My Glenn Gould dancers.

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I was hanging out in my studio everyday, but I wasn´t working. I really didn´t want to work, I absolutely did not want to paint.

I have always been drawn to a kind of story telling when it comes to my work and to be honest life in general. In my work it gives the kind of collages I do value, and in life it downplays my own drama.

I had all these left over materials, my studio was over-flowing in bits and pieces of different felt, steel etc that had rejected before. But couldn´t throw any of it away because I felt a little bit sorry for them.

There was a need to sort out my studio. I figured I could “save” all these materials so they wouldn´t feel so lonely. Just making them part of their own story before I stored them away. So I started cleaning while at the same time putting them together.

I have always loved dance. There is something so vulnerable and lonely about dance. Strong and fragile. Juxtaposing these materials that have been lying around forever made me look at them the same way. I would be picking up a petroleum jelly tube from under a bag of trash, so sad and cold, so I needed a piece of felt to care for it. As all of these materials are always kind of moving, changing their dynamic they became my dancers. I keep playing Glenn Gould always, so they became Glenn Goulds dancers. His murmuring in the background.

There is something about giving something value that is disturbing to me, this imaginary value we place on everything and nothing, not really knowing what the basis for that specific value chart is. But I really like these small value chart we create on our own. My kids collecting stones, a friend telling me about a tv he loved as a kid that wasn´t working, books I keep for their cover being too bland but beautiful in their nothingness.

Value so beautiful and so destructive.