Exploring Distance

The exhibition Avstand (Distance) by Sara Guldmyr consists of six pieces, spread across four rooms at Heimdal Kunstforening. The number of artworks in comparison to the number of rooms lends itself well to the themes explored in Avstand: geographic and emotional distance. A small booklet sharing insights and anecdotes about the works accompanies the exhibition and is vital to understanding each piece. This booklet also contains the titles of each work; there are no labels in the exhibition.

I visit Heimdal Kunstforening twice over the course of a few days. My first visit is to the opening, and the second is for a concert. Guldmyr’s artworks double as musical instruments. The concert is the result of a collaboration between Guldmyr and musician and composer, Michaela Antalová. The musical component of the art explores distance through sound and amplifies the emotions explored by each artwork.

Walking into one of the first rooms, I am met by the work Bilharper (Carharp). I immediately wonder what this work sounds like when played. On three pedestals sits a little, blue ceramic car, each of which has a small zither as its roof. I can imagine the little cars driving around the room while music emanates from them. In the booklet, Guldmyr talks about a car accident that has caused her to have a lot of anxiety while driving. As she works through this distress, Guldmyr is finally able to listen to classical music in the car. Afterwards she starts to sketch cars with guitar strings. This story is mirrored during the concert. Antalová plays one of the car-harps using a minor tone that creates a sense of unease. She strums the zither using her hands and two small, round cleaning brushes that have wire handles. The song grows loud and chaotic but eventually dwindles. The final notes become a slight scratching noise as Antalová pulls the wire handles of the brushes across a single string on the zither. The anxiety that was once so strong lessens to the point that it becomes possible to ignore. 

The final room I step into has two art works in it. The first, Savn (Longing), grabs my attention as it hangs from the ceiling at the center of the room. The work is made of five white PVC pipes and wire. The way the pipes are stacked and the way they curve reminds me of a ribcage. It is unsettling and feels like an omen of death. I reflect on the different kinds of deaths we experience, for example losing parts of ourselves as we change and adapt to the people and world around us, for better or for worse. The sounds the work emits, at the breath of Antalová, are hollow and eerie. Despite being in a crowded room, Savn’s ribcage-like appearance and hollow noises make me feel like I am standing alone in a vast nothingness.

The second work in this room is Nervbjeller/Katastroftanker (Nervous Bells/Catastrophic Thoughts). It consists of three ceramic hand bells. Two of the bells feature bright and colorful mosaics full of patterns; the third, and smallest, bell is painted straight black. It’s hard to really see the beautiful mosaics because all three bells are laying on the floor in the corner of the room. You have to squat down to get a closer look. I wonder if this is an intentional choice and what the reason might be. These bells are the most colorful parts of the exhibition; they stand out among the other muted tan and blue works. I wonder if this represents the way anxiety feels loud and demands your attention. This makes their positioning in the room feel more odd because they take such an unassuming air, almost like they’ve been forgotten. Perhaps this speaks to a healing element: the nervous feelings that were once so loud now sit in the corner of the room like a distant memory. During the musical performance, Antalová rings these bells. They are raucous and fill the room with sound that cannot be ignored. They are played devoid of any gentleness. I find myself feeling grateful for the silence when Antalová finishes playing and sets the bells back on the floor. 

While the themes of the show focus on distance and grapple with feelings of loneliness and tension, I leave feeling calm. I reflect on the distances in my own life, both physically and emotionally, but ultimately feel comforted by the reminder that loneliness and distance are a shared experience. The concert that allowed me to hear the works fed my curiosity and amplified the themes explored by each work, but attending it wasn’t necessary to understand the overarching meanings of the exhibit. Ultimately, Avstand is a poignant reflection on the impact distance can have on our lives.

Artikkelfoto: Sara Guldmyr, Avstand, Heimdal Kunstforening. F: Susann Jamtøy.

Avstand
Sara Guldmyr
Heimdal Kunstforening
12. februar – 01. mars 2026