Poul Gernes is not my brother. But he calls everyone brother to emphasize that all humans are brothers. This idea has driven him to organize the Experimental Art School, just as it has driven other young artists to form groups and exhibition collectives to a far greater extent than before.

The conversation with Poul Gernes – who has only had a couple of exhibitions so far – is a testament not only to a small art school that, at its inception, was accused of being a threat to the grand art academy but also to a sense of positivism among young painters, a positivism that is bound to bear fruit.

Thorsen: What’s wrong with painting, Gernes?

Gernes: Brother, how do you expect me to say anything about that? I don’t have a clue.

T.: What makes a group of young artists like you start a school? Aren’t there enough schools in the world?

G.: Yes, but they’re not good enough.

T.: What’s wrong with the academy?

G.: When we started, we had the idea that it had to be possible to do better than the academy. I mean – considering the money spent on the academy, we didn’t think the results were impressive. Simply put, the academy seemed like a lousy school to us.

T.: What about your own results? The Experimental Art School has existed for a year now; you’ve held a student exhibition. What do you have to look back on?

G.: I’m no longer critical of the academy. I’ve realized how diverse people are, how slow progress can be before reaching results. I’ve become tolerant. I can’t point to any concrete achievements on our part. We’ve helped some painters begin their individual development. Beyond that, nothing. What I believed in when the school started has yet to materialize.

T.: Are you disillusioned, Poul Gernes?

G.: No, on the contrary, brother. Our school has changed its structure over the past year. We started as a proper school, a kind of academy with teachers, a program, and many projects. Later, we gradually transformed into a workshop where students come to inspire each other. On top of that, we’ve hosted lecture series with various people like Mertz, Uffe Harder, Schwalbe, and others. And that’s the advantage: unlike the academy, we can change our structure, take up a subject, drop it, and try something else. We’re not bound by any council or foundation. This allows us to achieve a freer form and attract a different type of person than those suited for academic teaching.

T.: What have you personally gained from it?

G.: A lot of wasted time and money, without results, but not without hope. We’ve asked the state for a little support since they fund other private art schools. But I guess we’re still a tough sell.

T.: What was your original idea for the school?

G.: From my perspective, it was never about having my students – or whatever you’d call them – make paintings. There are plenty of those being made already. We weren’t supposed to create anything but rather first figure out together what we should create and what it would be used for. What art should be used for.

T.: What would you answer if someone asked you that question directly?

G.: I don’t know, brother. I’m searching, and the school might help me in my search… I might say… let me think… um… yes… A doctor is there to fix a broken arm, a bike repairman to fit a new crank, a carpenter to repair a broken chair leg. An artist is there to repair a broken moral compass.

T.: What’s wrong with our time? What’s broken?

G.: That’s a lot to take in, brother. Right now, we need to incorporate nuclear power – it’s pressing with the bombs. Humanity must stop being individualistic. Cooperation, a sense of brotherhood, must take its place.

T.: How does your art work towards that goal?

G.: Art can be divided into three groups: 1. Avant-garde, 2. Decoration, 3. Hobby. Hobby is something you do just to do something – are you following? Decoration is when you work in a certain style. It can be modern, but it’s primarily embellishment. Avant-garde art becomes something when it’s alive, when it’s new. I’m trying to move away from easel painting because the painting has gradually become mere decoration, something to hang up for aesthetic purposes. I try to purify my art, to make it new every time. For example, if I make a piece by crumpling a newspaper, that’s it – it’s done, not to be repeated. And when I then fold a piece of wire or metal, I don’t repeat that either.

T.: Storm P. said: “Art can be as grand as it likes – there must always be a frame around it!”

G.: Avant-garde art is society’s defense against dying from bourgeois stagnation.

T.: What’s wrong with bourgeoisie?

G.: The problem is that it makes you die – from complacency.