It was a very playful time! A conversation with the founders of CAS

You go straight to the point of why we started CAS. In 2013 there was a lot going on in the local art scene. Hanne Mugaas was the new director at Kunsthall Stavanger, and Geir Haraldseth with the new director at Rogaland Kunstsenter. There was a lot of fresh energy, but there was very little written and critical discourse around the art scene in Stavanger. The only thing was the occasional art review or interview in the local newspaper. A lot of the discussion in the beginning was that there was so much going on in Stavanger, a lot of new initiatives, and a lot of artists and a surprisingly international art scene, but very little written about it. Geir and Hanne actually initially approached Heather and I to discuss starting a platform to highlight visual art in the region. That was really the impetus for CAS.

We discussed that a lot in the beginning, how to do it with language. It was very important for us that we had that fluency in both languages. We didn't translate in the beginning, we didn’t have the resources for that. We thought, yes, not everyone will be able to read all the texts, but there will be enough to read, even if you can't read everything.

We also focused at the very beginning, as Marte said, on making the art scene visible, which is also why we decided to do it in two languages, because part of the goal of CAS has always been to make the exciting things that are happening in Stavanger accessible to an international audience.

We also discussed different formats and content; we even considered food reviews. It was a very playful time!

It was a very practical decision. We didn’t have any money and that was the cheapest option. The first platform we used was a free one. It was much more of a blog – we were just experimenting. We had a photographer who took photos at all the openings, which helped create visibility, as Heather mentioned. We were trying to build some energy around the project and understand what was happening.

But from the very beginning, it was important for us that it wasn’t just a local thing. Yes, it was local, but with an international perspective. It was always about avoiding an insular, Stavanger-only focus and instead showing how Stavanger is connected to the larger art world.

I felt the same vibe as Marte and Heather. There was so much happening in Stavanger and a lot of people were talking about what the local art scene needed and how to connect with the rest of the world. I liked how CAS was capturing that. And, of course, Marte and Heather are awesome, so I wanted to join the team.

I clearly remember the day when Marte and Heather asked me to come on board. I was in Oslo that day. You both had a very strong idea of how you wanted to develop CAS, and you had clearly worked on that. I remember you doing a survey asking what text format people would like to read. But you both were living abroad at the time. Marte was in Copenhagen and Heather in New York. So, CAS needed somebody that was living in Stavanger and could apply for funding. And I was already writing for CAS! It was inspiring to hear you talk about how you wanted to take this further and really establish CAS as an independent organization I immediately connected with that vision. I felt you knew I could engage with that from the start.

Fighting for our lives! Haha. In the early days, there was very little money. A lot of the time, we would work for free until we got a grant, and then we would back pay ourselves. We've gone through a lot of ups and downs in terms of funding and stabilizing CAS. I think that's very typical of arts institutions. We all had second jobs. And we were all working with CAS out of a love and excitement for the scene.

I don’t know if Marte would agree, but in the very early days, we didn't know what we were starting. I don't think that any of us looked 10 years into the future and had the goal of an established online magazine with a residency program, public events, etc. We just started something and then took the next step and next step until we arrived where we are today. I think if someone had said, “Do you want to start a long-term art magazine?” I would have said no, because it would have been too daunting at the time.

I agree with you on that. But we were also very ambitious. From the very beginning, we looked at other regionally focused art magazines inspiration, like Pelican and East of Borneo.

Finance-wise, I think what really changed things was when Astrid came on board and we decided to fully commit. That was instrumental for us to move forward. We had many in-depth discussions. I actually went back to look at the archive and notes, and we debated everything thoroughly: the statutes, our various roles in the art scene. It was a very detailed process during the establishment. We also had quite a few discussions with the Art Council, Stavanger municipality, and Rogaland Fylkeskommune. I think those three were the main financial sources we always pursued.

One thing led to another. For example, starting the residency program was partly driven by the need to secure funding. We realized there was Arts Council money available for residencies, so we applied and got it. At that point, I thought, “Okay, now we actually have to make this happen.”

And the residency has since become one of our strongest programs.

The Kunstsenter helped us apply for some money for CAS, I think it was 100,000 NOK or something. That gave us something to start with when we founded CAS as an independent organization. We took their initiative and made it our own. That was crucial and gave us a stronger position when applying for additional support.

To Marte’s point about us taking the founding seriously despite maybe not really knowing what we were getting into: We were also serious about impartiality and conflicts of interest, which I think also led to the founding of CAS as an independent organization. We started having conversations about what we can and can't do while under the institutional umbrella of the Kunstsenter. How does that affect our ability to write critiques? How does that affect our ability to get additional funding? It became apparent pretty quickly that we needed to be an independent organization, and a lot of those early conversations steered us towards what CAS is today.

I think that CAS was something that grew among us, which is why we had a flat structure. It wasn’t really an economic decision. It was something that was established from the first day.

I think, as you said, it also came from a practical need. We were doing this voluntarily, and there would be times when we had other jobs and couldn’t fully focus on CAS. So, part of it was about creating a structure that allowed for flexibility—where one or three of us could take on more work when others were less available. We couldn’t have one person holding all the information or being the only one who could do certain tasks. That just wouldn’t work. So we made sure to divide responsibilities.

In the beginning, it was playful—we talked a lot about what CAS could be. It was me, Heather, Hanne Mugaas, and Geir Haraldseth. We had so many brainstorming sessions. Then, when we started professionalizing it and making it independent, it became really important that we, the three of us, define what it should become together.

The flat structure may not be that common, but for us, there was really no other way to do it. Looking back, even if it wasn’t fully articulated at the time, I think the decision not to have a hierarchy was ideological. When you start something together from scratch, it’s natural to create it collaboratively, and that’s exactly what we did.

It definitely felt like three friends sharing this project together. Looking back, I now realize that it was quite a feminist thing we did to start this arts organization that's flexible, that is flat, that is collective, and I'm proud of that. One thing that we established early on is very open, non-conflictual communication with one another in terms of our various workloads, responsibilities, rates of compensation, etc. There was a specific period of time where we had very little funding, and we all had other work. We would have monthly check-ins about how much work we were each doing, and suggest different rates for the amount of tasks that each of us were taking on. I think having clear communication with one another has been absolutely key for getting CAS through these difficult years of growth and instability.

I agree with you Heather. The clear and respectful communication and the fact that we constantly discussed what CAS should be throughout these years was crucial. A lot of people had opinions about what CAS should be, or what they thought CAS was. We always discussed the purpose of CAS and what to prioritize.

I think, on the one hand, we've all gone through periods where we've lost funding and questioned what we’re doing and whether it’s worth fighting so hard just to keep going. Running any cultural institution in a smaller place can be challenging. It’s hard to constantly advocate for yourself and convince others of your relevance and importance. We’ve definitely faced moments like that.

But on the other hand, we’re the only arts journal in all of south-western Norway . Unlike bigger cities, where there are countless platforms for arts discourse, here there’s almost no conversation around the arts. And that’s not just in Stavanger, but across the entire region, all the way up to Bergen. Every time we’ve asked ourselves, “Should we just throw in the towel?”, we’ve looked at that reality and reminded ourselves that we are the only platform for talking about art in this region. For me, that regional specificity, our location and our role within it, has been what keeps me going through the more difficult times.

I think we’ve always had that spirit of experimentation, and over the years, we’ve tried out a lot of different models. We had an arts calendar, we built an archive, and we created an overview of all the institutions, etc. We wanted to be a resource for our community. I also think establishing the residency program was a key moment. From the beginning, we were clear that we didn’t want to be insular. With the residency, we automatically brought in outside perspectives on the local art scene. We made it clear from early on that we were genuinely interested in the local art scene, and wanted to contribute in a new way that hadn’t really been done before.

Also, from the very beginning, we had a rule that everything had to be connected to Stavanger in some way, though that connection could be interpreted quite widely. Still, the link was always there.

CAS has always served as a bridge in both directions. On one side, we've raised the level of discourse for people in our region. We've brought in external writers, we’ve held workshops and public events, we’ve tried to raise the level of arts discourse here on the ground. And because our website is dual language, and because we have consistently had approximately 50% international readership, people from the outside have been able to access and provide opportunities for artists working in the region. Some of the most encouraging feedback that I receive is when an artist tells me that a review we did was pivotal to them getting additional funding or an international exhibition, or when one of our residents continues to work with an artist from our region, sometimes even years later. Our work can affect our local scene in ways we didn't initially anticipate. It has also supported the artists that are working in our region with accessibility and opportunity.

The years before CAS, the local art scene was more closed off, not as connected internationally. In the years that followed, that began to change.

Ha! I didn't almost give birth, but I was very scared that I might! We used to have seasonal planning retreats in different locations. This time, we all went to Astrid’s cabin. I was maybe 7 or 8 months pregnant. The snow was crazy. It was totally dark, and I remember Astrid and Marte told me to bring warm clothes. When we arrived, Astrid pulled on snow pants, giant boots, and a headlamp. She said, “I told you to bring warm clothes!” and I was like “I thought I did!” I didn’t have all the gear that these two had. And then the next morning, we woke up and opened the door and it was waist deep snow. I thought, “we're stuck forever, and I'm gonna have a baby here!”

Marte had to shovel her way to the cabin before Heather and I arrived!

You have a good point there. And that's also the flat structure coming into play. We each brought skills to the table that were essential for the formation, growth, and success of CAS.

I don’t want to leave the topic of memorable moments without talking about the last CAS party! It took place in the attic at the Kunstsenter. Such a great party. It was summer, everyone was happy; we were all dancing and sweating, people coming and going, the music was loud... And then, someone whispered, “The police are here. The police are here.” The idea that a small art party got the police called in Stavanger. I had to watch the door, and that ended up being the highlight of the night. I got to talk to everyone as they came in and out. The party was just so full of joy —that was the spirit of CAS, right from the beginning.

I think what we’re all saying is at the core, we were all good friends and despite the challenges, we had a lot of fun. CAS was built through relationships as well as professional competence. I'm quite proud of the fact that we've created an organization that's relational, collaborative, that functions without hierarchy.

I think that’s also what I meant when I spoke about the ideological side of CAS’ founding. There has always been an emphasis on transparency, openness, and trust. In many ways, it was feminist: not about positioning or internal competition, but about building something together. And something we haven’t mentioned yet, is that there were very few art writers here when we started. From the beginning, it was important to us to work closely and in depth with writers through editing. We also organized writing workshops. All of us have been involved in different ways in helping to cultivate more professional writers from the local scene, and I think that’s really worth highlighting.

Good point. That’s also something that continued to be a big part of CAS, and something we spent a lot of time and resources on. We invested heavily in the texts. That’s really time well spent.

One of the things I am proud of is how CAS has always paid our writers. We’ve always endeavored to pay writers fairly, and today we pay according to the fees outlined by the Norwegian Critics Association. Our contributor list is impressive in part because we have demonstrated financially how much we value the intellect and craft of art writers.

I've thought about this on many occasions, and professionally speaking, CAS is where my time has been most meaningfully spent. We built something together as editors and we have spent a lot of time writing, editing, being together with guests and applying for funding. Those who take the time to read CAS can see the traces of that in the collection texts, building on each other with different writers and perspectives – this is a conscious editorial choice and that’s visible in the archive. CAS is shaped by many people. For me, time is what gives CAS the highest quality.

I’d like to tack something onto what Astrid said about time. I think there's something interesting about our name: Contemporary Art Stavanger. Now that we have a 10-year archive, you can look back and see how the idea of “contemporary” has shifted. What felt urgent in 2016 isn’t the same now. There’s a kind of duality. It’s both about the present and a record of the past. The archive has become a timeline of what was considered contemporary in our region at different moments. As Astrid said, that’s largely due to the attention we gave to editorial decisions and commissioning texts.

That’s such a big question, and there are so many ways to answer it. What comes to mind first is how much CAS has grown alongside us, as writers, as editors, and as an organization. As we’ve matured in our fields, so has the quality of our content, editing, and the writers we’ve been able to bring in. Honestly, comparing what we published in 2014 to now, it’s almost laughable. We were young when we started, and our skills have developed significantly. The organization itself has also matured. No arts organization is ever completely stable, especially in today’s economy, but where we are now was just a dream five years ago: a consistent publishing schedule, structural and financial stability. It’s been slow and hard-won, but looking back, the growth of CAS is self-evident.

And then there’s the reputation CAS has built. People around the world now recognize and respect it. Like you said, Sofie, winning that award is huge. I laughed when you mentioned it, because sometimes I still think of CAS as this little blog we started. But when I step back and see what we’ve built, it’s incredible and it absolutely deserves recognition.

The quality of CAS has been consistently strong. It manages to blend a local perspective with an international outlook. It’s engaging to read, especially when a lot of art writing is at risk of being boring. Many art journals become static over time, settling into a fixed form, but CAS continues to experiment. That’s crucial for staying relevant.

We touched on this briefly, but spending time with writers is an important part of the process—and I think it will be key for the future as CAS takes on new forms, which is exciting. Adding to what Marte said: CAS is now part of a larger context in many ways. The award you received is only part of that recognition; an acknowledgment that CAS has become part of the history of the arts in Norway.