För att se denna webbplats vänligen uppgradera eller använd en annan webbläsare. Prova antingen Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera eller Microsoft Edge.

Johanna Bjurström

I went to music school as a child and this experience is reflected in my work today, when I find myself mimicking the disciplined aesthetics found in music theory, like precision, composition, and harmony. Long black skirts, white shirts, scores in our hands. Parents sitting on benches, taking a deep breath before we start.   

I imagine music as it echoes in the air. It comes from a source that sets the air in motion, bouncing off the surfaces it encounters. It reaches the ear, the ear canal, the eardrum. Music is created first in the mind.   

Instruments can be the potential birth of a sound, and the spaces it travels through. These static objects contrast with the inherent fleeting nature of sound and superstition.  I once met an organ restorer who told me about the instrument’s long history. I told him about an art project inspired by organs, and he kept trying to steer me toward the idea that I should make the piece sound through “a few simple solutions.” But it was not important for me to make it sound, I thought about the piece as a starting point for sound to happen. A taut thread can break at any time. Until then it remains still, holds its breath surrounded by a loud silence.

Images:

01.

Installation view of MASS, Galleri Mejan (2024). Photo: Jean-Baptiste Béranger 

02.

Lux (detail) (2024) Jute, vinyl, wood and thread, 154 x 235 cm. Photo: Jean-Baptiste Béranger 

Bildgalleri, rulla i sidled för att se bilder.
1 / 2