Anna Skov Hassing, lives and works on Møn, DK.
She graduated with a BFA from Hochschule für Bildende Künste Hamburg, 2014, and an MFA from Malmö Konsthögskolan, 2018.
Anna Skov Hassing's works takes form as painting, text and installation.
Her work with painting and often physical larger installations is based on longer processes between collecting material, textual and visual work and spatial experiments.
She is preoccupied with the narrative and spatial potential of painting.
The motifs and narratives in her works are often composed of several different elements of collected materials, that have been morphed from its original form.
For Anna Skov Hassing, her artistic actions are about exploring – visually and sensually – relational connections, borders and transits between inner and outer spaces. She is particularly concerned with identifying the excluded, or even the unseen, and giving it value.
Mary Shelley was pregnant when she wrote her novel Frankenstein (1818) about the monster created from adults’ body parts, but with a soul like that of a newborn baby. In the Shellian sense, Hassing’s lyrical sculpture and painting is a personal testimony to what might be called ‘the monster nursery’.
There is wonderful tenderness and sometimes even comedy to the monster, whose hands are so big that they could only ever knock over or crush any tiny porcelain consonant, and who must see the wet splotches of sweat on his t-shirt in order to know that he is dead scared. But the sickness is unto death—the heart is ticking like the rain and Skov Hassing’s song is no nursery rhyme; Nor exactly a call across the water, one understands, but I thought I heard a panting over there: perhaps from behind those trees?
@ Julie Gufler, May 2018
My work starts with sensations. Not necessarily specific ones, but always precise and demanding. They soon find forms to inhabit. Suitable marriages. Legitimate attachments. Stuff collected. Brides gathered. Dictated by compulsive behaviours from within. One follows the other. Guests. Observers. Intruders. They start to grow. Take up more and more space. Occupy every inch. Possess the drugged and drowsy bones. Flow over. Detach from the matter that gave rise to them. Float. Float. Slightly above.
The brides walk behind. The walk towards-away.
Underneath their surfaces. Repetitions. One eternity more. When is something too much?
They know no boundaries.