When Bells Ring and Birds Vanish: Iceland’s Biennial Blurs the Human Lens
At Reykjavik’s Sequences Biennial, art doesn’t just hang on walls—it rings in the wind, perches on frail bronze legs, and channels the voices of extinct birds. This year’s festival, curated by a team from Estonia, explores the world through non-human eyes, dividing its exhibitions into elemental chapters: Subterranean, Soil, Water, and Metaphysical.
One installation strings 600 bells around a lighthouse, their chimes echoing the shifting tides and the visitor’s own movement, while another conjures the songs of vanished birds through spiritist seances. Hybrid sculptures—half-bird, half-human—kneel and sing, drawing from Icelandic folklore and the thin line between matter and spirit. Artists like Anna Líndal transform invisible microbes from volcanic depths into tactile, enlarged forms, making the unseen suddenly tangible.
By inviting viewers to listen, touch, and imagine beyond their own senses, the biennial asks what stories might emerge if we let the non-human world take center stage. Sometimes, the most powerful voices are the ones we almost miss.
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