A conversation that has been in the making ever since first seeing her BA degree project at Konstfack back in 2017, one that stills stands out as one of the best in recent years, we finally have a moment with last year's Maria Bonnier Dahlin grant recipient Maja Fredin. Since her Elvis impersonation days, Maja has dived headfirst, like she often does, into the field of bodybuilding, an interest we both share and which will be presented in an upcoming feature on the site (it'll be worth the wait). But first; in the midst of "lifting, sweating, sleeping, writing, shitting and working", Maja Fredin ladies and gentlemen:
C-P: Hello Maja, it's about time we had this conversation, don't you think?
M.F: Haha, yes, most definitely! It’s been in the pipeline since, hmm, I don’t know, 2017? But better late than never! And I think it is during these recent years that I have realized what the arts and my artistry mean to me. And even more importantly - that I am a part of a greater context than just myself. It is easy to feel like an eccentric maverick, but no-one is without context or history. It kind of clicked when I realized that I wasn't alone in being driven by self-loathing but in the same time being so damn curious about the human condition.” Self-loathing” might be the wrong term for it, but a deeply critical point of view. Not to be "that" person, but I personally feel that if you lack even an ounce of self-reflection, you probably are a highly unsympathetic individual.
C-P: Over time, it's become apparent that you and I have more things in common than just art, for instance our mutual hometown of Uppsala. You told me the other day that you knew from an early age that you wanted to be a visual artist. Run me through the years leading up to Konstfack, what prompted you to pursue the arts in the first place?
M.F: Then you also know very well what it is like to grow up in a university town - there is barely any culture other than the “studentesque”. And if you're not part of that culture, then Uppsala is pretty dead. It's better now, but while growing up there weren't that many contexts to move within. Except for aimlessly hanging around while drinking “mäsk” (prison hooch). Creating my own contexts through play and identity became survival strategies. I am an only child, there is no need to pity me, but growing up with hard-working parents, and with an absent mother in another part of the country, made me find creativity as an escape and a way of dealing with my surroundings. Textile was close at hand and for a long time I thought it was fashion design that I wanted to do. Until I realized that I am a terrible designer. To me concept triumphs functionality, and even more so - concept trumps consumption.
C-P: The first time I encountered your work was in the spring degree exhibition of 2017 (at Konstfack). I remember being so impressed by 'Iris Cato - Revenge of the Beach', your degree project which, looking back, was very ambitious, stretching beyond what usually is expected from the Textile graduates involving performance, video and installation. It was sexy and entertaining yet very on point in its statement. Some years later, how does it connect to your current work?
M.F: Thank you! A bit ”too” ambitious I would almost dare to say. I think we had about ten weeks to finish our final project/theses. I remember sleeping under my desk at times. But that is how I work, always on the verge of breaking - unable to stop myself from diving in headfirst. The making and the art will probably be what takes me out in the end. But then again, I am a romantic, albeit a pragmatic one. Iris Cato was also my first character, or an embodied identity would be more apt. To me a "character" feels like something more easily left behind. I used her to find the gaze, mine on the bodies of others but also to wield those of others upon mine. Truthfully, I am a somewhat a reluctant performance artist, yet that is where I keep finding myself. Performance isn't the foundation of my practice, but a way of engendering a credibility and authenticity in my world building. It's just another layer.
C-P: The following year, in 2018, we indirectly worked together in Ung Salong 2018 in Uppsala. My brother and I served on the jury and I remember that you were one of the standouts with 'Maj/a', a project which paid homage to your late maternal grandmother Maj involving raw silk and her old makeup.
M.F: ‘Maj/a’ is probably the most intimate work I've done, completely naked and exposed. That piece is a prime example of the way I use myself in my art as a way to understand the world around me. That time it was about a great loss. My grandmother Maj was my greatest idol, my rock and security. I spent a lot of time with her growing up, and she taught me to love unconditionally. She was a devoted Christian until about two years before she passed. Then she left the Swedish church; she had” read too much”. ‘Maj/a’ is an homage to her uniqueness. Every morning she went into the kitchen where she lit one, sometimes two, cigarettes and did her make up. A rite that absolutely had to be performed in solitude. The make-up and the cigarettes were sacred to her, even though the cigarettes were what finally lead to her death. Her heart grew too large. I inherited her make-up and spent a week performing her ritual, which resulted in seven pieces of sweat-cloths (Veil of Veronica): a collection of self-portraits of sorts. Unfortunately, the pieces were lost in the exhibition, but I will probably make a new interpretation at some point.
C-P: Prior to returning to Konstfack for your MFA (class of 2022), you spent some years in Berlin. What were you up to?
M.F: I moved to Berlin in 2018 because I was in need of a change of pace. I am not among the ones who were allured by the clubbing and nightlife, I rather ended up there because I contacted the artist Ulrika Segerberg. We were awarded the Swedish Arts Grants Committee’s scholarship for artistic Assistance so I worked with her for a year. Ulrika is an incredible artist, who works fast but with great care for performance, sound, installations, sculpting and painting. During my time as her assistant, Ulrika explored Stephen King’s ‘Carrie’ based on her own childhood memories - something that resulted in, amongst other things, the piece ‘42thefloor / the shadow exploded’. Then I started working at a bar in Neukölln, just like everybody else. I reveled in different type of distractions, once again I found myself on the verge of breaking. It was during this period of gluttony I found Elvis. I had never before felt empathy towards this man, who died on the toilet. But in retrospect, it isn’t that strange since my body and his, at the time had many similarities. A few years passed and there was the pandemic. It culminated with me finding myself working at a homeopathic sugar beet farm in Bavaria and needing to move back home. Again, I needed something new.
C-P: Last year, in connection to being awarded the prestigious Maria Bonnier Dahlin (alongside Anna Andersson), you presented a solo show (curated by Yuvinka Medina) at Bonniers Konsthall. Now that's a feat. Run me through the entire experience.
M.F: At first, it felt completely unreasonable that I, with my degree in the applied arts would be able to get it. I truly thought that one needed to have studied fine arts or at Mejan (KKH) to receive it. But that fortunately turned out to be untrue. I guess it was mostly based on my own prejudices, perhaps even envy. When I received the phone call from the foundation as early as May of last year, I had to lie down on the floor not to keel over. And then I had to keep it a secret, so I completely isolated myself until the reveal in August. The whole experience was like a circus-like performance; to get that much attention from nowhere while simultaneously working on a major exhibition. There was a sense of relief in splitting the scholarship with someone as sane as Anna Anderson and also the professionalism that comes with working with the premium team at Bonniers konsthall. But as I said earlier, my biggest kink is studio work. So even if I once again found myself at the breaking point, I had the time of my life. I also felt that I got to show of my work: ‘Searching for my Inner Elvis in a Post Elvis Society’ as I had envisioned it from the beginning, the bigger the better.
I'm also super grateful for the opportunities that came with the scholarship. A whole new platform to talk about art, concepts and life itself. Because that is what I think art is supposed to do. To ask questions, not give answers. And to open up for a discussion about all the things that are too difficult to otherwise talk about.
C-P: And now to the present; you are currently working on a new project involving body building which we'll present in an upcoming feature on the site. Being really into working out myself and interested in the intersection between art and sports, I needless to say find the project super interesting. You presented a teaser by way of a performance at Konstakademien a while back. What can you share about the project at this stage?
M.F: Just like it always is at the beginning of a new large-scale project, it's very” all over the place”.
But when I get caught up in a new obsession about something I just can't get out of my head. I
simply must understand why that thing even exists. Right now, that thing is body building. The whole project started as a bad joke. You know you eat chicken, while looking like chicken. Flesh to flesh. A strange Messiah-like complex. But it’s so easy to be judgmental from the outside, not understanding the purpose within that specific context. That was how it was for me with the fitness and wellness craze I’m currently entertaining. I perceive it as a true product of the individualization and commodification of the self. Gyms pop up in our cityscape like mushrooms, it’s there for everyone to see. So to even attempt to understand this I started going to the gym. A lot. Like a lot. But at the same time as my working out and my endless drinking of protein shakes, I read and consumed hours of gym and body building culture and history. The more I keep digging, the more I see the connection between the industrialized production of meat, body building and the self-centered times we live in.
Even if I am still critical of the self-fulfilling consumerism that I’m now also am a part of, there is beauty to be found in the building of one’s own body. Above all, to for the first time feel big as a woman. I fetishize my muscles and the kick I get from being able to deadlift 125kg. Or being able to bench 45kg, a weight I once found myself at, is invaluable to me.
Bodybuilding has become a new approach for me in art and craftsmanship. I lift, I sweat, I eat, I breathe, sleep, think, write, shit and I work.
All images by Pär Fredin. Courtesy of the artist.