Champagne, Trojan Horses, and Pleasure Rooms: Inside the Mythology of Constance Tenvik

If you’ve ever stood in front of a Constance Tenvik installation and felt like you were part of a costume drama directed by a deeply literate club kid with a thing for ancient Greece and post-drag decadence, that’s exactly the point. Her work doesn’t whisper. It calls—through hand-woven (jacquard) tapestries, larger-than-life personalities, and backroom mythologies dressed in Pucci.

CONSTANCE TENVIK – TIO–TIO–TINX Photo by: Shruti Ganguly

Constance Tenvik, Tio–Tio–Tinx (2024). Photo by Ove Kvavik/Munchmuseet. Courtesy of the artist.

Tenvik is the kind of artist who doesn’t just build sculptures or make paintings—she builds worlds. Worlds that reference Aristophanes, Stravinsky, and Frida Kahlo’s salad bowls in the same breath. Worlds where performance isn’t a medium—it’s a condition.

Berlin made me dance again

If your art could throw a party, who would DJ, what food and drinks would be served and what extras would you include?

My art would throw a party where the champagne flows and where there’s no holding back in having fun. Miro Von Berlin warms up the dance floor, while we’re snacking on foods prepared by Eva Che, served by leather daddies. In one of the corners there’s a smoothie and fruit bar to provide energy for the sweatiest dancers.

When Freddy K starts playing I snatch Miro with me to dance.

The salad bowls are as big as the ones I once saw in Frida Kahlo’s kitchen at Casa Azul. When Freddy K starts playing I snatch Miro with me to dance. Lucio Vidal can have a special stage. I hope we’ve remembered to invite as many expressive dancers as possible. And that Pucci is sponsoring the patterned drapery.

There’s an ambient lounge on the balcony where Jean Christian from Anatomie de Fleur has gone bananas with the flower decorations. Various teas are served and the pillows I’ve made with Weberei. Later in the night Ellen Alien plays back to back with Dr. Rubenstein. But then a Trojan Horse enters the room and out comes all of Anne Imhof’s Balenciaga models to do a durational pantomime performance. Shall I go on?

The more I’ve made work the more it’s become my own world.

Constance Tenvik, A Journey Around My Room (2019). Installation view from Astrup Fearnley Museet. Photo: Christian Øen. Courtesy of the artist, Astrup Fearnley.

You create all from painting, sculpture, and performance—how did it start, and evolve up until today, and what’s your future vision for yourself and your inspiration?

I’ve always been curious about the images that come up in our heads when stories are told, spaces created between worlds. I spent around seven years in school to follow my curiosities and to gain structure. The more I’ve made work the more it’s become my own world. By now it feels like a place almost. A place I keep nurturing. I hope to work with more institutions and commissions that challenge me and allow me to grow further. At Sans Souci in Potsdam when I see the pleasure rooms there, I wonder, what would my pleasure rooms look like? At John Soane’s in London I wonder what would my architectural mind palace look like? Sky is the limit.

A muse inspires me by being themselves, by their style, by their gestures and way of speaking, with their ideas and presence

What’s the weirdest place or moment that’s inspired your art?

I once made a whole exhibition inspired by The Eglington Tournament, a Victorian reenactment of Medieval Jousting. 

How does, if so, living in Berlin inspire your work?

I love Berlin with its highs and lows. Berlin made me dance again. I’ve found ballet dancers in Panorama bar that I could later see at Staatsoper. I love the Cranach paintings in Gemäldegalerie and theatres, the operas, the clubs.

I saw Berlin as a place for friendship, self discovery, visionary thoughts, critical thinking, style and inspiration

When I got to Berlin I felt a freedom feeling, which perhaps exists so strongly there since it’s been challenged so heavily in the recent past, both with the nazi regime and the stasi regime. Right now the whole world is becoming more fascist but when I got to Berlin around 2018 I thought it was a progressive place. A place for friendship, self discovery, visionary thoughts, critical thinking, style and inspiration. 

Constance Tenvik, Soft Armour (2017). Installation view from UKS, Oslo. Photo: Roderick Hietbrink. Courtesy of the artist, UKS.

How do storytelling and myth come into play in your work? What’s you creative process like? (If you got one)

Oh it’s a big part of my work. All of my installations are loosely based on existing narratives. Tio-Tio-Tinx at The Munch Museum was inspired by The Birds by Aristophanes, which refers a lot to Greek mythology. Voyage Autour de Ma Chambre at the Astrup Fearnley Museum was inspired by a book with the same title by Xavier de Meistre, and Gesamtkunst With Myself at Loyal Gallery was a spin on Tristan and Isolde. I begin with research and never ending mind maps. Eventually I find the details that captivate me and combine it with my desires for what kind of world I’m imagining and then I start making costumes, elements, paintings and sculpture. I care a lot about how it all comes together. Last year I loved thinking a lot about the space in the museum and the choreography of the museum goers.

In Berlin I felt a freedom feeling, which perhaps exists so strongly since it’s been challenged so heavily in the past

Constance Tenvik from TIO–TIO–TINX. Photo by: Marte Vold

I started making these portraits in Berlin because I kept meeting amazing people that I would have almost a crush on

You often portrait humans with big personalities, can you tell us more about what makes you want to paint a person?

I started making these portraits in Berlin because I kept meeting amazing people that I would have almost a crush on. The encounters felt like I just had to paint. A muse inspires me by being themselves, by their style, by their gestures and way of speaking, with their ideas and presence. It started as an extension of my diary and has become an integral part of my practice.

Constance Tenvik from TIO–TIO–TINX. Photo by: Ove or Tor

If you could time-travel to any art movement in history, where would you go and why?

Drape me in something and take me to Dionysia! I would take that time machine and experience Ancient Greek theatre. 

It started as an extension of my diary and has become an integral part of my practice

What’s one rule in the art world you always break—and one rule you stand by?

I’ll break with some of the color theories and stand by art becoming your whole life. 

If your art could give people one message or feeling, what would you want that to be?

I want art to bring hope and empathy, make us want to live and love and care for each other. I just visited Mexico City where I encountered murals that not only care for humanity and nature but also society.  

Constance Tenvik, Soft Armour (2017). Installation view from UKS, Oslo. Photo: Roderick Hietbrink. Courtesy of the artist, UKS.

 Constance Tenvik, Aphrodite (Sei Selina), 2024. Photo by Tor Simen Ulstein. Courtesy of the artist.

I want art to bring hope and empathy, make us want to live and love and care for each other

Imagine you’re curating an exhibition that represents life today—what’s the title and what would people see inside?

It’s called Contemporary Alchemists and includes spells by Michelle Lamy and Marina Abramović, David Rappenau has made painted tiles on the floor, Holy Herndon has composed a sound piece, Lyra Pramuk sometimes sings. Central in the space there’s a temple by Huma Bhabha with her sculptures in it. Once in a while Fashion does a tea ceremony with audience members. The exhibition feels almost like a sanctuary. 

If you could collaborate with any artist, living or dead, who would it be and what would you create together?

I’d make a ballet performance with Igor Stravinsky.

Interview by: Amanda Sandström Beijer