Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name   The world has turned seven times since pulling off 95 S to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there. The world has turned six times since opening this letter and a single grey hair falls out. The world has turned five times since you, me, and the window made us 3. The world has turned four times since the bottom of the ocean. The world has turned three times since he looked down and she saw up. The world has turned two times since the bull went on forever. The world has turned one time since pulling off 95 N to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there.            
  
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Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name

The world has turned seven times since pulling off 95 S to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there. The world has turned six times since opening this letter and a single grey hair falls out. The world has turned five times since you, me, and the window made us 3. The world has turned four times since the bottom of the ocean. The world has turned three times since he looked down and she saw up. The world has turned two times since the bull went on forever. The world has turned one time since pulling off 95 N to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there.

  

  Learn To Be Hot (Learn To Be Cold)    The painting has such regard for realism that it even shows drops of dew dripping from the flowers and a bee settling on the flowers--whether a real bee has been deceived by the painted flowers or whether we are to be deceived into thinking that a painted bee is real, I do not know. But let that pass. As for you, however, Narcissus, it is no painting that has deceived you, nor are you engrossed in a thing of pigments or wax; but you do not realize that the water represents you exactly as you are when you gaze upon it, nor do you see through the artifice of the pool, though to do so you have only to nod your head or change your expression or slightly move your hand, instead of standing in the same attitude; but acting as though you had met a companion, you wait for some move on his part. Do you then expect the pool to enter into conversation with you?  -  Philostratus the Elder, Imagines 1. 23 (trans. Fairbanks) 

Learn To Be Hot (Learn To Be Cold)

The painting has such regard for realism that it even shows drops of dew dripping from the flowers and a bee settling on the flowers--whether a real bee has been deceived by the painted flowers or whether we are to be deceived into thinking that a painted bee is real, I do not know. But let that pass. As for you, however, Narcissus, it is no painting that has deceived you, nor are you engrossed in a thing of pigments or wax; but you do not realize that the water represents you exactly as you are when you gaze upon it, nor do you see through the artifice of the pool, though to do so you have only to nod your head or change your expression or slightly move your hand, instead of standing in the same attitude; but acting as though you had met a companion, you wait for some move on his part. Do you then expect the pool to enter into conversation with you?  - Philostratus the Elder, Imagines 1. 23 (trans. Fairbanks) 

     
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}       Nobody Loves No-one   Once upon a time there was an old farmer who had a beautiful white mare. This horse was his pride and joy. Each night, he brushed her silky mane while telling her how strong and lovely she truly was. On Sundays, the farmer dressed his mare in ribbons and bows before proudly leading her down the country lane to pass by his neighbors in the village. One day, a young boy came up to the farmer and his horse as they were walking alongside the road. The boy asked, “Old man, does your mare have a name?”, to which the farmer replied, “No".     

Nobody Loves No-one

Once upon a time there was an old farmer who had a beautiful white mare. This horse was his pride and joy. Each night, he brushed her silky mane while telling her how strong and lovely she truly was. On Sundays, the farmer dressed his mare in ribbons and bows before proudly leading her down the country lane to pass by his neighbors in the village. One day, a young boy came up to the farmer and his horse as they were walking alongside the road. The boy asked, “Old man, does your mare have a name?”, to which the farmer replied, “No".  

 

  Ultra Light Down   We drove to Orcas Island, X-country, taking the shortcut he told us about. Wound us tight around a mountain, no guard rails and I was a swerve right, off the ledge. Later we stopped to pee. The town had a museum, containing objects of local import – the knife that Saw T. Francis used to tame his wolf, the first ever permanent hair curling machine. Welcome to Montana, now go home. 

Ultra Light Down

We drove to Orcas Island, X-country, taking the shortcut he told us about. Wound us tight around a mountain, no guard rails and I was a swerve right, off the ledge. Later we stopped to pee. The town had a museum, containing objects of local import – the knife that Saw T. Francis used to tame his wolf, the first ever permanent hair curling machine. Welcome to Montana, now go home. 

     
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}       And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep   Desire born of the inability to see the stars. If ever you’ve slept on an island, or if the heat was ever hot, you know what I’m saying. There’s one end, the other, and everything in between plus out there where whales avoid plants or rocks (bones) and things. Just trying to stay pain free.    

And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep

Desire born of the inability to see the stars. If ever you’ve slept on an island, or if the heat was ever hot, you know what I’m saying. There’s one end, the other, and everything in between plus out there where whales avoid plants or rocks (bones) and things. Just trying to stay pain free. 

 

 Detail , About Time (I-95, 2008-15)

Detail, About Time (I-95, 2008-15)

  Apparent Horizon   Destination   As we rode into the village we came upon a convergence of old customs: there was an empty house and the door stood wide open. The men from the village lugged a cupboard into the house. The men from the village hauled a table into the house. The men from the village heaved a bed into the house. And the women of the village bore dishes and plates and glasses and something to make the bed habitable into the house. Then the men pushed a son inside. Learn to light a fire, they said, learn to put out a fire, they said, we’re latching the shutters. Then the women pushed a daughter inside. Learn to be hot, they said, learn to be cold, they said, we’re barricading the door.   - Hester Knibbe

Apparent Horizon

Destination

As we rode into the village we came upon
a convergence of old customs: there was
an empty house and the door stood wide open.
The men from the village lugged a cupboard into the house.
The men from the village hauled a table into the house.
The men from the village heaved a bed into the house.
And the women of the village bore
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Then the men pushed a son inside.
Learn to light a fire, they said,
learn to put out a fire, they said,
we’re latching the shutters.
Then the women pushed a daughter inside.
Learn to be hot, they said,
learn to be cold, they said,
we’re barricading the door.

- Hester Knibbe

  Desire

Desire

  Science and Darkness

Science and Darkness

 Installation View BABEL Gallery,  The World Has Turned  (Install photos, Susann Jamtoy, Artscene Trondheim)  “The world has turned” is to quote my grandfather, stated daily at the conclusion of Oma’s favorite TV show and bad ritual,  As the World Turns . A typical soap opera, it chronicled fictional lives in concentrate form – cyclical tragedies, joys, boredoms, and love stories that resembled its viewers’, just in faster, brighter, and more beautiful form. The show was a  perverse indulgence, a total success.             

Installation View BABEL Gallery, The World Has Turned (Install photos, Susann Jamtoy, Artscene Trondheim)

“The world has turned” is to quote my grandfather, stated daily at the conclusion of Oma’s favorite TV show and bad ritual, As the World Turns. A typical soap opera, it chronicled fictional lives in concentrate form – cyclical tragedies, joys, boredoms, and love stories that resembled its viewers’, just in faster, brighter, and more beautiful form. The show was a  perverse indulgence, a total success. 

 

 

 

    
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}     Installation View,  The World Has Turned (About Time)   In the summer of 1987, it won its first of four best daytime TV program Emmy awards. I was seven and my days were divided between Opa’s Island, a gnarled moss pile in the woods, and with Oma, watching her “shows”.   As the World Turns  closed daily with rolling end credits set against a spinning, space-bound earth. The story always continued.      

Installation View, The World Has Turned (About Time)

In the summer of 1987, it won its first of four best daytime TV program Emmy awards. I was seven and my days were divided between Opa’s Island, a gnarled moss pile in the woods, and with Oma, watching her “shows”.  As the World Turns closed daily with rolling end credits set against a spinning, space-bound earth. The story always continued.

 

 

    
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}     Installation View,  The World Has Turned (About Time, Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name)    She was dying. The drive home was ten hours due south on Interstate 95, including a pit stop in Jersey. Failing to find a toilet, we found a defunct inn (The Trails End Motel), whimsically decorated with rough-cut plywood horse and buggy, painted pink, nailed against a slate wall. I photographed the wall, before. Seven years later, heading far North on 95 we pulled off in Jersey, a pit-stop. Instead, the hotel appeared, again – and then, the after.    

Installation View, The World Has Turned (About Time, Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name) 

She was dying. The drive home was ten hours due south on Interstate 95, including a pit stop in Jersey. Failing to find a toilet, we found a defunct inn (The Trails End Motel), whimsically decorated with rough-cut plywood horse and buggy, painted pink, nailed against a slate wall. I photographed the wall, before. Seven years later, heading far North on 95 we pulled off in Jersey, a pit-stop. Instead, the hotel appeared, again – and then, the after. 

 

 Installation View,  The World Has Turned (And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep)    There is a tiny beach at the tip of Pioneer road on Orcas Island, a cut of land set on a strait, miles from the mainland. It consists of cliffs, boulders, and the shards that have worn off of them. There is a cave on one end, a mirror on the other, and sky in-between. 

Installation View, The World Has Turned (And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep) 

There is a tiny beach at the tip of Pioneer road on Orcas Island, a cut of land set on a strait, miles from the mainland. It consists of cliffs, boulders, and the shards that have worn off of them. There is a cave on one end, a mirror on the other, and sky in-between. 

 Installation View,  The World Has Turned (Ultra Light Down, Science and Darkness) 

Installation View, The World Has Turned (Ultra Light Down, Science and Darkness) 

 Installation View,  The World Has Turned   Exhibition Text, Inger Marie Hahn Moller

Installation View, The World Has Turned
Exhibition Text, Inger Marie Hahn Moller

  Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name   The world has turned seven times since pulling off 95 S to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there. The world has turned six times since opening this letter and a single grey hair falls out. The world has turned five times since you, me, and the window made us 3. The world has turned four times since the bottom of the ocean. The world has turned three times since he looked down and she saw up. The world has turned two times since the bull went on forever. The world has turned one time since pulling off 95 N to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there.            
  
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  Learn To Be Hot (Learn To Be Cold)    The painting has such regard for realism that it even shows drops of dew dripping from the flowers and a bee settling on the flowers--whether a real bee has been deceived by the painted flowers or whether we are to be deceived into thinking that a painted bee is real, I do not know. But let that pass. As for you, however, Narcissus, it is no painting that has deceived you, nor are you engrossed in a thing of pigments or wax; but you do not realize that the water represents you exactly as you are when you gaze upon it, nor do you see through the artifice of the pool, though to do so you have only to nod your head or change your expression or slightly move your hand, instead of standing in the same attitude; but acting as though you had met a companion, you wait for some move on his part. Do you then expect the pool to enter into conversation with you?  -  Philostratus the Elder, Imagines 1. 23 (trans. Fairbanks) 
     
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}       Nobody Loves No-one   Once upon a time there was an old farmer who had a beautiful white mare. This horse was his pride and joy. Each night, he brushed her silky mane while telling her how strong and lovely she truly was. On Sundays, the farmer dressed his mare in ribbons and bows before proudly leading her down the country lane to pass by his neighbors in the village. One day, a young boy came up to the farmer and his horse as they were walking alongside the road. The boy asked, “Old man, does your mare have a name?”, to which the farmer replied, “No".     
  Ultra Light Down   We drove to Orcas Island, X-country, taking the shortcut he told us about. Wound us tight around a mountain, no guard rails and I was a swerve right, off the ledge. Later we stopped to pee. The town had a museum, containing objects of local import – the knife that Saw T. Francis used to tame his wolf, the first ever permanent hair curling machine. Welcome to Montana, now go home. 
     
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}       And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep   Desire born of the inability to see the stars. If ever you’ve slept on an island, or if the heat was ever hot, you know what I’m saying. There’s one end, the other, and everything in between plus out there where whales avoid plants or rocks (bones) and things. Just trying to stay pain free.    
 Detail , About Time (I-95, 2008-15)
  Apparent Horizon   Destination   As we rode into the village we came upon a convergence of old customs: there was an empty house and the door stood wide open. The men from the village lugged a cupboard into the house. The men from the village hauled a table into the house. The men from the village heaved a bed into the house. And the women of the village bore dishes and plates and glasses and something to make the bed habitable into the house. Then the men pushed a son inside. Learn to light a fire, they said, learn to put out a fire, they said, we’re latching the shutters. Then the women pushed a daughter inside. Learn to be hot, they said, learn to be cold, they said, we’re barricading the door.   - Hester Knibbe
  Desire
  Science and Darkness
 Installation View BABEL Gallery,  The World Has Turned  (Install photos, Susann Jamtoy, Artscene Trondheim)  “The world has turned” is to quote my grandfather, stated daily at the conclusion of Oma’s favorite TV show and bad ritual,  As the World Turns . A typical soap opera, it chronicled fictional lives in concentrate form – cyclical tragedies, joys, boredoms, and love stories that resembled its viewers’, just in faster, brighter, and more beautiful form. The show was a  perverse indulgence, a total success.             
    
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}     Installation View,  The World Has Turned (About Time)   In the summer of 1987, it won its first of four best daytime TV program Emmy awards. I was seven and my days were divided between Opa’s Island, a gnarled moss pile in the woods, and with Oma, watching her “shows”.   As the World Turns  closed daily with rolling end credits set against a spinning, space-bound earth. The story always continued.      
    
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	mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}     Installation View,  The World Has Turned (About Time, Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name)    She was dying. The drive home was ten hours due south on Interstate 95, including a pit stop in Jersey. Failing to find a toilet, we found a defunct inn (The Trails End Motel), whimsically decorated with rough-cut plywood horse and buggy, painted pink, nailed against a slate wall. I photographed the wall, before. Seven years later, heading far North on 95 we pulled off in Jersey, a pit-stop. Instead, the hotel appeared, again – and then, the after.    
 Installation View,  The World Has Turned (And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep)    There is a tiny beach at the tip of Pioneer road on Orcas Island, a cut of land set on a strait, miles from the mainland. It consists of cliffs, boulders, and the shards that have worn off of them. There is a cave on one end, a mirror on the other, and sky in-between. 
 Installation View,  The World Has Turned (Ultra Light Down, Science and Darkness) 
 Installation View,  The World Has Turned   Exhibition Text, Inger Marie Hahn Moller

Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name

The world has turned seven times since pulling off 95 S to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there. The world has turned six times since opening this letter and a single grey hair falls out. The world has turned five times since you, me, and the window made us 3. The world has turned four times since the bottom of the ocean. The world has turned three times since he looked down and she saw up. The world has turned two times since the bull went on forever. The world has turned one time since pulling off 95 N to pee and everything was changing except that wall over there.

  

Learn To Be Hot (Learn To Be Cold)

The painting has such regard for realism that it even shows drops of dew dripping from the flowers and a bee settling on the flowers--whether a real bee has been deceived by the painted flowers or whether we are to be deceived into thinking that a painted bee is real, I do not know. But let that pass. As for you, however, Narcissus, it is no painting that has deceived you, nor are you engrossed in a thing of pigments or wax; but you do not realize that the water represents you exactly as you are when you gaze upon it, nor do you see through the artifice of the pool, though to do so you have only to nod your head or change your expression or slightly move your hand, instead of standing in the same attitude; but acting as though you had met a companion, you wait for some move on his part. Do you then expect the pool to enter into conversation with you?  - Philostratus the Elder, Imagines 1. 23 (trans. Fairbanks) 

Nobody Loves No-one

Once upon a time there was an old farmer who had a beautiful white mare. This horse was his pride and joy. Each night, he brushed her silky mane while telling her how strong and lovely she truly was. On Sundays, the farmer dressed his mare in ribbons and bows before proudly leading her down the country lane to pass by his neighbors in the village. One day, a young boy came up to the farmer and his horse as they were walking alongside the road. The boy asked, “Old man, does your mare have a name?”, to which the farmer replied, “No".  

 

Ultra Light Down

We drove to Orcas Island, X-country, taking the shortcut he told us about. Wound us tight around a mountain, no guard rails and I was a swerve right, off the ledge. Later we stopped to pee. The town had a museum, containing objects of local import – the knife that Saw T. Francis used to tame his wolf, the first ever permanent hair curling machine. Welcome to Montana, now go home. 

And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep

Desire born of the inability to see the stars. If ever you’ve slept on an island, or if the heat was ever hot, you know what I’m saying. There’s one end, the other, and everything in between plus out there where whales avoid plants or rocks (bones) and things. Just trying to stay pain free. 

 

Detail, About Time (I-95, 2008-15)

Apparent Horizon

Destination

As we rode into the village we came upon
a convergence of old customs: there was
an empty house and the door stood wide open.
The men from the village lugged a cupboard into the house.
The men from the village hauled a table into the house.
The men from the village heaved a bed into the house.
And the women of the village bore
dishes and plates and glasses and something to
make the bed habitable into the house.
Then the men pushed a son inside.
Learn to light a fire, they said,
learn to put out a fire, they said,
we’re latching the shutters.
Then the women pushed a daughter inside.
Learn to be hot, they said,
learn to be cold, they said,
we’re barricading the door.

- Hester Knibbe

Desire

Science and Darkness

Installation View BABEL Gallery, The World Has Turned (Install photos, Susann Jamtoy, Artscene Trondheim)

“The world has turned” is to quote my grandfather, stated daily at the conclusion of Oma’s favorite TV show and bad ritual, As the World Turns. A typical soap opera, it chronicled fictional lives in concentrate form – cyclical tragedies, joys, boredoms, and love stories that resembled its viewers’, just in faster, brighter, and more beautiful form. The show was a  perverse indulgence, a total success. 

 

 

 

Installation View, The World Has Turned (About Time)

In the summer of 1987, it won its first of four best daytime TV program Emmy awards. I was seven and my days were divided between Opa’s Island, a gnarled moss pile in the woods, and with Oma, watching her “shows”.  As the World Turns closed daily with rolling end credits set against a spinning, space-bound earth. The story always continued.

 

 

Installation View, The World Has Turned (About Time, Echo's Cave and the Horse With No Name) 

She was dying. The drive home was ten hours due south on Interstate 95, including a pit stop in Jersey. Failing to find a toilet, we found a defunct inn (The Trails End Motel), whimsically decorated with rough-cut plywood horse and buggy, painted pink, nailed against a slate wall. I photographed the wall, before. Seven years later, heading far North on 95 we pulled off in Jersey, a pit-stop. Instead, the hotel appeared, again – and then, the after. 

 

Installation View, The World Has Turned (And Tides Beat Through Your Sleep) 

There is a tiny beach at the tip of Pioneer road on Orcas Island, a cut of land set on a strait, miles from the mainland. It consists of cliffs, boulders, and the shards that have worn off of them. There is a cave on one end, a mirror on the other, and sky in-between. 

Installation View, The World Has Turned (Ultra Light Down, Science and Darkness) 

Installation View, The World Has Turned
Exhibition Text, Inger Marie Hahn Moller

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