Solo show at Jargon Projects, Chicago, US.
JANUARY 21 – FEBRUARY 26, 2023
Text by Ethan Kennemer
Allt kött är hö.
All flesh is hay. Unfixed, fugitive.
It always feels wrong to write about these things. You can’t give them form, even after they happen to you. There’s an insurmountable gap between making sense and making sense of.
A small wooden box is filled to its brim with wax, the wax pierced with cloves. The box — the corpse — is draped with elusion and armor. Smoke marbles its edges and buries itself in the wood’s grain. Silver chains fend off evil.
These things. Nebulous, or impossible. These things happen and you’ll know them when they do. It’s hard any other way.
Three wheels caught out of time. Soft and fluid, no longer turning, still in perpetual motion. They are all skin. Their thin veil now holds weight — a cloudy resinous mass wedged between this world and the next. Forms repeat and stretch themselves, resting but not at rest.
Things only become real right before they are known.
Four knives are sealed with black wax, prepared ceremoniously. Plant fibers belt a small notebook, the contents of which have been studied since before they were conceived. Objects preserved for another life.
These things are hay. Absolute, immutable.
Contemporary Art Library
Untitled, 2022 The ground was thinned touched and out of time, 2022 Calling the waters, 2022
Latex Wood, wax, silver plated knife
Calling the waters, 2022 Spun time, 2020 The ground was thinned touched and out of time, 2022
Wood, wax, silver plated knife Soap, drawer, foam rubber, book, Latex
ink, vegetable fibres, silver plated knives,
Smoke over my eyes, 2023
The ground was thinned touched and out of time, 2022 Wreaths of smoke, 2022 Argent (in) absence, 2022
Argent (in) absence, 2022
Cotton pillowcase, paint, hay, silk ribbon
Wreaths of smoke, 2022
Box, wax, silver chains, cloves
Draped dwelling, 2022
Birch bark, silver chain
It wanders like a honeyed trace, 2022
Lamp, green lightbulb