Harpa Árnadóttir

“What is the strangest thing you have ever bought online?” Conversation with Fritz Hendrik IV on his latest exhibition Sending and more.

The latest studio visit of our currently exhibiting artist Fritz Hendrik IV turned into much more than a questionnaire interview. Together we delved into a journey that began with an unexpected eBay find—a fossil—that sparked Sending, Fritz’s latest exhibition. This show, born from the boredom and human’s nature of discovering treasures online, unfolds into a profound exploration of connection, preservation and anticipation. Along the way, Fritz shares the stories behind his creative process, from crafting unanswerable password keychains to curating exhibitions seen through the eyes of a dog. With humor and insight, he reveals how chance encounters and everyday curiosities shape his art, turning the ordinary into extraordinary. And how—at the end of the day—we all pretend in order to become.

Listval: Could you walk me through the thoughts behind your latest exhibition Sending? How it occurred to you, what sparked the idea?
Fritz: It all started when I was bored at work, browsing eBay and exploring random categories. I’d heard that if you type in the word LOT, you can find listings where multiple items are sold together. When I chose the Everything Else category, things got weird—someone was selling the contents of a random drawer, another one was offering embalming instruments. While scrolling through all this, I came across fossils. The idea of buying a fossil on eBay seemed so strange, especially because they weren’t even that expensive. So, I bought one, thinking it could be a fun starting point for an exhibition.

And that’s the fossil right there—a 165-million-year-old Brittle Star, an extinct marine animal.

From there, I made these paintings. They show fossils being carried by transportation devices that look like woven baskets. In Icelandic cart means basket. It was kind of a silly idea, inspired by thinking about the Internet—as if the Internet itself had become a vessel.

It got me thinking about the origins of the objects we buy and sell online. Fossils, for example, are so deeply tied to specific places—formed over millions of years through layers and layers of earth. But then we just ship them across the globe, completely detached from their origin. Maybe that’s why buying one on eBay felt so strange to me in the first place.
Listval: From these works, you’ve developed others that explore a similar theme, though not in exactly the same way. Could you tell us more about them?

Fritz: Yes, these pieces are like silhouettes of typical objects in the corner of a room. Their titles are shipping numbers, and there’s also one of just the corner without the object. I was thinking of calling that one Insufficient Funds. Basically, they represent things that have been bought online. They’re on their way, but they’re not fully present yet.

Listval: But they exist in a sense, don’t they?

Fritz: Yes, they’re present in your mind. You’re anticipating them.

Listval: That anticipation often brings such joy, doesn’t it?

Fritz: Yes, it does. Sometimes, the anticipation is even better than actually receiving the items. There’s this mysterious in-between state, where the objects are neither fully here nor absent. It’s that liminal space I find interesting. .

Listval: You’re playing with this idea of being and non-being—like the transition between purchasing and receiving.

Fritz: And another layer to this is the title of the series, Sending. It’s a word that works in both Icelandic and English. In Icelandic, it means “shipment,” but it’s also tied to folklore, where it refers to ghosts. That ghostly, in-between state ties nicely into the theme.

Editorial note_ the Icelandic word „sending“ translates to „shipment“ or „delivery“ in English, but it also has an interesting dual meaning tied to folklore. In Icelandic, sending can refer to a supernatural entity, often a ghostly or magical being sent by someone to carry out a task or mischief. This dual meaning links the concept of something being „sent“ (like a package or delivery) with the idea of an otherworldly presence or being.

This linguistic overlap makes sending a fascinating word, as it connects the physical world (shipments or deliveries) with the ethereal or supernatural, which fits beautifully with the themes Fritz discussed—exploring the liminal space between presence and absence. _End of the editorial note

Listval: That’s such a beautiful interplay. What’s the last thing you purchased online?

Fritz: Shoes.

Listval: Ah, and how did you feel when they arrived?

Fritz: Actually, I haven’t received them yet.

Listval: So, you’re in that magical period of anticipation.

Fritz: Exactly—it’s a nice place to be.

Listval: I’d love to ask about the techniques you use and what materials or methods you currently lean toward. What are you enjoying working with the most?

Fritz: I really enjoy working with painting, which often becomes an essential factor in the whole exhibition. I’m used to thinking of an exhibition as a complete work rather than individual pieces. So, my shows usually aren’t just paintings, sculptures, or videos—they’re a mix.

Painting, though, is such a versatile medium. It allows for conceptual elements while still retaining a personal and emotional touch. It avoids becoming too cold or detached, which I like. The physical act of painting brings in a human element that keeps it engaging. As you might have gathered from my earlier explanation, I like to start with an idea or concept and build from there. Painting is often the medium I return to.

That said, I also have a deep appreciation for craftsmanship, like woodworking. There’s something incredibly satisfying about making things with wood, and I’ve developed an interest in it over the years.

Listval: Was this something that evolved over time, or has it always been part of your practice?

Fritz: It definitely evolved. I started with drawing, which eventually led to painting. Then, when I began art school, I was introduced to woodworking through the facilities there. That opened up a whole new realm for me.

As you can see here, I’ve accumulated tools for woodworking, and I also use 3D printers. For instance, the base of this sculpture was 3D printed. It’s a great tool because it offers so much precision and freedom.

Listval: Can you tell us more about how you’ve used 3D printing in this piece?

Fritz: Sure. This particular piece includes a sort of smoke or fog machine—it’s like a giant vape, really. I designed parts of it on the computer so they’d fit perfectly, which wouldn’t have been possible without 3D printing.

Listval: It seems like it would have been a real struggle otherwise.

Fritz: Exactly—it would have been quite a challenge. But with every exhibition, I try to include something I haven’t done before, so it’s also a learning process for me.

Listval: And for this exhibition, was it the sculpture?

Fritz: Yes, particularly the smoke component and the envelope. A funny challenge I faced was that when I used regular envelopes, they got wet because the vapor is essentially liquid. To fix this, I created my own envelope with silicone inside to make it watertight.

Listval: That’s so creative! Does this piece have a title?

Fritz: It shares the title of the show.

Listval: And what’s the message in the envelope?

Fritz: This piece came later in the process, and to me, it’s almost a literal interpretation of the concept I’ve been exploring—this transcendent state between presence and absence. The smoke being this ghostly presence that you can’t quite touch.

Listval: That’s fascinating.

Fritz: Yes, and it ties together the darker tones in this sculpture with other pieces in the show. There’s also a poem I’ve written, which will likely be printed on the wall as part of the exhibition.

Listval: Is the poem in Icelandic?

You can come experience the works yourself, till the 7th of December in Listval.