adam in the world

Welcome to the fourth and almost final part the pentology "Ørestaden". So... dive in while the plot thickens:

He slowly drew a quarter of a circle with his gun, hoping this directed confrontation would leave a suffering sensation on his opponent’s hierarchic belonging to the depth of that nature it consisted of. The wrinkling of its nose told him that he wasn't carrying the proper importance of being included in it's perceived existence, though he was the commander of the landscape. Only he had the quality of sending death to every single part of it...
the wound doesn't seem so bad
there is no wound
just a little scratch from the shave
my hair is sticky
heavy on my ear
The feeling of his elbow disappeared. A cold breeze had found it's way beneath the collar, describing a perfect curve connecting his neck with the left arm. He couldn't move...
It's getting deeper. He is sweating. The black tower is far behind him. He could crawl all the way up if he wanted. There are children reaching only the waist of their teacher. Standing on the edge, they have wind in their hair. They can hear the sound of metal entering soil. He is working hard. Removing the thick mud he is standing on. She comes down the stairs, following the flow of people. A woman says something to her. She steps off the curbstone, placing her foot on the asphalt. He stops and breathes heavily.
Its dark deep sight panned against the flatness of the view, ruling him out of his attempt on establishing a religious juxtaposition of life and death.
dark salty taste in the back of my mouth
really cold suddenly so cold
it doesn’t matter i breath better now
looking forward to go home
the tobacco smell from my father
i'm almost sleeping
the cold reach my ass
the ground is hard small stones mixed with water
it satisfies my thirst
so good to lay down
my heavy hair reaches my eye
the wind is hot
i love animals
the tongue feels so good touching my face big and hot the smell of dog
my dog
no a little more no too much
it was a cat eye
it is the same feeling now
The panning was over. He gently moved his right hand out of the sleeve and began negotiating power again. He regained the feeling in his left elbow. A smaller tip of the wrinkled skin was feeling good between the thumb and the middle finger.
heavy breath behind the ear to the pillow
also the orange cushions in the canapé
gooooodnigt gooooodnight gooooodnight
not more now
and the brown wristwatch i had to change the strap it made me sick
the bed is to short now
the legs are out in the cold wet
the cat has taken them

The slow motion of the elevator moving down. Nobody can see him. Muffled sounds enter from the outside, can't hear him. He could scream. He watches the world slide up and is compressed when the elevator stops. Nobody's out there. For half a second he's almost weightless, then the sound takes over again.
To have access to it's pain. I'm just one of the creatures in nature who is not capable of implying deadly fear upon others.

That was it for now, but stay alert for the fifth and final chapter, coming up very soon...

And don't forget the exiting christmas competition. There have already been one (1) entry - which makes Alex look like a strong possible winner so far. It might be suitable to mention the winners prize at this point: It is homemade and potentially very dangerous in the wrong hands (and shipped world wide if necessary).
So join in, you still have chance untill.... christmas eve (the Danish one off course - december 24. ).

Ho, ho... today you should go see my friend Mikkels christmas-animation at Futnani Chambers. It's verrry nice and I think he means it... soo, click it.

He is so nice. Glædelig jul Mikkel. Kom snart hjem, ik'. Tak for din juleanimationshilsen. Den er fantastisk.

Christmas competition for anyone who doesn't speak Danish: The best translation of the above sentences, posted as a comment to this post. To prove that you didn't just use a dictionary, asked a Danish person or secretly speak Danish, you have also to explain why you translated as you did... the winner will get a surprising prize(so, if I don't know you please leave your e-mail).

Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, here is chapter 3 of the innovative shortstory "Ørestaden":

A slight disturbance in the texture of the landscape appeared. Something had moved. A new character had introduced itself to his surroundings.
Sour soil fell from the antlers...
shit my ankle it hurts
it was a bad idea wearing these shoes
now it’s broken
its ridiculous
i just need cigarettes
here you are
feet is slippery against the smooth floor
the heat in here makes me remember my wound
i could ask him to lick it
i love my ass
it was hot
it is cold under my knees
His boots left heavy traces in the mud. He thought of the shift of perception. Wasn't he in fact the one who made the disturbances in the area. He was the intruder in this huge scenery being the located one...
Now his boots began to consume the environment, slowly the cold water was trapped inside a narrow space, gasping, reaching for the right moment to collaborate. Maybe the fireplace would be the perfect background for his socks. It made him think of how his body would align with nature...

There are shovels hanging from the ceiling. Many. All kinds. The man watches him. He is walking slowly around, looking up. His gaze disappearing in the dark between the handles. "Can I help you". Some of the shovels turn slowly around their own axis. "Yes". He is still looking up. "I need a shovel". Behind the man a shelf is filled with little boxes. They are all full. He pays and leaves, down two steps. His feet are wet. Out of the alley, onto the square.
The glimpse of an eye took his view away from its muscles. Now he was in the position of navigating with fear. He took three firm steps forward showing his domination, but regretted immediately after. It responded with a gesture that stated an awareness of the situation, but at the same time made the decision of ignoring it.

Was he in the position of taking over the power? Was there a response to every action he would take from now? He took another three steps. Nothing happened. Its position in the deep snow had tied it to the vast landscape.
get out home
stupid to wear dress after fall
can they smell it
i should have shaved
where shall i go
i should visit my mother
i hate her
no
So there it was. The real face of nature. Was it through the eyes of this creature the true master would reveal? The actual boundaries.
Where the culture ends the nature begins. And in this nature our hands cannot reach.

To be continued...

Finally I uploaded some pics. And here they are, click them to get to larger versions. Jens, Kasper and I left home at three in the morning and returned at seven.

Funny enough the pictures ended up apparently getting a quite clear, sort of narrative, meaning that was never intended in this way... but we'll just have to live with that. They are connected to the story "ear city", but not as directly as you might think.

Here comes the second chapter in our exciting sequel about love, life and death. In case you didn't read chapter 1, just scroll down. But now, let's hear it for.... chapter 2:

It's getting deeper. He is sweating. The black tower is far behind him. He could crawl all the way up if he wanted. There are children reaching only the waist of their teacher. Standing on the edge, they have wind in their hair. They can hear the sound of metal entering soil. He is working hard. Removing the thick mud he is standing on. She comes down the stairs, following the flow of people. A woman says something to her. She steps off the curbstone, placing her foot on the asphalt. He stops and breathes heavily.
The wind changed its direction and the smell of Sweden came to his nose and aroused a distant feeling of a melancholy sea view. A firm grip dug deeper into his item and the sensation of locating the unseen made him think of the breasts of his childhood dentist. He moved on into the group of trees and lowered his body creating a transformation to the next level of hunting activity.
the breasts are hard in this cold
it is cold
the wound has grown bigger it seems
it was just a little scratch from razorblade
last month
my finger fits in now
it feels good now scratching it
i like the wound
i like my ass
i smell heavy earth
He is walking across the square. Two cats playing in his flat. At the center of the square, in between all the people, a little girl comes up to him. "Where are you going". "Out". "Out, where", a woman bumps in to him. She is hurrying, running towards the station. Disappearing up the escalators. He answers the girl.

"You didn't go down with the elevator. When you came up, you were smiling and the sun came sharply through the window. And it fell on your face. You were looking out and I saw you on a background of the city
with all the bridges and the power plant in the distance. In the cold, crisp air the smoke from the chimneys became thick and soft and white as snow. We went through the opening under the tracks, letting the world unfold in front of us as we took the last steps. You moved through the crowd in your own fast pace. Let your mind get lost in the landscape of the city. We got something to eat in a little cheap place. Thai or Norwegian. And we sat on a café drinking something hot, with bicycles swarming around us. Then we took the metro and got off at the harbor, that day the water was almost green. We walked past the old ships lying there and a boy tried to sell me some of that Indian plastic crap. The wind got stronger. You were getting cold and wanted to go home. So we went home. And you were still smiling."

...has a slight sense of meaning begun to take shape yet? Well, maybe it's not even there to be found. Comments are happily received. And more thrilling action is soon to follow...

The past week I've been doing a workshop, we had to write texts, preferably fiction. But that was not all we did. Oh no. We also went out to Ørestaden, late night. And we took some damn nice pictures there that I've been trying to upload like a crazy. But it friggin keeps not working... SO, instead you're gonna get the exciting little piece of text Kasper, Jens and I have written. We had a lot of fun. Ladies and Gentlemen, we give to you... "ØRESTADEN", chapter 1:

When it's raining in the summer, the square is covered in colored umbrellas. All colors and patterns. From the window it doesn't look like anything else. It's raining so much that the square is completely empty. The girls are standing in the doorways showing only their legs. It will be over soon.
cigarettes down at the corner
its cold out there
the banister
the forefinger fits under
fresh air
back leg aching
stairs go down must be there soon
mulvad jensen
it’s no longer fall

A group of naked young elms appeared through an exaggerated clear air and a rather extensive gust of wind had sneaked between the trees and now hit his pores with suffercating frost particles. He drove them out through his mouth.

stupid to wear white high heels
but feels good against the legs
is soon back
the wound under my arm is itching
i feel cheap i hate it
a new advertisement for apples has appeared its strong green light hurts in the eyes makes somehow the wound tickle in an other way
it feels soft
it is wet out here
The bottle-green trousers suited him well, as they fell in long soft folds. The shoelaces were precisely pressing the leather against his ankle so that it both could breath and got the compressed heat the skin has when it gets in contact with a larger area of furry material.
this shit wind
always the same
i don’t remember when my fingers didn’t stink of imitated leather
this red skin at the root of my thumb
it taste bitter
good
hooray
i am so happy
i feel good with my ass in this dress
cigarettes fit me

chapter 2 will follow very soon - that's a promise, not a threat, it's written and ready,so better come back soon...

"Dr. Bob" "I feel a pain" "a pain" "where" "in... my chest" "and, and lower back" "well, you probably better come up and see me right away then" "oh, Dr. Bob".

She'd been waiting for this day for days. Picturing herself in the strong tanned arms of dr. Bob. Imagining his smile reflecting in her eyes. Impatiently awaiting him grabbing her by the neck and pulling her head back. And up, violently pressing her lips against his. Her piercing against his shiny white teeth. She loved him. Of all her hart and all her soul, and every inch of her body. He smiled at her and it reflected in her eyes. A deep, satisfied sigh escaped her, as she whispered his name to herself. While she rang the doorbell her thoughts kept circling around him.

Came across this nice project the other day. They have supplied a number of people in Amsterdam with little GPS transmitters and tracked their movements in the city over a 2 month period. In this way they draw a living, constantly changing, map of the city. Not showing where people could go, or where there's an important historical landmark. Only where people actually are going, or has been, where they spend their time...

I like comics a lot. Mostly European comics, though. I prefer the European style. Not particularly for the drawings, but for the stories. From fantasy and sci-fi to spy and gangster thrillers, epic stories in historic settings or social realism from the present day... Naturalistic or surreal. Some of my favorite artists are Moebious, Boucq, Bilal, McKean and Schuiten/Peeters. The endless numbers of muscular superheroes that comes out of the states is not very interesting to me, although stories like "Sandman" and "Sin City" has pulled up the average quite a bit...

Anyways, yesterday I came across a super site - GLOBAL COMIC JAM - where artist from all over the world work together on stories, drawing one or two pages each before the next takes over. The ones I've read so far have been awesome, so please have a look. There's days of entertainment on that site...days, i tell you...

I've spend the past few days covering fruits and vegetables in plaster and latex - and then crushing them with my hands. "Why the fuck...?" you might ask, and to be honest, I'm not really sure... or rather - I'm not really sure what will come out of it. But I do have some idea why I'm doing it.
I'm interested in the sensation you get when you touch some thing. Is it soft or hard. How much force do you need to apply to crush it.
But more subtle than that. The feeling of holding something round and cold in your hand. Hard. How hard? You start squeezing. Very hard. The sensation of it beginning to crackle, the surface' shift in texture as it breaks. The objects shift from hard to soft as the fruit inside start to smash. The sensation of the crushed plaster bits and pieces mixed with smashed fruit and juice, inside the latex skin that that has still not broken. With the tip of your fingers you penetrate the latex and feel the wet, sticky inside...
It's like the delight of popping the air bubbles from those envelopes. Or the surprising and weird feeling of candyfloss in your mouth.
I try to use materials that are very different. Organic things like apples, tomatoes and mandarins, put together with mineral plaster and the completely synthetic latex. Materials you wouldn't expect to be together. That doesn't really fit together, so they create some kind of tension between them.
And I'm interested in the similarity to a body. It's soft and hard. It's got skin and hidden internal "organs". And perhaps even some kind of character...

We'll see what happens.