Walk me through the process behind one specific painting, from the photograph in the family archive to the finished canvas. What did you crop out, and what made you choose to leave that piece of information behind?
Traveler There Is No Path (Veien Blir Til Mens Man Går) is based on a photograph from a holiday in Croatia. I had my hair braided freestyle by my friend who is a creative hairstylist and we were playing around. The crop focuses on the back of the head with the intricacies of the hairstyle, the lines and paths created, down to the light shining on the right shoulder drawing the gaze. The figure is looking ahead, and there is a sense of optimism and curiosity that I wanted to convey; the future lies ahead, unspoiled and full of options and possibilities. At the same time it is a singular figure, as most of my paintings are, other people cropped out, with no context telling of time and place. This in order to allow the viewer to project their own feelings and experiences onto the painting, and a reflection of the inevitable fact that there are many crossroads you will encounter by yourself and hard decisions in life you need to make alone. The title suggests that whatever lies ahead cannot always be planned and controlled, you have to trust that by putting one foot in front of the other, the path ahead will fall into place. And if there is no right way, then there is also no wrong way.
Your titles often read like full sentences or found phrases: "The one who spins the web also get caught", "Now I know (to love is to let go)". Where do they come from, and do you write them before, during, or after the painting exists?
To title the work is an important part of the process for me. I usually keep a list of words, sentences and phrases that I jot down whenever they occur to me, and I spend time pairing it with the work. I have a big love of words, but I am not a writer, which is why it suits me to work with these hints of meaning beyond the visual. I want them to open up the potential of the painting, or create some tension. I find using words is sometimes more vulnerable than painting a picture.
You work with both linen and jute, and your canvases have gotten noticeably deeper over the past two years. What changed in how you wanted the paintings to occupy a room?
I have sized up relatively big over the past year, going from A5 size to over 2 meters. I was interested in how the scale would impact the intimacy of the crop and how I could experiment with my technique when going bigger. Sometimes a small work makes you want to lean in whereas with a big painting you need to leave space between yourself and the work… a bigger painting can consume you, whereas a smaller canvas can feel more voyeuristic and secretive in nature. But in the end it's very instinctual, from the decision on how to crop the image (or rather, what to remove) to how much space the composition needs in order to have the right "feeling".
You describe the paintings as investigating "biased recollection". Has making this work ever changed what you actually remember about the scene in the source photograph?
Yes! I used to have very black-and-white thinking, and once my mind was made up, I believed it was how it would always be. But I have come to see how reality is a narrative and how we experience life through the lens of a past we decide to tell in a certain way. This malleability even occurs while I am painting, raising questions and triggering emotions that offer a different way of thinking about past events.
Chaos Carry Me Gently just opened at Blue Shop. Is there one work in that show you'd point someone to first if they only had time to see one? What should they know before standing in front of it?
This is a difficult question, because in many ways the works respond to each other, but if I had to choose, it would be She Who Devours. It is the darkest painting in the show, both literally and figuratively, and it was a real challenge technically. I wanted the figure to feel both intimidating and intimidated. The darkness only allows us to see the outlines of the figure where the light comes in from the left, and from the ambiguous twisted position she might attack, or defend, depending on your own feelings towards her. She is the visual representation of my shame, anger and sadness, the things I hide away. She is very powerful; when I don't listen, she devours me. Now I try to leave the door open…
Your work talks about the fear of the unknown and self-destructive behaviours that hinder growth. Is there a painting you almost didn't make, or didn't want to show?
I don't think so. Making the work can be scary, but freeing! To not make it would be more damaging.
