Words by Rosie Dalton
Photography by Hannah Scott-Stevenson
In many ways jewellery is like art. Not only does it function as a form of wearable art — one that’s most akin to sculpture — but it also interacts with fine art in a more traditional sense. Think of Johannes Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring, for example, or many of Frida Kahlo’s most famous self-portraits. I experienced this personally with one of Christiane Spangsberg’s magnetic works (Scared of Being Loved), which now hangs in my home. A portrait of a woman that sports one single earring, it is part of the Danish artist’s recent exploration of portraits incorporating jewellery. Which is an inclusion that lends another layer to her engaging one line drawings.
Following on from her successful debut at Sydney’s Jerico Contemporary and ahead of her first New York exhibition, On the Collar caught up with Christiane to learn about her fascinating creative process and the intensely personal relationships forged with each of her works. As an accessories enthusiast, this is the kind of personal relationship I often witness between maker and masterpiece. But it’s also the kind of relationship that many individuals hold with their daily accessories. Christiane has an eye for this spirit and she understands implicitly that stories are an integral part of any artwork — be it worn or on canvas.
ROSIE DALTON: The necklace you’re wearing is so beautiful.
CHRISTIANE SPANGSBERG: Thank you, it’s a little gold heart from my mum.
RD: I’m wearing a heart today too; it’s a locket from my grandparents. When I meet someone new, the first thing I notice is always their accessories.
CS: I think it’s important for people to start talking about their jewellery and how they have come by it, or how it has been passed down. It’s a really good way to explore history and get people thinking.
RD: I totally agree. It’s all about the stories, right? Your artworks tell beautiful stories as well; they feel very personal to me.
CS: That’s the only thing I can hope for. I am always excited for my pieces to find new homes. But it’s also kind of vulnerable, because I can’t control what people see —I hope it is more than just a pretty picture.
In many ways jewellery is like art. Not only does it function as a form of wearable art — one that’s most akin to sculpture — but it also interacts with fine art in a more traditional sense. Think of Johannes Vermeer’s Girl with a Pearl Earring, for example, or many of Frida Kahlo’s most famous self-portraits. I experienced this personally with one of Christiane Spangsberg’s magnetic works (Scared of Being Loved), which now hangs in my home. A portrait of a woman that sports one single earring, it is part of the Danish artist’s recent exploration of portraits incorporating jewellery. Which is an inclusion that lends another layer to her engaging one line drawings.
Following on from her successful debut at Sydney’s Jerico Contemporary and ahead of her first New York exhibition, On the Collar caught up with Christiane to learn about her fascinating creative process and the intensely personal relationships forged with each of her works. As an accessories enthusiast, this is the kind of personal relationship I often witness between maker and masterpiece. But it’s also the kind of relationship that many individuals hold with their daily accessories. Christiane has an eye for this spirit and she understands implicitly that stories are an integral part of any artwork — be it worn or on canvas.
ROSIE DALTON: The necklace you’re wearing is so beautiful.
CHRISTIANE SPANGSBERG: Thank you, it’s a little gold heart from my mum.
RD: I’m wearing a heart today too; it’s a locket from my grandparents. When I meet someone new, the first thing I notice is always their accessories.
CS: I think it’s important for people to start talking about their jewellery and how they have come by it, or how it has been passed down. It’s a really good way to explore history and get people thinking.
RD: I totally agree. It’s all about the stories, right? Your artworks tell beautiful stories as well; they feel very personal to me.
CS: That’s the only thing I can hope for. I am always excited for my pieces to find new homes. But it’s also kind of vulnerable, because I can’t control what people see —I hope it is more than just a pretty picture.
RD: I think the personal nature of your art also stems from the fact that it feels very intuitive. Was it a deliberate decision for you not to pursue traditional art training?
CS: Yes and no. I never thought that I wanted to become an artist; I’ve always been scared of it. I don’t want to be someone who believes they’re better than someone else and I feel like art schools sometimes promote that. So on one hand, I didn’t want to study art, but on the other hand, maybe I didn’t think I was good enough either. You know, I could join [art school] now, but I wouldn’t because I don’t want people to tell me what to do. That’s not to say that I don’t want to have mentors or people I go to for advice; everyone needs that. It’s just that I would prefer to choose those people.
RD: So how did you first discover art then?
CS: It’s interesting because art and drawing have always been very different to me. I still question whether I’m actually an artist and I don’t think it’s up to me to label myself as that. I have been drawing since I was about two years old. I don’t know why, it’s just my way to tell stories and escape the world. Art has surrounded my family too. My mum has always been very into art for example, which I only realised quite recently.
RD: I think the personal nature of your art also stems from the fact that it feels very intuitive. Was it a deliberate decision for you not to pursue traditional art training?
CS: Yes and no. I never thought that I wanted to become an artist; I’ve always been scared of it. I don’t want to be someone who believes they’re better than someone else and I feel like art schools sometimes promote that. So on one hand, I didn’t want to study art, but on the other hand, maybe I didn’t think I was good enough either. You know, I could join [art school] now, but I wouldn’t because I don’t want people to tell me what to do. That’s not to say that I don’t want to have mentors or people I go to for advice; everyone needs that. It’s just that I would prefer to choose those people.
RD: So how did you first discover art then?
CS: It’s interesting because art and drawing have always been very different to me. I still question whether I’m actually an artist and I don’t think it’s up to me to label myself as that. I have been drawing since I was about two years old. I don’t know why, it’s just my way to tell stories and escape the world. Art has surrounded my family too. My mum has always been very into art for example, which I only realised quite recently.
RD: I find your blue pieces particularly powerful and I’d love to hear about how you first started using colour?
That colour gives me chills. One day a couple of years ago I went into my little art shop in Copenhagen and decided I wanted to do colour. They have so many, but from all the blues, it needed to be that one. And then I had a very light beige and those two were just such a beautiful fit. I was actually afraid to choose blue, because a lot of artists have used blue. But that feels like my blue; it’s become my a signature and I will never get bored of it, because of the way it can complement any space and create emotions. I think it’s very special.
RD: Jerico [Tracy, founder of Jerico Contemporary] told me that sometimes you finish a piece and then decide you don’t like it, so you destroy it. I’m really interested in this interplay between creation and destruction.
CS: Yes, I can be working for a whole weekend on [a work] and only really see it when it’s done. I don’t make small sketches of a piece, so I only have one chance to make it and if I don’t like it, I have to destroy it. It’s hard to explain why, but sometimes I feel like I could do better. I am my own biggest critic.
RD: I find your blue pieces particularly powerful and I’d love to hear about how you first started using colour?
That colour gives me chills. One day a couple of years ago I went into my little art shop in Copenhagen and decided I wanted to do colour. They have so many, but from all the blues, it needed to be that one. And then I had a very light beige and those two were just such a beautiful fit. I was actually afraid to choose blue, because a lot of artists have used blue. But that feels like my blue; it’s become my a signature and I will never get bored of it, because of the way it can complement any space and create emotions. I think it’s very special.
RD: Jerico [Tracy, founder of Jerico Contemporary] told me that sometimes you finish a piece and then decide you don’t like it, so you destroy it. I’m really interested in this interplay between creation and destruction.
CS: Yes, I can be working for a whole weekend on [a work] and only really see it when it’s done. I don’t make small sketches of a piece, so I only have one chance to make it and if I don’t like it, I have to destroy it. It’s hard to explain why, but sometimes I feel like I could do better. I am my own biggest critic.
Photography Hannah Scott-Stevenson
Words Rosie Dalton