Magnús Pálsson. Gapassipi

What might the Nordic countries sound like? How have Nordic experimental musicians used sound to evoke Nordic ways of being? What role do Nordic languages, landscapes, and livelihoods play in these sonic exhibitions? Mumbling Eye, founded in 2021 by Adam Buffington and Tumi Magnússon, is one of a number of institutions that seeks to promote Nordic art music of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries among audiences, both within and beyond the Nordic countries. Following similar initiatives in the Nordic countries that issue out-of-print or unreleased sound-based works by experimental musicians and Fluxus artists—such as the Institut for Dansk Lydarkæologi (Institute for Danish Sound Archaeology) and the Henning Christensen Archive—Mumbling Eye is an archival record label dedicated to advancing Icelandic sound art and artists. While scholars and practitioners have readily approached Icelandic popular music artists, namely, Björk and Sigúr Rós, and early twentieth-century Icelandic art music composers such as Jón Leifs, those outside of the Nordic countries have seldom approached Icelandic, let alone Nordic art music composed and performed after 1945. Mumbling Eye’s first record, the sound installation Gapassipi by Icelandic sound artist Magnús Pálsson (b. 1929), sets a promising and engaging opening tone for their dedication to “the publication and dissemination of rare and unreleased Icelandic sound art and related ephemera” (p. 38).

The term “sound art” generally refers to a genre of experimental music, developed in the late twentieth century, that utilizes non-musical or ambient sounds within a set location or time frame. Many sound art installations feature visual and kinesthetic components in addition to sonic components, making sound art a full-body experience in several instances. American composer John Cage and Fluxus artists such as Nam June Paik and Charlotte Moorman are among the most well-known sound artists. These three artists’ activities in Reykjavik in the late twentieth century both accompanied and influenced Pálsson’s work—work that merged sound art with sculpture, theater, video, and prose.

Pálsson’s Gapassipi was exhibited in the Reykjavik City Hall, situated alongside the Tjörnin lake, from February 25 through March 10, 1995. The installation comprised a 322-square-foot triangular floor area covered in broken glass, with eight loudspeakers positioned throughout the space playing two spoken-word tracks pre-recorded by Pálsson. The first track consists of vignettes describing Pálsson’s childhood and early adulthood memories of Tjörnin, and the second track features a poem, loosely recited in homage to the gander surrounding the lake. According to Pálsson, “during the time of the exhibition there was ice on the lake. Bird life on it is lively and even though swans and ducks are numerous the Greylag Goose is the prominent and dominating species” (p. 10).

The installation’s triangular shape alludes to the V-shaped formation of the flying greylag. The installation’s text is unique because it is not written and spoken in standard Icelandic, but instead in the colloquial “P-Language.” This is a secret language spoken among Icelandic children in an attempt to avoid adult comprehension. In the P-Language, vowels in Icelandic words are preceded by a “p,” which is then preceded by the same vowel succeeding the inserted “p.” For example, the Icelandic word “gassi” (“gander” in English) becomes “gapassipi,” hence, the installation’s title.

Mumbling Eye’s publication of Gapassipi comes in the form of a forty-page hardcover book with the CD included within. Written in both English and Icelandic, the book includes liner notes written by Buffington, outlining the historical background and significance of the installation; Pálsson’s exhibition text, recounting the setup and experience of the original exhibit; transcripts of the P-Language texts heard in the installation (as well as their English P-Language equivalents); vivid photographs of the exhibit; and a blueprint of the Reykjavik City Hall that Pálsson used to determine the placement of the loudspeakers. While readers and listeners cannot experience the installation in its entirety, the CD offers an idea of what one’s sonic experience would have been like in the exhibit. When listening with headphones, the first track plays in the right channel while the second track plays in the left. Pálsson’s pace of speech is faster in the first track than in the second, but this sonic contrast is more complementary than disruptive. Moreover, the transcriptions in the book allow the listener to read along with one of the tracks, just as though they are standing in the exhibit listening to one of the tracks through a nearby loudspeaker.

In his liner notes, Buffington situates Gapassipi in the context of Pálsson’s broader oeuvre, stating that “with the installation’s intricate sitespecificity, and the overlapping sonic convergences of speech and chant, Gapassipi embodies Pálsson’s fascination with the spatiality of sound and the physicality of speech” (p. 6). Beyond the context of Pálsson’s oeuvre and his relation to the broader nexus of sound art, Gapassipi offers a rich opportunity for scholars to consider how sound evokes memory: in this case, the memory of an Icelandic public. Pálsson’s vignettes of his memories surrounding Tjörnin speak not only to his individual memories, but also to those of Reykjavik residents who spend or spent time around the lake and are therefore familiar with the gander to which the installation pays homage. Furthermore, Pálsson’s use of the P-Language evokes memories of Icelandic childhood and symbolizes participation in a facet of Icelandic youth culture: Pálsson notes in his exhibition text that “some people could understand the spoken text whereas others had to read it in the booklet in order to understand it” (p. 10).

In sum, Mumbling Eye’s first publication is as appealing to interdisciplinary groups of scholars as sound art is to interdisciplinary groups of artists. For music scholars and practitioners, Gapassipi contributes to the growing interest in Nordic music studies by placing Pálsson in conversation with prominent figures and trends in experimental music. For art historians, Gapassipi locates Pálsson’s significance within Icelandic art history, as well as within the transnational nexuses of sound art, performance art, and Fluxus. And for scholars of Nordic history and culture, Gapassipi encourages us to interrogate the ways in which sound, even in its most seemingly mundane and unmusical forms, can evoke identity, livelihoods, cultural phenomena, memories, ecologies, and ways of being in the Nordic countries. Most significantly, Gapassipi challenges the notion that Iceland is peripheral to broader artistic developments by situating Icelandic artists like Pálsson as active participants in transnational artistic movements, while highlighting the uniquely Icelandic character of their work.