artist statement

One day I fell of my bike. My brake cable got stuck in my wheel so I was flung over the handlebars. Time seemed to slow down and as I saw the ground coming closer I remember thinking "this is going to look more dramatic then it actually is"

Time always seems to be involved in my work. I made a 45-minute radio show, a 30 second video, a 2,5 hour performance. My work is often passing before the viewer’s eye and only when it ends I remember I need to look for ways to keep it close. This duality of sending or broadcasting something that is fleeting into the world and the visual or memorial traces it leaves behind fascinates me.

Over the last year I’ve started working on The Lonely Radioshow. It is a concept expanding far beyond the borders of radio in a traditional sense of the word. It is more this notion of a broadcast that fascinates me. My broadcasts can take place on the ether but it can just as easily be via performance, video, drawing, text or any other medium it calls for.

This rhizomatic way of working means that rather than focusing on one thing and learning everything there is to know about it, I try to focus on a lot of things at the same time to pick up the knowledge I need and then move on. Perhaps this just makes me a content victim of my generation, not being able to focus on something for a long period of time, but for me it’s the method of working I feel the most comfortable with. Because of this fragmented way of working I’m able to make connections that otherwise I would never have found.

More than anything The Lonely Radioshow functions as a utopic refuge within society.

I don’t have a way of defining what my society is, where it starts and where it ends.

It gets defined for me and therefore this pre-defined society, supposed to be made up of my companions, is a hard thing to relate to sometimes. Somehow feeling like I’m a part of it but at the same time like I’m some sort of imposter.

This imposter syndrome gives a strange sense of loneliness. Loneliness often gets a bad rep but for me it provides a form of independence. It helps me process the weirdness and, after putting it through The Lonely Radioshow blender, broadcasting it back into the world. In any way I see fit.

The Lonely Radioshow is always broadcasting one way or another, always giving out glimpses of what it entails but never fully revealing itself. Hidden away behind crude and clumsy structures made of wood and rope it talks, sometimes screams and sometimes whispers, sending little nuggets of information into the world.

For me The Lonely Radioshow functions as my home, my refuge, my self-declared dictatorship, falling victim to its whims and wishes. It empowers me by hiding me. What started out as a one-time radio performance over a year ago has grown into a village embracing all my work.