Das Eismeer wird von Friedrich zu einer Zeit gemalt, die von der zunehmend realistischen Malerei geprägt ist. Friedrich aber stellt ein „hartes“ Motiv in reiner Form dar, das die nicht annehmlichen Seiten des Meeres zeigt, keine lieblichen Gefilde, sondern die abweisende Kälte und einsame Unerbittlichkeit des Nordmeeres, in der ein Schiff von riesigen Eisschollen zertrümmert, nur mehr als kaum erkennbares, winziges Wrack gescheitert ist.

Es handelt sich zwar um einen vermeintlich authentischen Ort, an dem bei der Entdeckung einer Nordwestpassage in der Beringsee durch eine Expeditionsreise William Edward Perrys 1819/20 mit den Schiffen Griper und Hecla das Schiff Griper in eine gefährliche Situation geraten ist, aber man geht davon aus, dass Friedrich, der keine großen Reisen unternommen hat, durch Berichte darüber in Tageszeitungen angeregt worden ist (Börsch-Supan 1973, Sumovski 1970).

Doris Schumacher-Chilla. Üniversität zu Köln. "Entstehen und Entziehen als ambivalentes Maß bei Caspar David Friedrich und Darren Almond"

Das Eismeer was painted at a time marked by increasingly realistic painting. But Friedrich portrays a “hard” motif in pure form, depicting the dark side of the sea, not dulcet regions but, instead, the forbidding cold and lonely relentlessness of the North Sea in which a ship is being smashed by enormous sheets of ice, but seen more as stranded, a tiny and barely recognizable wreck.

Indeed, the picture concerns a site reputed to be authentic when, on the discovery of the Northwest Passage on an expedition by William Edward Perry in the Bering Sea with the ships Griper and Hecla in 1819/20, the Griper found itself in a dangerous situation, but one assumes that Friedrich, who never undertook any extensive travels, was motivated by reports in the daily papers (Börsch-Supan 1973, Sumovski 1970).

Doris Schumacher-Chilla. University of Cologne. "Becoming and Withdrawal as Ambivalent Measure in the Work of Caspar David Friedrich and Darren Almond"

The wholistic world-view myth of the Edda may be briefly described at this point, as it is connected with Fridriksdóttir’s work and the number four: The Völupsá (the prophecies of a seeress) talk about the creation and the doom of the world. Ymir (or Augelmir), the six-headed, bi-gendered giant of primitive times, is killed by the gods Odin, Vé and Vili. They compose the world as a globe from the parts of his body: the Earth is created from his flesh, the sea from his blood, his teeth are turned into rocks and cliffs, his hair into trees, the eyebrows into Midgard (the world of humans), and his brain into clouds. The sky is made from his head, supported by four pillars held by four dwarfs: Austri, Vestri, Sudri (Sutr), and Nordri (Nordi). They support the world in their compass directions according to their names: Austri in the East, Vestri in the West, etc. The number four is also of importance in the Icelandic coat of arms (and on its coins). On a slab of rock, the Icelandic flag is held by a bull, a giant, a dragon and an eagle. In the Heimskringla-Saga (composed by Snorri Sturluson), a giant with an iron bar defends south, an eagle defends north, a dragon the east and a bull the west of Iceland in the 10^th century before the conquest by the Dane, Harald Blauzahn. They are Iceland’s guardian spirits and therefore correspond to the dwarfs and the four points of the compass. In this way, an abstract connection, already mentioned above, is created between Fridriksdóttir’s four films and their titles. In the installation in Cologne, due to the allocated seating and the arrangement of the films in the room, one perceives oneself as being in the middle of the world. A view in all four directions of the compass through four windows is possible. So what happens on the four outer points of the world?

Julia Wirxel. University of Cologne. "Spittle, dough and hay – excess and measure in the work of Gabríela Fridriksdóttir"