Valgerður Sigurðardóttir captures memories through her art. Our existence is shaped by our stories and past, yet we only retain fragments. Moreover, each person has his or her own perception and interpretation of events. Through her work, Sigurðardóttir endeavours to grasp our collective understanding. Her creations suggest that there is more to reality than meets the eye.
Given that the artist lives and works in Antwerp, Sigurðardóttir's art portrays familiar scenes and actions. We encounter people, animals and objects from her everyday life. "These images arise spontaneously," she explains. "I allow my thoughts to wander freely." Her creations delve into her childhood, the birth and raising of her daughter, motherhood and the loss of her father, among other themes. Sigurðardóttir predominantly depicts her art in charcoal and oil pastels, alongside a few concrete sculptures. Her work is vibrant yet understated, with a childlike and endearing quality to the scenes. I find her ceramic pieces to be particularly appealing. After the initial firing, she embellishes them with wax crayons. Despite their modest size, they convey powerful imagery.
In her recent work, Sigurðardóttir depicts houses bustling with people. "I portray various generations," she explains. "My partner and I are from Iceland. At times, we feel a sense of isolation in Belgium, a longing for our families." Sigurðardóttir often captures spaces or their boundaries, including houses, rooms, doors and corners. "I sense memories fading," she reflects. "My art attempts to preserve these memories. Each individual perceives and experiences memories uniquely. I always envision a space, akin to peering through a doorway." Memories are constructs of the mind, organising events within space and time. The narrative dimension imbues memories with shape and significance. The recurring motifs of boats and cars in her work evoke notions of travel and journeys. "Life is a journey into the unknown. We are en route, uncertain of our destination. A car filled with people in a parking lot reminds me of moments spent waiting, passing time by gazing outwards," she shares. In several portraits, hidden within the hair are animals or other objects. "I view hair as a timeline," she muses. "A wealth of information can be gleaned from it."
With each artwork, Sigurðardóttir can recount her memories, yet as spectators, we need not be privy to them. She allows ample room for interpretation, recognising that everyone recollects events uniquely. For instance, her portraits often depict hands obscuring faces. Is it a playful gesture or an expression of emotion? The interpretation is left to the viewer. Previously characterised by playfulness and cheer, her art now explores a spectrum of emotions, acquiring a sharper edge. "Humour serves as a shield, concealing emotions. I now adopt a more vulnerable stance, accommodating various emotions. I feel compelled to depict not only joy, but also sorrow," she explains.
Sigurðardóttir also underscores the elusive and fragmentary nature of memories. "It's akin to focusing on eye floaters," she illustrates. "The moment I attempt to focus, they elude me." Her compositions often invite spectators to peer through a telescope or keyhole, offering glimpses into her world. Elsewhere, openings in clouds or mist obscure our view, revealing only fragments of scenes. "Following my daughter's birth, multitasking proved challenging. I struggled to maintain focus, only perceiving a fraction of what needed attention, as though seeing through a single eye. In Iceland, we compare death to passing through clouds or mist. Clouds evoke memories of my daughter's birth and my father's passing. Talking to an Angel, the exhibition's title, alludes to these pivotal moments."
Sigurðardóttir zooms in on dormant moments and interspaces through her art. Spectators often arrive either too early or too late, encountering events that have already taken place or are yet to unfold. Through her adept use of light and shadow, she directs focus within her compositions. Previous works featured flashlights illuminating corners or spiderwebs. Similarly, in her recent work, she employs light and shadow to accentuate elements. Clouds occasionally serve as sources of illumination or as placeholders for abstract concepts such as emotions or conversations. Her penchant for fragmented imagery and spatial boundaries reinforces the notion of shifting focus. While her art features recognisable scenes and objects, it serves as a conduit to discussing the invisible and indefinable. Depicting openings like windows, doors or open drawers, Sigurðardóttir invites viewers to contemplate what lies beyond. What remains unseen? We are inclined to rely on perception and knowledge, crafting narratives or figures to explain unknown elements or mysteries. Her art serves as a reminder of the vast expanse of the unknown, prompting us to ponder, much like consulting an angel.