House of the storyteller

A long, long time ago, in a city far away, there was a goddess named Nisaba. She was at the birth of writing and of agriculture. The Sumerian people worshipped her for her wisdom and literacy. She wasn’t always the goddess of words. She started off looking after grain and the newly discovered art of agriculture. Then, given that the first forms of writing, cuniform, were used to record amounts of harvest and/or sales, she naturally took over the writing department as well.

Fast-forward to 2023, in Naples where Hendrik Folkerts went to visit the church of Sant’Anna dei Lombardi and stood, looking at the ceiling, trying to work out what the artist Giorgio Vasari was attempting to communicate with his iconography above the congregation.

Explanation came there none (he asked a guard who just shrugged) but Henrik knew that, in the past, people would have been able to literally ‘read the room’, understanding all the symbols and meanings and, most important, the stories above and around them.

He realised that humanity was losing these stories so he started making up his own stories to give the paintings more meaning. This made him realise that, these days, artists created their own iconography; their own meanings and stories, giving life to their own works.

And, in Henrik’s own words ‘…an exhibition was dreamed up.’

And the exhibition, House of Nisaba: New Stories of Painting is currently at the Moderna Museet and, I might add, is one of the best art exhibitions I have ever seen. I wandered around the goddess’s house today, stunned and amazed, reading the various stories by each work, trying to take it all in. It is impossible at one sitting. I will be going back before it finishes on August 30 this year.

I bought the catalogue specifically to understand what each work was saying, to try and absorb the different tales being told so that, when I return, I will have a better understanding of what I am looking for. As it is, the exhibition, as a whole, will remain with me for a long time to come.

The ‘house’ is bordered by a circle of cardboard. In fact, the walls of the house are made of cardboard, ready for shipping to the next destination. It is quite disconcerting at first given the relative fragility of the material. But then again, isn’t this the material of packing and posting? In my mind, it gives the exhibition a feeling of transience, of impending travels, bringing the stories to more minds, more eyes, more people.

And, if you think about it, the cardboard started life as a tree and, therefore, has a story all of its own.

After all, Nisaba was the holder of the oral tradition of humanity. She held the stories and passed them on. We have her to thank for the history of humankind as told by our ancestors.

(I reckon we can also blame her for misinformation brought about by an ancient form of Chinese Whispers. But that could be a personal opinion and one best left out of this post.)

As I wandered around and through the rooms of Nisaba’s house, I was struck by so many emotions that it is hard to elucidate them. The overall mood, though, is one of wonder.

I really loved this exhibition. It is one of the things that art should be about. It should tell stories, express the emotions within the creator, attempting to pass those feelings on to a viewer. And this did that to me.

I cannot pick a favourite piece. The house, itself, is favourite enough.

And just think, I was only in Stockholm to buy some quail eggs.