In the landscape of contemporary art in Northern Europe, Ina Otzko has developed a multidisciplinary practice spanning photography, video, sound, performance, sculpture and installation. Her work is deeply connected to questions of listening, landscape, memory, identity and the often invisible relationships that exist between people and places.

In this extensive conversation with Nordrom Kunst, the artist reflects on the role of attention and presence within her creative process, the influence of moving between Northern Norway and Italy, and the development of ArtBase Helgeland 66°N, one of Northern Norway’s most significant artist-led initiatives dedicated to artistic exchange, place-based research and community engagement.

Through personal experiences, artistic projects and years of work rooted in both local and international contexts, Otzko offers a thoughtful reflection on how art can create connections between people, communities and landscapes, while opening new ways of understanding the world around us.

Nordrom kunst

Your practice moves across photography, video, sound, performance, text, sculpture and installation, but there seems to be a constant attention to presence, perception and invisible forms of connection. How do these different media allow you to explore the relationship between body, place and communication?

INA OTZKO

Different media allow me to approach the relationship between body, place and communication in different ways. Performance places my body directly within a situation, requiring a heightened awareness of space, time and relationships. It involves a sense of vulnerability and uncertainty, where attention becomes part of the work itself.

Sound and field recordings reveal dimensions of a place that might otherwise go unnoticed, weather systems, distances, resonance and forms of presence that are not always visible. Voice introduces another layer, carrying stories, memory, emotion and other forms of knowledge that move between people and places.

Photography allows me to slow down and pay attention. It creates a space for observation and reflection. While a photograph can hold a moment in time, moving images often extend this way of looking. They retain a strong connection to the photographic image while allowing relationships, actions and processes of change to continue unfolding before us.

Sculpture allows ideas and experiences to take on a physical form, often through materials that carry their own histories, associations and processes of change. Installation creates a space where different experiences, materials and stories can come together.

Regardless of the medium, I hope the work creates a space where others can enter the conversation and bring their own experiences, associations and interpretations.

What these approaches share is that they are all shaped by the encounter itself. I may begin with an idea, a question, a particular method or certain materials, but the work is never entirely predetermined. The landscape, the people I meet, the weather, unexpected events and the particular qualities of a situation all influence the direction a project takes.

For me, the process is a form of listening. I try to pay attention to what is already there, what stories, relationships, questions or tensions are present, and what keeps returning or asking for attention. Sometimes it emerges through a place, sometimes through a person, and sometimes through a particular encounter or situation. The work develops through that dialogue and through finding a form that can hold or communicate something of that experience.

If there is one thing that connects all of these approaches, it is listening, or perhaps paying attention. By listening, I mean something much broader than hearing. Listening is a way of paying attention. It involves observing, sensing, researching, being present and remaining open to what a place, a person or a situation might reveal. It is about noticing connections, patterns and relationships that are not always immediately visible.

This is perhaps where the idea of radical listening comes in. For me, it means slowing down, suspending assumptions and allowing myself to be affected by what I encounter. It requires a certain openness and a willingness to listen beyond my own perspective. Whether I am working with a landscape, a community or a particular situation, I try to create space for something to reveal itself on its own terms rather than imposing a predetermined meaning onto it.

For me, every project begins with a question, a place, an encounter, or sometimes simply a feeling that something is asking for my attention. Often it’s difficult to explain at first. It’s as if something is poking me, a landscape, a conversation, a story, a sentence in a book, a scientific article, or something happening in the world that suddenly feels impossible to ignore. It stays with me and refuses to let go until I begin paying attention to it.

Sometimes the starting point is deeply personal. Other times it emerges from larger social, political or environmental questions. What these moments have in common is that they create a sense of curiosity and urgency. Rather than beginning with a medium or a fixed concept, I begin by following that feeling and the questions it raises. I spend time researching, listening, observing and allowing connections to emerge. Often I don’t yet know where the process will lead.

Over time, I have learned not to decide on a medium too early. The choice of medium usually grows out of the questions a work is asking and the qualities of the place itself.

One example is Leviathan, which emerged after spending time in the dormant Solfatara crater outside Naples. I recorded sound, photographed the landscape and spent the day moving through a place where the earth seemed alive beneath my feet. What stayed with me was not only the visual appearance of the crater, but the heat rising from the ground, the smell of sulphur, the dust under my feet and the constant reminder that geological processes were still unfolding just below the surface.

For the photographic work, I used heat-sensitive Polaroid film. What interested me was that the material itself continued to change over time, responding to temperature and environmental conditions. In this way, the photographs mirrored the landscape they depicted. Rather than presenting a fixed image, they remained unstable and in flux, much like the volcanic terrain itself.

The project also gave rise to a large neon tetrahedron and the neon text Take Your Time. Both emerged from observations made while moving through the crater landscape. The tetrahedron developed from the corner reflectors used to monitor volcanic activity in the area. These structures are designed to reflect radar signals back to satellites, allowing scientists to measure even very small movements in the ground over time. I was fascinated by them because they are tools for observing and understanding geological change, yet they often remain almost invisible to those passing by. By transforming one of these functional forms into an illuminated sculpture, I became interested in the relationship between geological forces, systems of measurement and our desire to understand the world around us.

The phrase Take Your Time really came out of being in the crater itself. It could be read as an invitation to slow down and pay attention, but it also reflected an encounter with geological time. Standing in a landscape shaped by processes unfolding over thousands of years, human time suddenly felt very different. The urgency that often governs daily life seemed to dissolve, replaced by a deeper awareness of duration, change and presence.

The resulting installation brought together sound, photography, sculpture and text. Rather than documenting the crater, I was interested in translating something of the experience of being there. The work became an attempt to share an encounter with a landscape that felt active, unstable and alive, while reflecting on how we perceive, measure and position ourselves within forces far larger and older than ourselves.

What interests me most is communication beyond language. I think we are constantly communicating with the people, places and environments around us, whether we realise it or not. These encounters shape us emotionally, physically and psychologically. They leave traces, carry memories and influence how we move through the world. Much of my work involves paying attention to those subtle exchanges and finding ways to make them more visible, tangible or perceptible.

Perhaps this is the question that keeps returning in my work: How do we give form to things that are often unseen, unheard or difficult to describe? I am interested in creating situations where people can experience connections that might otherwise remain hidden.

If the work succeeds, it creates a shift in attention, a moment where something previously overlooked becomes perceptible, and new connections begin to emerge.

NORDROM KUNST

You work between Northern Norway and Italy, and your practice often appears connected to landscape, belonging, displacement and the emotional experience of place. How has this movement between different geographies shaped your artistic language and your way of understanding identity?

INA OTZKO

Movement between Northern Norway and Italy has influenced both my artistic language and my understanding of identity. Rather than seeing identity as something fixed, I see it as something that is constantly shaped through movement, encounters and the relationships we have with the environments we inhabit and the people we meet along the way. Living between these very different landscapes, cultures and ways of life has made me increasingly aware of how geography influences perception, memory, belonging and the way we understand ourselves in relation to the world around us.

Growing up on an island in Northern Norway gave me a deep sense of connection to landscape, weather and seasonal rhythms, but also to the experience of living in a small community where people know each other, their histories and their families. Living with the contrasts between light and darkness, long winters and a close relationship with nature has undoubtedly shaped the way I see and experience the world. At the same time, years of coming and going have made me realise that belonging is never something simple or static. Distance changes the way we see a place, but it also changes how we return to it and how we reconnect with the people who are part of it. Sometimes we understand where we come from more clearly when we are elsewhere.

Southern Italy, however, has had its own influence on my artistic language. I first came to Positano in 2003 and returned every summer for almost ten years. Later, after spending almost a year in Rome, I continued to spend extended periods living and working along the Amalfi Coast, in Sicily and its Aeolian Islands for more than a decade. Part of this was connected to personal relationships that anchored me there and allowed me to experience the region not only as a visitor, but as someone living within the rhythms of everyday life.

What keeps drawing me back is not only the beauty of the landscape, but the intensity of life itself, the way geology, mythology, history, people and everyday life coexist so closely. It gives me a different sense of time, where there is space to slow down, linger over conversations, share meals and appreciate the pleasures of everyday life in a different way. And, of course, the food. The volcanic landscapes around Naples, the islands of Sicily and the layered histories of the Mediterranean have also influenced how I think about time, memory and change. Nothing remains fixed. Natural forces, human presence and history are constantly shaping and reshaping the world around us.

Many works have emerged from my long-term engagement with the region, including Leviathan, Treasures in Heaven, Get into the Heart of the Matter, (Be)longing, works from the Interiors series, Didyme, Surrender and iamnowhere.

Below: three photographs from Get into the Heart of the Matter (2020–2021), a series of fifteen photographs (20 × 20 cm). Courtesy of the artist.

Living and working there over many years deepened my interest in how memory is carried through landscapes and how traces of the past remain present within everyday life. In Italy, this often feels very tangible. Walking through Rome, history surrounds you everywhere. History is not something distant; it is woven into the landscape, the architecture, the stories people tell and the rhythms of everyday life. It made me increasingly aware that a place is never just one thing, but a layering of histories, stories, cultures and experiences that continue to shape the present. Through these works, I found myself returning again and again to questions of time, transformation and the layers of experience that accumulate within a landscape.

Over the years, Italy also became a place of friendships, collaborations and long-term relationships. Looking back, I realise that part of what has always drawn me back is a familiar sense of community and connection. Despite their many differences, there are aspects of life there that remind me of growing up in Northern Norway, the importance of relationships, hospitality, local knowledge and feeling connected to the people around you. Many projects grew out of these relationships, but perhaps more importantly, the relationships themselves changed the way I think about belonging. In many ways, the conversations, friendships and exchanges that developed along the way became part of the work itself.

Over time, Italy has become less a place I visit and more a place that feels part of who I am. Returning often feels less like arriving somewhere new and more like reconnecting with something familiar, while still discovering it in new ways and with new eyes. There is a sense of connection there that has developed slowly over many years through friendships, shared experiences, everyday life and artistic collaborations. The older I get, the less I think of belonging as something tied to a single location. It seems to emerge through relationships, experiences and the connections we build over time.

Perhaps this is why I keep returning to questions of belonging, displacement and connection. At the same time, I have never been particularly interested in staying still. As much as I value familiarity and a sense of home, I am equally drawn to places and situations that challenge my perspective and take me somewhere unexpected. Curiosity has been just as important in shaping both my life and my work. Over time, I have come to think of belonging not as a fixed destination, but as something that exists in movement itself, somewhere between being and longing. Rather than searching for a single place to belong, I have become more interested in what movement makes possible, the relationships, encounters and questions that emerge along the way.
It is often in those spaces between departure and return, familiarity and uncertainty, that new ways of seeing begin and where my work starts.

NORDROM KUNST

We are very interested in ArtBase Helgeland 66°N as an artist-led initiative rooted in place, research, hospitality and exchange. Could you tell us more about its vision, its relationship with Helgeland, and how it creates connections between artists, territory and community?

INA OTZKO

ArtBase Helgeland 66°N grew out of a need for artistic exchange and community, and from a belief that art can play an active role in how places shape their identity, connect with others and understand themselves.

At its core, ArtBase Helgeland was conceived as a platform for place-based artistic research, hospitality and exchange. The vision was to create meaningful encounters between local and international perspectives while strengthening connections between artists, communities and the landscapes they inhabit. We wanted to build long-term relationships rooted in Helgeland that could contribute to both artistic development and local cultural life.

When I returned to Helgeland in 2000 after seven years in Munich, I established my artistic practice and became increasingly interested in the role art could play within a community. I was curious about how I, as an artist, could contribute to cultural identity, community building and local development. At the time, the HALD municipalities, Alstahaug, Herøy, Leirfjord and Dønna, were engaged in a broader regional development process, and through a number of place-development projects, I gradually became involved in those conversations.

I also became involved with Alstahaug Art Society, where I rented a studio on the second floor. In 2001, I met textile and costume designer Kari Elfstedt through an exhibition we were both participating in during Festspillene i Nord-Norge, where the HALD municipalities were the featured region that year. We quickly realised that we shared many of the same interests, ideas and ambitions, and over time our conversations developed into a close collaboration. Together, we began imagining and developing projects that would eventually lead to ArtBase Helgeland.

In 2005, we relocated our studios to a former lamp shop in the centre of Sandnessjøen and established KunstBase 48. Over time, we transformed it into a place for working, meeting people and exchanging ideas, including projects with children and young people. We were also curious about how visitors and tourists experienced Sandnessjøen and engaged them in conversations about the town and its identity. In addition, we organised exhibitions in shop windows, shopping centres and vacant commercial spaces throughout the town. Part of this grew out of necessity. At the time, there were few dedicated spaces for contemporary art, exhibitions and artistic production, and by activating temporary spaces we wanted to demonstrate both the possibilities and the need for a more permanent place where art, projects and public engagement could take place. In many ways, we were creating the kind of artistic environment we felt was missing, while inviting others to become part of it.

One of the first larger public projects we initiated was KISS in 2006, a collaborative project involving artists from across the Helgeland region. Over the course of a weekend, the project brought together artists, residents and invited guests through performances, public discussions and artistic interventions that explored questions of regional identity, local challenges and possible futures.

As part of the project, a mural depicting an offshore oil rig was created on the fire station wall in the centre of Sandnessjøen. The work reflected the significance of the petroleum industry in the region and became a familiar visual presence in the town for many years. In 2015, it was transformed as part of the Welcome Home mural project, when a large white rabbit in motion created by visiting artists took its place. The transformation serves as a reminder that public artworks are rarely fixed. Like the communities they inhabit, they can continue to evolve, adapt and acquire new meanings over time.

The following year, we organised a two-day seminar that brought together artists, cultural workers, local government representatives and other stakeholders. We felt it was important to create a shared platform for dialogue around ArtBase’s vision and the role art might play in the future development of the region. Bringing perspectives from outside the region into the conversation helped connect cultural development to broader questions of place, identity and future possibilities.

After the sale of the building that housed KunstBase 48 in 2011, we relocated to separate studios and ArtBase became increasingly nomadic in the way it operated. Around the same time, I was spending more and more time living and working abroad while continuing to return to Helgeland. Rather than being centred around a single location, projects unfolded through partnerships, temporary spaces, residency exchanges and collaborations across different communities and countries. Looking back, this felt like a natural development. Mobility, exchange and creating relationships across places had always been at the heart of both my own practice and the organisation itself.

From the beginning, we were interested in creating genuine exchange rather than simply presenting artistic projects. Having both experienced the importance of living and working in different places, we wanted to create opportunities for artists from Helgeland and Nordland to engage with other cultural contexts while also inviting international artists to spend time in our region.

When Nordland County Council established AiR Nordland in 2013, a funding programme designed to support Artist-in-Residence initiatives across the county, we became one of the pioneering organisations to take part. After moving to Berlin in 2008, I became connected to ZK/U – Center for Art and Urbanistics and a wider network of artists, curators and researchers through my studies at Universität der Künste Berlin. Combined with the opportunities created by the new AiR programme, these relationships led us to establish the non-profit organisation ArtBase Helgeland 66°N. The same year, we launched AIR Helgeland–Berlin, a three-year residency exchange programme that brought German artists to Helgeland while artists from Nordland were given opportunities to live and work at ZK/U in Berlin.

The initiative was made possible through support from a broad network of local, regional and international partners who shared our belief in the value of artistic exchange and long-term cultural collaboration.

What interested us about the exchange was not mobility for its own sake, but the possibility of creating meaningful encounters between different places, experiences and ways of seeing the world. At the same time, it allowed local and regional networks to connect with wider international contexts.

Creating connections between artists, place and community was always central to the process. Artists invited to Helgeland were encouraged to spend time in the landscape, develop their own work and share their experiences through workshops, school projects, public presentations and informal encounters.

The projects were never something ArtBase did alone. From the very beginning, collaboration was fundamental to how we worked. We depended on partnerships with municipalities, schools, cultural institutions, local businesses and many individuals who contributed knowledge, resources, practical support and hospitality. Creating meaningful artistic exchange requires both financial support and human commitment, and throughout the years we were fortunate to experience extraordinary generosity from people across the region. For the residency programmes, we rented houses and apartments from local residents, whose hospitality became an important part of the artists’ experience of Helgeland. We also organised informal gatherings, dinners and meetings that created opportunities for artists, residents and collaborators to connect and exchange ideas. These partnerships and relationships enabled us to develop residency exchanges, public art projects, exhibitions and cross-border collaborations that would otherwise not have been possible.

Many of our projects were rooted in relationships formed through travel, residencies, cultural events and long periods of living and working abroad. These connections became the foundation for exchanges, collaborations and public projects developed over many years.

Some of the most visible examples of this approach were the mural projects Welcome Home (2015) and Future Eyes (2016), which brought artists from Russia, Italy and Spain to Sandnessjøen. Rather than arriving with finished concepts, the artists spent time in the area, meeting local people and drawing inspiration from their stories, experiences and perspectives. These encounters became part of the creative process and informed the final artworks. For many residents, the murals transformed familiar spaces and offered new ways of seeing the town and its surroundings.

By 2019, we revisited an idea we had carried since the beginning: creating a base for ArtBase Helgeland with studios, project spaces and a gallery. Through previous collaboration with the local harbour authority, we gained access to a former industrial site and began exploring the possibility of establishing a permanent home for ArtBase Helgeland. With support for planning and development, we were able to work with an architect, Hans-Petter Bjørnådal, and start imagining what such a place could become. The project aligned closely with broader ambitions for cultural and urban development in the area, and we were preparing to apply for substantial investment funding.

However, changes in leadership and priorities within the harbour authority meant that the long-term conditions required to realise the project fell away, and the plans could not move forward.

In 2022, ArtBase Helgeland received the Alstahaug Municipality Culture Prize, which felt like an acknowledgement of many years of collective effort. Our last major project was a series of exhibitions in collaboration with Kulturbadet as part of Bodø 2024 European Capital of Culture.

For now, ArtBase Helgeland is on pause. After many years of projects, exchanges and collaborations, it feels important to create space for reflection before deciding what the next chapter might be.

Throughout all these years, Helgeland has remained both the point of departure and the point of return. Perhaps it is because I continue to sense the potential of the place. I am drawn to that kind of energy, the feeling that something can be created, initiated or changed.

Looking back, what we learned through ArtBase Helgeland 66N is that cultural infrastructure is not only about buildings or institutions. It grows through courage, vision, trust, dialogue and a willingness to invest in relationships over time. The most lasting outcomes were often not the individual projects themselves, but the connections, friendships and exchanges that continued long after a residency, workshop or exhibition had ended.

More information about Ina’s work at inaotzko.net