Close up of the book, the lines cut out of the book leave thin horizontal paper strips with words here and there left behind.
DISSECTION
2020 // FOUND POETRY // NYC
I once received the wrong book in the mail—a memoir by a Juilliard-trained opera singer in New York, far from my own life as an autistic artist and architect from rural Denmark. Although it was a mistake, I was drawn to it.
My work often involves rearranging existing matter into new constructions. As a visual thinker with dyslexia, I see words as shapes and process the world in images. I constantly realign external impressions to build inner landscapes.
I took an X-Acto knife and began cutting out words, searching for reflections of my own voice. Like a surgeon, I carved away matter to reveal a new spatial structure—poems formed by absence, by sculpting the page itself. Each page stands as a poem, but layered together they create a three-dimensional reading space, inviting the audience to explore their own path through the book, as if we could scale down and fly through its inner architecture.
About Taking Sentences Apart
Therapy
Crisis, there is no exact language for the thing
Haiku
A Rampant Sliced Through Broadcast Of Self
Like Trying To Have An Intelligible Conversation While Yawning
Forget That I Am Solid | In The Ephemeral Approach
Inhabiting Myself
A Host Of Different Emotions
Locating You
Unimpressed