What you buy does not make who you are. You are what you digest. Now take out the trash, please.

↓ ”In is as far as Out, #2” or “Burden, #2”, (290 x 270 mm + 290 x 280 mm), mixed media on cardboard.

A sequel to the former piece on the same subject. The correlations to world events are hard to digest. But in short: it all goes to shit. Or rather merde. 

↓ ”Collective Narcissism” or “Map of Denmark, 2015.”, (876 x 617 mm), mixed media on paper.ethnocentric_data_collectionI can be quite binary in expressing my world views and I apologise if I’ve ever offended you. Unless you are one of those  homophobic, xenophobic, bigoted, ethnocentric, racist ass-wipe-danes who thinks it’s ok to stand on a highway bridge, spitting at Syrian refugee families, walking (walking!) as fast as possible through tribal denmark, just to seek asylum in Sweden because petty denmark certainly is not a friendly place for people of colour, traumatized by civil war. Then you have my full scorn. 

↓ work in progress, (155 x 254 mm + 155 x 254 mm), acrylics on crescent board.
Spilling some beans here I guess. Another digestion reference?

↓ work in progress, (267 x 288 mm + 267 x 288 mm), mixed media on cardboard.
Buy one, somebody else gets one free. Charity through consumerism. Still wrapping my head around that.

↓ work in progress, (287 x 314 mm + 289 x 307 mm), mixed media on cardboard.
No comment. But yes, my media is a cat-litter box. Yet another digestion reference. What goes in must come out and go somewhere. Right? 

↓work in progress, (⌀355 mm + ⌀280 mm), mixed media on cardboard.
Round formats. And I have no idea what to do about that. I mean, whats up or down here? Really?

Actually, refugees don’t flee in order to get in. They come here, because they have to get out.

↓ ”In is as far as Out” or “Burden”, (435 x 230 mm + 240 x 335 mm), mixed media on cardboard.

On that note it’s important to keep in mind: borders between our nations are not constructs designed to keep aliens out either. They are put in place to keep you, me and also the xenophobes in, in check, in line, from interfering, from conferring.

Oh home, sweet home, I wrote you a poem. The dearest reader must excuse the danish, and find an approximated translation below. The references to both national anthems and native pop songs probably don’t come through to a non-dane and I apologise for that. In regards to the issue at hand I think you must count yourself happy. Leave it to the danes to be sorry. (though I am sure that these days you can find your own local predicaments that hopefully are handled more gracefully)

Åh (komma) danmark
Din skede er rummelig (komma) men gold
Til dem der står dér (komma) ude
Og banker på
Siger du (kolon)
Knep dig selv (komma)
Skridt for skridt

Prygl (udeladelsesprikker)
Grænseløs kærlighed
Tandløs dolk
Spytklat (lighedstegn)

Bakke (komma) dal
Afskårne, omskåret
Sønner i krig (komma)
Slik dig om munden
Sønner fra krig (udeladelsesprikker)
Lukket land (komma)
Ørken (skråstreg) våde drømme
Bølgen blå

Oh (comma) Denmark
Your snatch is spacious (comma) but barren
To those who’re (comma) out there
You say (colon)
Go fuck yourself (comma)
Step by step

Thrash (ellipsis)
Borderless love
Toothless dagger
Glob of spit (equal sign)
Snail’s trail
Primordial sea

Hill (comma) valley
Cut off, circumcised
Sons to war (comma)
Lick your lips
Sons from war (omission dots)
Closed Country (comma)
Desert (slash) wet dreams
The blue wave


Standing at that street corner, dazed by the mid day heat of summer: this petite and straightforward woman rides by on her bike, laboriously carrying a full size sledgehammer, upside down by the end of its shaft.

↓ Working title: “Axegeis?” (540 x 598 mm)



Consciousness snapped back with the image. Like an instant enigma, a flash of divination. Still reeling I crossed the street, hot rubber kissing the tip of my right foot as a car swam by engaging its horn. The vision got knocked in to my cornea for an eternal second and the titillating scene seeded an inferno at the end of my spine, shooting blind impulses at my cerebellum and beyond.

For months now I have tried to read the riddle. Deciphering and paraphrasing the visual, trying to force transparency onto the fetish. Listen … the Danes are a tribe of cyclists and I’m as devoted as any. Albeit a little late in life – I was six and already a wimp, I woke up one morning having dreamed of teaching myself how to keep balance, got up and outside and just did it: ran my bike straight in to the nearest wall and then out in to the world. And yet I can not solve the formula of woman, hammer and two-wheeled motion.

There’s a bodily satisfaction in pedalling yourself forward at speed, by your own faculty. I’ve watched the muscles of my thighs build over the stretch of just a few weeks, I’ve shuttled the most awkward items on my faithful wheeled vehicle (or tried to) and I’ve had some seriously rough exposures to tarmac, gravel, more masonry and fellow road users.

So there is clearly something physical at hand with this matter. In that observation. Somewhere in my mind. When that woman teetered by. Carrying a sledgehammer? A tool for back-breaking labor, an object of brutality, a symbol of crude energy and immense authority, far to hefty for her delicate build and most obviously not one she was used to carry along (seen from a point of gravity it would have been easier to carry the hammer by its head one would think?) Still she jerked me out of my stupor in the middle of the street and faded out of view. Flummoxed, I still am. A bafflement now partly consigned to board. The investigation still in process.

Standing at a street corner, oblivious in the heat of summer and this mousey housewife rides by on her bike, laboriously carrying a sledgehammer upside down by the end of the shaft.

↓ Working title: “Ax me?” (540 x 598 mm)


And oblivion turned to a full-on mysterious quasi-revelation as I crossed the street, the image seared in to my cornea for a moment. The whole thing turned me on, flicked a switch in my gut, fired crisscrossing axons in my brain. Of what is a conundrum to this day. Even after visually dissecting it for a few months. Now … I love riding my bike, as do a lot of people in this tribe we call the Danes. There’s something physically gratifying in propelling yourself forward at speed, by your own power. I’ve watched the muscles of my thighs expand over the expanse of just a few weeks, I’ve transported the most unwieldy objects on two wheels (or tried to) and I’ve had some severely abrasive contacts with tarmac, gravel, walls and even cars. So there is definitely something corporeal going on. In that image. Somewhere in my mind. When that woman rode by. With a sledgehammer? A tool for hard work, an object of violence, a symbol of brute force and overwhelming power, far to heavy for her petite stature and most obviously not one she was used to carry along (it would’ve been easier to carry it by the head? I’m guessing. Who am I to know.) Nevertheless she made me stop in the middle of the street as she vanished down the street. Perplexed, I was. And almost run over by another cyclist of life. The image has since been analysed, altered, interpreted, over-worked, re-worked and now half committed to board.

I’m still confused. And turned on. What?

The demise of a culture.



I used to be more Danish than half of my genes actually call for.

That included all the modesty, the charms, offs and quirks that came with being part of a populace barely big enough to form two teams to play sports.

The high degree of extrovert tolerance and integrity of yonder times is far gone and the above is my testimonial.

colon hyphen start-parenthesis

Here’s to teachers, politicians and parents. You deserve it.


If you don’t get it, you have a nice classical movie to must-watch.


the harder you try = jo hårdere du prøver Bukowski, translated

Once again Charles hit/hid a note of ringing truth, somewhere. And I found it worthwhile to have a go at a danification, since it’s applicable to this little self-righteous gene pool they call denmark, somehow. Knowing that Mr. Bukowski was a german-born white guy living in Los Angeles, hanging with all kinds of cats; the line about the “wise white boys” probably could have a more direct contemporary “cultural” translation, but I stayed true to his meter, somewhat. The only liberty I took was to emphasize “garbage” in translating it to literal “shit”, since we danes are very very fond of that word and use it without discrimination and always and everywhere, flaunting our ignorance that has become the pride of all our national characteristics, someway.

the harder you try 

the waste of words
continues with a stunning
as the waiter runs by carrying the loaded
for all the wise white boys who laugh at
no matter. no matter,
as long as your shoes are tied and nobody is walking too close
just being able to scratch yourself and
be nonchalant is victory
those constipated minds that seek larger meaning
will be dispatched with the other
back off.
if there is a light
it will find

jo hårdere du prøver

de spildte ord
fortsætter med en forbløffende
og tjeneren løber forbi og bærer sin fyldte
for alle de bedrevidende hvide drenge der griner af
lige meget. det er lige meget,
så længe du har bundet dine sløjfer, og ingen kommer for tæt på
bare det at være i stand til at klø sig selv og
være nonchalant er sejr
de der forstoppede sjæle der leder efter en dybere mening
vil blive ordnet sammen med al det andet
hold så op.
hvis der findes et lys
vil det finde

When evaluating a financially strained community, can we still afford to look at how we deal with the welfare of the weakest?

Letter to the editor in Fyens Stiftstidende jan. 19th 2012 ... of course they cut my headline. What did you expect?

Maybe. Maybe not. For after all it is a mutual commitment to help get the load dragged up the hill. When the empty manger stares back at us, then it’s probably time to bite spoons with the problems and identify the extra extra-hole in the belt. Even for those of us who are lying down. Right?

My attempt at a perspective on the welfare debate is not intended as whining. That is handled all to well by our politicians and their publicly funded and spinningly confused marketers themselves. Their bias-driven, incompetent and misguided attempts at objectivity are only regurgitated idiomatic soundbites targeted at an anemic media, that on itself only searches for the golden calf, kidding themselves in to having a humanistic main artery.

To the bite: Odense Municipality has in the name of crisis reluctantly asked its administration to “streamline” (read: save with a knife). Among many other items it focuses on the unpaid physiotherapy offered for free to citizens with severe disabilities and others with chronic maladies. A treatment which eventually saves society welfare assets because of its preventive qualities. Amongst the recipients are sclerosis sufferers who benefit from expert training, counseling and individual therapy and thereby can remain “healthy” and out of wheelchairs and more expensive treatments longer than forecasts otherwise allow. Prevention is literally common sense. Also economically. Nevertheless, a meager 1.8 million kroner is to be “streamlined” out of the system by “quality checking” if all “users” are placed in the correct “targetgroup”.

And presto: Let’s kick some of our weaker citizens who are not so weak that they can still easily take it, half out of the system by tightening further the rules of the administrative jungle they call “business-firm Denmark”. Simple, straightforward and packed into business lingo no one dares to say no to. That two disabied citizens rarely match each other in reg. to their needs and frequently are “non-segmentable” falls out between the lines and down under the carpet in an office somewhere.

Now this is just a simple economic example. There most probably are more and worse examples of “efficiency”, where I don’t have the same insight. But in this matter I am directly involved and under the above conditions another door has been closed on me, so I will sit down to relieve my limp dysfunctional leg and wonder a little. Just a little.

Because: the balance is apparently gone. On one hand, I see the ever important and image stabilizing pseudo-visibility of the free (but still pretty low-calorie) summer Thursday-concerts for the amusement sick plebeians, who intoxicated leave our neglected streets even more broken and dirty. On the other “invisible” side of the tipping load there is a steady decline in commitments to transform the more unfortunate citizens in to less unfortunate community supports.

The question is whether the municipal chancellery could be “streamlined” by focusing on other “audiences” with excess resources? In other words: Let us not forget to save by giving priority to real and long-term issues rather than aiming blindly and incoherent. In my opinion we need to ask those who can to do more. Those who can not quite do that much more already do their best.

Når vi vurderer et økonomisk trængt samfund, har vi så råd til at se på hvordan det omgås de svagestes velfærd?

Måske. Måske ikke. For det er trods alt en gensidig forpligtelse at bidrage til at få læsset trukket op af bakken. Når nu krybben tiltagende stirrer stejlt tilbage på os, så er det vel på tide at bide skeer med problemerne og finder frem til det ekstra ekstra-hul i bæltet. Selv for dem af os der ligger ned. Ikke?

Mit forsøg på perspektivering af velfærdsdebatten er ikke tænkt som klynk. Det klarer de hovedansvarlige politikere og deres offentligt betalte og rundforvirrede markedsførere selv. Deres fordomsdrevne, inkompetente og forfejlede forsøg på saglighed formår kun at gylpe mundrette soundbites ud til anæmiske medier, der i jagten på den gyldne offer-kalv bilder sig selv ind at have en humanistisk hovedpulsåre.

Til biddet: Odense kommune har i krisens navn nødtvungent bedt sine forvaltninger om at “effektivisere” (læs: spare med kniv). Blandt mange andre poster er der fx fokuseret på den vederlagsfrie fysioterapi der gratis tilbydes svært handikappede og andre med kronisk funktionsnedsættelse. En behandling som på længere sigt sparer samfundet for velfærdskroner i kraft af dens forebyggende kvaliteter. Fx ved at skleroseramte under kyndig træning, vejledning og individuel behandling kan holde sig “sunde” og ude af kørestolene og dyrere behandlinger længere end prognosen ellers tillader. Forebyggelse er i bogstaveligste forstand sund fornuft. Også økonomisk. Alligevel skal sølle 1,8 mio. kroner “effektiviseres” ud af ordningen ved bl.a. at “kvalitetstjekke” om brugerne nu også er i placeret i de rette “målgrupper”.

Vupti: Lad os sparke nogle af vores svagelige borgere, som ikke er så svage at de sagtens kan ta’ det, halvt ud af systemet ved at stramme yderligere op på reglerne i den administrative jungle de kalder “forretningen” Danmark. Nemt, ligetil og pakket ind i business-lingo som fornuften ikke tør sige nej til. At to handikappedes behov sjældent er ens og oftest “ikke-segmenterbare” falder ud mellem linjerne og ned til nullermændene under gulvtæppet på et kontor et sted.

Nu er dette blot et enkelt regne-eksempel. Der er garanteret flere og værre eksempler på “effektiviseringen”, som undertegnede ikke har den samme indsigt i. Men som direkte berørt med stolen sat for døren under de nævnte vilkår, sætter jeg mig lige ned for at aflaste de slatne dysfunktionelle ben og undres lidt. Ligeså stille.

For balancen er åbenbart væk. På den ene side ser jeg fx den for byen så vigtige og image-afstivende pseudo-synlighed i sommerens aldeles gratis, men alligevel temmelig kalorielette torsdagskoncerter til et forlystelsessygt folkefæ der alkoholiseret efterlader de forsømte gader og stræder overbrækkede og beskidte. På den anden og “usynlige” side vælter læsset mod endnu en forringelse i forpligtelserne om at gøre de mere uheldige borgere til mindre uheldige samfundsstøtter.

Spørgsmålet er om kommune-kancelliet kunne “effektiviseres” ved at fokusere på andre “målgrupper” med overskydende ressourcer? Med andre ord: Lad os huske at spare ved at  prioritere rigtigt og langsigtet frem for blindt og usammenhængende. Spørger I mig er vi nødt til at bede dem der kan om at kunne noget mere. Dem der ikke kan helt så meget mere gør deres bedste i forvejen.

“999.999” or “There is a lovely land”

fundamental cultural values
in a homogenic society1

This work of art consists of three homogeneous objects, identical in appearance and constructed in the same material and to the same dimensions. The objects share a footprint of 0,4356 m2 (66 x 66 cm.
26′ x 26´= 4.6888 ft2). The base and cap of each are of a chalk-white semi-gloss acrylic polymer composite2. The top half of each object is constructed of bullet-resistant untinted glass. The caps all conceal 4 LED light fixtures3 illuminating the interior of each display box with a strong bright white light. This will be the only light available in the otherwise darkened exhibition room. They will be placed in immediate proximity to each other, the distance between them equal to one-eighth of the longest dimension of the exhibition space. Each base will have one side containing an interface from which spectators can operate and/or interact with the object. This side must face north regardless of the general layout of the room. No sound will emit from the boxes except for those mechanically generated or as otherwise indicated herein. There will be no signage other than the bare minimum required to work the interfaces. The exhibition space itself must at all time be climate controlled and adjusted to exactly match the temperature and humidity as recorded by the weather station at Kastrup, Copenhagen4. The equipment used to maintain the environment must be able to keep olfactory conditions absolutely neutral.

Fig. a: “Glass Bell”

Made and cut from crystal lead glass5, transparent with no trace of color, hanging at eye-height, appx 185 cm or 6′, from the cap inside the box. An aluminum arm is attached via a pulley to the bell. It holds a hammerhead at the far end, cut from Danish granite of the type “Hellets Granit”6, polished to a semi-gloss. A thin metal wire running over a series of pulleys activates the hammer. The wire exits through an aperture placed at absolute center in the bottom of the display box.

On the side of the base facing north and at waist height, no more than 100 cm or 42′ above ground, a single-fingerprint scanner is installed just above a white-on-black 6-digit liquid crystal display counter7. The scanner and its electronics are set to operate the wire system: for each 3 identical right hand index fingerprints read, it lifts the hammer a millionth of a fraction of its full pendulum (see fig. 1). Each identical fingerprint can only be read these 3 times and must be scanned with at least a 3-day interval between scans. The scanner accepts only right hand index fingers; attempts at using any other fingers will not be read. Each successful read will prompt an electronically generated four note chime (F#maj78and the third and concluding scan will prompt the box to print a receipt, which will be signed by the artist upon request. At the millionth registered and confirmed set of prints, the box will cut the wire causing the hammer to fall and smash the Bell.

The deconstructed Bell will be replaced with a new and identical Bell constructed and installed as the original and thereby starts a new cycle. This cycle cannot end. The remaining shards of the smashed Bells will remain in the box.

Fig. b: “Umbrella”

This box contains a small transparent umbrella made of heavy clear vinyl9 mounted on the bottom of the display box. On the day of the exhibit opening, the umbrella will be at a fully folded stage. The umbrella unfolds as does a normal umbrella by extending springs and ribs within its construction, albeit its operation is linked to close interaction with the mechanical, and computer system contained in the base of the box and controlled by the interface mounted on the side.

The interface is similar to that of an automated telling machine: it accepts all known international credit and debit cards, adhering to all legalities concerned. Through this payment device, spectators can unfold the umbrella by buying any number of increments of extensions, at the rate of DKK10 1,00 = 1 millionth of an extension. At the time the audience has deposited exactly 1 million DKK in to the account linked to the payment device, the umbrella will be fully extended. Spectators will be prompted with the typical requirements of entering Personal Identification Numbers, desired amount and currency. A thermal print receipt will be the approved document for the transaction and will be signed by the artist upon request.

Once full extension of the umbrella has been reached, it will collapse to its original state and start a new cycle of unfolding. The funds generated will be transferred to the business account of the exhibition museum and can only be used to procure a new piece of art to be made by the Artist. Any revenue generated through interests that exceed DKK 999.999,00 may only be used to supplement the maintenance of the art herein specified. All legal information including the full text of the Contract will be printed on the back of each receipt that is generated by the artwork.

Fig. c: “Surveillance Camera”

Mounted inside the display box at a height equal to the Umbrella and the Bell sits a standard professional Surveillance Camera11. It is fitted to a motor capable of moving as close to 360˚ as possible. The high-def lens of the camera is at all times pointed towards the room outside the box in order to register all movement in close proximity to the box. The general motion of the camera follows a random search pattern based on an algorithm simulating the flight of the common housefly12.

When the camera and its built-in system registers a person moving into its field of view, it will stop its search pattern and lock on to the face of the spectator for appx. 30 seconds in order to register the color of the spectator’s skin. If this color-value is determined by the camera and computer to be more than 15 on the von Luschan scale13 the LCD counter will add the determined von Luschan scale-points to its count. If the spectator moves before the value of the skin color is established by the system, the camera will abort its scan and continue its search pattern. At every successful count a receipt will be printed. These receipts will contain information showing instructions on how to request an official apology for any personal discomfort the spectator may have experienced. The Artist will then sign this receipt.

Upon collection of von Luschan points equaling 1 million, the cycle starts over in reverse and begins subtracting points, counting down to zero. The cycle of adding and subtracting points will never stop.

1. Danish national anthem: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Der_er_et_yndigt_land
2. Corian: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corian
3. Minimum luminous efficacy: 80,0 lm/W or 8.7 W LED
4. EKCH 55-37N 012-39E 5M: weather.noaa.gov/weather/current/EKCH.html
5. Glass with high refraction: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lead_glass#Lead_crystal
6. Typical Bornholmian granite: trgranit.dk/index.php?item=19&newsid=2301&nid=2301
7. Transflective display: australia.rs-online.com/web/search/searchBrowseAction.html?method=getProduct&R=5326824
8. Nondominant seventh chord, F#, A#, C#, E#: pianochorddictionary.com/chords/fsharp/major7.shtml
9. PVC: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polyvinyl_chloride
10. Exchange rate: xe.com/currency/dkk-danish-krone
11. CCTV: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surveillance_camera#IP_cameras
12. Musca Domestica: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Housefly
13. Skin color classification: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Von_Luschan_scale

Carl Sandburg’s “Chicago” translated into danish with love, respect and awe.                  And then some.

Up till then my acquaintance with Mr. Sandburg seemed as minuscule as those cars milling by down there like ants at the foot of what then still was respectfully called The Sears Tower. Since then a new tenant has gained the right to deface it by sticking its name to the façade and title. It is now known as The Willis Tower and that only makes sense when it rains, because then it’s wet. The building is still a good symbol for the only line I by then had heard of Sandburg’s poem though: “big shoulders”. On the skydeck at the top of that majestic skyscraper there were a few more lines of the poem and in the following years I collected more lines and I learned what that poem ment to the city and its citizens. When I read it, I get it. I can see, feel and smell Chicago in those lines, I recognize the smiles and I hear the demeanor of its voice. I am very lucky that it welcomes me over and over again. Because I love it. It makes me feel at home.

Being half-bred by a german and a Dane and brought up literally on and around the border of those two nations, makes me belong to a minority in both places always and forever and because of that I like to think that I possess an inherent duality when it comes to, not only the languages, but also in my sense of nationality. The soil of my childhood has my principal pride but the geography of my soul has been taught to be tolerant of others, accepting of differences and sensitive to the bigotry of xenophobia for more or less the same reasons. As all that background to my essential integrity slowly decays in contemporary danish culture, idiocy becoming standard, intellect rendered duller by the second and politics growing backwards to the standards of the Europe of 1940’s,  Chicago steps in with new lessons for me to learn. I travel far just to find myself. For that I’d like to express my gratitude towards this new city-home of mine, where diversity is a virtue and a means to an end rather than a source of discontent and fear, by taking Sandburgs words to one of my mother tongues.

Maybe there’s hope for rotten Denmark. Maybe one day it’ll reconcile with its dwarfishness, realize the sun outside the cave and maybe find a gentle giants shoulders to climb. Maybe this 100-year-old poem can’t be understood by a Dane that hasn’t traveled. Maybe I’ll translate it to german then.

Du slagter af svin til verden,
værktøjsmager, ophober af hvede,
jernbanens hersker og mellemmand for Amerikas gods.
Du urolige, hæse, larmende
by af brede skuldre.
De fortæller mig, at du er ond, og jeg tror dem,
for jeg har set dine letkøbte kvinder lokke bonderøvene under gadens lys.
Og de fortæller mig, at du er uærlig, og jeg svarer:
Ja, det er rigtigt, for jeg har set dine pistolmænd dræbe
bare for at gå fri og dræbe igen.
Og de fortæller mig, at du er brutal og mit svar er:
På ansigterne af kvinder og børn
genkender jeg de mærker din hensynsløse sult efterlader.
Og efter at have svaret således vender jeg mig atter en gang mod dem
der vrænger af denne min by, vrænger tilbage og siger til dem:
Kom an og vis mig bare én anden by der med løftet hoved synger så stolt
over at være i live og så rå og så stærk og så snedig.
Som kaster sine magnetiske forbandelser i grams,
midt i sliddet af job efter job.
Høj, dristig og hårdtslående har du her en fighter
i lysende kontrast til de små bløde byer;
Glubsk som en hund med tungen ud af halsen, slubrer du efter handling,
snedig som en vildmand der kæmper mod ødemarken,
skovler du,
du bryder op,
du planlægger,
du bygger, river ned, genopbygger.
Under røgen med støv i hele fjæset, ler du med hvide tænder.
Under skæbnens frygtelige byrde, griner du som kun en ung mand griner.
Latter som kun en uvidende slagsbroder griner, der aldrig har tabt en kamp,
skrydende og grinende, fordi under hans håndled er der stadig en puls
og under hans ribben banker folkets hjerte,
Du griner ungdommens urolige, hæse, larmende grin.
Halvnøgen, svedende
og stolt af at være slagter af svin, værktøjsmager, hvedens ophober,
jernbanernes hersker og mellemmand for Amerikas gods.