Memory Wound, above, is one of three memorials to the victims of the massacre at Utøya, Norway in 2011. The rock cut out of the Sørbråten peninsula to make the channel will be used to make another memorial in Oslo on the site of a car bomb, also Anders Breivik's responsibility.
According to The Guardian, Dahlberg has spoken of poetic rupture, beauty indissolubly linked to loss. One wall of the cut is inscribed with the names of the children killed, the other is carved out into a ledge from which to view the names. The cut is aligned with Utøya – it doesn't eradicate Utøya by being placed literally on the site of the massacre itself.
This is how such massively inexplicable deaths are memorialised these days, by massive land art. There is little else that we feel is significant enough to approach the scale of war, for this was an act of war between a race-based fundamentalism and an unwitting, wealthy, liberal and secular populace. It seems to be too difficult to explain how Anders Breivik came to be, the best we can do is to set up sites where we can contemplate what he did. Memory Wound is a powerful place to do this; does it address the rise of anti-islamic fundamentalism in Europe? Not really, it addresses the children, their absence – the effect of a cause that remains active, not absent.
Land art puts human activities into the context of the earth as a planet, the sun as a star, time measured in light years – things almost beyond comprehension for all we have been taught how geology and astronomy works. These things have become our ineffable, things so detached from the development of the human race that they absorb human failings. It's cosmic and all, but there are other Breiviks out there, and they are unmoved.