January 2026

I have to touch things to remember them. I have to touch to be able to remember anything, so I sculpt. I make art because it’s the hardest thing to do and because I love doing it more than anything.

I sculpt to remember, I perform to get to see or experience “divine” or unknown. Don’t they say that performance is the moment when a human being can transcend something in themselves and go somewhere beyond?? God?? The act of sculpting keeps my practice grounded in reality, which is why the element of sculpture is central in performance. 

The idea of a ”finished sculpture” bothers me. I lose interest in it quickly after the act of making is over, which is why my practice revolves around remaking sculptures: cutting the wood again, gluing it back together in a different way, melting down the aluminum pieces and casting something new. The works I put on display are finished for the time being, but they never remain the same. I destroy them and then build new, mess  up, forget, do something else, look, sulk, forget, rediscover, mix it up, forget, destroy, look, go crazy, sulk, laugh, forget… performance ties this together with its limited time frame – and the sculpture needs time and (process) needs to be visible in the sculpture.

Time hurts me the most in the entire world, and that same inexplicable sadness also surrounds the sculpture. It must be due to the certain kind of silence of time that surrounds the sculpture: the fact that it is impossible to remember the SCULPTURE in its entirety. You move around it and can’t remember what the other side looked like. You look away for a second and the shape glides out of reach. Horror and humour, love and death, joy and sorrow are present at the same time. In materials bronze casts and cheap zip ties live together happily ever after.

I am interested in the ability of the works to evoke a physical reaction in the viewer. Forgetting is also a physical error? And… I almost always eat something in my performances. The horror of eating and the horror of being eaten? The horror of forgetting? Eating your words/thoughts? Being eaten by the gaze of an outsider? = artwork

I rip this off and I eat it
this is cannibalism
We are monsters
Monsters always return