Underskog

Tommy Olsson – Dead Sexy

Friday at 7:00pm – November 7 at 3:00pm

Rod Bianco Gallery

Tordenskioldsgate 5

Oslo, Norway

It’s only when you are capable of inflicting wounds on yourself so you can serve as a warning to others, but also to dwell on and expose the beauty of this pain. It’s about losing. It’s about fading out. It’s about giving in. It’s about strength. It’s about not losing what you had before you put yourself above everything and everyone. It’s about teaming up with the ones that dagbladet.no tells you to look down on. It’s about ign…oring. And about making something else. It’s about feeling shame and embracing it and getting over it. It’s about knowing you’re gonna die and talk about it. It’s about how beautiful YOUR SKIN is. It’s about not believing but knowing. It’s a conversation with a god you don’t believe exists. It’s about tearing down and reassembling a near impossible form that would collapse if you touched it with your breath. It’s about lying down crying and knowing that no one else can see your pathetic teenage display even if you somehow still want them to, but for someone to actually see this – is a scenario beyond the scope of your imagination. It’s about it taking place, coming into being, even if it’s crap. It’s about giving a gift the person you gave it to won’t realize he needed until years, maybe decades later. It’s about losing your mind. No. Erasing your mind. All gone. It’s about working together on nothing and seeing it become something. It’s about being the worst in order to be the best in order to become the worst again. It’s about dynamics and about just hearing the clicking from your keyboard. That’s why you’re doing it. It’s about your father, your children, all the people you fucked, who shaped you and robbed you and gave you way too much. More than you can handle. It’s about hanging in. It’s about yoga, and zen, but also some vague recollection of a theory you once rejected, lost, gambled away. Because the situation you’re in cannot be organized. It’s too messy. It stinks, it winks, it waves, it holds you back. And it rhymes, and slimes. It’s about how time is not a healer, but a wielder of the weapon that inflicts your wounds. It’s about life not being a Nintendo game (unless you’re on acid). It’s about standing tall, taking the blame. It’s about preferring to be hated on rather than loved for being someone you are not. It’s banal. It’s narrow. It’s hopeless. It’s real. It’s both a denier and a maker of illusions. It has opinions that are plainly wrong. And it distances itself from everything but embraces it all at the same time. It’s about having the guts to fill that page. Just for the hell of it. It’s about pausing to think and realize that you don’t have IT anymore. And then not do till you get it back. It’s about showing. And toiling. And pissing on your context. It’s about Golems falling apart and getting rebuilt. It’s circus. And bread. It’s really about everything. It is about everything. You can’t really take it anymore. But you keep going. And you like it. In fact you’re loving it. Because it’s DEAD SEXY.

- Kristian Skylstad