The Freia frieze, a captivating series of paintings by Edvard Munch, has long been a subject of intrigue and debate. At first glance, it appears to be a vibrant and lively depiction of fruit pickers and beach scenes, but as we delve deeper, a darker truth emerges. This article explores the complex relationship between Munch, the chocolate factory, and the workers who inhabited it, offering a fresh perspective on this iconic artwork.
A Dance of Fruit and Fantasy
The Freia frieze, currently on display at Oslo's Munch Museum, is a mesmerizing spectacle. The 12 canvases depict a harmonious ballet of fruit pickers, their arms gracefully reaching for the bounty of nature. Water flows from watering cans in perfect unison, and couples bid farewell with dramatic gestures. The brushstrokes, dominated by blues and greens, create a sense of movement and energy. But as we ponder the purpose of this artwork, a sense of unease sets in.
Public Art, Private Intentions
Public art is often celebrated for its ability to bring beauty and inspiration to the masses. The idea that Munch, the creator of the world-famous 'The Scream', would create art for factory workers is an appealing notion. However, as curator Ana María Bresciani points out, the needs of the workers may not have been at the forefront of Munch's or Freia's minds. The exhibition, titled 'Edvard Munch and the Chocolate Factory', uses the frieze to tell a broader story of workers' rights and gender equality, shedding light on the exploitative history of Freia's cacao sourcing.
A Dark History
Freia's chocolate, which claims to provide 'a little piece of Norway', has a complex history. The company's cacao sourcing has been linked to violence, exploitation, and racism. The exhibition highlights the fact that Freia's cacao initially came from South America and the Caribbean, and later from Ghana, a British colony at the time. This raises questions about the ethical implications of Freia's business practices and the role of chocolate companies in perpetuating colonial exploitation.
A Pivotal Moment for Workers' Rights
The frieze arrived at the factory in 1923, a pivotal time for Norwegian workers' rights. Around this time, workers won the right to an eight-hour day and summer holidays. However, as Bresciani notes, many of the girls and young women who worked in the factory may not have had access to the idyllic scenes depicted in the frieze. The exhibition suggests that Munch's artwork may have been a form of education, aiming to provide these workers with a glimpse of a different world.
A Gulf Between Art and Reality
The cost of the frieze is a striking contrast to the meager incomes of the workers. Johan Throne Holst, the chocolate mogul who commissioned the artwork, paid Munch a staggering 80,000 Norwegian kroner (approximately £192,000 today). Meanwhile, the women who worked in the factory survived on starvation wages. This gulf between art and reality was not lost on the workers, as reported by the Oslo-based daily newspaper Arbeiderbladet. The newspaper highlighted the irony of investing large capital in costly paintings while keeping workers on starvation wages.
Munch's Public Art Aspirations
Munch's interest in public art was not solely driven by a desire to educate workers. As Bresciani suggests, his focus on the worker could be seen as a strategic move to gain fame and support. Munch was a master strategist, putting on exhibitions, charging for entrance, and selling his work from an early career. His network of friends in high places, including the chocolate mogul, may have been a means to an end.
A Takeaway and a Provocative Idea
The Freia frieze is a powerful reminder of the complex relationship between art, power, and society. It invites us to question the intentions behind public art and the impact it can have on those who inhabit the spaces it adorns. As we reflect on Munch's artwork, we are also prompted to consider the ethical implications of chocolate companies and the role they play in shaping our world. Perhaps, in the end, the frieze is not just a depiction of fruit and fantasy, but a reflection of the bitter truth behind the chocolate industry.
