t shy away from large formats and monochrome expanses. However, his work is far removed from the panoramic depictions of nature that characterize much monumental art. His visual expression is rebellious, his language of form is open, and there is a playful lightness on the surface with synthetic, bright colors, which have become his signature. His work is uninhibited yet cool, concrete, and controlled. His art resides in a space between the great, liberating projects of modernism and concrete art, as he himself puts it. Laughing, he adds, “We live in a time where all experiments have already been tried, but at the same time, greater demands are placed on the artist than ever before to start afresh. The great thing is that, for the moment, anything is allowed.”

YOU both paint, draw, and make ceramic sculptures. It could be interesting to know what the three categories offer you in terms of challenges.

"The works on paper are intimately connected to the body. Quite literally, I sit with my nose right down in the paper. The drawings offer me total freedom because I can use all types of media — watercolor, alkyd, acrylic, ink, and pen. Painting, on the other hand, is bound to one medium: I only paint with oil because it provides the highest color intensity.

Compared to earlier installations, my exhibition with paper works at Niels Stærk is rather conservative. They are hung in a row so as not to create an incoherent experience of the space. The room is small and compact, and it’s about presenting a range of drawings rather than creating a fragmented or chaotic atmosphere," says Gjerdøv.

- But what is your working process? Other painters make sketches in advance of working on their paintings.

"If you saw my sketches for the paintings, you’d exclaim, 'Oh dear, heavens!' Because they are just a few strokes on square paper. They are merely hints or drafts for the paintings. The works on paper, however, are complete and independent expressions; they contain a coherent language. The paintings are first drawn on the canvas, while the paper works are made more directly. It is a more intuitive working process. However, I also try to give the paintings an intuitive ease. If you look at my drawings and paintings from the past 4–5 years, they are about dissolving the force of gravity and orienting themselves toward a more elastic formal language. It’s about something non-material, floating around the image plane, something that cannot be physically grasped. My works are always inspired by nature as far as possible. They are an investigation of culture. I use strong, artificial colors. I’m interested in light and the effect of color. How can one press the color so that it becomes floating and almost etheric? I’ve chosen the wide-screen format in many of my newer paintings because that format is a link to nature. It refers to the panoramic tradition. I use the format as a language or a scale, which advocates for a naturalistic approach, even though I turn it 100 degrees around and create an entirely independent abstract world of motifs."

WHAT can three-dimensional art — ceramic sculptures — do that drawing and painting cannot?

"The surface works with illusion, and for me, it is mostly an investigation of different types of forms in front of a massive canvas with floating elements on a turquoise background. 'I paint my abstract sculptures on pedestals. I play with both the abstract and the figurative. This is exactly why I do it this way. I repeat the pedestal and thereby reiterate the basic form. I paint over the background last. In doing so, I insist on the form. It is quite a labor-intensive process!'

- The images lie completely flat on the surface. There is apparently no depth. You dismantle any illusion or perspective.

'The linear way of constructing images does not interest me. I insist on breaking down the foreground, middle ground, and background and creating a skewed sequence where the background can come last.'

-At the same time, the skewed and radical cropping often creates descriptions that suggest things beyond the frame, something that continues outside of it.

'Yes, I try to avoid dogmatic, fixed interpretations and unambiguous access to my works, as they are so vibrant and etheric. I hope I don’t impose any limitations.'

- Your paintings contain many references to the industrialized aesthetic surrounding us, with almost synthetic colors and the polished finish.

'Yes, they share a similarity with an "Anders And-color" aesthetic (referring to Donald Duck colors), which invaded art in the 1960s. But in reality, these strong colors have been used for centuries. The renovated Sistine Chapel surprised me a lot because of its very strong colors. It was a revelation. You would have expected colors like gravy brown, but it turned out to be like Warhol. Even Amalienborg (the Danish royal palace) was once painted pastel pink. Depictions of magnificence, wealth, and divinity called for strong colors, partly because they were difficult and costly to produce. I am convinced that Michelangelo used the most expensive materials to achieve a maximal effect.'

- Do your ceramic sculptures function as something other and more than a negation of your works on the surface?

'In ceramics, I work parallel to painting — with decomposition and weightlessness. The work process with ceramics is spontaneous, until it is fired. Once fired, the work is locked. In contrast, with bronze, the work remains spontaneous until it is cast, because then it can be reworked. You can chisel, I have always regarded bronze as a very spontaneous material, while ceramics is a definite material. My sculptures are deeply inspired by nature. They are built up so that they start with a lightness and then become thicker and heavier and more massive as they rise higher. I am fascinated by weight—how much weight I can add without feeling it weighing down on a sculpture, while still preserving a floating lightness.

Technically, you can't do much more with bronze than what I do in my sculptures. I stretch the material to its normal limits. With negative forms, it’s about creating under the form and holding it there, where the elements shouldn’t collapse.

"Your sculptures have a psychedelic effect. They appear like a kind of architectural visions, like some sort of Moonlit Alfa-visions."

“Yes, my interest in architecture is evident in my sculptures, which resemble architectural models. I have always been fascinated by the strange architects like Gaudí, Bruno Taut, Eero Saarinen, Herman Finsterlin, who work with a universal, organic form language. The art surrounding the turn of the century is exciting—ornamentation, the Vienna Secession, where Gesamtkunstwerk, or the unity of all art, appeared. Painters could take textiles, tackle architecture, deeply occupied with movement, which repeats itself in sequences, like a motif in trestles. Everyone makes everything at the time—one paints across walls, another makes batik, T-shirts, and it all flows together into a whole that dissolves. Gesamtkunstwerk didn't really die out with the Vienna Secession—it can be seen in the trestle motif. I am very interested in this flow, where a single idea is expressed in many different ways.”

"Are you interested in the arabesque?"

“Not really. What interests me is the infinite repetition, yes, motifs playing in the same dimensions, but more in waves, that go in and out of the same rhythm and spread out like energy. It doesn't stay fixed as a pattern. There isn't a repetition in it. It's somewhat reminiscent of those studies about light-energy movement.

When placing the painting in an androgynous intermediate space, it promotes a fisheye perspective, enabling a 360-degree view. Modernism provided many examples of masculine power plays. If you consider German Expressionism, American Pop Art, and so on, they all focused on the monumental and grandiose. Compositionally, they all embraced a form of classical picture construction with symmetry and the golden ratio. These are far from the deconstructive approach I strive for. I break down the individual elements and place them in an unpredictable context.

Modernists, in contrast, delivered a very well-balanced way of constructing images. I believe it becomes difficult to maintain the necessity of painting if you keep bouncing the ball against that same wall, as you’ll only get thrown back and won’t move forward. That path is a dead end. Instead, you have to pull your field of investigation toward the center, toward the androgynous, toward the intermediate space, because here painting can move in several directions. I use the monumental scale, but I create light paintings instead. Through this juxtaposition, a new form of investigation emerges regarding what painting can be. My paintings are never rooted in the bottom of the image; the weight lies in the upper part of the image. Through this, I attempt to create a form of inverted monumentality. In principle, my works are like a pyramid standing on its head."

Do you mean you aim to occupy a third position?
I believe my paintings can be viewed without a dogmatic approach, and my work should not be seen as illustrating a specific position tied to a particular power strategy. Fundamentally, I see my works as part of what has been considered the first generation of postmodernism. I am probably more interested in exploring what needs to be investigated. I’m not very result-oriented or focused on finding answers; instead, I’m interested in achieving as much freedom as possible.

But isn’t that precisely modernism’s utopia?
Yes, and I don’t pretend to work outside tradition. But sometimes happy accidents can occur in a work process, and my works – despite their stringency – are highly intuitively based.

It is therefore difficult to associate them with the modernist dogma project, which seeks Shangri-La or aims to change the world because it has found the philosopher’s stone. I consider my works entirely anti-authoritarian. But, of course, they gain a certain authority when exhibited. However, that’s another matter and very difficult to control. Robert Smithson could create his ephemeral land art installations anywhere, yet he still had his photo documentation and sold them for sky-high prices. Pragmatism is perfectly fine. I’m not on some kind of crusade.

Well, we live, and rent must also be paid!
Yes, something like that.

Which artistic camp do you feel at home in?
I’ve always felt like a nomad. In the 1980s, my works were inspired by the ex-school, Fluxus, and Cobra. In 1989, I moved to Düsseldorf and later Berlin. We were actually a group: architect Regin Schwaen, visual artists Anders Krüger and Kaj Nyborg, and myself. We moved to Germany and engaged in dialogue with the art scene in the Ruhr district initially. But I have always felt connected to Berlin, which I’ve visited regularly since my youth. Later, I moved to Berlin and got a studio with Frans Jacobi. It was an amazing time, and it was demanding to work in Germany just after the fall of the Berlin Wall. I’m glad I experienced that visible shift in Europe’s history.

How have you used your Norwegian background?
I moved to Denmark when I was only one year old, so my native language is Danish. But in certain situations, I feel Norwegian. It’s a great joy to have a foundation rooted elsewhere because it allows you to play with two worlds. The same applied when I studied in Prague. I gained a clearer sense of what shaped the local Danish art scene.

My works in the 1980s were influenced by a Central European desperation. One of my friends was arrested for kissing his girlfriend in the subway! Charta 77 activists were persecuted. There were serious violations of citizens’ rights. Even though things functioned and the city was idyllic, it was fundamentally a misanthropic society. That sense of fear and paranoia deeply affected me. The apocalyptic elements shaping my works in the 1980s drew their tone from that context. The fragmented space or total collapse I depicted reflected the feelings haunting me in Prague. But if you compare my works from back then with those I create today, it might be hard to see the connection. However, I personally believe there is a red thread tying the works together.

You’ve chosen to exhibit alongside Albert Mertz in the newly opened exhibition at Stalke’s new gallery on Vesterbrogade 187?
In 1997, I created an installation of Vilhelm Bjerke Petersen’s paintings at the Funen Art Museum. They were hung on a large, patterned wall mural that I had painted myself. After that exhibition, I was invited to curate an exhibition of works by Albert Mertz at Stalke’s new location – together with some of my own works. The exhibition is based on the autonomous work, which, in principle, can be placed in any imaginable context. By taking a mobile piece and placing it in a specific context alongside one of my wall paintings, you create an opportunity to experience the work in a new way.

In the Bjerke Petersen exhibition, his works functioned as fixed points where the eyes could rest amidst the surrounding intense patterns. This was reversed, as one typically relates to the image as the intense, meaningful element and the background as neutral. I’ve conducted a similar investigation in the Albert Mertz exhibition. For me, Albert Mertz has always been one of the freest artists, moving effortlessly through many phases of modernism. And yet, he never lost his integrity.

Nils Erik Gjerdevik meets Albert Mertz. Until March 7th. Galleri Stalke, Vesterbrogade 184, 1800 Frederiksberg C.

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Art Must Move Out

Art in Copenhagen, or at least part of it, has moved farther out to Vesterbrogade. The basement in a backyard near Rådhuspladsen has been vacated, and Stalke Gallery is now expanding into a space on Vesterbrogade and Frydendalsvej. Yesterday, it offered visitors not only the chance to see prominent works on the walls but also to experience life itself.

This expansion pushes art to the outskirts of Vesterbro and Frederiksberg. Just a short walk from the restaurant Formel B, and a little farther to the corner of art, you’ll find the new space for Stalke Gallery, where art and life meet at the intersection of Vesterbrogade and Frydendalsvej.

This initiative unfolds far from the conventional art scene. Yesterday’s opening featured works by Nils Erik Gjerdevik, with his paper works shown at Nils Stærk Contemporary Art. Guests also had the chance to see unique works directly from the heart of Frederiksberg, featuring contributions by Albert Mertz. The artist, who passed away 12 years ago, is still a central figure in the gallery scene. Among the artists represented was Nils Erik Gjerdevik, who says:

"Mertz was a both quirky and popular artist," referring to the significant collection of Mertz’s work, which Gjerdevik has curated into a dialogue with his own pieces, created specifically for the gallery walls.

After this first presentation of the new space, the gallery will follow up with an exhibition by Thomas Bang and later a collaborative project featuring Marcel Dzama, Neil Farber, Dame Darcy, and Jacquelyn Tough. This exhibition is the result of a partnership with the Richard Heller Gallery in Los Angeles.

Thus, values are shared across the Atlantic. Additionally, Stalke Gallery has rented the square in front of the building, which might mean outdoor art displays in the coming months. Olafur Eliasson, who resides in Berlin, will also participate in the Venice Biennale this summer and has received significant international attention for his work outside Denmark.

Photo Caption:
Partners: Kim Bendixen (right) and Sam Jedig collaborate to run Stalke Gallery in Copenhagen and a major gallery in Kirke Sonnerup. On the walls behind them, you can see works by Albert Mertz and Nils Erik Gjerdevik. (Photo: Morten Langkilde)

By Birger Thøgersen

Gallery Reopens

One of the capital's most prominent galleries, Stalke Gallery, has moved to bright new premises in Frederiksberg and opens today with a dialogue between Albert Mertz and Nils Erik Gjerdevik.

It has been over 12 years since Albert Mertz passed away, but the prominent artist and charismatic professor at the Academy of Fine Arts continues to play a significant role in the development of many younger artists, influencing them profoundly throughout their lives.

When Stalke Gallery opens today at the corner of Vesterbrogade and Frydendalsvej in Frederiksberg, it will feature an exciting arrangement of works by artists who were deeply influenced by him. Dominating the main wall, Nils Erik Gjerdevik has painted large-scale patterned paintings, and among them, a series of Albert Mertz's characteristic blue and red paintings will be hung.

Stalke Gallery, whose name is inspired by the protagonist in one of the Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky's works, has undergone a transformative journey since Sam Jedig opened a small basement gallery in central Copenhagen in 1982. It has pleased many but never hosted unremarkable exhibitions.

Half a hundred exhibitions later, Stalke Gallery has gained recognition and now represents a concept that includes several of the country's leading conceptual artists. The permanent collection includes names such as Torben Ebbesen, Henrik Have, Thorbjørn Laustsen, Thomas Bang, Mogens Møller, Dorte Dahlin, and Margrete Sørensen, as well as internationally renowned colleagues such as William Anastasi, Lawrence Weiner, and Michael Goldberg, among others.

As Sam Jedig explained in an interview last week, "We have created a circuit of exhibitions and collaborations that combine exhibitions with art sales and museum purposes."

Since its move to the basement at Vesterbrogade, the gallery began collaborations with established artists to interest the next generation of representatives. Among the names showcased are Peter Holst Henckel, Susan Hinnum, Peter Neusch, Peter Rössel, Lars Bent Petersen, Ivar Tønners, Annika Ström, Joachim Koester, and Olafur Eliasson. Most recently, one of Denmark’s official representatives at the Venice Biennale is featured here, and this summer Jedig will host an exhibition in Kirke Sonnerup near Holbæk, where he has also opened another major gallery.

The gallery at Vesterbrogade will be operated in partnership with Kim Bendixen, and it will be based on a more classic gallery concept with longer-lasting exhibitions. In recent months, international artists from Los Angeles, Marcel Dzama, Neil Farber, Dame Darcy, and Jacquelyn Tough, have been exhibited here. Currently, an exhibition featuring works by Albert Mertz in dialogue with Nils Erik Gjerdevik will be on view until March 7.

By Torben Weirup