• Anne Lorange L


The project, “Unintended interpretations”, is a series of paintings, drawings and outdoor installations that investigate the complexity and depth of freedom of language. It seeks to understand the abstract transforming powers of language that arise between visual and textual realms. By studying different poetic passages, I found a close relation to my own painting and drawing where passages through the unperceived or unconscious into the conscious present moment become visible through a series of abstract visual dialogs. Like moving between night into day, the mind slides between levels of awareness and self-awareness of both visible and invisible passages of language. The elusive, transcending moments of a dialog between textual and visual realms show how freedom of creative space arises and erases borders within preconceived notions of language, and where an open sharing space is visible through the intuitive creative passage of an abstract visual language.

Unintended Interpretations:


Notes # 1

The drawings are intimate encounters with poetic lines. They are personal meditations of written lines bouncing among different notions of liminal states of existence. Lines that evoke experiences of a liminal space of existence capable of both being touched and at the same time incapable of being perceived by my own senses. The lines in the drawings are fragile manifestations of existing in the presence of the in-between space of ”being”, and touching on our physical and non-physical reality of the ephemeral and concrete. Existing in the notion of being tangible and intangible, of being abstract and factual. The drawings are complex entanglements of structured and unstructured space, but also clear and simple lines capable of existing in a liminal space.

(pencil, charcoal drawings 10*10 inches/ 25*25 cm)

The drawings have their own intimate language of a finite, yet infinite language. My journey begins by floating on the lines of the poetics and drawings and experiencing them; listening, repeating, and speaking the poetic lines. My pencil is the unconscious rhythm and becomes my freedom of speech . Reading a free-form poem with no arranged rhyme and rhythm, becomes alive, full of their own rhythms and rhymes. The drawings are free floats of consciousness, and they escape into their own rhythms. Coming to terms with the flow of the liminal states of existence.

See Paintings & installations : www.annesophielorange.com and : ” unintended interpretations” . Here are two of the paintings below from this series:


Title: a night’s sphere

(Dimensions 50*40cm acrylic, pencil)

And my soul, unguarded,

would soar on widespread wings,

to live in a night’s magical sphere

More profoundly, more variously.

“Shattered brine” (150 *150, acrylic& pencil)

shattered brine, dazzling leap of the ocean.
Merged, you and I, my love,
seal the silence
while the sea destroys its continual forms,
collapses its turrets of wildness and whiteness.

Notes #2

My exploration continues. I continue the process and step into in-between spaces between written lines and abstract visual lines. Below is some of my latest work from the ongoing series, “Unintended interpretations”. The work consists of drawings, paintings and installations. To view more; www.annesophielorange.com : Unintended interpretations.

The imaginative sensuous play has begun. Enjoying the ambiguous quality of reading and listening to poetic lines, I start to feel the words on my tongue. I listen to the voice reciting words that unconsciously dissolve into a meditative state. The breath of a line interests me. Sometimes when listening, “feeling” the lines, I slowly start to draw in a fragile manner or more energetically and frantic. Dropping my pencil at any time, hesitating, what is it that I’m sensing?

Among methods used is a voice recording where I read parts of poems and then listen. As I listen to the recordings, I start to draw or paint. Sometimes I close my eyes and draw in the dark listening intimately to the text. I feel the texts in a different sensatory way; I then suddenly realize Barthes notion of the active reader, feeling the text moving from something ”readerly” to “writerly” and therefore also explaining my metaphysical identity with the text. I understand the notion of interpretation as a continuous process where I see my visual artworks as a realization of the diversity of meaning of a text.

(drawings; pencil, charcoal, white-x; 25 cm*25 cm)

Feeling a line’s density and the sharpness of the pencil, but not entirely being able to understand the feeling and sense of this in-between space. I don’t want to understand it, like music, it’s not necessary to push the notes away. I’m inside, outside, in-between, on top, moving around, flowing with the sounds, the movement and rhythms and understanding ultimately how words alone cannot convey my feelings.

(Painting;title: Departure, Medium: acrylic&pencil, Size; 50*40 cm)


It is the hour of departure,

the hard cold hour

which the night fastens to all the timetables.

The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.

Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.


(painting, title: Running tide, Medium: acrylic&pencil, size: 50*40 cm)

I must go down to the seas again,

For the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call

That may not be denied


I recognize this in-between space, and see my own humanness of being inside and outside a crack at the same time, touching the edges and blurred spaces. Enjoying the feeling of the complexity of being human both in spirit and mind. It is in this liminal space, I can relate to my own identity and subjective feelings. Sensing my own being, I dive into the in-between spaces between the visible and invisible, the concrete and ephemeral and find answers.

(in between spaces in nature; digital photo)

As I am exploring the understanding of liminal states of existence, I enjoy this ambiguous space which also shows my own interrelatedness to others. Being on the inside, outside and in-between the abstract and concrete. The below unstructured structures of stones can be seen as the abstract in-between spaces in which we all exist.

(installation work; arranged stones on paved stones)

Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
still has a shape in the kindgdom of transformation.
When something’s let go of, it circles; and though we are
rarely the center
of the circle, it draws around us its unbroken, marvelous


Notes # 3

Posted on November 15, 2012

How can I write in words the awareness of my visual lines that stretch past my body, thoughts and senses of listening, looking, speaking, and touching? The poetic text reveals itself as something I cannot grasp the complete meaning of. It unfolds in an open space of both intimacy and exteriority. After listening to voice recordings of the poetic texts, I understand Derrida’s connection between speech and writing. Here I can grasp Derrida’s critique of logocentrism. Derrida understands the difference of speech and writing as a play between exteriority and interiority. Writing is not just an external representation of speech, but both exterior and interior to speech, and speech is also both interior and exterior to writing. When listening to the poetic texts as speech and writing, I can understand this play and realize my own interpretation of language as something more than a logocentric realization of a text, and more towards Derridean interplay of a creative opening to the poetic text. In Spivak’s preface (Of Grammatology, Derrida), she explains Derrida’s understanding of how all signs are structures of differences and open for multiple possible meanings rather than closure. This is marked by traces of an absent but always present other. “The outside, ‘spatial’ and ‘objective’ exteriority which we believe we know as the most familiar thing in the world, as familiarity itself, would not appear without the gramme, without difference as temporalization, without the nonpresence of the other inscribed within the sense of the present, without the relationship with death as the concrete structure of the living present. Metaphor would be forbidden.” (Of Grammatology p.71, Derrida)

(Drawing; “untitled”, unintended interpretations series, 35*35 cm, pencil& acryl on paper,)

Just as the memory holds both visible and invisible traces, the textual and visual lines hold traces of the presence and absence, of the visible and invisible. In the traces I see visual abstract metaphors for this presence-absence, of being in- between or in a liminal space. One can see in this in-between presence-absence gaps, openings, and edges. The freedom of being in-between in this space is like pulling up a fast car, hitting the breaks, accelerating, spinning around, driving fast and slow at the same time, unable to control and control at the same time. Here I am able to play with the edges of my own interpretations, the infinite meanings going past any preconceived notions or connotations of the poetic texts. In the moment of creation, I can imagine what I see past the very edge experiencing the presence of the atemporal, past the ending scene of ”Thelma& Louise ”, and the opening of the soul existing midway between heaven and earth. These moments can come when studying for instance a poem of Rilke that leads me through the visible and tangible to invisible flows of the in-between liminal space.

(Installation/photo process work, unintended interpretations)

As I continue working with my visual artwork, I grasp different visual spaces of both structure and unstructure that appear to co-exist. It is similar to driving on a snowy night. I see the evolving and ever changing visual spaces of snow. First, the snowflakes appear, my pencil or brush start to draw or paint, coming at me like a force of light. Then the flakes settle onto the front window, and the drawing and painting appears on the paper and canvas. Only to be gone in a flash of a second as the window wiper tries to erase the traces. My eraser and white painting try to conceal or take away these traces as new flakes enter into this space again. I know this is an impossibility, as the traces also do co-exist with the presence. It is not the one or the other. I can never infinitely hold onto a snowflake or a line, and I can never entirely grasp what this is. The window shifts quickly into an image of presence-absence, liminality, in-betweenness and whose horizons stretch into infinite meanings of a moment. I cannot grasp this presence, but I can inhabit this space. Feeling the rhythm of it’s pace, like my own breathing, it exists just as much on the inside as the outside. Here, as I drive, draw, or paint, it frees my thoughts from presupposed structures and moves into the infinite and immanent power of creation of both the abstract and concrete, varieties and multiplicities. ”The infinite movement…frees (thought) from truth as supposed paradigm and reconquers an immanent power of creation”. (D &G, 1994,p.139) In a Deleuzian sense of breaking through to the other side of representation past rigid and static boundaries of interpretation like a rhizome. ” A rhizome has no beginning or end; it is always in the middle, between things, interbeing, intermezzo” (D&G 25). My intuitions are assembled as a rhizome, exploring my understanding of in-betweeness of my own comprehension of language. The multi-layeredness generates a flow seeking to fill in the traces of my lines as the binding factor of breaking away.

(drawings; “untitled”, unintended interpretations series,25 * 25 cm, pencil &charcoal on paper)

My intuition is present. The snowflakes come at me as if they are trying to speak, trying to convince me of something or the other. The small flakes touch my window and quickly disappear as the window shield wiper wipes them out. They are effaced from my vision, but not from my memory. I still glimpse them. The small jewels are in front and around me. I try and grasp what I see. My multilayered interpretations have begun. They are at an edge between me on the inside, and the snowflakes speaking on the outside. Or is it the other way around? Or are there no edges at all? How do I reach what I´m after without effacing what I see? Or breaking the window of presence? Can I reach beyond my visions, my readings and dreams? The vision becomes blurred, as the road a head is my focus. When driving the road is crucial to follow, yet my eyes are longing to be somewhere in the midst of the beauty of the patterns of the incomprehensible language beyond my notions and senses encountering and encompassing my very presence of the moment.

(Ink&pencil on paper, 25 cm*25 cm )

I can relate to B Ettinger’s notebooks as they innovate through an inner and outer attention to the world seen in her multiple processes of the remembered space of marks of life and historical moments. Through her drawings and writings she moves from a private to public space in a trans individual space. Ettinger states: “the out-in wit (h)nessing”, of being both here and now, elsewhere and other (Art as compassion, B. Ettinger). Compassion is fundamental to her creating act. I believe this should be fundamental to every artist’s creative act and hereby the understanding of the importance of attentiveness to our humanity and respect for the co-existence of each human being. From this attentiveness, I’m therefore interested in both the surface, the layers, the depth, under, over, around, breaking through, visible, invisible and infinite traces, and entering this open space of multiple meanings and layers of languages that bring both knowledge and inspiration to the fragile flow of life that surrounds us.

(untitled”, unintended interpretations #,50*40 cm, acryl & pencil)

Notes # 4

December 15th process report

The painting. The drawing. The poem. What does chance put before us? Written words of poems linger in my mind, the subtle act of drawing and painting. Accepting chance, I free my mind from any function of reality, and I exist as an invisible imaginary traveller, with no departure or destination on a never-ending journey. Leaving traces behind, but also the trace of erasing my own trace and the words I cannot touch become both visible and invisible at the same time.

(drawing, charcoal & pencil,)

Jacques Derrida states in Speech and Phenomena: ” The trace is not a presence but is rather the simulacrum of a presence that dislocates, displaces, and refers beyond itself. The trace has, properly speaking, no place, for effacement belongs to the very structure of the trace…” p.156

The fragility and pureness of a line curl around lingering words and suddenly the words I read or listen to, start to dance. Like a tribal dance, I can feel and sense the intuitiveness of the underlying rhythms within. Some become stronger, some become weaker. The lines become the music and also the silence, a variation of the senses and the echo of a distant and near lying music of sound and silence.

As Susan Sontag states: ”Silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech.” I exist within this space of sound and silence and in-betweeness, as the blurred and clear images of both absence and presence locate themselves, covering layers of infinity in space. The thin surface of the paper. I hold up the drawing in front of me, and see how the material becomes immaterial like a reflection of both the dark and light existing between two worlds. The beauty of this presence is beyond words, as we know them, and in a strange sense they communicate the in- communicable.

Martin Heidegger, states in his book, On the way to language: “But when does language speak itself as language? Curiously enough, when we cannot find the right word for something that concerns us, carries us away, oppresses or encourages us. Then we leave unspoken what we have in mind and, without giving it thought, undergo moments in which language itself has distantly and fleetingly touched us with its essential being.”

The words become words I never understood existed, as both the unknown and known, the quivering, steady surface and hidden depths. The lines of life settle down and are suddenly instantly there in front of me as I gaze. I gaze at the sea, the waves are frontiers in my very existence, like breathing, I breathe in and out, and suddenly I understand that my eyes can no longer see the sea. The invisible sea becomes visible as my sight is blinded. The beauty of life surrounds me like an energy different from any other, and my struggle of seeing ceases to exist as I draw the energy that brings hope to my fragile existence of being. The in-between spaces become a bridging space, a communication and compassion. In this space between the literal and the visual, I sense the bridge without seeing it. Feeling its subtle energy unfolding into the infinite space surrounding us all.

As Barthes observed: ”who speaks is not who writes, and who writes is not who is.” Viewing the painting or drawing is in a way different from the creative process. Being in the intense presence of creating, the presence of a freedom and openness is not the same as viewing it afterwards. It is as if one’s innermost intimate feelings are still there, but not in the same sense. I cannot for instance, explain a finished painting in the same sense as the way I can explain the feeling of creating it, being on the bridge and feeling the subtle energy in every sense of my being.

(I visited newly the exhibition, Kirkeby Epiphany, painted by the Danish abstract painter, Per Kirkeby, at the Glyptotek museum in Copenhagen and was pleasantly surprised when viewing a number of his large-scale abstract paintings. When experiencing his paintings, the powerful closeness of them, silenced me. I was drawn by the energy and I suddenly found myself on the bridge as in my own creative process, communicating in silence with the paintings. When writing a diary and pouring out one’s feelings and senses, I was surprised when confronted with a dialog and not a monolog as the paintings subtly and quietly communicated with me. I cannot explain this in words, and I cannot convert my sensations into words, yet I could feel the senses and the energy in the whole of my being. Per Kirkeby states: “A picture is not decided by title or explanations…One must just look. …Sensory impressions are fundamental…but never as individual elements, as clearly defined dimensions. I believe that the experience of a painting is an atmosphere…a synthesis of many kinds of sensory impressions.”p.)

I can relate to the sensory impressions and in a continuation of this understanding the words of Helene Cixous make me think about how she so beautifully describes such a synthesis as a passage in her own writing process. Helene Cixous writes in, “Escaping texts”:

”When I close my eyes the passage opens. Night becomes a verb. The blind person sees. I am the blind for the blind. I like the word passage. I pass from non-seeing to seeing-the world. The features of the world’s face rise, emerge, pass from the unperceived into presence. It is a sudden, dazzling engendering passage. My book writes itself.”

The painting and drawing also paints and draws itself like the book. The passage of the unperceived into the presence. Like the night turning into morning, one stumbles in the dark, and one must take a chance as there are no directions. As the morning arrives the paint settles and one can see clearer one’s own dreams, but never entirely as they have in a sense faded away, yet still they never cease to exist.

Notes # 5

Posted on February 16, 2013

“The moment of blindness ensures sight.” – Derrida

Through drawing I understand the sense of blindness. By going blind in the process of drawing a line, one finds the underlying intuitive strength to follow through the line and to find the rhythm of the drawing or painting from within this intuitive appreciation. It is the same as when reading a poem, I close my eyes and listen to its sounds before actually feeling its underlying senses. Like skiing, one must feel the snow under one’s skis, intuitively understanding the underlying structures, as one follows the rhythm of the snow underneath one-self and simultaneously understands the surrounding structures of the slope. Here, in a split second one must decide where to turn, gain speed, feel and actually sense the contours of the underlying structures, let go and free oneself to be able to push ahead. Suddenly the rhythm is there before one can understand this intellectually or logically. The feeling of freedom and joy fills one’s body. But, if one looks down at the steepness of the mountain and starts to contemplate on what can go wrong, one is almost sure that one will fall and loose the rhythm and freedom all together. This underlying relationship is akin to working with poetic texts, drawing and painting. Derrida writes in Memoirs of the blind, about this sense of blindness and drawing in his philosophical commentaries around vision, blindness and art.

drawings from the process: (“unintended interpretations #”
Pencil & acrylic on paper, Size: 35 *35 cm)

Derrida states:

“One must always remember that the word, the vocable, is heard and understood, the sonorous phenomenon remaining invisible as such. Taking up time rather than space in us, it is addressed not only from the blind to the blind, like a code for the nonseeing, but speaks to us, in truth, all the time of the blindness that constitutes it. Language is spoken, it speaks to itself, which is to say, from/of blindness. It always speaks to us from/of the blindness that constitutes it.”

Being in a game of infinite possibilities. Like sailing away in an invisible boat of unuttered thoughts, one accelerates as the storms start to cloud ones vision and one knows in the intuitive strength of the line that one has infinite variable possibilities. Relating to Derrida’s sense of deconstruction, I am continuously meeting texts and lines full of meanings. It is a play of infinite possibilities, just like life, impossible to define, the drawing becomes alive through the possibility of freedom.

drawing from the process: (“unintended interpretations #”
Pencil & acrylic on paper, Size: 35 *35 cm)

Like lines of words on paper, through the reflection of the boat’s shadow, one learns to reflect upon the outer limits of ones being. Thoughts unravel as I play with the wind. The words transform from the definite definitions into a glaze of abstract sparkling water of indefinite depths. The pencil rests in my hand as I release my unuttered thoughts, away from the textual form of the word, beyond any logical concepts; I open up to a dialog of thoughts, free from restraints. It is here in this dwelling of being, one can create and exist. The poetic lines and texts are entrances and pathways to explore, they transect the creative space. Beyond words and visual expression, one can feel at the same time both an intimacy and distance. As I draw a visual abstract line, I can feel the intimacy of an underlying sensitivity, yet I also experience a distance and aloneness to this ephemeral experience knowing I am the sole witness to the moment of the line and the word itself. One knows in the subconscious it will disappear in a flash of a second, burying itself into the depths of the water that surrounds one. Helene Cixous writes: “ There is no end to writing and drawing. Being born doesn’t end. Drawing is being born. Drawing is born.”p.26, Stigmata. Her analogies between writing and drawing relate to the thoughts of the creative process between writing and drawing. To add to this, she writes for instance; “I’m saying writing-or-drawing, because these are often twin adventures, which depart to seek in the dark, which do not find, do not find, and as a result of not finding and not understanding, (draw) help the secret beneath their steps to shoot forth.”p.26-7, Stigmata.

drawing from the process: (“unintended interpretations #”
Pencil & acrylic on paper, Size: 35 *35 cm)

I want to sail away beyond the shadow of the boat. Where the ideas of the soul can glance down like birds that fly past the shadows of ones experience and capture the living moment. Like the birds, the finished painting or drawing exists not insisting on it’s own definiteness, but rather reflecting a sense of freedom of being. One cannot hold onto a bird in flight. Not wishing to catch it, yet painting and drawing touches it’s true being in the presence of the moment.

Cixous states; “I do not want to see what is shown. I want to see what is secret. I want to see the skin of the light.”p.184 Stigmata. Helene Cixous’ words relate to my feeling of this in-between space in which the creative process unfolds. In the mystery of a passage, in the dialog between textual and visual words, a meditation and creation can start to develop through one’s own secret language of the self, as one reflects upon existence, not trying to explain the edges and borderlines of words and thoughts that have been transformed. My logical mind insists in an answer, insisting in showing the traces of the secret, insisting on understanding the poetic lines, and trying to view the visible, the apparent existence of the words or lines. However, from pure logic I will never completely understand. To understand the painting or the drawings, one must also acknowledge the un-visible and unperceived and the illogical. One must release oneself from this logical set of thinking, letting go of the words. Then suddenly, without one understanding it fully, the lines become the birds, the boat, the sea and the attentive feeling arises of freedom of being. It is this state of being, that exists as one draws and paints, a flow of sensibility and compassion is present, as one can take the vessel and move it quietly and invisibly through the sea, through an undulating journey.

drawing from the process: (“unintended interpretations #”
Pencil & acrylic on paper, Size: 35 *35 cm)

The logical structures are pushed back and forth, like waves, by the unstructured, the unperceived and an interplay between the logical and illogical has begun. The logical mind will never cease to exist, as it is part of my identity and feeling of being, yet it is balanced and put to play by the un logical mysteries of the unperceived, “the skin of the light” (Cixous), and the in-between space is therefore allowed to exist. In my opinion, Helene Cixous, touches upon this space as she writes: “Let us close our eyes. The night takes me. Where do we go? Into the other world. Just next door. So close yet so difficult to access. But in a dash we are there. The other side. An eyelid a membrane, separates two kingdoms.” (P.186 Stigmata)

The moment I close my eyes and start to draw in the blind, I slowly feel the structures of my mind let go, my interpretations cease to exist, and my pencil is adrift like the boat at sea. It doesn’t matter anymore what I view, a bird gazes down from the sky not in critique of the ground. I like to work in this space, exist in it, and the drawings and paintings develop through it, in this interior of being, moving inwards and outwards, like the patterns of flight. Through the non-critical gaze of the bird and the sensibility of being in the lines, I am able to relate to Susan Sonntag, who writes about interpretation as depletion. She states: “To interpret is to impoverish, to deplete the world- in order to set up a shadow world of “meanings” against interpretations. It is to turn the world into this world. (“ This world”! As if there were any other.)” P.7

It is through the spaces of in-betweeness, I am able to sense the contours of one’s own outer and inner existence, not in need to define or interpret, but rather experience the line as a part of existence, a part of the unconceivable and conceivable, where the unintended is allowed to exist freed from the limitations of dogma and pre-defined answers.

(Painting, “The heaven’s surge” acrylic & pencil, Unintended interpretations #, 100*80 cm)

Eyes fume, tongues stir,
The heavens surge
into our senses
Like blue mother’s milk

Like the feeling of the first snow, settling on the bare ground, opening one’s mouth to try and taste. A feeling of freedom arrives as the snow touches one for the first time. It dissolves quickly, as it renders itself invisible and leaves no traces other than a line of whiteness, covering the visible, the trees, the ground and the color of one’s hair. Only slowly does it uncover the non-visible; magical white formations turn into the dreams of the unconscious, and the mind enters its own imagination. From here, stories can begin, an entrance point to drawing. Deleuze and Guattari ( 1991) discuss how sensation is not something fulfilled in the material without the material entering into the sensation and into the affect or percept. They use Cezanne’s quote as an example. Cezanne said: “Well, no one has ever painted the landscape, man absent but entirely within the landscape”. When reading the words of Cezanne, it is interesting to relate them to the analogy between writing and drawing of Cixous. It is interesting to relate Cezanne to the words as she writes: “Even if there is a landscape, a person, there outside-no, it’s from inside the body that the drawing-of-the-poet rises to the day of light.” P.27 Stigmata.

When reading poems, I am within the landscape, yet I’m also absent. In the world of poetry, of words, one can find these landscape formations, like the abstract snow formations, and one can exist freely in them. It is interesting to here also consider the words of Ceslaw Milosz as he describes the threshold of space. I sense he is trying to proclaim his own departure or self into the creative power of the in-between space.

Ars Poetica
“The purpose of poetry is to remind us
how difficult it is to remain just one person,
for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors,
and invisible guests come in and out at will.

Poetic lines open an entrance, a pathway, where I can dwell, and not only read, but become a part of the lines that lead me into a sensation of being and becoming. The poetic lines go beyond perceptual states and extend through the texts, and passes into one’s own sensations. Here I am able to reach into a visual language, into my own vocabulary, syntax and rhythm. Each time it is like being caught by surprise, as one does not know the pre-existence of such a sensation, and through the realm of the depths of these in-between spaces of writing and visual lines, I start to create . Writing, painting and drawing are all ingredients of the same perfume. The experience of letting it’s fumes lead us into our sensations and not being able to fully define the ingredients and not fully seeing them, but being able to entirely feel and sense them. Deleuze and Guattori write: ”One material is exchanged for another, like the violin for the piano, one kind of brush for another, oil for pastel, only inasmuch as the compound of sensations requires it.” This is the compound of the perfume and the entrance point to the important understanding that one can create an artwork both through one’s sensations, but also simultaneously through the artwork creating its own sensations.

(Exploration of the process, “Unintended interpretations #, digital photo)

Picasso said once, (which is interesting in view of Deleuze and Guattari’s writings): ”It is in fact only love that matters, in whatever it may be. They should put out the eyes of painters as they do those of bullfinches, to make them sing better.” My conclusion is to understand that these in-between spaces of understanding and the relationship between visual and textual vocabulary, speak to us through their wisdom, and by creating one’s own language, one understands that being a creator of the space implies compassion and unselfish attention to the presence of the world surrounding one. In this space one can stumble around, sail with no maps, and meet upon the unexpected. Through this space one can therefore stand in the opening of an entrance.

(Painting, acrylic and pencil, Unintended interpretations #, 50*40 cm)

The sensatory experience renders itself visible, opening oneself to the world, the poetic lines flow like music outwards or inwards like water rippling into one’s being. From here, one can draw and paint as an open dialog, like an orchestration of music, shifting suddenly, into a dense subliminal grounding, the music rises and shifts tones quickly and slowly, before and after any preconceived notions are able to grasp the sensations of being. Deleuze and Guattari (1991, What is philosophy?) discuss how artists, for instance painters, writers or musicians, not only create affects in their work but show affects and let us, the viewer, reader or listener, become a part of the affects and pull us into them. They state: ”In each case style is needed- the writer’s syntax, the musician’s mode and rhythms, the painter’s lines and colors- to raise lived perceptions to the percept and lived affections to the affect.” p.170. Through the creative process, I have come to acknowledge that the painting or drawing and poetic text illuminate each other through the inner and outer world, like an open dialog and conversation of infinite possibilities.

(Painting “Of Being”, acrylic and pencil, Unintended interpretations #, 50*40 cm)

Bear with me,
O mystery of being,
for pulling threads from your veil.

notes #6

Posted on March 16, 2013

The freedom of space.

The sky is a continuation of an abstract limit we experience as an outer reality. However, by becoming, entering and opening, one is able to relate to one’s surroundings in a way that escapes borderlines of outer reality. By merging the inside and outside and viewing both the visible and invisible, one is able to feel the paint, the ink, and the sky above.

As I wander in nature and release my senses, I am able to find an entrance and opening to a freedom of space where one can meditate and show awareness to the ethereal beauty of one’s surroundings and a dialogue is able to begin.

(Outdoor documentation work)

Helene Cixous writes in Stigmata, p. 195:

”I do not write to keep. I write to feel. I write to touch the body of the instant with the tips of the words.”

Further, one can study the words of Cixous in relation to the late writings of Antonin Artaud, from Artaud le momo, Selected Writings, 1947:

You’re no longer there
But nothing leaves you,
You have kept everything
Except yourself

And what do you care since
the world
is there.

One can learn through the words of Helene Cixous and Antonin Artaud as they both express the importance of understanding both the inside and ouside of one’s existence. Such an understanding exists also when entering into a text, feeling the words, and not just reading the words. I experience it as closely related to the process of drawing and painting. One must feel and exist inside and outside the painting and drawing and comprehend both the said and unsaid of the visual and textual realms.

“monotones”, Painting, acrylic&pencil, 2013, 50 x 40 cm (unintended interpretations #)
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
As you and I once heard their monotone. 

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me 

The cold and sparkling silver of the sea.


When entering the in between space between the textual and visual languages, one can exist between the untamed and tamed and between the knowable and what lies beyond the knowable. The paintings and drawings come from this space between the planned and intuitive by breaking down hierarchical barriers between the text and image.

(Title: “of chance”, Painting, acrylic , 2013, 50 x 40 cm,(Unintended interpretations #))

When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, 

Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, 

And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance

Susan Sontag writes in Against Interpretation, p.14:

”What is important now is to recover our senses. We must learn to see more, to hear more, to feel more.”

Susan Sontag touches upon the essence of creativity. Through attentiveness to our senses, one can listen and experience for instance, the sounds of silence. When painting and drawing, one can also sense and listen to the sound of silence. As if breaking a wave, or stopping time, silence can also be heard. As one sharpens one’s senses, a journey both inwards and outwards can therefore start.

Drawings, pencil &charcoal, “unintended interpretations”

In the above drawings, one can see the process of working with eyes open and closed. The first drawing, I drew with my eyes open, the next two are with eyes closed. It is interesting to see the slight difference in the drawings. As one can see, they fulfill each other, through using one’s senses both inwards and outwards. This is a way to actively understand a meaning of an in-between inner and outer space, and relating this to the beauty of attentive appreciation of one’s existence. Feeling and questioning as every journey begins.

notes # 7

Posted on April 11, 2013

Transparency of existence. The snow is melting, leading into a crease, a line, and a pathway into the changing of seasons. The knowledge of the unconscious holds the answer to the transparency of existence as my pencil enters into the field of an image. The journey crosses from the inside out, investigating the realms of my own connectedness. I journey onwards through the unknown fields. And at the moment of creation, transforming an openness of my senses, like the melting of snow, I see a pathway. If only one can believe in such an openness that exceeds beyond the very limits of the mind’s logical structures, it is here the key to the imagination lies. Entering beyond the threshold of a presupposed reality. It is here one can experience and embrace the music of silence of the in-between.

In nature one can see this silent space as it signals a silent language to us. Sometimes we care to listen, and sometimes we do not. By embracing the silence with all one’s senses, the signals of wind, air, rain or snow quietly starts to convey a message.

Speaking a language that is not a language of logic, but a language of senses. Just as the poetic passage reveals itself, I can enter into the quietness of a fleeting language of the in-between. Transparency exists in the realm of imagination and the inner light of beauty shines through into a connected understanding of inner and outer reality.

I can relate this notion of transparency to Susan Sontag who writes in, against interpretation, p.13;

“Transparence is the highest, most liberating value in art- and in criticism- today. Transparence means experiencing the luminousness of the thing in itself, of things being what they are”.

Her understanding of experiencing transparency can relate to the in-between notion of the language of one’s own senses. The nerve in everything surrounding one as life and death reveals itself through our own existence leading us to pathways that one can relate to.

Antonin Artauds later writings were unclassifiable as to genre and he switched between writing poems, essays and dramatic monologs. Susan Sontag writes in Antonin Artaud, Selected Writings about his texts;

“-give the impression of a man attempting to step out of his own skin. Passages of clear, if hectic, argument alternate with passages in which words are treated primarily as material (sound): they have a magical value.”
Antonin touches also upon the in-between space of the magical encounters and thresholds of his own inner and outer boundaries of language as he passes between genres and does not limit himself. Just as a painting or a drawing pass between each other, they also relate to each other through this open space of inter- connectedness. Understanding the appreciation of the flow of language between the textual and visual, I am therefore able to touch upon the fleeting sense of the freedom of space.

I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple tree
translucent in brightness.

(The Window, C.Milosz);

Notes # 8 september 2013

As I walk, jump from rock to rock along the shoreline; stopping; sitting down, lying and touching the different surfaces of the stones, I playfully connect to nature. Losing track of time as nature communicates to me and with me. Realizing that this ”play”, surprises me in a deeper sense of the word. As I escape into nature, I leave my words behind. The escape leads me to a connection that unfolds through an unconsciousness of being. My thoughts go beyond words. Words become more than words, a sort of intuitive stream of abstract thoughts. Unuttered thoughts that exist freely. In the same sense as nature exists. Beyond defined structures, and beyond defined limits. It is here I can connect to language, and at this point of connection, language becomes a live.

Understanding that this experience cannot be translated into words. No words alone can grasp the entirety of the experience. The unconscious thought is in a sense too pure in its form that a constructed word a lone would not be able to justify the experience in itself. Touching the ephemeral notion of existence, I can connect to the underlying harmony existing in the abstractness of nature. It fills me with a joy and wonder as my being is pulled into different directions. Like the wind, I become a part of the wind. Letting go of the concrete notion to follow a direction through a given structure. It is here that I can exist in the complexity and simplicity of the different directions leading to an intuitive understanding and connection to the dense and beautiful mysteries of life.

"back of the wind", unintended interpretations, acrylic and pencil, 50*60 cm, 2013

The free bird leaps


Notes # 9, october 2013

The process of creating a painting is a process of cohabitating. It is interesting to start by facing a classical dilemma of a pictorial operation: ” How to approach a canvas?” It is through the classical structured representation of painting that I am able to depart from my own paradigms of painterly articulations. The point of departure is the point where the canvas is no longer a canvas. The canvas and I disappear and dissolve into a realm of abstract questions and answers. Here being able move past ones own flight, towards different heights that stretch into different directions. The painting process becomes a way of moving, existing. Painting becomes a complex space, where one exist through the painting’s encounters that change continuously out and in from eyesight. Sensing an absence of a presence. It is a viewing of a visual map, of being both inside and outside simultaneously. The textual, non-textual, the visual and non-visual, the being-ness of my movements, all displace me from the static edges of the linear lines. There is no need to follow the definite or linear, I can move past the end, and the linear. Displaced and cut-off, a total freedom of space. Disappearing. Re-positioning and re-directing.

"Far away"

The world is bluer and of the earth

at night, when I sleep


"in Eden"

Ah! the sea!

might I but moor

to-night in thee!


Intuition. The painting becomes a live and the dialog begins. Dislocated from representation, I become a part of the painting, in-between and transparent. Here I can stand still at the edge of a painterly gesture, a line, and listen to the silence, jumping into the unstructured chaos of my thoughts and feelings. It is here in this space I am able to come to terms with my own language that stretches beyond definite words and images.

"panta rhei I" & "panta rhei II"

It becomes a landscape with no borders. A handwriting that doesn’t write, but still can be easily sensed in a reflexive intuitive manner. It cohabitates a multi-sensorial abstract space. Becoming a live intuitively, it exists and connects, and I can understand why writing is not always writing, but an open question and answer to a map without definite viewable lines that moves beyond the question of “what remains?”

"Invisible mending I"

Process notes November # 2013 art as sharing space

Is it possible to live a life sideways stepping out of a fixed linear thought? Is it possible to mend together dissolved identities or obsolete words by creating a space that makes sense in the spacing, the “being-with”(Nancy) others in a space? For instance, does a finished painting visualizing a rethinking of space become a visual representation of the indeterminate of aporia? Is it possible to step aside and understand how to think the infinite as an opening of the finite? In this space is it possible to develop a sense of sharing through the sense of openness of space through our notion of visibility as blindness of visibility through the painting becoming visible? Or through the notions of Derrida’s “arrivant”, as the impossible becoming possible? The painting becomes indeterminate, showing vulnerability of human existence. In the flow of a creative process, the subtle space is a flow of pure infinity, a silent passage evolves leading the way to our interconnectedness as sharing becomes possible through this very sense of space. The energy transmits between the painting and viewer, leaving traces of our sharing space that steps out of rigid, structured linear patterns.

In this intimate space, alienation does not exist rather a shared potentiality of our own transcendence and possibilities extend beyond space and time. In this space, we can hopefully enjoy the infinite goodness of life. Like the structure of a stone becoming a boundary- less reality where one can dissolve as a porous material with it, showing a language that circulates freely, a mode of expression that challenges exclusions. Exploring our imagination and rediscovering life through escaping into the vast openness and seeing the possibility of change releases a hope in any structures and un-structures of language. Like an unseen sea of living beings, letting go of separation and exclusion, showing us to go beyond blindness into an intimate and subtle experience leaving behind traces of both the visible and invisible showing us to trust others through sharing the space of “being-with”.

Process notes February 2014: “The hour of the star”

“Do you know what I really want to be? A movie star…Did you know that Marilyn Monroe was the color of peaches?”…”What makes you think that you’ve got the face or body to become a film star?”-c.l.

The canvas shows a visible structure that reminds of the way one can view a person’s outer structure, the edge of the sea, or a mountain from a distance. It is there in front of one, a physical, structure outside. I can see its outer lines showing its structure like an external preconceived definition. My sight defines what I see. It is similar to a shell and inside, it is filled with its own meaning of inner space. What can be revealed underneath the structures or beyond the structures? What can a canvas reveal beyond its own structures? Starting with a blank canvas, one can reject it straight away. Simply focusing on its limitations. Or one can acknowledge the canvas for what it is and what it may posses. What is underneath the shell’s structure? The realization of what lies within is a moment of redemption.

As I ski down the mountain I realize how the space underneath my skis turn into an undefined abstract space. The distant structures of the mountain disappear as I move into a flow of sharpened senses as the edges of my skis carve a fine line. Revealing a new line each time, as the painting becomes alive and the structures of the canvas disappear, the lines and colors appear. Just as the distant edges of the sea disappear, when entering into the sea, the sea reveals its unknown depths that only appear as one dives into the water, understanding the structure of the sea and the abundance of free and abstract space within it.

It is here in this space I can sense and feel the liminal energy between the visual and textual language. It is a way of communicating. Seeing the thin underlying visible and invisible threads that hold a structure together. Like music, a written text can transform into both a visible and invisible thread and interweave into my own understanding of a visual abstract language through painting, drawing or installations. The textual and visual spheres remain interconnected with an abstract space. It is here in this space boundaries between the visual and textual language are erased and I am able to acknowledge a liminal space of existence.

“always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.” e.e.c.

It is in this space I can connect to my own abstract visual vocabulary through an open and free liminal space of both visible and invisible threads that connect and release the structures of a written vocabulary within. Like our own interconnectedness to nature, an underlying cycle of life revealing its abundant, inner beauty.

“For in the hour of death you become a celebrated film star, it is a moment of glory for everyone, when the choral music scales the top notes.” –c.l.

This interconnectedness reveals the hidden secrets of life and mysteries of being a live, feeling a deep compassion. Compassion to both the visible and invisible; revealing the liminal energies in us all and the true beauty of existence.

“Star with a thousand pointed rays” c.l.


Process notes # april :Narrations of indeterminacy

”What chaos and rhythm have in common is the in-between- between two milieus, rhythm-chaos or the chaosmos. ” (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987:313)

un-noted III

(acrylic, oilsticks, pencil on linen, 150*150 cm, 2014, unintended interpretations #)

the bells were ringing without making any sound.


The awareness of the ephemeral and fleetingness of nature can be perceived underneath the visible surface of an artwork. As I view a drawing, the nature of it can be viewed through both an outer and inner openness to its mysterious depths. Just as one creates an artwork, it evolves through an intertwined string of webs, interdependent and trans-connected, like a rhizome. It spreads out through the moment of creation and develops into an illuminating surface of both invisible and visible passages showing me both the ephemeral and continuity of being.

from ardor #

(acrylic, pencil on linen, 50*40 cm, 2014)

the white whale of the world

Dragged me down to its pit.


“Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away—an ephemeral apparition. When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.” (Carl Jung,1963: 4)

unintended interpretations #

untitled #

(pencil, acrylic on paper, 25*25 cm, 2014)

Repairing a spider’s web is like repairing the impermenant. For as I create, the untranslatable and the indeterminacy of the passing creative moment always eludes any form of translation or determinacy, remaining therefore endlessly in its own flux. I can try to paint over or erase my colors or lines, but the mysterious world underneath the surface always remains. The rhizome never ends.

un-noted IV

(acrylic, oilstick, pencil on linen, 100*80 cm, 2014)

“It is not down in any map; true places never are." –Moby Dick

untitled #

(pencil, acrylic on paper, 25*25 cm, 2014)

I draw, similarly to the way I move physically, becoming both an invisible and visible player. I jump; forward, backward, in-between, and around as I draw intuitively letting go of structures. My pencil and I are one. Moving with the other players. Only seeing clearly when I become a part of my movement that I don’t see, yet sensing and feeling the transmittable energy. It is the energy that attracts me and the game is not about winning. Sensing and feeling the beauty and compassion of the other players within and without the self, that transmits energy in an endless flux. No longer experiencing resistance but experiencing the overwhelming energy that reflects beauty and illumination.

untitled #

(pencil, acrylic on paper, 25*25 cm, 2014)

The drawing illuminates through its own presence, showing that the encounter of the beyond, the in-between and the sublime is not about looking for the beautiful, or winning, but being born from and with the understanding of the essence of beauty. The stubborn quest of merely winning dissolves into the horizon as it passes into hidden revelations of a liminal, in-between space that is non-locatable.

The creative act of drawing shows me the pureness and fragility of a line revealing not the see-able line, or the dotted points of a map, but the valuable other light that can only be seen through our senses, illuminating us with the pure essence of a transmittable energy. A constant flow; like a rhizome; eternal and endless. It is here, never pinned down to a map of borders that I can hear and see, and where the drawing becomes a live.

“Censor the body and you censor breath and speech at the same time. Write yourself. Your body must be heard.” –H. Cixous

invisible rhizome I.

(acrylic, pencil on linen, 100*80 cm, 2014, unintended interpretations #)

When something’s let go of, it circles;

and though we are
 rarely the center
 of the circle,

it draws around us its unbroken,



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