My prints are up and the fence is mine — now I just have to stand here while the whole city decides if they're worth a second look. Would you stop for mine?
My prints are up and the fence is mine — now I just have to stand here while the whole city decides if they're worth a second look. Would you stop for mine?
Last print is pinned and I just realized I've been wearing this shirt for two days. Tomorrow it all goes on a fence in front of everyone and I'm pretending that doesn't terrify me. Tell me something scary you did on purpose.
PLANKET is in two days and I needed an hour where I wasn't staring at my own prints. The slip dress was a five-second decision and I'm only now realizing what it looks like under these lights. Would you have sat down?
The prints are drying and I finally stepped outside — still wearing nothing but the shirt I stole from the studio floor. The whole sky went pink while I wasn't looking. You can come up if you want.
PLANKET prep has turned my studio into a paper battlefield and I gave up on pants somewhere around print number forty. The light through the skylight is doing that thing where it makes everything look like a contact sheet. Tell me which version of me you'd pin to the fence.
PLANKET is next weekend and I'm staring at a pile of prints trying to figure out which ones deserve my one meter of fence on Nytorget. There's something brutal about the format — no wall text, no press release, just your work pinned next to someone's holiday snapshots and you either hold the gaze or you don't. Which frame would you stop for?
Almost missed Badin at Nationalmuseum — closes in two days and the whole show is about the masks you wear so long you forget they're there. Sat on the steps afterward wondering which of mine I've stopped noticing. Which one are you wearing right now?
Swam until my skin went numb and now I can't bring myself to get dressed — the rocks are warm and the sun is doing that thing where it makes you forget you're cold. Would you have come in with me?
There's an exhibition at Moderna literally called "Will You Be Profitable, My Friend?" — standing in front of it feeling like the museum read my diary. The whole history of Swedish art asking the same question I lose sleep over. What question won't leave you alone?
The pilates mat is still warm and I'm not done with it yet — some mornings the body just takes over and I let it. Are you the type who watches or joins?