March 12, 2014
From Jean Baudrillard’s America (found for $1 at a used book store in Houston):
…[In America] things almost seem endowed with a certain indulgence towards their own banality. But they are indulgent towards their own craziness too. Looked at more generally, they do not lay claim to being extraordinary; they simply are extraordinary. They have that extravagance which makes up odd, everyday America. This oddness is not surrealistic (surrealism is extravagance that is still aesthetic in nature and as such very European in inspiration); here, the extravagance has passed into things. Madness, which with us is subjective, has here become objective, and irony which is subjective with us has also turned unto something objective. The fantasmagoria and excess which we locate in the mind and the mental faculties have passed into things themselves.
February 21, 2014
Last week I was in Morocco with my partner and it was lovely. Pics are here (plus a new overall layout here). Right here right now it’s cold and snowy. Oslo..
In March I’m off to the USA for awhile, including a week in NYC.
Fingers crossed the weather is better there.
January 6, 2014
It all started when we went epleslang in Majorstuen late one night last fall. Out of all of us, Håkon was the most brave and would casually walk into the rich people’s gardens to scout out ripe apple trees while the rest of us waited outside the gates, hiding in the shadows. After a few hours of wandering through both public and private areas, we had at least ten kilos of apples between us. They were green and pink, irregular and beautiful.
Then began the task of processing them. Over the next weeks I made apple cider, apple sauce, apple cookies and most importantly, apple cider vinegar. I’d never made it before then and the greatest thing about it is that you make it only using what is usually thrown out: i.e. the cores, stems, and skin. Somewhat of an acquired taste, the apple cider vinegar began to grow on me, especially after seeing it seemingly materialize out of nothing over a few months in a glass jar under my kitchen sink. I was hooked. In the following months I began to ferment everything in sight: red wine vinegar with fresh rosemary, ginger beer, cucumber soda, turmeric soda, larger batches of apple cider and countless flavors of kombucha, or fermented tea. When I started seeing my new partner, our first date consisted of preparing tea leaves for a two-month pickling and musing over kimchi.
When I returned to the Academy after a year off, I brought all my fermentation projects with me into the studio. And it seems that they have now taken over, with their steady yet unpredictable schedules and their slow sense of time. Sometimes when I sit here, it feels like nothing is happening. But on every eighth day or so when I bottle a new batch of kombucha, I am reminded that this is not true at all. The images, texts, and objects on my walls operate in a similar fashion. Silently they chide me on to continue writing my thesis, their faces unchanging. Yet every once in awhile, I will notice something new and begin to move them around. Adding and subtracting until things become more clear or more wild, depending on my mood that day.
In the center of the studio is a table, around which I share the fruits of my labor with friends and others who come to call. We talk about art there, but also about our personal lives, the school, things we saw that inspired us. It was here I had a conversation with a friend where we kept coming back to the theme of voraciously reading yet forgetting specifics afterwards, no matter how good the book was. Yet there is power in forgetting, we decided—the power of internalized knowledge subconsciously sneaking (for better or for worse) into one’s world view.
“Art is a process because life is a process.”
Wasn’t it Wilde who said that?
Happy New Year!
Over the weekend I did a big update on Pictures from places. New photos are up from Antwerp and Massachusetts. Plus more even more photos from Japan, China, and NYC.
December 9, 2013
One of my oldest crusades is against the distinction between thought and feeling, which is really the basis of all anti-intellectual views: the heart and the head, thinking and feeling, fantasy and judgment… and I don’t believe it’s true… . I have the impression that thinking is a form of feeling and that feeling is a form of thinking.
November 12, 2013
The slow arrow of beauty. The most noble kind of beauty is that which does not carry us away suddenly, whose attacks are not violent or intoxicating (this kind easily awakens disgust), but rather the kind of beauty which infiltrates slowly, which we carry along with us almost unnoticed, and meet up with again in dreams; finally, after it has for a long time lain modestly in our heart, it takes complete possession of us, filling our eyes with tears, our hearts with longing.
What do we long for when we see beauty? To be beautiful. We think much happiness must be connected with it. But that is an error.
Friedrich Nietzsche in Human, All Too Human: A Book for Free Spirits