︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎
︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎︎
2019
Documentation from residency at AiR Green, Noresund, through the Norwegian Textile Artists’ Association (NTK).
Self-portraits in sugar syrup
2018 - Video projection in curtained, enclosed space (duration 6:22 min).
Documentation of attempt to inhale/exhale inside a tank containing 10 liters of sugar syrup.
Immersing my head in a mass of sugar syrup, I consider drowning and breathing at the same time. Syrup can be a replacement for the presence of the atmosphere we often assume as emptiness, that which in reality connects us all; the air in your lungs has been recycled through all the other lungs around you countless times, as if we were all sharing a gigantic atmospheric aquarium.
Experiments in textile immersion (2020)
Fragments
"These pieces came out of me, so there must be a way to put them back in"
Performative experiments with vinyl-backed textile fragments in my studio, and in my own bedroom and bath.
Summer - Autumn 2017
Documentation of sleep performance in the work. Night of the 22 of October 2016, selected photographs from approx. 11.30 pm - 05.30 am
(installation view)
I settle in the room and the room settles in me
Performative Installation in artist residency Haishakkei 拝借景/ Toride, Ibaraki, Japan
October 2016
Installed in a 180 x 180 x 180 cm tatami mat tea-room
Paper, acrylic paint, futon, pillow, glue, mosquitos, dust, photographs
(Reactions to a space)
My physical exchanges with this house have taken two forms: first of all, as a severe allergic reaction to dust, and second, sharing my blood with the mosquitoes of the local area that have lived here alongside me (territorial radius about 1-5 km surrounding the house).
I have settled in the room and the room has settled in me; through mosquito bites, difficulty breathing, and antihistamine medication.
When I have left the house, I have carried the itching bites, the shortness of breath and the side effects of the antihistamines, experiencing the physical presence of the space through my body even though I am not there.
An allergic reaction - both the swelling welt of a mosquito bite and the flu-like symptoms coming from inhaling dead dust mites - is the body’s way of responding to a perceived attack (a fair exchange; I invade the space with my work, the space invades my body with its allergens).
I lit a mosquito coil and filled up the small room with smoke, irritating my lungs while I drifted off to sleep.
(Note about the title: reference to the works of Juhani Pallasmaa, from, among other things, his essays on existential space and architecture )
