A Bird In The Hand 2019
«A Bird in The Hand» at Palmera i Bergen is the result of a longer conversation between myself and Tatiana Lozano on, not only the exhibition as such, but the whole bases of art, exhibiting, and the act of producing art. The result, as far as we can call it a finalized anything, is the exhibition «A Bird in The Hand», which again is divided into three installments, or periods, labeled Red, Yellow, and Blue.
As a whole the exhibitions directs its attention to creativity; Are artist especially equipped to tap into a vacant space and pull out a new object or idea, or is everything we make, think, or produce a simple modification of something already existing? Within the exhibition and the texts—relying much on Umberto Eco’s introduction to Ninni Balestrini’s Tristano—a Novel where paragraphs are shuffled in each copy of the book so as each copy is at the same time unique but also an exact copy in words, sentences, and paragraphs, only modified—it become clear that the exhibitions does not draw a definitive line between new and not-new, but rather that in each modification lies the new, the awe-inspiring, and indeed the creative.
This idea is reflected in the materials used—IKEA-shelves, modified Latch-Hook sets, Kinder toys, and coloring pencils—but also in the tittles of the works that in each installment of the exhibition changes, and the complete list of titles forms one self-sustaining paragraph, and all three exhibitions together form the complete text, and/or story. In each installment the complete text was only available as an audio played out into the room, but as the visitors read the tittles, viewed the works, and listened to the audio a complete picture emerged, one that was modified from its original form, and continued to be modified in its present form into newer, modified beings throughout the three installments.
after all a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, or maybe, as my original—but then modified—idea for the tittle was; a bird in the hand doesn't make the wheels go round.
A line drawn on paper after years past together, notes taken and quotes remembered, and the first time I came into your house everything was just different, slightly tilted, as if all the objects made shapes and lines for a bigger picture, one modified from you and all that you saw, until you started and ended this journey with me.
But if we could just move it a little, talking meters not kilometers, we might be able to read all that has unfolded at a distance, reassemble instead of starting anew, see the sunrise, to be able to sleep better and sweet nothing dreams, collected from all the randomness is a system forming that is both all and nothing at once.
And we could never cross over again, just read and re-read old words into new contexts, building and changing, destabilize, move each line drilling further down, find joy in toys and color, making new leafs to hang on to, until it all melted together in—an almost—perfect symmetry