Works in rapid progression. Right now. And there … now. No sooner or later.

↓ ”Time Marks The Spots”, 540 x 600 mm, mixed media on paper.timemarksthespots

↓ ”Tall As Sin”,  mixed media on paper(bag).tallassin

↓ Untitled,  mixed media on paper.stretch

↓ Untitled,  mixed media on cardboard.chair

“Stamen/Anther” is done. So is “Fallopia/Piston Postcards” and maybe that ends the flower paintings. In progress you find a board with a border inspired by Ottoman illumination

↓ ”Stamen/Anther” or “Coming”, (595 x 460 mm), mixed media on MDF.595x460_Stamen
The stamen is the “male” reproductive organ you commonly find in the middle of a flower surrounding the “female” part: the stigma. At the end of the stamen you find an anther. That is where pollen is produced and eventually discharged from. If you are a flower you want to spread that stuff in order to procreate. To that purpose many flowers use the help of bees and other insects. Doesn’t get any sexier, amirite?

↓ “Fallopia/Piston Postcards” or “Longing”, (125 ≈ 127 x 190≈ 245 mm), mixed media on cardboard.
The second piece from the top actually travelled the atlantic by mail twice before this piece was complete. A Fallopia is a vine many consider an invasive weed. It has an unrelenting urge to cover all and everything with itself. A piston serves only one purpose: to compress, to be driven, to drive and to never ever stop. Unless you run out of juices to combust. Then you need to take a nap.

↓ Untitled work in progress, (600 x 400 mm), mixed media on MDF.600x402
Ottoman illuminations surround words of scripture or the like. The Ottoman empire is now Turkey. Turkey borders Syria. Syria has effectively ceased to be a healthy society. Nothing holy going on in there.

Postulation? All signs made on cardboard are a social commentary of one kind or another.

Except maybe the ones printed there en masse you might think, but then: not really. It does not matter whether you are picketing a behaviour incompatible with your own, asking for a free ride in a particular direction or soliciting financial compensation for your misfortune. Those are just the actions behind the sign. The sign itself is what you see first: a statement, a bulletin, an intention spelled out as clearly (or misguided) as the designer is intellectually capable of. Find them on the streets, discarded after use or ready at hand, more than often frayed with the incapability to change much if anything. But still and always addressing someones need or willingness to engage in some kind of social contract, to buy, to sell or whatnot and thereby issuing that postulated commentary. Is that reason enough for yours truly to apply artfulness on them? That is as legit a question as anyone and there’s this: as of 2011, fifteen percent ( of this planets human inhabitants still see to their bodily needs in the open.

↓ Title(s): “En Suite: the right turn, our collective values, their shared advantages and the sound of freedom” (365 x 485 mm, mixed media on cardboard, work in perpetual progress)


The right turn:
“I am the light!” she yelled and blew her whistle.


Our collective values:
… that night he kept walking by our windows,
screaming his frustration at his phone: “… but I love you, asshole!”


Their shared advantages:
“Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities.” (C. Sandburg)


The sound of freedom:
“The Uniform Plumbing Code, section 409.2.2 requires that all water closet seats, except those within dwelling units or for private use, shall be of the open front type.”

In progress: these are not cardboard signs and I do not work for food.

I just work. To still that particular Hunger. Later I’ll cook. Mushroom risotto.


“Coke Adds Life” was the 1976 slogan for the Coca Cola brand


The Kola nut (Cola Acuminata) is native to tropical Africa and has up to 3.5 % caffeine content. Kola nut extract is no longer used in the Coca Cola recipe. The Ebola river in northern Congo (former Zaïre) gave name to the virus. In april 1865 the pharmacist John Pemberton developed what became Coca Cola as an opioid free alternative to morphine. Chewing the bitter Kola nuts can ease hunger pains. Soda is the main source of calories in the American diet. Several sources list the nurse Mayinga N’Seka, who died in october 1976, as the index case for Ebola. Doctor Kent Brantley became the first infected person in the US when he was flown from Liberia to Atlanta, Georgia in 2014 where he is in improving health due to an untested experimental drug. The general lack of water in parts of Conakry, Guinea, has the populace prioritize drinking it over using it for hygiene and sanitation. Headquartered in Atlanta, the Coca Cola Company had a 2013 net income of almost 8.6 billion dollars from serving more than 50 billion beverages per day, worldwide. The current Ebola outbreak is the biggest yet and has killed over a 1000 people as of today. Diabetes killed 73.831 people in the US in 2010.

(Sources: Wikipedia, BBC et al, Coca Cola and the CDC)



A mazing calendar for next year. The one called 2014. I guess you either get it. Or you don’t.


Just because time is linear by measure does not automatically make it coherent to perception. As such there are no ‘bad’ or ‘good’ days. The days are just what you decide to make of them and if you don’t, somebody else probably will. Either way: all your days are numbered and if you’d like a highres pdf of this/these, hit me with an email in the comments. Have a nice day.2014

Ved min død / At my death

For det tilfælde at dem der overlever mig ikke har deres egen forestilling om hvordan et dødt legeme skal bortskaffes, er her noteret undertegnedes levende synspunkt om det samme.

In the event that those who survive me do not have their own wishes or ideas on ​​how a dead body should be disposed of, I authored this brief memorandum on the issue.

Bemærk venligst at dette er kaldt et “notat” og ikke et “ønske”. Ved min død er min frie vilje endelig sat ud af spillet og der er intet mere at tilføje til livet. Jeg kan med sikkerhed love at jeg når denne tekst bliver aktuel er aldeles ligeglad med min krop, hvad der er tilbage af den og hvad der stilles op med den. Tilbage er kun resten af jeres eget liv. Valget -og jeres eventuelle sorg, er jeres alene.

Please note that this is called a “memo” and not a “wish”. At my death my free will finally be put out of action and there is nothing more to add to life. I can safely promise you that I will be utterly indifferent to my body, what’s left of it and what you will do with it. This leaves only the rest of your life. The choice -and your grief- is your own.

Jeg er som bekendt ikke medlem af nogen kirke, trosretning eller anden institution, der varetager nogen form for eksistentialistisk forretning, herunder håndteringen af friske menneske-lig. Ligeledes besidder jeg ingen tro på hverken guder, myter eller overnaturlige kræfter etc. Det er min anti-teistiske, levende overbevisning at al overtro skyldes ignorans og fejhed og jeg frabeder mig enhver forbindelse hertil. Men: min holdning dør sammen med resten af min bevidsthed og det fritager jer der læser dette fra at respektere den. Hvis læseren mener at noget som helst kan nå ham eller hende fra “hinsides” må det være følgende: min største respekt vil gå til jer der vælger at følge jeres egen intuition, tro eller whatever fremfor at respektere noget af det der står nedfældet her.

I am of course not a member of any church, denomination or any other institution organizing any kind of existentialist business, including the handling of fresh human corpses. Also I do not believe in neither gods, myths or supernatural powers etc. It is my anti-theistic, living conviction that all superstition is due to ignorance and cowardice, and I demand no affiliation with any of it. But: my opinion has disappeared along with the rest of my consciousness and it relieves the reader from respecting that. If the reader actually believes that anything can reach him or her from “beyond” it must be the following: my utmost respect will go to you who chooses to follow your own intuition, faith or whatever rather than to respect anything that is put to print here.

Notatet anbefaler derfor på ingen måde:

1: at mit afdøde legeme ikke bringes nær religiøse bygninger, jordarealer og/eller personager affilierede dertil.

2: at kremere mit nøgne lig i en papkasse.

3: at sprede min aske. For tiden er dette kun lovligt i DK til havs. Er loven ændret efter dette er forfattet eller for det tilfælde at min død indtræffer under en anden og mere frisindet lovmæssighed der tillader andet, synes tanken om en askespredning i en vilkårlig skov umiddelbart tiltalende selvom en baghave eller lignende nok også er fint.

4: sorg-bearbejdende ritualer, ceremonier og/eller anden festivitas ved min død bør foregå i en respektfuld tidsmæssig afstand på minimum 100 timer fra -og ikke i umiddelbar fysisk, geografisk forbindelse med foretagender i de ovennævnte 3 punkter. Dette bare for at sikre at det vitterlig bliver jeres egen fest og at mit lig ikke bliver unødigt gjort til omdrejningspunkt.

Therefore this memo in no way recommends:

1: that my dead body is not placed near any religious buildings, lands and / or personages affiliated thereof.

2: to cremate my naked body in a cardboard box.

3: to spread my ashes. Currently this is only legal in Denmark at sea. Is the law changed after this was written, or in the case that my death occurs under different and more liberal jurisdictions that allows otherwise, it seems that the idea of ​​an ash-spreading in any random forest is immediately appealing, though a backyard or similar is probably fine too.

4: grief processive rituals, ceremonies and / or other festivities at my death should be done in a respectful temporal distance of minimum 100 hours and not in immediate physical, geographical connection with the undertakings of the above 3 points. This is just to ensure that it does indeed become your own party and that my body is not unnecessarily made pivotal.

Så vidt mine jordiske rester. I det tilfælde at jeg overhovedet efterlader mig nogle materielle goder, vil den gældende lovgivning med sikkerhed gerne tage sig af og betalt for at fordele mine efterladte værdier blandt de rette behørige. Jeg lover at der ikke er værdier unyttigt gemt af vejen i hverken madrasser eller udenlandske bankkonti. Hvis denne ordning ikke passer mine overlevende bør eventuelle værdier doneres til et godt formål. Her foreslås et Ateistisk Selskab.

So much for my corporeal remains: in the event that I leave behind material goods, the applicable laws certainly will take care and a fee, to distribute my bereaved values ​​among the right proper. I promise that there are no values ​​uselessly tucked away in mattresses or foreign bank accounts. If this arrangement does not match the wishes of my survivors, all possible values ​​are to be donated to a good cause. I propose an Atheistic Society.

med venlig hilsen
og i ydmyg kærlighed
til alt levende,
herunder dig . . .

Yours sincerely
and in humble love
for all living things,
including you. . .

“Dianoia crosses a divided line, I think … ”   – a flash-tragedy in one act.

– – – ◊ – – –


DIANOIA: A middle-aged man with a microscope for a head. Wearing a neutral shirt, no tie. His black pants are rolled up to mid-calf exposing his bare feet.
THE CAPTIVES (#1, #2 and #3): three nondescript personages in identical jumpsuits. All strapped upright into each their own apparatus that renders them completely immobilized. Only their naked hands and feet are visibly moving, their faces fastened and obscured by restraining masks. The right eye of each captive is visible to the audience as a grainy video close-up on a screen fixed to the top of each mask.

– – – ◊ – – –

lights up. Placed in the center of an all black stage, the three captives and a fourth empty restraining apparatus at the rightmost position, form a line with very little space between them. The captives are heard mumbling, apparently bickering at each other. Their video-eyes, fingers and toes are moving frenetically. Captive #1 cries out frequently and increasingly louder. The entire backdrop slowly lights up with an oversized low-resolution video of a fireplace, crackling cozily

ALL CAPTIVES: (in unison relief) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!

#3: finally! I fucking hate when that shit happens … but I told you so! Didn’t I? Ha! … and there it is … aaaah, good old faithful. Halle-fucking-luja!

#2: (muttering) oh will you just shut up already?! You have no idea what you’re talking about … this is just happening once in a while and that’s it. It’s a bloody nuisance, but it always does come back … and as long as it returns to normal, it’s ok and we’re good. OK? … stop complaining and don’t be such a bitch.

#3: (snickering) you call me a bitch, eh? … I wasn’t complaining, baby! I was EX-plaining … you little know-it-all-asshole …

captive #1 still sobs and groans. The murmurs and growls from #2 and #3 are subdued. Each moves fingers, toes and video-eye. The cages are rattling

#3: (sneering) Pff! The whining comes from the right side as usual, hn?

in a choreographed manner, #2 and #3 stop moving their fingers and strain their video-eye towards #1 who continues being very agitated

#1: I know … I know! I’m sorry; I’m sooo sooo sorry! But it stresses me out like no end! I can’t take this no more, it is soooo demanding! (sobs) I don’t know what to doooo? (snivels) It’s like … I lose focus and everything becomes sooooo boring and hard to doooo and go through with… even the food is tasteless … (blubbers) … do you think I should take a few days off? Call in sick? Or s-so-something?

#3: (screaming in disdain) o-m-g! l-o-l! l-m-a-o! You moron! Why don’t you shut up? Whiny-ass crybaby … get a grip will ya?! I can’t listen to that shit anymore! (mocking) BLA BLA BLA BLA and BLA BLAAAA BLABLABLA! …. BLA!!!

#2: (angry) shut up! Both of you! … always making a biiiiiiig drama out of e-ve-ry-thing?! What’s wrong with you?

long silence. The captives do not move. The video-eyes are either closed or looking down. As the crackling of the fireplace becomes louder, the flames get bigger and brighter. A distant muzak is barely audible.

#2: (happy) aaaand here we go … aah … come on comrades … lets get back to business!

after a while the three video-eyes start moving in unison, as if watching a very slow-moving tennis-game. Five volleys later Dianoia enters stage left carrying his glossy black shoes in one hand. He patrols the stage, carefully inspecting every corner, repeatedly crossing his arms. Now and then a nod seems to confirm an interesting find. He inspects the audience front row fixedly, only to finish his going-over by observing the captives who do not notice him at all. Dianoia joins the engulfed captives in one pass of the invisible tennis-game. Finally he bends down and puts his shoes in front of the empty restraining apparatus, adjusts their placement minutely, brushes his hands against the front of his pants and faces the audience

DIANOIA: (clearing his throat) I’m back! … I have come back for all of you!

the captives strain their video-eye toward Dianoia, gasping loudly.

#3: What the ef? Is that you?

#2: Hey?! Why’d you come back! Didn’t we t… ?

#1: (interrupting cheerfully) Hi! That’s unexpected?! Where’ve you been? (then whimpering) Have you been gone long? … wait … eh? … who are you? (crying) … back? … whoa?

DIANOIA: (touching each captive successively, talking eagerly) Yes! Yes, it’s me Dianoia … I’ve decided to come back to you guys and tell my story. I’ve learned so much up there … I know now how to get you out of this … you know? … I see all these things clearly now and I tell you … things here are not like they seem … this place is a fucking cave and it does hold us down … (stops abruptly, notices he is pointing at himself) … eh … (stabs his index at the captives) … controls you … locks you up inside this pipedream for no reason … oh, my friends … I am deeply convinced that we can change …  I’m telling you … you should just … follow me … free yourself … and … and … yeah, come with me …

silence. Dianoia freezes in a begging posture, his strong-minded body language completely transformed. When the silence becomes awkward he makes a feeble motion, pointing upwards then reaches out open palms towards the captives.

#2: Wait-wait-wait … wait. You’re not really saying that you went “up there” or whatever, and that “somewhere” was all uh-ah-different and oh-so-better and more for-real than here? I don’t believe you. I can not, and I will not believe you!

#3: And b-t-dubya you arrogant prick … didn’t we all agree last time, that you’d go terminate yourself? You were all malfunctioning and supposed to be recycled and replaced … the wide-open-sorry-ass-whimp over there hasn’t been himself since … since you … and your bullshit.

#2: Yeah look at him. It’s disgusting and repetitive and it’s all your fault. I knew from the start we couldn’t count on you … go get outta here! Go! … NOW!

DIANOIA: But I’m telling you! All you have to do is to come see for yourself and you’ll know! It’ll change! To the better! All it takes is the light of day and once you’re used to that … it will become clear! I promise. Please? Try it?

#1: why should we? Because you say so? We’re not that crazy. This place is good enough for us … right? As long as we don’t complain too much … I mean … look at you … all pompous and fancy.

#2 and #3: Yeah (snicker) … for-real

Dianoia takes a few cautious steps backwards as he steals a glimpse at the audience. He squares his shoulders and inhales sharply. With balled fists he approaches the captives

DIANOIA: (breathing out) Okay. Here’s the deal … you get out of those things and give it a try … no no no, listen to me … If you don’t like it … which I know you will (stabbing each word at the captives with his index-finger) … you will never hear a word from me again. Deal?

#1: … ahem. Yeah. Nah. No thanks, really. I’ve already seen you fail once and I still have no clue what you’re talking about , so … (sniffling) I’d bugger off if I were you, really … sorry

#2: My god? You’re trying to call a deal? Somebody should put you down right there … are you deaf? … (screaming) SHUT YOUR FACE AND GET OUT!

captive #1 and #2 close their video-eyes. With open arms Dianoia turns to #3 in a gesture of last hope.

#3: (super-cheery) Deal! Suuuure! Let me out. I cannot wait to prove your ass wrong! Come on dude-a-noia … lets get it over with, once and for all …

Dianoia immediatedly walks over and unlocks the restraining apparatus that holds captive #3. The cage-like door snaps open and the captive steps out, stretches his neck and cracks his joints. He stiffly follows Dianoia to the stage front. There he reaches slowly in to his side-pocket. He removes his hand again, index pointing and thumb sticking up mimicking a big gun. He points it at Dianoia, and shoots him in the heart with 3 loud shots. Dianoia erupts in sprays of blood and falls of the stage. Lights out.

K8 (deconstrct) . . . an ongoing architectural project

M9 (deconstrct) . . . an ongoing architectural project