Today I dropped off my last artist at the airport. Next Saturday, 30 November, my contract as director of the Spitsbergen Artists Center and Residency will end.
I didn’t come to Svalbard intending to run artists studios, a craft center, exhibition spaces, and an artists residency. That was not the plan. This came from a major decision by the local council to close Galleri Svalbard where I had my painting studio, disperse the permanent collection to other more appropriate organizations, and rent an exhibition space in the new building that Svalbardbutikken was building in the town center.
This created a problem for me and my colleagues who were renting studio space in this building. There was no other place for us to go. At that time there were only about six of us renting space. Many studios were either empty or storing stuff for Galleri Svalbard. We knew that the city administration wanted to close the building, so we were not sure what would happen. When the political body voted that the artists studios and craft center were of cultural benefit to the town and should be maintained, well, we were relieved. To make a very long story short, I wrote a proposal for managing the space so that there would be no cost to the local council. The agreement was that the local council would allow the building to keep open with minimal support, and I would take over its management and pay all expenses from the studio and residency rentals. The proposal was accepted.
The building itself is vast. The original two-story building was built in 1947 when Norway returned to Svalbard after the war and began mining south of town. The area was called Nybyen (new town), and the building that housed Galleri Svalbard, now the Spitsbergen Artists Center and Residency, was originally the company store. In 1973 an extension was added with a temporary roof as there were plans to complete a second story which never materialized
A lot of thinking, work, and expense was needed to get the building functioning in such a way that it could pay for itself. I did not do this alone. I had help from many people. I had help from other organizations in town. The building housed multiple different art collections on permanent display. The Kåre Tvetter collection, the map collection, the Recherche collection, a collection of mining specie, and a book collection. There was also a gift shop, office, tiny cafe, and film theater. This was all on one floor in the “new” building.
The new building has construction flaws. The temporary roof is of a profoundly stupid design and in 51 years has never been replaced or repaired. The last real work done on it that I know of was in (I think) 2016 when a temporary roofing material good for three years was laid on to try and stop it from leaking. That was 8 years ago. So the roof leaks.
The original building is solid as a rock. It is a truly beautiful piece of construction. It has never had a structural problem, of course as with any building (or person!) of 78 years, it needs repairs. It is out of true, the wiring and heating and plumbing system need updating, but the structure itself is solid. To be fair, I am prejudiced. I stayed in Longyearbyen as an artist in residence in 2018, and shortly thereafter moved here. This building, this part of town, are very dear to me.
With help, rooms were emptied, things were organized, shifted, cleaned. New furniture for the residency was acquired. The residency has three bedrooms with two single beds in each, two large bathrooms, and a kitchen/dining/living room in a large common area. Everything was tidied. I built Facebook pages and a website and began advertising for the residency.
All the studios, upstairs and down, were opened to be available for local people. From six local artists the Artists Center now has 16 artists. The residency has hosted over 100 artists from countries as far from Svalbard as New Zealand and Korea, and as close as Norway, Finland, and Sweden. Artists from every continent have come. Many have come more than once, finding inspiration in this Arctic landscape and friends in this town. Some have fallen in love with Svalbard as I did, and come to live here. Almost every artist has done public outreach. Exhibitions, workshops, artist talks, films. I have tried to have at least one event a month, some months I have had more than one a week.
My intent has always been that this space was for the benefit of local people. The Mens’ Choir had their annual spring dinner here for several years. There have been yoga classes, belly dancing classes, and workshops in addition to many art exhibitions, and other public events. Unlike other places, COVID didn’t affect the Artists Center very much. The people with studios continued to work in them. Artists continued coming to the residency. During the time of lock down we had a weekly “Favorites” night where the first ten people to sign up could come watch movies as a private event. The Artists Center theater seats 24 people so COVID distance rules were followed. Different people picked their “favorite” movie and that was what we watched. It was something to look forward to.
Because I was an artist in residency here, the residency is special to me. While I have my doubts about how successful art is in igniting change, I hope that it can be effective, and I hope that the artists who come here create work that makes people in their home countries think. There is also always the question of the carbon cost of both traveling and living here. But as a resident, I know that I have one of the largest carbon footprints on the planet. It always seemed to me a bit hypocritical for me to find fault with the travel done by others when I am an even worse offender just by living here.
So artists came, and came back, and some moved here. Welcoming new artists to Svalbard often reminded me of how adults enjoy Christmas through the eyes of children. While my love of this place has never faltered, as a resident of Svalbard I am aware of the complexities, the contradictions, and after Russia invaded Ukraine, the political challenges, of this special place. So it was a pleasure to facilitate the pure joy that every artist felt when experiencing Svalbard for the first time. Not everyone loved it with a mad passion, but all were awed by this Arctic wilderness.
While it has been extremely rewarding, and I am proud of what I have done here in the world’s northernmost town, it has also been extremely time consuming and exhausting. I poured my own money in, especially in the first year when so much needed fixing and replacing, with no expectation that I would ever get it back. My own work took second place. I painted less, exhibited less, books did not get made. And of course there have been frustrations as well as joys. But I would do it again in a heartbeat. There are businesses that exist because there was this micro climate where they could try. Residents had opportunities to learn and play and create. Local artists and crafts people had the space to do their own work and pursue their own artistic goals in a town where affordable space is impossible to find. Artists from afar have done amazing work, have become climate warriors, and in my heart of hearts I hope will influence people to understand, and hopefully act, on the climate change that is not coming in some unimaginable future, but already here.
No one can do this alone. I am deeply grateful for the help and support of many people. First among them my dear friend Kjersti Storø, whose friendship and unflagging support I could not have managed without. Hege Giske, Tove Eide, Eva Grøndal, Sarah Gerats, Sergei Chernikov, Melissa Berl, Niko Saikkonen, Domi Nika, Julia Wellner, Lena von Goedeke. They have been my support system, my allies, my friends.
It has been an amazing experience. It has been a privilege
