adam in the world

This is darn fascinating I think. Picture taken just at the point when the plane breaks the soundbarrier. And there is also an amazing little movie here. Beautiful and fascinating.

Ok, ok, ok... here I am, back, again, the road to hell is paved with (unfulfilled) promises I guess... But now I'm here I'd like to draw your attention to a verry, verrry nice band MODER JORDS MASSIVA ("mother earths massive" for none scandinavian speakers). They are swedish. A big, loose, group of people, around 20, making cool kinda dancehall music. Singing and rapping in several languages... And with their own label "Flora & Fauna". So, remember to check out their mp3's on the site (upper right corner)...

(btw - the competition - decisions has been made and winners and prizes will (aaargh on my way to hell) will be announced shortly)

Oh yes, here it is, the long awaited grande finale of "ørestaden", the fiction. So, please, lean back and enjoy...

Tiny bubbles floated through the veins in the neck. The ear was pounding with an impossibly nervous rhythm that extended itself to the bottom of the throat. It took a turn against him and the body began to transform. A big bloody muscle was now appearing behind the furry surface. It continued the showing of the insides, involving bigger parts of body... A breathtaking hollowness planted itself in the lungs and a reflection of distant stars meet his eyes.
the wound from the razorblade has grown big again it must have
is it my watch lying in there?
do i wear cap today? i never wear cap my hair is so beautiful and my ass
is gone
please take the cap off please its so heavy it strangulates me please take it off
if i lie still there is no cap
it’s not a cap
I’m almost home
green why didn't i see it before two times now so fresh
the train has newer been so long will the sound never stop my head hurt please stop
i shouldn't lie here in the rain
lets go home
how stupid i am
those orange cushions so heavy forces down my body i cannot breathe
let me sleep yes hold me tight i'm so happy in your arms your big stomach heats my back
your wet breath in my face
my hair is so heavy

That was it. It's all over now. Hope you enjoyed reading. We sure enjoyed writing...

Yes, here I am... after completely neglecting my blog, and internet in general, all christmas I am now back on the track. So very, very happy new year to everyone who might wander by here, and let all your dreams come true...

I had a very super nice holiday and feel fresh and rejuvenated, the new and improved Adam, stronger than before, with more ram in my laptop and a brand new and fast internet connection at home. I even got up at 8 this morning!

Follow the site closely for updates will be coming up soon, including the fifth and final part of the exiting story "Ørestaden" ("Ear City") and the announcement of the winner of my christmas competetion (oooh, who will that be...).

C ya'll soon

love

Adam

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.

Browsing through blogs yesterday, i came across a link to this fantastic site... so if you ever wondered how you operate a knee here's your chance to try for yourself (with proper guidance from a doctor). A mindblowing experience, that should entertain you for at least 10 min. Also check out the nice pictures of a real knee surgery.

egoland
Originally uploaded by adampadam.

Egoland - my favorite newspaper comic strip in the whole wide world... if Olfax (Ivar Gjørup) the writer hadn't been Danish and therefore writing in Danish, he would have been up there together with Doonesbury and Peanuts... But this one sho be understood by anyone. If they care to think about it for 2 min. It's about time - or rather the experience of time.

btw - The little guy shouting is in fact god, "...and on the seventh day he became unemployed."

"All the true things I'm about to tell you are shameless lies" - Bokonon

Words like "uncertainties", "self contradictions", "disinformation", "paradoxes" have been circling around in my head the last many months. I've always hated people who has found the truth and their self-righteous actions. And I always liked film director Erik Clausen when he insisted on his right to contradict himself. This makes him extremely trustworthy in my mind. When you already know the ultimate truth, there's obviously not much more to talk about.

A movie which has revealed itself completely by the end of it, you would not care to watch a second time. A building that tell you all it's secrets when you look at the facade, you would not care to enter. A girl that shows up naked for the first date, you would have no reason to seduce. It's about leaving space for people to think for them self. If you keep ends open, let things be uncertain and mysterious, you open up their imagination. And possibly your own.

If you feel like a bit of disinformatin, here's a couple of sites for you:

Danes for Bush - The name should say it all
ID sniper rifle - A very handy product
r50rd - an amazing robot project
the yes men - my favorite anti globalists

So, back with a bad conscious for not having posted since thursday morning, ooooh, nooo... to excuse myself I'll say that thursday night I came home from school and accidentally started reading a John Le Carré spy thriller and didn't stop doing that before page 200 and something at 2 o'clock in the morning... And yesterday afternoon I, also by complete accident, came by the friday bar at school which led on to eating medister-sousage with stewed spinach and brown sauce (very Danish) and playing ping pong for some hours at a friends place.

And now i am all alone at my desk at school to start the animation movie that I should have done 2 weeks ago... In that spirit here's a link to a nice little site with lots of clips from old obscure stop motion movies. Enjoy.

osijek
Originally uploaded by adampadam.

A few months ago I was on a short, but intense travel through Croatia, Serbia and Bosnia. On our second day of travel, we were leaving the town of Osijek in eastern Croatia. It is very easy to find your way to the river in Osijek. You just go to a house which has not been renovated yet and find the facade which is full of bullet holes. That facade will be pointing towards the river.
On our way out we made a fast stop in the old city that some of us had already visited the night before. As most of our group went down to the river, I went off on my own down the first little street I could find and around a corner. I found myself on an empty and neglected square, well, perhaps more just a space without buildings. Sorrounded by 18th century warehouses. The only thing there, was this collection of old toys, lying on the gravel in the middle of the square. What strange child to leave his toys behind like that. And what strange collection of toys. Felt so much like taking one of them, but didn't do it. Didn't touch them at all in fact. They seemed to be of another world. Like the child had let them behind to escape the war. But the war ended years ago.