Steph C.
Yelp
We went to The Cisterns without really knowing what to expect. We had a vague idea that it was underground, and that it was maybe like a museum, but were otherwise walking in blind. I'd highly recommend this experience, so here's all you need to know up front: it's open from 11 to 6 every day except Monday, when it's closed, and Thursday, when it goes until 8; single adult tickets are 70 DKK; and the current exhibition runs until November 30. If you find yourself in Copenhagen before then, do yourself a favor and go go go.
The Cisterns is part of the Frederiksberg Museums, which I guess is a cluster of museums in the Frederiksberg area. The entrance is built into the lush green lawn of Søndermarken Park, a slick architectural flourish like the entrance to the Louvre, or one of those creepy Westworld labs. Once you go in, you buy your ticket and head downstairs into an enormous dripstone cave, hidden right there in the city. It's a dark, damp, underground space, an old concrete reservoir that once contained Copenhagen's supply of drinking water, glittering with stalactites and stalagmites.
The space is incredibly cool, and it's used as a venue for art exhibitions and apparently other events, though I can't quite imagine it's popular for holiday parties or weddings. There seem to be annual installations, more or less, site-specific exhibits that take incorporate the atmosphere and unique characteristics of The Cisterns.
The 2018 exhibition is by Danish artist Jeppe Hein, and it's called IN IS THE ONLY WAY OUT. The message isn't especially subtle--"You must confront the darkness to be able to see the light," per the catalogue--but who wants subtle when you can have an immersive sensory experience inside a spooky, beautiful cave.
It's hard to describe what happened down there in a way that does the installation justice. There was a loud, massive flame that roared to life whenever anyone approached it; there was a room full of round hanging mirrors rotating lazily while we walked among them. The deepest part of the exhibit was a dark room with several Tibetan singing bowls standing on lit up pedestals. All around them was a track of balls on strings, which ran so they hit the bowls with varying degrees of ferocity, creating a wild, resonant chorus. I guess the balls move in reaction to sensors, which go off as visitors come in, so that the concert crescendoes as more people enter.
The whole thing was strange and disorienting and truly amazing. The space was small enough that we could've gone through in ten minutes, but we ended up hanging out for a while, just taking it all in. I don't know what The Cisterns has in store for future exhibitions, but I'll definitely come again if I find myself back in Copenhagen. This visit was one of the highlights of our trip.