You’ve probably already heard of Thorarinn Jonsson. The 24-year-old Icelandic OCAD student attracted international media attention last Wednesday when he planted a fake bomb outside the ROM. Police called in a bomb squad to secure the area and defuse the bomb, only to discover that it was a “sculpture.” The scare disrupted traffic for hours, and forced the cancellation of a major charity gala for CANFAR, an AIDS research foundation.
The object, made to resemble a pipe bomb, was part of a project for one of Jonsson’s art classes, though OCAD claims it had no prior knowledge of the stunt. A note attached to the suspicious package read “This is not a bomb.”
After leaving it at the entrance to the ROM, Jonsson called the museum and dialed a random extension. He informed the woman who answered that there was no bomb outside. He uploaded an accompanying video on YouTube, entitled “The Fake Bombing at the ROM.” These actions, he hoped, would keep him safe from legal action.
Today, the incident is at the centre of a debate about what is and isn’t art, and what the ethical limits of art should be. Though many see Jonsson’s project as a publicity stunt or a terrorist threat, others view it as the artist had intended it: a piece of art.
Ariel Shepherd, a close friend of Jonsson’s, called the bomb an example of “the dichotomy between art imitating life and life imitating art.” She went on to say that regardless of whether people agree that Jonsson’s piece was “good art,” they still admit that his project attracted a lot of attention and raised interesting discussions. If people found his art worth talking about, said Shepherd, Jonsson must have done something right.
Jonsson’s roommate, Peter Mohideen, said he does not automatically assume Jonsson innocent of any wrongdoing, and commended the justice system for their handling of the situation. “Saying that something is art does not mean that it is not also a crime,” Mohideen added.
He went on to say the “morbid outrage” in the public reaction to the incident was highly objectionable. “Everyone says it was irresponsible to do it in our post-9/11 world,” he said. “It’s because of this post-9/11 world that we have come to accept, for instance, casual taser use, and we only even bother to look up when an innocent man dies.”
A post on Facebook expressed similar sentiments: “As much as I disagree with his motives and actions[…]I can’t help but to feel reminded of the climate of fear we have come to live in.”
Following the initial media coverage of the event, Thorarinn Jonsson turned himself in to police on Thursday night. He was charged, at a Friday morning bail hearing, with mischief and public nuisance, and could serve up to years behind bars. Jonsson’s $33,000 bail was posted by prominent members of Toronto’ Icelandic community. Under the conditions of his bail, Jonsson must surrender his passport, may not possess any explosives, and must stay away from the ROM. About 20 of his friends attended the bail hearing to show support. One attendee commented that Jonsson looked visibly relieved at the sight of his allies. Jonsson’s next court appearance is scheduled for Dec. 13.
News outlets and blogs around the world have taken up the incident, analyzing Jonsson’s actions from countless directions. U.S. conservative pundit Michelle Malkin nominated him for “Jerk of the Year” on her website. In the Facebook group “Thorarinn Jonsson Owes CANFAR A Proper Apology,” members offered a variety of perspectives on Jonsson’s project. Some decried him as a terrorist who should be immediately deported, while one characterized him as naive, lost in a “little art world.” Still others blamed OCAD, demanding the school reimburse CANFAR for the cancellation of Wednesday night’s benefit. Aside from a press release last week condemning Jonsson’s actions and announcing an internal investigation, OCAD administration has given no comment.
Jonsson’s friends have contended that the media’s focus on the money CANFAR lost is being used to vilify him. In a CityTV interview last week, Jonsson said he was unaware of the fundraiser, and that he regretted disrupting it. One of Jonsson’s friends claimed that the wealthy patrons who had paid for the gala were unlikely to demand a refund, and that public sympathy for the foundation could earn them even more donations.
