Yesterday I went on an art visit. More specifically at the new art gallery CF HILL located in Östermalm on Norrlandsgatan. The gallery was lovely even though it was placed in a kind of weird setting within a housing complex in the middle of town. On Norrlandsgatan 24 I opened the door went in and took the stairs two stories up where i had to ring on the bell. I felt like a secret visitor attending a mysterious date. The chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, all the mirrors on the walls by the entrance and even by the windows.
After I rang the bell a man opened up the door and I stepped in to the art world of CF Hill. Works by artists like Francesca Gavin, Mary Mccartney, Peter Davies, Friedrich Kunath, Scott Treleaven and many more co-existed side by side in a pending like exhibition. The feeling of walking around in a labyrint was profoundly felt as the office-like cubes acted as the viewers guideline. A curation that at first seemed to go on without an end worked as a way to accelerate ones curiosity and ignited exitement. Yet at the same times as one had walked around the small gallery’s full “labyrint” I came to feel a bit of disappointment due to the tight curating creating an idea of displacement in relation to context. I often felt disengaged and confused. Some works I felt were too small and some artists I thought just didn’t fit in together with other artists works. The exhibition called Form & Volume suddenly for me lost all its meaning. I wondered which works manifested form or volume without reading the exhibition book with all the press releases?
All and all my favourite artists works were by Mary Mccartney and Annie Morris. Mary had depicted wonderful works that illustrated a blurred and honest way of living life. Women in dispair, sadness and being shown privately alone was key. On the other hand the sculptures that Annie Morris provided in the show amped up the ambiance at the CF Hill gallery making the viewer develop feelings of amusement due to the colorful sculptured balls. One by one, on top of each other in what looked like colorful balls dipped in a sand like materia succeeded to orchestrate a contagious harmony that sippred away into the other rooms.
And without this i think I probably wouldn’t have been mesmerized at first, at all.
Text : Rosa Cruz