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I din mund smager alt af jordbær

MFA graduation solo exhibition, KHM1 Gallery Malmö, 2018
All photos Jenny Enkholm 

The bed, where we let go and slip into a state of sleep, alone side by side. You are there when I wake up. I am there when you fall asleep. I watch you sleeping. We meet at daybreak, with sleep in our eyes and two different tales to tell.

The window is open and lets the wind take us. It is impossible to chronologically recreate the order that we came from. I recognise fragments of the narrative and feel like I’m finding ends that hang together. However, new pairs have been formed. In incidental beds, with strange partners.

I’ve got to choose my words and colors with care. Otherwise, things that I might not want to evoke will be wakened to life. Every word creates its own form; every sentence and stroke its path.

I am awakened by the presence of something vigilant. It must have been calling to me from my dream. The night is dark and quiet. I roll over in bed. As I turn away from the wall, light particles follow my sight’s pathway. Like flickering grains in the darkened room. It moves fast, but I manage to register it, as the grains collect—and take form—as a person right in front of me. A man, sitting in lotus position—with the clearest eyes I have ever seen. 
Everything about him is complete, but wholly transparent. With his persistent gaze, he stares directly at and right through me, creating the perception that I am the one being transparent. 
The white canvas quivers. A sketch appears. White areas still untouched by paint. Larger surfaces of the tissue are saturated and drowned in colour. There is a point where the saturated starts breathing, in its own autonomous existence, and the hand is detached.

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