I stood before a room painted in eye watering red. In the centre of the room, a figure kneels, in silent prayer. The figure appears to be that of a young school boy. On the wall in front of the boy is a small painting of a finger, pointing. The boy seems to be praying to the pointing finger. I entered the room and looked back into the face of the child.
The piece is shocking, unexpected. It asks questions about forgiveness, and how bad a sin needs to be before it’s unconscionable. How do people find power in their beliefs in order to forgive in the first place? Hitler, a Catholic, according to church doctrine, could be in heaven if he’d confessed before death in that bunker in Berlin. I think even his suicide could be forgiven, given it stopped any more sinning.
The picture of the finger, appearing to point almost accusatory at the school boy clad Hitler was a pop art piece by American artist Roy Lichtenstein. It is an image borrowed from American recruitment posters from the First and Second World Wars. ‘Uncle Sam needs you!’ it is saying to the praying boy.
I saw an amazing exhibition of his work back in 2013 at the Tate Modern. His Pop Art works are instantly recognizable.
The room, the finger and the schoolboy are in the Moderna Museet, which I visited today before buying some new shorts; the main reason why I was in Stockholm.
To diverge into the mundane for a moment, my two pairs of shorts I bought back in 2018 at Rivers in Caloundra have almost given up the ghost. Actually, Mirinda would say the ghost has been well and truly given up, elaborately exorcized and sent packing. Clearly, I needed replacements. So I decided to visit a number of places to buy some. I was successful and managed to find pairs on special.
Naturally, I didn’t want to waste a day in clothes shopping, so I decided to combine the chore with a bit of pleasure. And so, I went to the Moderna Museet.
I caught the Liljeholmen bus as usual. As I entered the bus, I noticed, for the first time, a sticker indicating the items a passenger cannot take onto the bus. These are drinks, both hot and cold, ice cream and hotdogs. There is no such embargo on soup or alcohol. A bit specific, I thought.
Lack of sausage aside, the bus always makes for a very pleasant trip into Stockholm. Okay, it takes longer than the train, but I get to ride the tunnelbana as well, which I always enjoy.
And, of course, there was a visit to my favourite café, for essential fika, before I hopped aboard the 65 bus to Skepsholmen. As we headed off, I was very glad I was on a bus, as the mob waiting for the tram was so massive that I reckon I’d still be there had I joined it.
The exhibitions at the museum haven’t changed since my last visit but, I’d stopped halfway last time, so I, more or less, took up from where I left off. Oh, there was also a new exhibit downstairs by the extraordinary Vaginal Davis. She has been described by Agony Magazine as “a manipulative filthy black jungle temptress who lures innocent suburban white boys into a world in which their only escape is madness or death.“
And, speaking of magazines, I was entranced by the covers of Puss Magazine on display in the museum. One, in particular, drew my attention and made me wonder why it hadn’t been used on a t-shirt. I’d have bought it.
Puss magazine ran for 24 issues from 1968 to 1974 and was somewhat political and a tad pornographic. Perfect.
But, back to Vagina Davis. I have to say, she is a total cack. Her exhibit begins with a mocked up cinema where strange films play. There are seats in the different areas. People were ‘enjoying’ the experience, I think. At least the ones I was sat with. Of course, given she’s American, the films were in English so I could enjoy the visuals without having to read.
After the films, the exhibit featured a wall of pictures behind a pink mesh curtain. In order to look at the picture, the visitor has to go behind the curtain. A rather heavy metaphor if you ask me.
Possibly the most unexpected exhibit was The Wicked Pavilion which included a tween bedroom, featuring a single bed, a giant dildo, magazine covers and songs playing. It “…brings together the icons, celebrated and forgotten, that populate her universe…” apparently.
I particularly like the innocence of the room, subverted by the enormous presence on the bed.
By the time I’d finished going through Vaginal Davis’ artistic works, it was time for lunch and, naturally, I had lunch at Café Blom.
Not only that, but I ordered it in Swedish. The woman took my order. I then asked if it sounded Swedish. With the sweetest smile she emphatically replied “No. But I understood what you wanted and that’s the point of communication, right?” I agreed, somewhat crestfallen and enjoyed my räksmörgås. My crest quickly rose again, given the deliciousness of the Café Blom räksmörgås.
Having filled myself with shrimp and culture, I headed back to central Stockholm to buy the shorts I’d originally travelled into town to get. Then I caught the train home where Mirinda drove me home from Vaghärad.
I got home to discover that Jason had bought a mountain bike…but more about that tomorrow.
Before finishing this post, I have to include my favourite piece from the gallery today. It’s a sculpture and represents our favourite Swedish poet, Gustaf Frödings.
Hjorth, who I’d never heard of before today, was a fascinating artist who I might write about in another post.
