In an unassuming corner of Laugardalur sits Ásmundarsafn — one of the Reykjavík Art Museum’s three locations for the past four decades and, before that, the home and studio of pioneering Icelandic sculptor Ásmundur Sveinsson (1893-1982). The building itself is a quirky work of art, designed by Ásmundur himself and inspired by Greek and Arabic architecture encountered during his travels.
When Ásmundur constructed the house, the surrounding area was still the grassland of a neighbouring farm called Undraland — Wonderland in English. Fittingly, Wonderland is also the name of an upcoming exhibition that offers visitors a peek into Ásmundur’s studio and work. But there’s more to it than that. I caught up with curator Markús Þór Andrésson before the opening to find out what the exhibition has in store.
Studio returns
Since becoming a museum, Ásmundarsafn has regularly showcased contemporary artists alongside Ásmundur’s work. “Now the idea is to turn towards focusing on the building’s original purpose — a studio where people were working,” Markús explains as he shows me around the space.
The museum aims to capture the atmosphere of Ásmundur’s original studio while hosting a selection of artists who will use the space as their creative workshop. “It’s not exactly a residency — maybe more an exercise in displaying art in flux, art in movement, or art in development,” says Markús.
Atli Freyr Steinsson for The Reykjavík Grapevine
In short, Wonderland splits into two parts — rotating exhibitions of five artists using the studio throughout the year, and a more permanent exhibition of Ásmundur Sveinsson’s art and legacy. The first artist to occupy the space is Unnar Örn.
Unnar has borrowed thousands of postcards from the collection that memorabilia collector Andrés J. Johnson bequeathed to the National Museum of Iceland. “Unnar is always very interested in the way we think about history because history is documented, written and handed down to us through a process of collecting and thinking about elements that are considered valuable. He’s very skeptical towards museums as institutions, because as institutions, museums behave in a certain way — we tell the same story over and over again,” explains Markús.
“Unnar is always trying to shake these things up,” he adds. “He’s interested in how the selection takes place, and what’s the logic behind it? What’s the individual ambitions behind it? What’s the institutional gain? What does the zeitgeist have to do with it?” As part of the exhibition, Unnar is going to rearrange the postcard collection in his own unique way, while also including the museum and its garden in the creative process.
The other artists participating in the exhibition throughout the year include poet and artist Ásta Fanney, who will represent Iceland at the Venice Biennale in 2026; sculptor and performance artist Halldór Ásgeirsson; the winner of the 2024 Icelandic Art Prize, Amanda Riffo; and Sara Riel, best known for her public art and graffiti.
Back to Ásmundur’s world
I follow Markús to a horseshoe gallery in the back of the building. “As you can see, it’s quite chaotic,” Markús says, pointing at sculptures of different sizes and textures spread throughout the room. This style was intentional, he explains, designed to mimic Ásmundur’s original studio. Here, we can see the wide variety of materials he worked with throughout his life, along with his preserved drawings and tools.
“You have to think about the time when he is doing these things,” he says, showing me weird-looking scissors used to enlarge the sculptures. “There was so much poverty, no materials, nothing coming from abroad. He had to work with whatever he could find around him. Ásmundur created his own concrete, made his own materials and tools. He was a brilliant craftsman.”
Among the diverse pieces, the display features more well-known works like the Water Carrier, a larger version of which — cast in bronze — can be seen on the corner of Lækjargata and Bankastræti downtown. “In the 1930s, in the beginning of his career, Ásmundur was doing these sort of half figurative people,” says Markús. “He was a great admirer of the working class, creating pieces like the Water Carrier, which has a very strong and powerful body language, but also a very serene and respectful atmosphere around it. As he said himself, he doesn’t want to feel sorry for the working class. He just admires their diligence, power and energy.”
A living exhibition
Markús refers to Ásmundur Sveinsson’s studio as “a jewel,” and says the museum’s challenge lies in figuring out how to make the space meaningful for today’s audience. “How do we use it to respect the history of the place, the person behind it, and to address today’s art world?” he muses, pointing out that balance is key.
“We have a feeling that the general art audience in Iceland have the idea that once they’ve seen something, they don’t have to go back,” Markús adds with a smile. “One of the challenges that we are addressing in this exhibition is that this is a place that is alive and worth visiting several times — to see the artists’ works in progress, observe how things develop, understand artists’ minds, and be able to interact with them.”
Atli Freyr Steinsson for The Reykjavík Grapevine
The ideal time to visit? “Popping up in the middle of an artist’s work in progress would make the most sense,” Markús suggests. “That’s when things are really brewing.”
Wonderland opens at Ásmundarsafn on January 11.
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