Monthly Archives: September 2011

Hellebou presents: Reshuffling Forest (Hellebou Vol. 3)

Opening September 30th, at 7pm

Open: Saturday October 1st and 2nd, 12:00 – 16:00

Guest Artists:

Matilda Carlid
Hanne Grieg Hermansen
Mathias Samuelsen
Siri Leira
Azar Alsharif
Tarald Wassvik
Inger Wold Lund

It was cold. It took us two days to heat up the thick timber walls. The water in the big plastic
barrels, left behind by the cabin’s last residents, did not melt during our stay. The ice was too
thick. Our neighbor dug out a trail in the snow, so that we would not have to wade through
it. None of us dared to sleep alone at night. It was too cold. It was too dark. Outside, the
moon was reflected in the white and untouched snow. We stayed inside. It was the time of the
year when the days were at their shortest. We were in a cabin, in the forest, in Telemark.

So describes Inger Wold Lund our very first winter residence, which took place
during winter solstice. After three days in front of the fireplace, we were faced with
four musicians from Oslo: Henning Pedersen, Pål Bredrup, Boris Lifschtutz and Lars
Preus, otherwise known as Okkultokrati. They had been invited to the cabin for these
particularly dark nights. Our living room turned into a music studio, and the cabin
turned out to be too small. During summer we could have gone swimming in Lake
Follsjø, or settled down in the woodshed for the night, but now we all wanted to stay
inside. The cabin resonated with the rhythms of a distorted guitar, as some of us
returned to the city. Later that winter, Katla (Jonas Ib. Jensen, Mathijs van Geest and
Ånond Versto) rented a car. They drove from their studio in Bergen, over the Haukeli
Mountains, to Hellebu, Helleberg, Telemark. Once again the timber walls needed
heating, as Katla gathered material for their first artist book. One rainy weekend in
June, when the days were at their longest, the cabin had one last visitor, writer
Mathias Samuelsen. His stay in the cabin resulted in a reading. These are the makers
of this year’s Hellebou.

Hellebou is founded by Ellen Henriette Suhrke and Johanne Birkeland. Together
they uphold a year-round artist residence, and maintain the cabin. Hellebou Vol.
3 was produced between December 2010 and September 2011. This weekend we
present the release, alongside selected works by some of Hellebou´s previous
residents. The opening night will include a live performance by Matilda Carlid.


If inside, to get out – if outside, to get in

Opening Wednesday, September 21st

6 pm at the Academy in Oslo, (KHiO) Fossveien 24

8 pm at Holodeck, Københavngata 4

Open: Saturday 24th and Sunday 25th, 12:00 – 16:00


Large exhibition of Norwegian and Palestinian art students

Students and teachers from the Art Academy in Oslo and the International Academy of Art in Palestine (IAAP) shows works in the gallery at the Art Academy in Oslo (KHiO) and gallery Holodeck. The exhibition title is If inside, to get out – if outside, to get in. The exhibition is the result of an ongoing collaborative project between the International Academy of Art Palestine and the Art Academy in Oslo, focusing on education, pedagogy and power. This is the first time students from the IAAP visiting Oslo.

The exhibition presents old and new works of the 22 art students and artists. A separate project is displayed in the Gallery Holodeck.

The following artists show works: Abdallah Awad, Andreas Hald Oxenvad, Ane Hjort Guttu, Asma Ghanem, Ayed Arafah, Christian Bjørnøen, Dima Hourani, Jamal Sabri,Jeannette Christensen, Jessica Williams, Linda Karin Larsen, Lisa Steingrim, Mari Opsahl, Noor Abed, Osama Nazzal, Ottar Karlsen, Peter Christian Sæbø, Ragna Bley, RamziAbu-Sway, Razan Akremawy, Sahar Al-Khatib, Somood Khuffsh, Taqi Sbateen, Tito Frey

Holodeck is curated by Ragna Bley.


Cecilia Jiménez Ojeda

Opening September 9th 2011, at 7pm

Open: Saturday 10th and Sunday 11th, 12:00 – 16:00


Ode to broken things

Things get broken
at home
like they were pushed
by an invisible, deliberate smasher.
It’s not my hands
or yours
It wasn’t the girls
with their hard fingernails
or the motion of the planet.
It wasn’t anything or anybody
It wasn’t the wind
It wasn’t the orange-colored noontime
Or night over the earth
It wasn’t even the nose or the elbow
Or the hips getting bigger
or the ankle
or the air.
The plate broke, the lamp fell
All the flower pots tumbled over
one by one. That pot
which overflowed with scarlet
in the middle of October,
it got tired from all the violets
and another empty one
rolled round and round and round
all through winter
until it was only the powder
of a flowerpot,
a broken memory, shining dust.

And that clock
whose sound
the voice of our lives,
the secret
thread of our weeks,
which released
one by one, so many hours
for honey and silence
for so many births and jobs,
that clock also
and its delicate blue guts
among the broken glass
its wide heart

Life goes on grinding up
glass, wearing out clothes
making fragments
breaking down
and what lasts through time
is like an island on a ship in the sea,
surrounded by dangerous fragility
by merciless waters and threats.

Let’s put all our treasures together
– the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold –
into a sack and carry them
to the sea
and let our possessions sink
into one alarming breaker
that sounds like a river.
May whatever breaks
be reconstructed by the sea
with the long labor of its tides.
So many useless things
which nobody broke
but which got broken anyway.

– Pablo Neruda –