KATINKA KLINGE

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Extract from This Connection of Everyone with Lungs, 2005, poems by Juliana Spahr:

S. 3

There are these things:

cells, the movement of cells and the division of cells

and then the general beating of circulation

and hands, and body, and feet

and skin that surrounds hands, body, feet.

This is a shape,

a shape of blood beating and cells dividing

S. 4

But outside of this shape is space.

There is space between the hands.

There is space between the hands and space around the hands.

There is space around the hands and space in the room.

There is space in the room that surrounds the shapes of everyone’s

hands and body and feet and cells and the beating contained

within.

There is space, an uneven space, made by this pattern of bodies.

This space goes in and out of everyone’s bodies.

Everyone with lungs breathes the space in and out as everyone

with lungs breathes the space between the hands in and out

S. 9

How connected we are with everyone.

S. 10

How lovely and how doomed this connection of everyone with

lungs.

SHAHRZAD MALEKIAN

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This is my pop-up sculpture and installation in public spaces. It operates at the intersection of the natural and the human-made. Plants, moss and fungi become entangled with the body of the sculpture and creating a continuously evolving and living sculptural form. For me, this is a perfect symbol for the current situation which is happening around the world, and my contribution to this series. I want to remind the audience of the urgency of rethinking our relationship with non-human forms of living. 

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ESSI KAUSALAINEN

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Dear L,

While writing this, the early spring light filters through a thick layer of clouds and bounces from the snow covered roofs. The light is so even there are nearly no shadows visible. Somehow this makes sense with my sense of time, which has gone out of joint. The days are short and long with no apparent logic. They are thick, sticky and viscous, and my attempts to organize them into segments of activity and rest seem to be ridiculed. All the borders grow soft and blurry.

I am filling this uneven time by walking in circles in the suddenly quiet seaside city, orbiting like a moon of an unknown planet. Everything is floating. My body, the time, the language. In my solitude I am knitting new words to tell you how it all resonates in me: the sense of pressure within the bone, the electricity behind the eyes, the opening of the skin in my back that allows the room, the world, to flow through.

In these peculiar settings, I have started to sew. Connecting pieces of fabrics into shapes, into platforms for unknown future events. Most of them are so small and light one can carry them in a pocket. Yet, they are all big enough for two people to stand on, if their bodies are arranged close to each others. I hope one of these days I could orbit to you and hand one over.

With love, E

(This text has not been edited by Objektiv as it is a personal letter.)

LOTTEN PÅLSSON

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Lotten Pålsson was invited by Sabina Jallow to contribute to her research project "A multitude of places at the same location: On neighborhood transformation and dialogue with the act of photographing as a pedagogical meeting, and communicative polyphonous methods".  Due to the pandemic meeting with people became impossible so Pålsson and Jallow focused instead on a different kind of meeting. They discovered the fig tree in the Garden of Dreams in Rosengårds Herrgård in Malmö, and began to fantasize about what it had looked like over the years.

TOBIAS NICOLAI

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The sun is slowly working its way over the apartment buildings across the street and marks its process by turning more and more rooms golden. I envy the people living there. And suddenly a small corner on my concrete balcony turns into an ethereal place. The hard light of the new year accentuates this shining emblem of hard work, and will ironically also fade it back to normal. Soon the heat from the sun will make the dew droplets evaporate and the spider can return to its daily business.

LINE ØRNES SØNDERGAARD, MARTA ANNA LØVBERG & CHARLOTTE TJOMSLAND

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Line Ørnes Søndergaard. SPOR / TRACE. 2020.

Line Ørnes Søndergaard. SPOR / TRACE. 2020.

Charlotte Tjomsland. Det hvisker i gresset. 2020.

Charlotte Tjomsland. Det hvisker i gresset. 2020.

Marta Anna Løvberg. The social ills prevalent. 2020.

Marta Anna Løvberg. The social ills prevalent. 2020.

A reflection for our visual wanderings series from Line Ørnes Søndergaard:

March 2020. 

Norwegians are the type of people that would hang a lost glove in the trees for people to find it the next time they pass by. We put up notes everywhere if we find a lost key. And a left behind bike would usually have been picked up from the middle of the street, rolled to the side and left leaning towards a tree. But now we just walk past and let it be.

•

January 2021

Today it was gone. I lost it. That immediate instinct that I continuously had to arrest myself doing in the beginning. That small step forward, going in for an embrace. A hug. Or just a handshake. The impulse is gone. My body has reset to this new standard. A heaviness in the chest. Grief. As if I have lost something within me that I am terrified won't be coming back.

At Fotografiets Hus in Oslo you can see the group show with Line Ørnes Søndergaard, Marta Anna Løvberg and Charlotte Tjomsland until the 28th of February. These three pictures are curated by artist Marie Sjøvold.