The following is some of what I wrote while, and directly after, spending 10 days in total darkness. The pictures was taken the last day, when seeing the walls for the first time and slowly getting my eyes used to light again.
I know when I wake up the first time in the room that it’s still night. And then, when I wake up the second time that it’s morning. The darkness is the same around me, but…
I’m standing in the doorway of a room I’ve never seen. I have no idea how big it is, what shape it has or what can be found inside. A compact darkness fills the room, as if it was matter. It is as massive as a block of stone, until I take a step into it and it doesn’t hold me back. My feet feel the floor, my skin feels the temperature and dryness of the air, my nose pick up smells and I can hear…
Even without violence, time slowly shuts you down. It deposits layers of leftovers from the borders you couldn’t cross. Rust spreads, corrodes and buries you, makes you useless. Not crossing means you are stuck, closed out and closed in at the same time.
2. All those dreams
In the game of acting yourself every day, where do we keep…
New project, made in response to an exhibition invitation from curator Winnie Pelz. Part 1: the process.
Starting point
“The European colonists created an egg without a chicken, a logical absurdity repeated across the continent and one that continues to haunt it.” Tim Marshall, Prisoners of Geography
What is this island I stand on? And what is the rescue I’m hoping for? I’m waiting. To be useful. To cross the border. To be whatever “me” is.
What is the cost of drawing a line?
Without the right key
You’re stuck between doors
Rusting while waiting.
Forgetting how
All the doors we could have opened
No longer apply.
The cost of drawing a line
New project, made in response to an exhibition invitation from curator Winnie Pelz. Part 1: the process.
In early October it was time to take down the “In the periphery” exhibition. The weather had changed and aged the pieces in interesting ways. The wax had gotten sunburnt, some of the jars was filled with water, little algae and rust was climbing up my grandmother’s mazarines, only her hat acted as if nothing had happened while the moss grew around it.
As mentioned in the previous post, I used some of my grandmother’s everyday objects as starting points for my contribution to the exhibition “In the Periphery” this summer (up until 29th of September) in Koster’s sculpture park in the (kind of) south of Sweden (but very close to Norway).
I did this to talk about the kind of periphery dementia is.
When we emptied grandmother’s house 3 years ago, I saved some of her everyday-things. Keys, shoes, her cane, the hat that was hanging by the door. This summer I’ve made casts of some of them for the exhibition “In the periphery”, in Koster’s Sculpture Park at Sydkoster, an island on the west coast of Sweden.
Saturn’s hexagon is a hexagonal cloud pattern that has persisted at the North Pole of Saturn since its discovery in 1981. At the time, Cassini was only able to take infrared photographs of the phenomenon until it passed into sunlight in 2009, at which point amateur photographers managed to be able to photograph it from Earth.
The structure is roughly 20,000 miles (32,000 km) wide, which is larger than Earth; and thermal images show that it reaches roughly 60 miles (100 km) down into Saturn’s interior.
Read an explanation of how Saturn’s hexagon works here: [x]
jovian-winds
