Not many countries put a portrait of extreme mental anguish at the forefront of their tourism campaigns. But, then again, there are few more acclaimed modern pictures than Edvard Munch’s The Scream — with its setting sun, blood-red sky, blue-black fjord and the image of a man blocking his ears from, as Munch put it, “an infinite scream passing through nature”.
This gripping depiction of anxiety and angst — in fact, three versions of them — is the star turn of the recently opened Munch Museum, housed alongside hundreds of other paintings, murals, woodcuts and prints from the great painter’s canon. The museum’s position at the heart of Oslo’s waterfront points to a fascinating new strategic direction for Norway — with important lessons for London.
Thirty years after establishing its hugely successful Sovereign Wealth Fund — which smartly invests the nation’s vast profits from North Sea oil — Norway is working out its post-hydrocarbon future. And, like Saudi Arabia with its fast-developing museums, heritage sites and upcoming Islamic Arts Biennale, Oslo has decided culture is key — if not necessarily all the boxing, golf and Formula 1 which Riyadh seems equally keen on.
After many years as something of a cultural underperformer, Oslo is coming alive with improved venues for performing arts, historic collections and contemporary art. Close by the Munch Museum alongside the Oslo fjord is the Opera House, which has become a popular city landmark thanks to its iceberg-like angular roof that cleverly doubles as a public piazza. Inside, the auditorium and backstage facilities are world-class, with a costume studio which V&A textile conservators can only dream of.
How the Norwegians did it
Then, most recently, came the opening of The National Museum, bringing together the Norwegian state’s public collection of art, architecture and design objects, totalling over 40,000 items. Tucked behind the Nobel Peace Center, this is a spectacularly executed museum with generously curated galleries of paintings, craft, contemporary design and exhibition space. Wrapped in Norwegian slate tiles, there is a dignity and longevity to the building that speaks to a powerful commitment to culture. At the same time, the openness and transparency of the museum, combined with up-to-date digital facilities, give it a very Scandi-style welcoming feel. Its founding director, Karin Hindsbo, has since joined us in London as the director of Tate Modern. All this well-endowed cultural provision sits atop a scarily functioning city (for a Londoner) when it comes to public transport, community safety and schooling. And that is even before we get to the public saunas and fjord swimming zones.
However, what is even more striking is the commitment which the Norwegian state and Oslo city give to the ecosystem of art. Rightly, the government has understood that nurturing cultural excellence takes time and resources. It cannot just be about shiny buildings and regeneration zones — which was the mistake Britain made with so many millennium lottery awards to now defunct arts centres.
Instead, the Norwegians developed a cross-party agreement to spend 1 per cent of GDP on culture and, specifically, to fund artists while they develop their practice. Through their equivalent of the Arts Council, the Norwegians allocate smart work grants for younger and newly established artists; for recently graduated artists; and for established as well as senior artists.
What London gets wrong
The production of art can take meaningful time and, especially for younger creatives, being able to survive beyond the demands of a gallery timetable or working two other jobs can be totally transformative. From film to ceramics to indigenous Sami craft, the Norwegians are investing in the human, creative capital which will, in the coming decades, fill their galleries, opera houses, cinemas and museums — and is already attracting global interest.
Meanwhile, in London, it is becoming harder and harder for artists to function. The Mayor and Deputy Mayor Justine Simons are committed supporters of the creative industries. The capital’s museums, colleges and galleries are certainly doing their bit to nurture upcoming talent. But the simple, everyday costs of living and making in the city — from materials to rent to postgraduate study — are proving punishing, while studio spaces are as difficult to come by as live music venues. Making art was never a sure route to riches, yet a successful city like London should be able to provide more of a supportive environment.
Given the financial challenge, the Office for National Statistics unsurprisingly reports that the proportion of actors, musicians and writers who are from a working-class background has shrunk by half, from 16.4 per cent of creative workers born between 1953 and 1962 to just 7.9 per cent of those born four decades later.
Sadly, we don’t have a Sovereign Wealth Fund brimming with oil riches, as our own North Sea bonanza was splurged on unemployment benefit in the Eighties. But we do have an Arts Council currently reviewing its plans; we have a growing call for tourist levies to fund art and culture in the capital; and a National Lottery funding package for creative practice. Perhaps, with some political leadership, that might offer a coalition of cash for working artists.
This month sees one of the world’s great art fairs, Frieze and Frieze Masters, descend on Regent’s Park. The booths and sales and buzz remain testimony to our central place within the global art economy. But for the talent of tomorrow and to keep London in the lead we need the Oslo option of an investment model beyond the short-term grants and gallery cycle.
Of course, after yet another attack by Just Stop Oil on Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers, whether any UK artists would take funds which have some connection to North Sea oil wealth is perhaps another question.
