The field of contemporary art continually brings forward the new, the known and the unknown. Sometimes the new comes in the form of young artists who are in the process of making a name and reputation for themselves through their work. At other times, the 'new' is relative and to be found in what is already there. Such is the case with Hreinn Fridfinnsson, who is well established within the contemporary art world of Iceland, where he was born, and Amsterdam, where he lives, but who is less well known to a wider audience. I first heard his name during a programming meeting with Serpentine Gallery Directors Julia Peyton­ Jones and Hans Ulrich Obrist. We were meeting to discuss how we might synergistically programme the summer exhibition with respect to the Serpentine Gallery Pavilion 2007, designed by the well-known Danish/ Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson, in collaboration with the distinguished Norwegian architect Kjetil Thorsen, of the architectural practice Sn0hetta. Obrist mentioned Fridfinnsson as a possibility, stating that this senior, Icelandic conceptual artist, who has been exhibiting since the early 1970s, has been a great inspiration to Eliasson, as well as to the French artist Philippe Parreno, among others.

I first met Fridfinnsson when he travelled to London for his initial meeting at the Serpentine Gallery. He is serious and gentle and his manner is straightforward and low-key; all of this is undercut by a self-deprecating sense of humour. Fridfinnsson set the pace. Slowly and deliberately, we reviewed a series of works from which we would later make a final selection. As he discussed his practice in depth, he introduced the central themes of his oeuvre, as well as his methods for making art. This brief essay will sketch the foundations of his practice and is followed by Hans Ulrich Obrist's interview with Fridfinnsson, where the artist speaks more intimately and directly about his history as well as specific works in the exhibition.

While reading about, and studying reproductions of, Fridfinnsson's work, a list of artists of similar sensibility came to mind: Bas Jan Ader, Carl Andre, Giovanni Anselmo, Giulio Paolini, Robert Smithson, Michael Heizer, Richard Long and James Turrell. Though distinctly different in their approaches, all of them were born, like Fridfinnsson, in the 1930s and 40s and the diversity of categories into which their work falls demonstrates the multiplicity of attitudes present in Fridfinnsson's work. It could be characterised as conceptual in the sense that it is ideas­ driven, or as Arte Povera in its use of everyday materials; much of it might be considered stripped down or Minimalist, and the outdoor projects can be seen as examples of earthworks or land art.

A handful of works are exemplary. The conceptual work, Substances, composed of the text 'I have looked at the sea through my tears', 1973, evidences an emotional approach or perhaps a search for the ineffable and even beautiful. The earthwork, House Project, 1974, was built in a remote area of Iceland by Fridfinnsson and was based on a literary source describing an 'inside-out' dwelling, where the exterior was decorated with wallpaper, curtains and, of course, pictures. House Project was not meant to be a public work of art; rather, Fridfinnsson showed documentation of its construction in a Stockholm museum and hoped that walkers would come across the building itself by accident and then tell others about the experience. In fact, it was the artist's intention that House Project would become known as a rumour rather than a marked monument or sculpture. The simple sculptures Sanctuary, 1992- 2007, and Floor Piece, 1992- 2007, are made out of regular cardboard boxes and coloured paper, and at once they recall the ordinary materials characteristic of the Italian Arte Povera movement and the more durable metal sculptures of Donald Judd. Fridfinnsson makes use of precious materials too: For Light, Shadow and Oust, 1994, is a minimal wall work composed of a series of glass shelves, to which gold leaf has been applied, and its reflective surfaces make visible the ethereal, be it light, shadow or dust.

Not only does Fridfinnsson's practice span some of the most important contemporary movements of the last half of the previous century, but it also embraces many of the current ways of making art. The artist has exhibited photographs, drawings, paintings, sculptures and installations. He often incorporates readymades, or objects that come off the shelf. However, unlike many of his contemporaries, Fridfinnsson does not use a computer and he has yet to make a video available for public consumption. This gap in his activity speaks of an avoidance of the moving image, found in glowing screens and via projection that defines our contemporary digital existence. Fridfinnsson grew up in a very different world: the unmediated magnifi­ cence of the Icelandic countryside, on a farm in the 1940s and 50s. He says it is impossible to separate himself from the landscape; it is in him, in his body and part of his psychological makeup.¹ The early experience of a vast unpopulated landscape and its accompanying rhythms is fundamental to understanding his work. Where many contemporary artists are fascinated by the speed and spectacle of the media, which could be seen to be accompanied by the loss of memory, Fridfinnsson exists in a parallel universe, where a more measured pace yields memories impossible to forget. This way of seeing, and the knowledge it produces, is familiar to those who find pleasure in natural surroundings. In such places, something big, and often ephemeral, pulls you in and holds you for a long time. Perhaps it is a pale grey sky changing to a foreboding black as a spring storm moves overhead, or maybe it is the ever-changing formation of a flock of white sheep, as seen on a sunny day against an emerald green hillside. Nothing in and of itself is remarkable about these scenes; they are part of the everyday flux in such environments. However, during our contemplation of these slow, considered moments, we sense the possibility that some modest discovery, or even something extraordinary, might be revealed within the ordinary. It is precisely this durational approach to looking, thinking and experiencing with which Fridfinnsson is engaged.

The artist's visual language is more complex, though. His vocabulary, often underscored by a delicate sense of humour, encompasses doubling, dreams, folklore, language games, mythology, pairing, perceptual tricks, reflections, and the supernatural. Through these means, Fridfinnsson, is searching for equivalence between one thing and another. Within this exhibition, for example, no one piece is more important or more central; instead, we find ourselves in the midst of a dispersed and non-hierarchical universe, where the wonder of a simple discovery is cause for celebration.

Kitty Scott