Olav Christopher Jenssen & Alice Godwin, in conversation

 

Olav Christopher Jenssen

Archaeology

20 August – 2 May 2026

 

 

Arriving at Galleri Susanne Ottesen, I find the Norwegian artist Olav Christopher Jenssen perched on a windowsill, typing the words for one of several new signs. These notices are ordinarily found at the entrance of Jenssen’s rural studio or as announcements for special family occasions. But for the first time, they will lead the way through one of his exhibitions.

 

Our conversation takes place in the midst of installing the show, featuring a distinct series of recent works across painting, sculpture, and drawing. They each offer an insight into Jenssen’s past and present – imbued with the layers of historic series and experiences, as well as the tender sensations of the here and now. In a twist of fate, Jenssen’s life was forever altered in 2023 when he suffered a stroke. Now, with his vision impaired, Jenssen talks about the importance of pressing forward and continuing to make art, leaning into the processes that have been the foundation of his career. 

 

Through this dramatic change, Jenssen has conversely found freedom – liberated from the suggestive powers of visual stimuli and the urge to go back and correct oneself. With this relinquish of control comes a new, strengthened sense of his existing tolerance, both in art and life. This balance between the poetic and the pragmatic has long been true of Jenssen’s artistic approach – purposefully and lyrically oblique, yet rooted in a repeated and enduring practice.

– Alice Godwin, arts writer, researcher and editor

 

 

In conversation: Olav Christopher Jenssen and Alice Godwin 

 

Alice Godwin: Well, where to start? I think the title, Archaeology, would be a lovely place to begin.

 

Olav Christopher Jenssen: That’s a good beginning.

 

AG: I know that names come to you in different ways: sometimes they evolve slowly over the process of making a series, and sometimes they arrive complete in your lap. How did you decide upon Archaeology as the title of this exhibition and the new series of paintings?

 

OCJ: Well, it has something to do with certain circumstances in my life, comparing what I see now to what I used to see. Since I now have very limited sight, this has given me a different approach. As in archaeology, it is about finding something, about something appearing that I couldn’t know before. It is a solidarity with searching, a solidarity with my own, new way of looking. So I sought a poetic correspondence between this seeking and the title, something without sentimentality. I like the poetry of not knowing what you might find, but knowing there is something there. The result is the surprise, something you could never expect.

 

AG: The word archaeology implies that the viewer will find something in these paintings if they dig into their conceptual and material layers, but you purposefully let them discover for themselves what that something is without explaining it in words.

 

OCJ: Yes! That is my profession. It also has something to do with professional instinct, with the putting together of information or experience collected over a lifetime, in being able to know where to search. As we talk, this connection to the archaeologist is becoming more and more clear.

 

AG: There’s definitely something about these paintings that echoes the layers one might find in an archaeological dig, working our way through layers of soil – of history, of memories. We’re looking through the layers of your past and previous series, which I know often lead into the next and resonate with one another. This strata offers a guide, in a way, of how to look at the paintings in this exhibition. I have this feeling of looking through different perforations and punctures that lead you from one layer into the next.

 

OCJ: For you, the viewer, a painting will always be new, it doesn’t matter how old it is: it is new in the moment that you find it – see it, experience it. So it has both; to function, it needs both past and present.

 

AG: That is so poignant – the paintings have to hold an entire history, while also being present in the moment.

 

OCJ: It definitely came from this dimension. I think the title offers a description of these paintings and also points to how they came to be.

 

AG: You have experienced a tremendous upheaval in your life over the past few years, following a stroke in the winter of 2023 that left your eyesight severely impaired. As a visual artist, I can only imagine how that experience has impacted you. I know you have previously said that it did not change the intentions behind your art, but I wonder if you feel the way you work or express yourself has shifted in some way?

 

OCJ: Something has definitely changed, a lot has changed, but I still have the feeling that the best way forward is to continue. I am not looking for what I have to change, but to maintain my energy and the approach I have always used. Leaving aside what I cannot do, which others can do instead, I feel as if I have entered a new period, with new experiences, which of course comes both with limitations and possibilities. So it is not escaping, but a new, concentrated approach. I have an optimistic approach to life. I feel very fortunate to have people around me that make my work possible and very happy, paradoxically in light of this latest experience, that I am an artist.

 

AG: The results are so moving.

 

OCJ: In a sense, I have to use my experience from different fields to find a way to get to the ‘inner picture’ – though I don’t want to use that phrase –  without visual impulses. As I can’t see films or read books, there is a kind of new freedom in not having those influences.

 

AG: That is a remarkably beautiful way to embrace the restrictions your health has had upon your physical abilities – as a new kind of freedom from external influences.

 

OCJ: Except for the drama of it all, it has been a very interesting time! I can see humour. It could be a tragedy, of course, and I can reason with the tragedy as well, but it doesn’t bring me much.

AG: Colour has long been a source of inspiration for you, and the source of so much pleasure. I’m curious how your approach to colour and to form has changed. You’re known for spectacular paintings where often a cacophony of colour dances amongst a fabric of forms. But here, your colours are stripped back to this delicate palette of white and grey, almost a dusty pink, that is quietly beautiful. I know the way you experience colour is different now, but how have these paintings allowed you to continue exploring that side of your work?

OCJ: For this exhibition, we have made a special selection of paintings, sculptures and drawings, with the most recent being a group of watercolours. We have presented a continuous line of drawings, each the same size, that are part of a series I have been working on for some years. It is important that I have been working on this daily, for some time, because it meant I could jump back in and continue without making any adjustments to my approach. I could enter this established context, and any new works that arose became neatly included without any disturbance.

 

AG: Your drawing practice acts almost as a collaborator, one that has been there with you throughout your whole career.

OCJ: Yes! And that offered me freedom to continue. I so wanted just to continue something, and, being unable to see much at all, I wondered what I could do to get around this great reliance on seeing. That’s also why I started working on new ceramic sculptures, to get something moving.

 

AG: It’s fascinating the way you talk about drawing and sculpture as tools that have enabled you to continue working even through such a tumultuous era.

 

OCJ: Both offered new experiences within the framework of my new limitations. Two months ago, I set out to begin a new series of watercolour drawings, to re-orient myself and expand what I had in my watercolour-locker! It was like learning how to play the piano again. I have always shown very, very new works – that’s also perhaps a means of creating energy for me. This show has presented an opportunity to do so, here and now.

 

AG: Tell me about the positioning of the drawings on this line, which runs around the gallery and surrounds the viewer. We find these drawings at a very particular height on the wall. Does the same line exist in the studio? Are the works shown in the same way?

OCJ: It’s actually not the same line as in the studio, but the simplicity of what I call ‘the magic line’ which offers a clear demonstration of the architecture of a space. The line gives definition and makes it possible to show this many drawings without significant organisation. The line is very helpful in providing clarity; it is a practical, pragmatic observational tool, but it is also a magic line.

 

AG: Is it magic because of the level, determining where we – our bodies – meet the works?

OCJ: Some might consider me famous for my low hang height, others perhaps find it problematic or irritating, but I like the connection to the earth, to the floor. The floor is better as a point of orientation, for me, than the ceiling. The height will always be there. This grounding offers a clear sense of definition and communicates with the architecture.

 

AG: Interesting, so your magic line embraces a certain force of gravity, pulling us down?

 

OCJ: It offers a kind of stability. I think the resulting balance sits very well – you feel it.

 

AG: Absolutely, you can feel that careful balance in the positioning of the drawings on the wall.

 

OCJ: Things aren’t drifting away. I like this sense of calm. It can be a delicate balance, but it must be in balance.

 

AG: I wanted to return to something we touched on when we first met today. You explained that earlier in your career, you divided your time between Berlin and Sweden, but you now spend the majority of your time in Lya and your studio is there, while some of your close family live in Berlin. I’m curious how much place and architecture contribute to your working environment. Certainly, the signposts you make in your private life for particular occasions, and which you’ve made for this exhibition, allude to how important a sense of place is to you.

 

OCJ: I used to have studios in both Berlin and Sweden that were essentially the same. I wanted to have two very similar studios and be able to move between them. It meant nothing if I was in Berlin or in Lya because I was always in the studio. But of course, it also has something to do with Berlin itself, though Berlin means something else to me now; it has not remained the same in the 43 years I have been living there.

 

AG: It’s not the same city.

 

OCJ: It’s not the same city, and the city doesn’t need me anymore. Actually, maybe now they really need me! There are so many new demands on the city. Berlin was wonderful when it was a city without money, but now it is changing and living there is different.

 

AG: It’s always the story.

 

OCJ: Always the story! People often don’t learn from history, so the same things happen again and again.

 

AG: I also wanted to ask you specifically about the wonderfully playful signs you make, which are so joyful and so distinct from other aspects of our practice. You are showing a series of signs in this exhibition for the first time. I’m struck that they offer a very different means of communication.

 

OCJ: Yes, the signs have never been activated through my art. They have always been a family thing; if there was a celebration, a sign was needed. I have made many, many signs and posters in my life, as a means of illustrating what is happening. Since there have been many joyful situations, there have been many joyful signs. They also appear in the studio as a welcome to visitors or an announcement that a new series is underway.

 

AG: Do you keep and archive them?

OCJ: Yes, I do keep them as an archive.

 

AG: It is such an illustrative form of communication, so different to the other facets of your work in painting and sculpture.

 

OCJ: But I have always been interested in typography. Books, too, have always been a part of my activity.

AG: Of course, you have often used words in your paintings – the meaning of which may not matter, but rather the look or sound or feeling. I suppose words each have their own certain value and sensation.

 

OCJ: Yes, but I don’t use language as a new means of understanding; it is without ambition in that sense.

 

AG: There is no conceptual rigour behind words for you?

 

OCJ: No, though titles are always important for me as a means of connection. There is always something that exists between me and the painting, me and the work, and some kind of written understanding. When I write a word, a title, and it looks good on the page, then I trust it.

 

AG: All of the sculptures featured in this show are called Gloria. How does that name relate to the works?

 

OCJ: Yes, this group is called Gloria. It’s a word that communicates a feeling well known to many people, but it is a very pragmatic thing too – it is the title of the glaze. It was a title automatically given through the generosity of the glaze.

 

AG: I feel like that balance between pragmatism and poetry is central for you.

 

OCJ: Yes, it can be read as a good example for how titles bring life to the sculptures, and where pre-existing associations add another layer. Gloria! It is a wonderful name for a glaze.

 

AG: It’s such an exuberant word. Is this the first time you’ve worked with the Gloria, silvery glaze?

 

OCJ: I use a lot of different glazes. As a happy amateur, there is a lot to cope with when it comes to colours and glazes. I was once asked how I coped with it all and answered that I am very, very tolerant to experimentation, and to unknown results.

 

AG: It’s fascinating how you talk about embracing the different results in sculpture, being tolerant of some of the spontaneous happenings in your work, but I feel that your paintings and drawings operate in such a different way and have a different relationship with tolerance. There are times when you repeat the same form over and over again.

 

OCJ: I think you can find similarity in the moment in which it happens, it begins. I think it is even there in the progress of the work. Over the years, I’ve changed my approach many times. There is some special moment – whether it be a change of tool or another trigger – that causes a shift. Perhaps this is my sense of continuation, the tolerant approach. It’s always been important to me to accept and not seek to be the one to correct. This is a perspective I now feel very clearly. I have always wanted to make works where I am moving forwards, not where I feel I need to return to. Now, with my new condition, I am depending on this trust because I cannot correct it, I cannot go back into it because I cannot find my way back.

 

AG: There must be an even greater tolerance.

 

OCJ: It definitely offers an opportunity, one I felt I would like to pursue, to be beyond correcting myself. Now, I am even closer to that. I am experiencing things I would not otherwise have been able to, and embracing that unknown. I feel loyal to processes, I want to give myself the opportunity to pursue and discover new processes. And yet, I like my own company – I, we, do it together.

 

AG: I was also eager to hear more about the drawings. In particular, there is a whole stack devoted to the American composer John Cage. Has Cage been a source of inspiration before?

 

OCJ: He is a beautiful artist, and I’ve always admired his friendliness, his silence, and the devotion to his work, to mankind, to being an artist and respecting life and people. Perhaps it’s a little idealistic, but I had a moment of realisation while thinking about his 4’33” (1952) piece for piano, which is a piece of total silence. I think there is a beautiful clarity in this work, which gives so much opportunity to those listening to the silence to be able to experience something new.

 

I had this moment of joyful participation when I timed how long it would take me to draw this little frame, change the crayons and add little drops of colour, while working to close the silent circle. Sometimes it was 3 minutes and 45 seconds, and sometimes it was 5 minutes and 2 seconds. Twice – in maybe 100 circles – I finished in exactly 4 minutes and 33 seconds.

 

AG: Twice, you finished it precisely in time with the piece?

 

OCJ: There was one day when I drew for 4 minutes and 32 seconds, several times. I was so close so many times, but only twice did I match Cage. My grandchild was in charge of the timer, so I wasn’t able to cheat! So this was my homage to John Cage. I could have made works that show gratitude to many other artists who have been important to me, but Cage is a symbolic carrier [of the artists I have admired].

 

AG: There is another group of drawings with a series of concentric circles that refer to the Swedish designer Ingegerd Råman. Is she another vital touchstone for you?

 

OCJ: That is another kind of homage – an homage connected to my daily life – to a very gifted designer whom I admire very much, both for her work and her personal appearance. There is also a connection to John Cage, because silence is important to her as well. Silence is close to clearness; there is no excess. I drew around the Råman pieces we have and use on a daily basis, and played with the possibilities they offered.

 

AG: Is that notion of clarity you discovered in the work of Cage and Råman something you have brought with you into other aspects of your practice?

 

OCJ: I don’t have a strategy or dogmatic discipline that I depend on and have to protect, or abide by, but it is a part of it. Since there is also a sense of aesthetic memory intrinsic to this, I find different impulses come together to give this resulting impression [of clarity]. In the line – on which the drawings hang in the show – you will find more eruptive moments, but it is important to me that each work finds its place on that line, on that same sheet of paper.

 

AG: And each drawing is on the same-sized paper and working within the same format.

 

OCJ: I, of course, work in other formats too, but this has offered the possibility to work without questioning intent. Perhaps there’s a childlike quality to this repeated format: if you continue to work in the same way for long enough, which might feel inconsequential, this continuity can become interesting in and of itself.

 

AG: Is it still true that when you travel, you bring a pile of drawings with you and continue to work on them?

 

OCJ: Yes, I always have a little pile of paper with me. Sometimes I begin a series in one place and finish it elsewhere. I also work with different tools – different crayons or watercolours, and more – but I always wax the work as a means to conclude the drawing, as a way of preventing myself from continuing the process, to make it final.

 

AG: So you force yourself to stop? There is something wonderfully archeological about setting a piece of paper in wax – not only preserving it like the relic of some archaeological dig, but it feels reminiscent of finding an old piece of parchment, perhaps.

 

OCJ: Yes, in a way, yes! It is also a form of conservation for the drawing.

 

It was so nice to have this talk with you, Alice. I feel, having lived so many years in Germany, but with Norwegian as my native tongue, I speak a different Norwegian than I did before, and I don’t speak well enough in German to be German. But I hope I have expressed myself clearly in English!

 

AG: I think language is so interesting in that way, for people who live between countries and can feel as if they speak an old, outdated version of their mother tongue, but are not quite fluent in the idiosyncrasies of their adopted language.

OCJ: And I so enjoy words and enjoy bringing words together.

AG: German is one of the most expressive languages, don’t you think?

 

OCJ: It is a wonderful, wonderful language. Now, as I speak English with you, it is somewhat a case of circling, gathering, to bring things – thoughts – together.

 

AG: I’m always conscious that in different languages we express ourselves differently, and someone speaking in their second or third language may not be able to convey a certain side of their personality in the way they would in their native tongue. Perhaps you can even take on a different personality in a new language.

 

OCJ: Yes! You can!

 

AG: It has been such a pleasure to speak with you and see these new works in person.

OCJ: You know my first show here was in 1992, and Susanne had the exact same floor!

 

AG: Well, the floor is iconic, you can’t change the floor!

OCJ: Yes, that is why I wanted to make the signs – they bring peace to the floor. What do you think about the magic line? Is it sharp enough?

 

AG: I feel I need to stand in front of it properly to experience the magic once the drawings are hung. Where will the drawings sit? Will we still see the line?

 

OCJ: You will feel the line, and you will still see the line. The drawings will run continuously across the four walls of this room. There will be one placed every 5 cm, 174 in total (if our calculations prove correct).

 

AG: I wonder if it will result in this quiet force, where the line will pull you around the room and you’ll feel an instinct, a need to follow.

 

OCJ: You’ll have to let me know!