“When something happens for the first time it is remarkable. Kisses, shows, revolutions, outfits, tunes, lifestyles, any kind of artistic daring. There’s a reason why premieres are seductive, why premium is an excellence label. Real firsts are memorable and rare. At its 1971 foundation, Christiania was a real first. An anarchist, autonomous Freetown in the middle of Copenhagen’s Scandi handsomeness, a hot and difficult mess, to this day it remains a sanctuary for the rowdy and the uncontrolled, nestled between increasingly precious harbor front homes. As its surroundings are still getting beiger and pricier, Christiania remains shabby and loud, and five decades after taking its first squatting landmark baby steps, the Freetown, aging like a boho diva, is hosting another first-move. One for the next 50: The Christiania Biennale. Three days and nights of soirees and sculptures and dancing and dancers, skateboards, costumes, paintings, triphop, vanity and violin, smoke machine and films, graffiti and tears and sound systems and exhibitionism and large shoes to fill. In short: three days of everything Christiania already is and always has been, spiked for the occasion.

This premium premiere edition of the Christiania Biennale marks an open-end revival of prime Freetown principles, while also being the first-born of something yet to be defined. The free in Freetown is literal and this means unrestricted expression at no cost. From cabaret to heavy marble. From tunes to films to at least one epic sunset. Most hippie traditions balance fine lines between circus and art, between liberation and doctrine, between naivety and avantgarde, trash and punk. This can be said about Christiania and this, too, could probably be said about the Christiania Biennale, but what should rather be said is that the balancing and the lines are just flushed out in the name of broad vibe and broad accessibility. As the world keeps being ruled by nightmare after nightmare of possessive open-eyed murderers, being free is also a matter of resistance. And art is ultimately a matter of hope and dreams. “You have never really seen the world if you have not dreamed it” writes Inger Christensen, and she is always right, and if anything, the Christiania Biennale is something we should dream to make freedom seem a little bit closer. A little bit more possible. Keep dreaming, they say with law-abiding glasses and bloodstained voices that sounds like eye-rolling, and yes sirs, that’s the plan. Welcome to the first Christiania Biennale: it is meant to be limitless and stunning like nights or protests or emotions, it is meant to be remarkable like a true first. Some firsts are meant to last”

Text by Nanna Friis