Heidi Wexelsen Goksøyrhjem/home cv kontakt/contact
When seen as a whole, it becomes quite apparent that many of Heidi Wexelsen Goksøyr’s
projects deal with the basic elements water, air and earth. Her pictures are about much
more than this, but these elements constitute a form of basic resonance in many of her
works. The most striking is Goksøyr’s fascination with water. In Quiet Fall – Explorations
of Water (2005), this is expressed very clearly. The project is a close study of drops
falling and hitting a surface of water, shown on video and in stills. The phenomenon is
highly magnified and happens in slow motion. Thus, a perfectly commonplace occurrence is
transformed into a dramatic and spectacular event. Such a defamiliarising perspective on
something commonplace is characteristic of many of Goksøyr’s works, connecting her with
a Surrealist tradition of imagery. At the same time, her works show a strong command of
formal artistic means and a clear awareness of the sensual qualities of the subject.
This is evident in Below the Surface (1999-2001) as well, a series of photographs
shot under water. Here we see the sunlight sifted through the surface, the shimmering play
of light and shadows against the sandy bottom, and two girls wearing light summer dresses
playing under the water. The project shows that Goksøyr is not merely occupied with the
elements themselves, but perhaps equally important; the relation between man and the elements.
It seems as if she seeks to communicate something about our existence in the world, about
our corporeal experiences as well as our mental states. In Below the Surface, she captures
the joy of being in another element, but also the hermetically sealed sensation of being
surrounded by water on all sides, without access to air. There is a certain dreamy atmosphere
in the photographs, making them both beautiful and slightly disturbing.
In her new prosject Skyspace, the artist has apparently left the wet element and has
turned her gaze up into the air and the sky. The project consists of both color and
black-and-white photographs, in all of them we encounter figures suspended in the air.
In one of the color prints we see seven women. Their arms are linked, connecting
them in a circle. Their legs form a seven point star in the inner circle. The women seem
to be floating freely in the air; surrounded by light, white clouds and a sunny sky. The
photograph reminds me of murals from the Baroque Era, painted as if to offer us a glimpse
of heaven, as if the ceilings of the churches and palaces simply didn’t exist. In the
Baroque murals, we see bodies floating freely, unfettered by gravity. However, as opposed
to these paintings, often filled with vibrant life and bodies expressing themselves with
dramatic gestures and positions, the female bodies in Goksøyr’s photograph appear peaceful.
They seem to belong to a world of their own; out of reach for us, but connected with
each other in a state of meditation.
Another aspect connecting Goksøyr’s photography with the Baroque murals, is the illusionism
and the visual paradoxes. Murals are often painted with techniques that make it almost
impossible for the naked eye to see where the architecture ends and the painting begins.
Painted architecture appears as actual extensions of the room, and the figures seem to
be descending to the room we are in. The visual paradoxes in Goksøyr’s picture are
surely of a different kind, but they too leave us uncertain about what we are actually
seeing. The more I contemplate the picture with the seven women, the more contradictory
it seems to be. For instance, I start to wonder where I am situated in relation to these
women. Initially, I try to imagine myself floating in the air as well; I am almost flying
next to them, slightly higher up, and I am looking over at them as I pass by. The strange
thing is that I cannot see the earth or ground below them, I see sky and clouds. So I
try to imagine standing on the ground, looking up at the sky above them. But this doesn’t
seem right either, because I am surely not looking up at them, but down on them. Furthermore,
Goksøyr has not quite left the basic element of water in this project. On closer scrutiny,
it becomes evident that the play of light and shadows on the pale bodies and red suits of
the women is created by sunlight falling on water. If the women are immersed in water,
one could imagine that the sky and clouds are merely reflections, but it is not that
simple, because the figures definitely look like they are hovering.
So what is up and what is down in Goksøyr’s imagery? It would seem that the elements are
being mixed and inverted. The picture refuses to grant me firm ground beneath my feet and
leaves me feeling slightly giddy.
The women, on the other hand, seem unaffected by these contradictions. They seem to have
surrendered – without fear – to their weightless, floating state.
In most of her earlier projects, Goksøyr has worked with more traditional (analogue)
photographs. In Skyspace, however, the pictures are produced and edited digitally. The
starting point is a series of photographs of synchronised swimmers, shot by the artist
herself. Instead of using these photos directly, Goksøyr has cut out the figures and placed
them in other images. In the colour photos the figures are shown against celestial landscapes;
in the black-and-white photos they are placed in terrestrial landscapes, ranging from
dramatic mountains, deep canyons and flat savannah, to big cityscapes. They constitute
different types of landscapes rather than specific, identifiable places. In some of the
pictures, the figures appear in formations, like strange, dreamlike visions in the
nightly sky. In other pictures, they have let go of each other and seem to be heading
towards earth. Perhaps they are flying in, about to land?
The figures do not naturally belong to the landscapes in which they appear. On the
contrary, they are strange elements. Dressed identical, they become deindividualized.
Inevitably, one asks: Who are they? What are they doing here? Where do they come from?
Are they creatures of the earth trying to survey the situation, or are they aliens
descending to explore the nature of the earth? The pictures are full of questions, but
offer no ready answers. It is up to the spectator to speculate.
In these pictures, the heritage of Surrealism is at its most poignant, both in the
way Goksøyr juxtaposes elements from different spheres, and in the dreamlike qualities
of the pictures. There is a certain experimental playfulness to them (what happens
when contrasting realities collide?), yet they also relate to a number of recognisable
themes: Man’s ancient dream of flying, dreams of falling and the idea of extraterrestrial
visitors.
However, the project Topographies (1988) shows the strongest connection with the
terrestrial. This is a series of photographs of the artist’s son, Syver, as a baby.
The photographer has a close perspective on the subject, revealing the details of the
small body. The result is a number of firmly composed pictures where the body resembles
singular landscapes with hills, folds and hollows. The pictures show the tactile and
sensual qualities of the body; however, it is almost impossible to identify which part
of the body is depicted. In these photographs, Goksøyr approaches a tradition of
photography where Edward Weston (1886-1958) and Bill Brandt (1906-1983) are among the
foremost representatives. While these two photographers explored the landscapes of
the female body in their close-ups, Goksøyr’s project centers on the body of a baby.
Whereas the figures in Skyspace seem to be descending towards earth, there is an
opposite movement in Ladybird (2005). In this little gem of a video, we meet the artist’s
son once again, a few years older this time. His face, filling the whole frame, is out
of focus; the focus is on a ladybird sitting on the tip of his finger, getting ready: It
first lifts the red outer wings, then proceeds to unfold the large, black rear wings. In
slow motion it appears surprisingly clumsy. Its body is big and heavy, its legs infinitely
thin and fragile. With great effort, it still manages to lift its own weight; it takes flight,
and flies past the boy’s face and out of the picture.
April 2007, Torild Gjesvik