RIGA - The Swedes can be sensitive about their cultural institutions. Perennial debates about the Nobel Literature Prize tend to be flippant, but they carry a significantly greater weight in Stockholm where the board's unique administrative ability to anoint a living author as one of the true "great ones" is important to the way the country sees itself. The recent controversy over the 2004 award to the little-known and not always critically-beloved Austrian novelist Elfriede Jelinek was something of a blow.
Sweden's porcelain and glassware industry is another cultural institution. It has lasted a bit longer and, presumably, carries less emotional baggage. Since the 18th century, wealthy homes throughout Europe stocked their china displays with pieces from Orrefors or Gustavsberg.
So it was interesting to see the two institutions merge at the Museum of Foreign Art's current exhibition, "Nordic Saga in Glass and Porcelain," which treks the history of the medium in Sweden and Denmark from the end of the 19th century to the present (the exhibit is part of Riga's Nordic Spring Festival).
The exhibition includes a set from the annual Nobel dinner service which for the past 15 years has incorporated something a little more avant garde. Here the forks and knives were shaped like a green-eyed fish. One glass was shaped like an upside-down cone atop a small gold ball, which served as the stem, atop a regular glass base.
I asked Baiba Uburge, the exhibit's curator, if the fish meant anything for the Nobel ceremony.
"No. It's just a fish."
The dinner set, like much else in the show, presented remarkable technical skill and imagination. But in the end, the porcelain and glassware on display were simply beautiful pieces that, unlike the Nobel Prize, meant absolutely nothing, but could be put to basic everyday use.
A common trope Uburge used throughout my tour was to ask me to date pieces without looking at the accompanying descriptions.
A 1934 glass vase by Vicke Lindstrand depicted a group of Ancient Roman-looking swimmers in a glass shaped to look like it was underwater. The Art Deco look of the swimmers themselves may have dated the piece, but the technological skill made it look like it could have been made yesterday.
One display showed 200 years' worth of Royal Copenhagen porcelain. The patterns remained remarkably similar, blue flowers on vines. The differences were small but significant. The earliest plate from the late 18th century was bordered by a criss-cross of holes that was aesthetically pleasing, though likely problematic if sauces spilled onto tablecloths. More user-friendly items from the 19th century erased the holes. The youngest plate on display, made a few years ago, was made up of a magnified detail of the blue flower on vines pattern.
The Danes have adhered closely to certain motifs throughout the centuries, including the polar bear. The exhibit advertises itself with a striking piece from 1897 by Carl Frederic Liisberg, "White Bear," which shows the animal sitting down on its hind legs, stretching up and opening a wide toothy mouth in a roar. "It's an intense piece," says Uburge. The vertical lines of the bear's fur stretch with the bear's motion, while the reflection of the lights in the gallery on the white porcelain reminds you of the piece's inherent unreality. I don't know what the bear is feeling, agony or excitement. I don't really know why bears roar. But there is something chilling about seeing a primal urge expressed in such a delicate medium.
The more modern Danish bears from the 1990s and 2000s in the exhibition were cuter, depicting mother bears with their cubs. When I noted a resemblance to the polar bears from the Coca-Cola commercials, Uburge smiled and laughed. I sensed that I wasn't the first to make the comparison.
Liisberg's "Seal," which is also from 1897, was another naturel study. By running your hand along the surface of the piece, you can feel the folds in the skin Liisberg had shaped. If you don't feel the piece, you may very well miss seeing some of these details Likewise, there were less amazing pieces as well: a dry pastoral scene with a windmill on a new vase and a collection of dull souvenir Christmas porcelain from the 1910s, a reminder that the very commercial nature of these craftsmen has long produced insufferable work as well.
Much of this work has been in the country for decades, mostly from the Museum of Foreign Art's private collection. But a few Danish and Swedish manufacturers did lend some pieces solely for this exhibition, including a wonderful funky yellow vase with blue spots from Holmegaard. It's a reminder that modern commerce can be wonderful.
"Nordic Saga in Glass and Porcelain"
Museum of Foreign Art
Runs through April 12
