We have known at least since August Strindberg how tortured, acerbic the Swedish soul can turn out to be. This is surprising in itself as Sweden is known for the harmony of its societal system, a system which on paper is well oiled, able to confer serenity. However, such are human beings that at the apex of their reason they often descend into the deepest unreason. As though there were in us permanently this hidden threat, akin to nightmare, of which it is impossible to rid ourselves.
Swedish artist Maria Friberg, born in 1966, produces sophisticated photographic settings bringing to light this psyche, torn between reassurance and anxiety. This is the anxiety that can seize us when we are shaken by the breathtaking question of our place in the universe, a questioning to which the elements remain obstinately deaf in their mute majesty.
And likewise, there is always that fear experienced by society , which the tiniest bit of media agitation can stir up, as the news demonstrates: the fear to see the beast, the terrorist as he emerges, even though great care has been taken to identify, isolate, exclude and/or control him.