Information

Because It’s All About Us
Pine wood, receipt, wine cork, water, plastic cups, cutouts (from Norwegian newspaper), unframed photograph (Risograph printing), laser cuts (pine wood & plexiglass), wooden bowl (with a lid)
28 x 43 x 10 (cm)
2020

(Left: Because It’s All About Us (2020) by Jacky Jaan-Yuan Kuo; middle: Vase Piece (2019) by Yu Shuk Pui Bobby; right: Zilla Glove(s) & Hibernation (2020) by Anna Sofie Mathiasen)

You are soft, damp.
Your body is polished, knifed, opened.
You are your coffin, unnatural but referred to nature.

You don't have a name, seemingly, so I possess you selfishly, unscrupulously expand a bond for you.

You are my holder.
You are my container.

People say that a person who has a secret should look for a tree with a hole. After whispering it into the hole, the secret would stay in the tree forever. What about you? I wonder have you ever existed, like your name.







Because It’s All About Us (2020) is an ongoing project presented under a group exhibition, Hinne, at the Akademirommet in Oslo, Norway. Exhibitors consist of five curators and fifteen artists from the Oslo National Academy of the Arts.


Press Release [Text by Jasper Siverts]
We are late. Late to the turning point. By the time you see this exhibition, nights will already have turned longer than days. We will no longer be on the cusp of something. Darkness coagulates around us. We let ourselves be encapsulated. We let ourselves be contained. We have passed one equinox, however, one does not simply penetrate a membrane. One of its defining qualities is its elasticity. Bend, but not break. Physically we have passed equinox, but mentally we haven’t. Equinox is the moment at which the center of the visible sun is directly above the equator. Light and darkness are again in balance, with darkness on the rise. Nights turn as long as days. Strange things happen. This miraculous turn makes us ponder the cosmic egg of death and creation. It is in fact the only day of the year when an egg can be stood on its end. Watch as we turn up late and turn everything upside down.

Hinne is a group exhibition that both topically and physically positions itself from within the ancient celebration of the autumnal equinox.

In norwegian hinne denotes a sort of thin membrane, like the membrane of a cell or an egg. A selective barrier, fragile yet plastic, that sets a limit. Dividing and bending space, for the purpose of containing something from everything else. A vessel, a void. A gallery, a womb. As the day meets the night halfway, the act of containment might be questioned. What contains what, and where is the separating membrane located? Hinne embraces uncertainty, it embraces the very probable leakage. The cold touch of snowflakes on your cheeks as they come later and later each year. Things might fall apart, or they might come back together to form new vessels. In water it is the polarity of the H2O molecule that binds together the surface tension, an unlikely membrane.

In swedish hinna also denotes the act of reaching something on time. In relation to time, Hinne seems to us as an exhibition of remembrance. About a specific event celebrated for ages. In the genome of a cell, that is kept safe by a membrane, you might find a more virtual time that is being actualized by the DNA’s complex archive of the past, the present and future all at once. There might be something we are trying to reach. It might be equilibrium, it might be leakages, a deadline. It might be DNA, and polarity.

Artists
Ana Henriques Brotas & Viviana Cárdenas, Andreas Wittwer, Anna Sofie Mathiasen, Berit-Louise Sara-Grønn, Bobby Yu Shuk Pui, Erik Aronsson & Mikael Munz Bakketun, Hanna Halsebakke, Jacky Jaan-Yuan Kuo, Kaja Krakowian, Solveig Ylva Dagsdottir, Tamara Marbl Joka, Victor Utne Stiberg, Vidar Ericsson

Curators
Samira Tohidi, Jasper Siverts, Lotte lovise Berge Brøndbo, Maria Storm-Gran
and Cirenia E. Esquivel


Ja, det er det?” (Yes, that's it?)
“ - Hahaha, ja. Hehehe.” (Hahaha, yes. Hehehe)




“- Haha, ja.” (- Haha, yes.)

Mark