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First Week Reflection


Although my first week of discovery in Denmark had a slightly bumpy beginning, the week exponentially progressed to be an incredible start to the rest of our journey in Copenhagen! Below find my initial account of the week's events and my reflections on the interconnectedness of Danish colonialism, public art, and activism.




Week 1 Reflection and Write Up

The Interconnectedness of Danish Colonialism, Public Art, & Activism


Experiencing the noise and emotion of a Viking raid, visualizing the urban design of Copenhagen city, walking through vast white statues, from the cast of Frederick V to towering Greek Gods.

These galleries and exhibits weave together to illustrate how and why Denmark is the way it is today. Since touching down in this city, I’ve reflected on the influence of museums, my interactions with them, and their role in highlighting overlooked histories. Blending visual, auditory, and linguistic modes, they are integral in our ability to interpret the past and look to the future. They have a responsibility to amplify voices while conveying accurate stories. Each raid has different perspectives, each historical event has distinct realities, and behind each statue lies a particular story.


My initial belief in the prominent role of museums was challenged at the National Museum of Denmark. As we explored deeper into The Voices of Colonies exhibit, it became apparent how ironic of a title that is. Beginning in Serampore and traveling through Ghana to the West Indies, the exhibit contained images and artifacts that reflected distinct ways of life in the Danish colonies, from a chapati rolling pin to traditional carnival clothing.

Visual Representation of the Danish Colonies

Dr. Karen's insightful words, mentioned the previous day, made me question what voices were portrayed. What perspectives and realities were being hidden or overlooked in these exhibits? I couldn’t help but feel that the binary opposition she discussed was reflected throughout this exhibit. Phrases and words used, such as “them” and “us” hinted to an “us versus them” narrative. As opposed to amplifying the actual voices of the colonies and acknowledging the consequences felt today, it felt as if the exhibit was describing a definitive history - as if “the past is in the past.” Even in the Copenhagen City Museum, the one acknowledgment of the presence of colonial slaves illustrated a similar narrative of the past is in the past, and lacked an acknowledgment of ongoing consequences. This reminded me of the contrasting views in the Nordic Colonialism Panel and how it described Nordic colonialism as not a black and white story, but a layered one with many interconnected aspects – a concept not portrayed throughout many exhibits.


Silenced voices became more evident during our discussion with Dr. Holm. He was a distinct representation of political methods to silence colonial voices and the telling of these histories. His story made me wonder, what other scholars and institutions have been silenced or restricted from shining light on these realities? It made me reflect on The Voices of Colonies exhibit and wonder if it’s been curated or influenced by the same or similar institutions that restricted Dr. Holm. What are we not seeing? Government intervention in artistic and historical spaces, such as museums and galleries, also came to mind. How can history and education be spread around colonial histories when many institutions, such as Dr. Holm, are being silenced? Would activist efforts, such as a colonial history museum curated by scholars and historians, be allowed to operate without the government intervening to alter the narrative? These questions began to weave into the public art and installations we observed. What was normalized in the past, and what differs in public art today? How can art aid us in developing a nuanced interpretation of colonial histories? Many of these questions resurfaced throughout our discussions with Dr. Holm and the cast collections.

Cast Collection

There was this narrative that “whiteness is beauty” so the cast statues were white. Many stories and narratives surrounding these great figures, made into statues, were unnoticed. We saw a portrait of The Great Merchant, but just observing, audiences wouldn’t be aware of the slaves they kept. These art installations were placed in public spaces and gardens at one point in time, with people to enjoy in ignorance, with no awareness of the story behind them.


Malmo Castle

In relation to concealed stories in art is the pattern of masters using slaves as a reflection of status and wealth. We saw this as Dr. Holm showed us the image of a family with a servant in the stakeholder room at the cast museum. We even witnessed something similar during our free day spent in Sweden, where we visited the Malmö Castle and fortress. Laborers and slaves were the ones who built these fortresses and castles by hand, yet what we remember today are the kings and queens and colonial powers that ruled over these grand monuments. We remember the work of royals when we’re looking at the work of slaves.


A different element of the power of public art is the I Am Queen Mary statue. The reading, discussing the history of I Am Queen Mary, described it as a monument recognized globally. While art can represent hidden or overlooked histories, it can also send a global message, tying in this idea of intersectionality. It can resonate with diverse groups of people, instigating audiences to question and converse. A quote from a video on the I Am Queen Mary website resonated with me, stating that “art can make a difference. Public art can make history. It can change history.”



Visiting the Cisternerne Gallery in Copenhagen made me reflect on the parallels in art installation and colonial histories. Within Kimsooja's Weaving the Light, the light and color accents moved with every step I took. Every movement unveils a different image, a different perspective, and a different reality. There are many interconnected aspects to experience the whole reality and truth of the art piece. There needs to be the screen, the lights above, and the water below to absorb the full visual and the same goes for colonial pasts. To understand our colonial past, we must understand the different truths and perspectives to grasp the nuances. This experience of engaging with public art with a critical lens has altered my interactions and connections with art in general. As a painter, it inspires my creativity while influencing my approach to creating and observing art daily. This experience made me notice how I’m beginning to see parallels and glimpses of the interconnectedness of art and colonialism everywhere. Even writing this reflection, I’m noticing that with more historical knowledge and perspectives, it opens the Pandora's box of observations, questions, and connections.


For instance, the events throughout the week instigated me to reflect on how the idea of Danish exceptionalism and ‘moral superiority’ can be found in Canada. The Canadian news illustrates a binary opposition between indigenous populations, the colonized, and the Canadian colonizers. Although throughout school, there was a heavy focus on the indigenous perspective, I wonder about the nuances and complex actors that are at play and the stories that are still forgotten and overlooked. Our school had an “indigenous liaison” and we would hear from First Nations, visit these museums, and incorporate these perspectives into our studies. However, accessibility to these stories and histories were only possible because of the private school I attended and specific teachers who felt it was important to shed light on our colonial histories with a critical lens. Learning about these histories was somewhat of a luxury. It makes me recognize this privilege while also feeling a confusing mix of responsibility and guilt; responsibility, as a Canadian, to dive deeper into our colonial history with a more critical and comparative lens and also guilt for not recognizing this in the past and drawing conclusions from my observations.


After our reading, Beyond Guilt Trips, I’m able to reflect on feelings of discomfort as opposed to avoiding them or pushing them down, embracing them, asking myself why, and letting myself feel them to be able to move forward. Acknowledging these feelings allows me to continue to intentionally observe, question, and challenge not only throughout the rest of our time in Denmark but even when I land back home, in other academic endeavors, and even throughout my daily life.

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