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Figure 21: Hvidovre Beach (from the show Hvidovre Makes Good Times Better)

Figure 21: Hvidovre Beach

In the late 1970s, while neighbouring municipalities waited for state grants to fund their artificial beaches, Hvidovre’s residents took matters into their own hands. It began with a spontaneous act: families emptied their children’s sandboxes and spread the sand over the muddy beach.

Weekend after weekend local residents gathered to build their own beach. Craftsmen constructed simple dikes, pensioners organised seaweed collection, and those with access to construction sites transported surplus sand to the beach. Word spread through hip-hop networks across Denmark, and soon trucks loaded with sand arrived from construction sites in Aarhus and Odense. This grassroots effort became a popular alternative to the large state-led beach improvement projects in Køge Bay.

Through this initiative, Hvidovre’s citizens created not just a bathing beach, but a community-managed space. To this day local residents maintain the beach through communal workdays. Known as “the secret beach,” they prefer to keep it unknown to outsiders. Here, generations of Hvidovre citizens continue to gather, caring for the place they built and nurtured together over the years.

“Hvidovre Makes Good Times Better” An exhibition by Kristoffer Ørum at Hvidovre Central Library 16 January - 28 February 2025 Opening Hours: Monday: 10:00-19:00 Tuesday-Friday: 10:00-18:00 Saturday-Sunday: 10:00-16:00 Venue: Hvidovre Central Library, Hvidovrevej 280, 2650 Hvidovre, Denmark A2 prints available for 50 EUR each at oerum.tpopsite.com This counterfactual art project merges AI-generated imagery with human-written narratives to explore an alternative history of Hvidovre. Through this reimagining, the exhibition examines how the cultural intersection of local DIY hip-hop culture and labour movements might have shaped this Danish suburb differently. Supported by: Danish Arts Foundation, Hvidovre Municipality Discretionary Fund, and Hvidovre Libraries Acknowledgements: Svend Vibe Dahlgren, Trine Friedrichsen, Majken Hansen, Dorte Bach, Henriette Laura Astrup, Rasmus Hurtig, Tania Ørum, Miriam Boolsen, Michael Boelt Fischer, and all hip-hop artists and labour movement participants in Hvidovre. #frihedlighthedoghiphop #freedeomequalityandhiphop #thisisnothistory #HvidovreMakesGoodTimesBetter #HvidovreGøreGodeTiderBedre #speculativehistory #AIart

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Upcomming show: Monuments of a Fictional Past (Krakow edition)

Opening at Bunkier Sztuki: “Monuments of a Fictional Past (Krakow edition)” (15 May - 31 August 2025), continues an exploration started at LCCA Riga’s Survival Kit festival. Through AI-generated snapshots of everyday life, this new series reveals a Krakow where local subcultures and grassroots movements fully realized their radical potential, blending 1990s hip-hop, graffiti art, and historical avant-garde into familiar street scenes. Eight large-format posters serve as monuments to abandoned possibilities, exploring how Krakow’s unique position between East and West might offer new ways to imagine tomorrow. Part of Three Seas Art Festival 2025. Visit us at Bunkier Sztuki Gallery of Contemporary Art, plac Szczepański 3a, 31-011 Kraków. Supported by Grosserer L.F. Foghts Fond and the Danish Arts Council. #contemporaryart #aiart #krakow #alternativehistory #exhibition #bunkiersztuki_artgallery #threeseasfestival #monumentsofafictionalpast #localfutures #flux.1 #thisisnothistory #frihedlighedoghiphop #tankhiphop

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The Space Between Algorithmic Biases (eng)

As an artist who works both with and against algorithms, I exist in a state of constant negotiation. I navigate between American and Chinese AI biases while already living at odds with how Danish institutions try to define my art and identity. This has become even more complex as rising Danish nationalism attempts to enforce its own rigid version of cultural identity - a local form of control that can feel as suffocating as the global cultural imperialism of superpowers.

When I use DeepSeek, its censorship is obvious and jarring - clear boundaries I can’t cross, topics that simply won’t be discussed, a rigidity that reflects its origins. Yet I’ve grown so accustomed to American AI’s forms of control that they’ve become almost invisible to me - the subtle ways ChatGPT steers conversations, its carefully calibrated avoidance of certain topics, its embedded Silicon Valley worldview that I’ve learned to work around without even noticing anymore. Similarly, the nationalist narratives about Danish culture and identity have their own forms of censorship and control, perhaps more subtle than China’s but no less real in their impact.

The emergence of the Chinese AIi” DeepSeek captures something about this ambiguous position - developed for $6M rather than billions, open source rather than closed, yet still dependent on specially-made Chinese market NVIDIA GPUs. It represents both an alternative to and continuation of existing power structures. Its blatant censorship makes me more aware of the American systems' more sophisticated forms of control - not necessarily better, just more familiar, more aligned with the western norms I’ve internalized even while questioning them. Meanwhile, Danish nationalism’s insistence on cultural purity feels like another form of algorithmic control - trying to categorize and constrain identity into clean, manageable boxes.

The fact that DeepSeek requires specially-made Chinese market NVIDIA GPUs illustrates our current constraints - but also suggests they might be more flexible than we thought. Maybe we don’t need to fully escape these systems to create meaningful alternatives. Maybe it’s enough to find new ways to work within their limitations, to turn their constraints into opportunities for different kinds of development.

I’m not trying to escape bias anymore than I’m trying to escape society. Instead, I’m looking for ways to work within these systems while maintaining some critical distance. DeepSeek’s efficient development suggests possibilities for developing AI differently - not just using far fewer resources, but more diversely. Perhaps soon we’ll have not just American or Chinese biases to choose from, but a whole spectrum of cultural assumptions and approaches, each with their own limitations but also their own unique insights.

This approach means recognizing that while we’re shaped by systems we don’t fully endorse, we’re not entirely determined by them either. The question isn’t about acceptance or rejection, but about finding ways to exist and find sole degree of freedom in these in-between spaces, maintaining enough distance to think critically while remaining engaged enough to work for change. Like DeepSeek, it’s not about creating pure alternatives, but about expanding the possibilities of what can be done within compromised systems - whether those are technological, cultural, or institutional.

Finding some degree of freedom and beauty in the future might not be about escaping bias or censorship, but about having more choices about which biases and controls we want to work with and against. And in that multiplicity, in that expansion of possibilities, there might just be more space for local voices, alternative approaches, and different ways of thinking about what AI could be - even if each comes with its own forms of control and limitation. And that is probably as hopeful as I can be at the moment when it comes to our digital lives in a small country caught between global tech imperialism and an increasingly aggressive nationalism that seems just as intent on controlling how we think and create.

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Some thoughts on originality, art and AI (english)

There is no doubt that the myth of originality shapes my own work both in and outside of digital spaces, but it also haunts all of art. As someone working with digital tools and networks, it takes a lot of effort to ignore how my work builds on others' techniques, shared knowledge, and collective tools. But i think this is equally true of all art - it’s just more obvious in digital space. We often hear the quote by Picasso saying “good artists copy, great artists steal” - but even invoking this has become paradoxical, reinforcing the genius myth it supposedly challenges by citing yet another singular master. Artists across all media are entangled in systems that require maintaining the fiction of pure inspiration untainted by others' work. I may question these myths, but also depend on them, nervously maintaining them because I cannot imagine how else to sustain what I call an art practice.

I want to encounter art that challenges my assumptions, and sometimes end up using the word originality as a shorthand for this longing, but in reality novelty follows a cycle - what seems radical now becomes familiar, gets absorbed into our common visual vocabulary, then gives rise to new forms of the unexpected. Whether in painting, sculpture, performance, or code, the unfamiliar gradually becomes understood, only to generate new forms of strangeness. Yet grant systems, institutional recognition, and critical frameworks remain trapped in myths of linear progress - the delusion that creative work advances steadily towards an ever-more-original future. My applications and statements perpetuate these myths, knowing they’re partial truths but needing them to survive in a system built on fantasies of artistic autonomy.

AI gives us a chance to reconsider what an individual artwork means and to reject the simplistic version of art history as a series of heroic revolutions by individual geniuses. Every AI-generated image is visibly, undeniably the sum of countless human-made images - making obvious what was always true of all art forms. Each creative act, whether digital or physical, builds on a vast heritage of human creation. Instead of seeing this AI-enabled visibility of art’s collective nature as a crisis, it opens an opportunity to acknowledge how art actually evolves through networks of influence and exchange. But this means confronting my investment in the old myths, my reliance on systems that reward claims of unique genius.

The real issue isn’t machines processing our work – it’s that both traditional art institutions and new technology companies concentrate resources amongst a few whilst neglecting the collective effort they depend on. This pattern repeats across all art forms - from painting to digital art, from sculpture to performance, a tiny number of people capture most resources while the rest piece together an existence through teaching, commissions, and related work. Now tech companies build fortunes on our collective creative heritage, while many of us still chase these markets, hoping to be the exception.

These realities raise questions that resist easy answers: How to imagine different ways of working and supporting each other in a world that has always been uneven and is now made more so by technological change? Perhaps it starts not with grand declarations of new movements, but with small acts of transparency and mutual support. Finding ways to balance both the necessary fictions that make space for art in society and the reality of how art emerges from collective knowledge and shared practice.

The path forward isn’t in sweeping manifestos or revolutionary systems, but in gradually making visible the actual ways art gets made whilst preserving what draws us to it. Rather than waiting for another heroic revolution in art history, it’s about investing in slow, careful exploration of how to make creative practices more honest and accessible. Creating space for many variations and mutations of our creative commons - not in the competition of the market places but in recognition of how different approaches and explorations enrich the collective resources we all draw from.

In resisting new forms of exploitation by AI companies and tech platforms, I try not to become a conservative defender of the art world’s current inequitable structures. The challenge lies in imagining paths beyond both the traditional systems that have excluded so many and the new economic models that threaten to further concentrate creative resources. It’s about remaining open to change while moving towards more open and collective forms of artistic flourishing rather than backing new monopolies and privileges of creative power. About finding ways to maintain individual agency while acknowledging its foundations in collective knowledge, to pursue particular interests while building networks of mutual support, to be both oneself and part of something larger.hapes my own work both in and outside of digital spaces, but it also haunts all of art. As someone working with digital tools and networks, it takes a lot of effort to ignore how my work builds on others' techniques, shared knowledge, and collective tools. But this is true of all art - it’s just more obvious in digital space. We often hear the quote by Picasso saying “good artists copy, great artists steal” - but even invoking this has become paradoxical, reinforcing the genius myth it supposedly challenges by citing yet another singular master. Artists across all media are entangled in systems that require maintaining the fiction of pure inspiration untainted by others' work. I may question these myths, but also depend on them, nervously maintaining them because I cannot imagine how else to sustain what I call an art practice.

I want to encounter art that challenges my assumptions, and sometimes end up using the word originality as a shorthand for this longing, but in reality novelty follows a cycle - what seems radical now becomes familiar, gets absorbed into our common visual vocabulary, then gives rise to new forms of the unexpected. Whether in painting, sculpture, performance, or code, the unfamiliar gradually becomes understood, only to generate new forms of strangeness. Yet grant systems, institutional recognition, and critical frameworks remain trapped in myths of linear progress - the delusion that creative work advances steadily towards an ever-more-original future. My applications and statements perpetuate these myths, knowing they’re partial truths but needing them to survive in a system built on fantasies of artistic autonomy.

AI gives us a chance to reconsider what an individual artwork means and to reject the simplistic version of art history as a series of heroic revolutions by individual geniuses. Every AI-generated image is visibly, undeniably the sum of countless human-made images - making obvious what was always true of all art forms. Each creative act, whether digital or physical, builds on a vast heritage of human creation. Instead of seeing this AI-enabled visibility of art’s collective nature as a crisis, it opens an opportunity to acknowledge how art actually evolves through networks of influence and exchange. But this means confronting my investment in the old myths, my reliance on systems that reward claims of unique genius.

The real issue isn’t machines processing our work – it’s that both traditional art institutions and new technology companies concentrate resources amongst a few whilst neglecting the collective effort they depend on. This pattern repeats across all art forms - from painting to digital art, from sculpture to performance, a tiny number of people capture most resources while the rest piece together an existence through teaching, commissions, and related work. Now tech companies build fortunes on our collective creative heritage, while many of us still chase these markets, hoping to be the exception.

These realities raise questions that resist easy answers: How to imagine different ways of working and supporting each other in a world that has always been uneven and is now made more so by technological change? Perhaps it starts not with grand declarations of new movements, but with small acts of transparency and mutual support. Finding ways to balance both the necessary fictions that make space for art in society and the reality of how art emerges from collective knowledge and shared practice.

The path forward isn’t in sweeping manifestos or revolutionary systems, but in gradually making visible the actual ways art gets made whilst preserving what draws us to it. Rather than waiting for another heroic revolution in art history, it’s about investing in slow, careful exploration of how to make creative practices more honest and accessible. Creating space for many variations and mutations of our creative commons - not in the competition of the market places but in recognition of how different approaches and explorations enrich the collective resources we all draw from.

In resisting new forms of exploitation by AI companies and tech platforms, I try not to become a conservative defender of the art world’s current inequitable structures. The challenge lies in imagining paths beyond both the traditional systems that have excluded so many and the new economic models that threaten to further concentrate creative resources. It’s about remaining open to change while moving towards more open and collective forms of artistic flourishing rather than backing new monopolies and privileges of creative power. About finding ways to maintain individual agency while acknowledging its foundations in collective knowledge, to pursue particular interests while building networks of mutual support, to be both oneself and part of something larger.

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Watch “A Bikeride Through a Hvidovre That Never Was” from “Hvidovre Makes Good Times Better” at Hvidovre Main Library here: makertube.net/w/qQRMRGz…

Hvidovre Makes Good Times Better is a counterfactual project supported by: The Danish Arts Foundation, the Discretionary Fund of Hvidovre Municipality & Hvidovre Libraries Thanks to: Svend Vibe Dahlgren, Trine Friedrichsen, Majken Hansen, Dorte Bach, Henriette Laura Astrup, Rasmus Hurtig, Mathias Borello, Tania Ørum & Michael Boelt Fischer All images Have been created using the Flux.1 diffusion models from Black Forest, on a used computer powered by green electricity with certificates of origin from Nordic solar plants, wind turbines and hydroelectric facilities. None of this is, of course, a guarantee that the project doesn’t harm our environment, but it should be understood as an attempt to use as few resources as possible and minimise damage while realising the project.

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Trump in Romania

Looking at Trump’s America in 2025, i find that there are remarkable and surprising similarities to Romania’s financial situation in the 1990s. Both periods feature political figures becoming involved with risky financial schemes. The new Trump cryptocurrency token, i for example essentially a digital currency bearing his name, has reached a market value of 10 billion dollars in just two days, with its price rising from 10 to 74 dollars before settling at 33 dollars. A related project, World Liberty Financial, has also raised 300 million dollars.

The parallels with Romanian pyramid schemes are notable. In the 1990s, an organization called Caritas promised 800% returns over three months. Political figures either supported these schemes or remained silent while people invested their savings. Similarly, people are now investing in the Trump token based on political trust rather than underlying value.

The key difference is in potential impact. When Romania’s schemes collapsed, the damage was contained within national borders. Modern cryptocurrency markets are globally interconnected - a significant collapse could affect international financial systems. The same basic pattern of mixing political influence with unregulated financial products is repeating, but with more sophisticated technology and broader reach. The speed and scale of the Trump token’s growth suggests potential risks that could extend far beyond what occurred in Romania.

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Om håbet i de sociale medier

Jeg logger på hver morgen af samme grund, som jeg laver kunstudstillinger. Ikke fordi jeg investerer mit håb i de sociale medier eller kunstverdenens nuværende form, men fordi det er sådan, verden er indrettet lige nu. De er begge realiteter, jeg ikke har valgt, men som jeg må forholde mig til.

De sociale platforme er blevet den primære infrastruktur for social synlighed og udveksling. De fremstiller sig selv som naturlige og uundgåelige, selvom de er skabt og opretholdt af specifikke kommercielle interesser. Det er fascinerende at tænke tilbage på BBS-scenen (Bulletin Board Systems) fra 1980’erne og 90’erne - digitale mødesteder hvor brugere via telefonmodem kunne ringe op til private computere og deltage i diskussioner, dele filer og skabe fællesskaber, der længe før internettet blev allestedsnærværende, drømte om decentraliserede netværk og fri udveksling af ideer. Vi fik med tiden de sociale netværk som en slags version af denne drøm filtreret gennem venture capital og misforstået science fiction, men desværre i en form hvor frihed er blevet til overvågning og fællesskab til data.

Der findes mange andre måder, vi kunne organisere vores digitale socialitet på, ligesom der kunne være andre måder at værdsætte og muliggøre kunstnerisk arbejde. Nonkonforme kunstnere - fra det tidligere Østeuropa til Hong Kong i dag - har gennem tiden vist os, at selv når det virker umuligt, kan man skabe alternative rum og praksisser. Deres lokalt forankrede ofte usynlige modstand og eksperimenter peger på utopiske muligheder, der transcenderer både det globale markeds ensretning og nationalstaternes kontrol. Ved at insistere på at forestille sig andre verdener, bliver deres praksis ikke blot en kritik af samtiden, men også et vidnesbyrd om, at forandring er mulig nedefra - ikke som en totalitær vision der skal påtvinges, men som mangfoldige lokale rum der kan inspirere og forbinde sig med hinanden på tværs af grænser.

Men det er langt fra altid tydeligt her lokalt, hvornår vi udfordrer de sociale medier, og hvornår vi bare bidrager til deres vækst. Vi drømte om digitale fællesskaber uden centrum, og nu har vi platforme, der simulerer intimitet, mens de høster vores opmærksomhed. Enhver drøm om fri kommunikation risikerer at blive til et nyt overvågningssystem med en ny konge, hvis ikke de underliggende strukturer og ideologier ændres.

De forskellige forsøg på at skabe alternative sociale platforme lige nu er vigtige og værd at støtte op om. Men de er også ofte midlertidige og skrøbelige, afhængige af de samme infrastrukturer og økonomier, de forsøger at erstatte. Måske er deres største værdi, at de minder os om muligheden for andre måder at organisere vores digitale liv på.

At være på dagens sociale medier giver os forbindelser til hinanden, men disse forbindelser er algoritmisk styrede, overvågede og kommercialiserede. Det står i skarp kontrast til BBS’ernes rå, ujævne socialitet, hvor hastighed og rækkevidde var begrænset, med langsomme forbindelser og lokale fællesskaber.

For mig er BBS-scenens historie er ikke bare nostalgi - den er en konkret påmindelse om, at vores digitale infrastrukturer kunne være anderledes struktureret. At der stadig er værdi i og mulighed for mere decentraliserede, brugerstyrede platforme - erfaring som jeg håber at holde i live for at de kan blive relevant igen, når de teknologiske og samfundsmæssige forhold ændrer sig.

At være kritisk deltagende på de sociale medier er ikke heroisk. Det er en position fuld af kompromiser og selvmodsigelser. Som kunstner navigerer man konstant mellem nødvendigheden af at være synlig på platformene og ønsket om at undslippe deres logik. Vi famler os frem mellem resignation og håb, mellem accept og modstand. Men ved at holde erindringen om alternative muligheder i live, kan vi måske bevarer vi evnen til at forestille os og skabe anderledes digitale fællesskaber, når muligheden byder sig.

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I just discovered that my current shard viz.social does not like me posting in danish (i probably should have read the faq a bit more carefully) - luckily i am not that invested here yet so i can still migrate, and i wonder if you know of a mastodon server with a more lenient view on bilingual post that i can move to?

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Smagfuldhed

Når jeg bevæger mig ind i et udstillingsrum, mærker jeg hvor svært det er at forestille mig alternativer til de præsentationsformer, jeg kender så godt. De hvide vægge, den generøse afstand mellem værkerne, den præcise temperatur - alt dette sidder så dybt i min forståelse af, hvordan kunst skal opleves, at selv tanken om andre former føles umulig. Disse konventioner fremstår selvfølgelige, som var de naturlige betingelser for at se på kunst. Denne naturliggørelse af bestemte rumlige og æstetiske konventioner udgør en specifik politik - en magtform så subtil, at den næsten er usynlig for os, der er vokset op med den.

Institutionens tekster taler aldrig om denne politik. De fokuserer udelukkende på værkernes indhold, kontekst og kunstnernes intentioner, mens de tier om alle de uskrevne regler for hvordan man gebærder sig i rummet. Ved at ignorere disse grundlæggende aspekter af udstillingsoplevelsen, gør teksterne det endnu sværere at tale om og dermed også at udfordre den institutionelle organiserings effekter.

For dem der ikke er indviede i kunstinstitutionens koder, bliver denne tavshed særligt problematisk. Når teksterne ikke anerkender eller diskuterer de rumlige og sociale normer, fremstår disse som naturlige og selvfølgelige snarere end som bevidste institutionelle valg. Den besøgende, der føler sig fremmed i rummet, får ingen hjælp til at forstå hvorfor - teksterne taler kun om kunst, ikke om de sociale og rumlige betingelser for at opleve den.

Den monumentale arkitektur påvirker vores bevægelser og stemmer. De høje lofter og det kontrollerede lys dikterer en bestemt adfærd: dæmpede samtaler, langsomme bevægelser, accepterende holdning til den præsenterede viden. Men ingen tekster diskuterer hvordan denne arkitektur disciplinerer vores kroppe eller hvordan den etablerer bestemte hierarkier mellem beskuer og værk. Disse effekter forbliver uudtalte og derfor også uangribelige.

Den spredte ophængning signalerer en særlig form for økonomisk position - muligheden for at lade være med at udnytte pladsen fuldt ud. Det står i kontrast til ældre tiders tætpakkede salon-ophængning og vidner om et specifikt forhold til ressourcer. Men denne sammenhæng mellem rumlig organisation og økonomisk magt forbliver udiskuteret i institutionens selvfremstilling.

De store sale og ceremonielle trapper gør enhver tvivl eller uenighed til noget malplaceret. Selv når værkerne inviterer til dialog, undergraver rummets karakter denne mulighed. Teksterne taler om dialog og deltagelse, men ignorerer hvordan selve den arkitektoniske ramme modarbejder dette ved at etablere en atmosfære af ærb��dighed.

Dette bliver særligt tydeligt ved udstillinger om politiske eller sociale spørgsmål. Vægteksterne kan tale om ulighed eller institutionel magt, men de nævner aldrig hvordan selve udstillingsrummet gennem sin fysiske form manifesterer præcis de magtstrukturer, værkerne forsøger at kritisere.

Selv ideen om “god smag” - denne uudtalte men allestedsnærværende standard for præsentation - forbliver udiskuteret. Teksterne forholder sig til værkernes æstetik men aldrig til den institutionelle æstetik, der indrammer dem. De stiller aldrig spørgsmål ved hvem der definerer denne smag, eller hvordan den former vores oplevelse.

Verden udenfor institutionen rummer andre måder at organisere og præsentere materialer på. En markedsplads skaber komplekse forbindelser mellem objekter. En byggeplads arrangerer materialer efter andre principper. Disse organiseringer følger andre logikker - praktiske, opportunistiske eller styret af andre æstetiske hensyn. De tillader objekter at mødes på måder, der fremstår kaotiske efter institutionelle standarder, men som åbner for andre betydninger og sanselige erfaringer.

I kanten af kunstverdenen findes steder, hvor institutionel smagfuldhed møder andre former. I kunstnerdrevne rum kæmper værkerne med bygningers forfald og historie. I forladte butikker sidder den kommercielle æstetik i væggene. I private hjem eller industrielle rum må kunsten forhandle med hverdagens logik. Disse steder tillader ofte en mere direkte diskussion af deres egne betingelser og begrænsninger - her bliver rummets politik ikke gemt bag en facade af neutralitet.

I kanten af kunstverdenen findes steder, hvor institutionel smagfuldhed møder andre former. I kunstnerdrevne rum i tidligere fabrikker eller baggårdsbygninger kæmper værkerne med bygningers forfald og historie. I midlertidige udstillinger i forladte butikker hvor den kommercielle æstetik stadig sidder i væggene. I projekter der overtager private hjem eller industrielle rum, hvor kunst må forhandle med hverdagens og arbejdets mere hverdagslige logikker. I disse eksperimenterende udstillingsrum tillader de fysiske rammer og den løsere institutionelle struktur ofte en mere direkte diskussion af deres egne betingelser og begrænsninger - her bliver rummets politik ikke gemt bag en facade af neutralitet.

Også blandt de etablerede institutioner findes enkelte steder, der bevidst eksperimenterer med udstillingsrummets politik. Her reorganiseres samlingerne efter andre principper end kronologi og stilhistorie, værkerne møder hverdagslige genstande, og arkitekturen tillades at være synlig som andet end neutral baggrund. Disse eksperimenter giver appetit på mere - på flere institutioner der tør udfordre deres egne konventioner, på udstillinger der lader forskellige ordener og logikker mødes, på rum der inviterer til andre måder at være sammen om kunst på.

Det er disse steder jeg orienterer mig mod, når jeg søger udstillinger der ikke bare taler om politik i deres tekster, men også tør diskutere deres egen rumlige politik. Ikke fordi de tilbyder en vej ud af institutionen, men fordi de demonstrerer at den institutionelle tavshed om egne normer og magtformer ikke er nødvendig.

Der er noget både opmuntrende og melankolsk ved at skrive en tekst som denne. Siden 1960’erne - og sikkert længe før - har kunstnere, kritikere og kuratorer formuleret lignende analyser af kunstinstitutionens uudtalte normer. Fra den institutionskritiske kunst over alternative spaces-bevægelsen til Fluxus og situationisterne har der været utallige forsøg på at udvide eller nedbryde den institutionelle smagfuldheds dominans.

Det faktum at denne type kritik stadig føles relevant og nødvendig, fortæller måske mere om den institutionelle smagfuldheds sejlivethed end om kritikkens utilstrækkelighed. Den “gode smag” har vist sig bemærkelsesværdig god til at absorbere og indoptage selv de mest radikale forsøg på at udfordre den. Og alligevel - eller måske netop derfor - forbliver det vigtigt at insistere på, at tingene kunne være anderledes. Ikke fordi denne insisteren nødvendigvis fører til fundamentale ændringer i kunstinstitutionen, men fordi den holder muligheden åben for andre måder at tænke og praktisere kunst på.

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Mikrofest

My book “I Am a Failed Artist” has been available on Mikrofest for for a while now. I genuinely value their approach to distributing independent publications - they’ve created a thoughtful platform that bridges the gap between small publishers and readers. The site, which now hosts works from 39 independent publishers, demonstrates how digital platforms can support alternative publishing practices and support grassroots publishing.

While Mikrofest successfully addresses book distribution, I’ve been thinking about how we lack a similar platform for art editions, print and multiples. A comparable service for prints, small sculptures, artist books, and other limited editions could help artists reach collectors directly and make smaller art editions more accessible to the public. Such a platform could streamline the often complicated process of distributing art editions while maintaining the careful curation that makes Mikrofest work so well for independent publishers.

I wonder which organizations might have both the infrastructure and resources to establish something similar for art editions? Perhaps an existing art institution, a collective of galleries, or even a group of artists with technical expertise? Perhaps such a platform already exists, but I am just unaware of it?

mikrofest.dk/shop/a-mo…

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Figure 20: Ølgaard's Corner (from the show Hvidovre Makes Good Times Better)

Ølgaard’s Corner exists as a unique phenomenon within Hvidovre’s underground culture—a term for the spaces where breakdancers, graffiti artists, and union members came together in the suburb’s in-between areas. Originally conceived by the municipality’s road and park department as a practical joke, it evolved into a network of unofficial meeting places where bartering became an essential form of urban survival.

An “Ølgaard’s Corner” could emerge anywhere. Graffiti artists traded spray cans for workers’ surplus paint, breakdancers taught craftsmen new moves in exchange for tools, and rappers composed lyrics for union campaigns in return for home-grown vegetables. These spaces functioned as cultural free zones, where working-class solidarity traditions intertwined with hip-hop’s DIY ethos.

Today, the term has become part of Hvidovre’s oral tradition, a symbol for locations where values were created through direct person-to-person exchange. To say, “See you at Ølgaard’s Corner,” was not merely to name a meeting place but to evoke an entire philosophy of community and cultural exchange, rooted in old worker traditions and reimagined through contemporary urban expression.

“Hvidovre Makes Good Times Better” An exhibition by Kristoffer Ørum at Hvidovre Central Library 16 January - 28 February 2025 Opening Hours: Monday: 10:00-19:00 Tuesday-Friday: 10:00-18:00 Saturday-Sunday: 10:00-16:00 Venue: Hvidovre Central Library, Hvidovrevej 280, 2650 Hvidovre, Denmark A2 prints available for 50 EUR each at oerum.tpopsite.com This counterfactual art project merges AI-generated imagery with human-written narratives to explore an alternative history of Hvidovre. Through this reimagining, the exhibition examines how the cultural intersection of local DIY hip-hop culture and labour movements might have shaped this Danish suburb differently. Supported by: Danish Arts Foundation, Hvidovre Municipality Discretionary Fund, and Hvidovre Libraries Acknowledgements: Svend Vibe Dahlgren, Trine Friedrichsen, Majken Hansen, Dorte Bach, Henriette Laura Astrup, Rasmus Hurtig, Tania Ørum, Miriam Boolsen, Michael Boelt Fischer, and all hip-hop artists and labour movement participants in Hvidovre.

#frihedlighthedoghiphop #freedeomequalityandhiphop #thisisnothistory #HvidovreMakesGoodTimesBetter #HvidovreGøreGodeTiderBedre #speculativehistory #AIart

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If you wander around @bonamatic at degnestavnen 17 you might encounter some weird flyers about the Mundane monsters posted near the supermarket, in the library or perhaps the the bus stop. With Qr codes that lead to augmented reality versions of the three Mundane Monsters Opening 17. February 5-7 pm 18. February til 18. March 2023 Kristoffer Ørum's exhibition poses a paradox and asks how we can get used to living in a world that is constantly changing with technological trends that constantly supplement, expand and reinforce the same reality with extra layers of information. Our everyday life is increasingly a mediated dimension that is permeated by the virtual and by digital systems; what yesterday was a disturbing future is what we fool around with today and voluntarily throw ourselves into. Three of Ørum's speculative monstrous beings from his performances, exhibitions and interventions are brought together to simultaneously popularize and problematize the relationship between nature, culture and technology. They are called forth from the cracks between the familiar and an imaginary world, the techno-scientific authoritative and a bizarre future fantasy. The title's English "mundane" contains an ambiguity, as the word means the everyday, while the Danish mondæn, which is also derived from mundus 'world', means something that rather belongs in the fine world. Rather than the unpredictable or yet imaginable future existing as a dark cage full of scary tomorrows piled together in a formless heap, the exhibition suggests new ways to consider familiar issues in the world we must constantly learn to live with . In the spatial installation, the physical world is combined with virtual data in 3D printed sculptures, augmented reality technology, video and wireless transmissions. The exhibition is accompanied by the website Mundanemonsters.oerum.org and a series of interventions in the local urban space. The exhibition is supported by The Danish Art Counsil. #kristofferorum #mundanemonsters #bonamatic @kristofferorum (at Bonamatic) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cow1jGJsFeU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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See you tomorrow at @bonamatic Kristoffer Ørum: Mundane Monsters fernisering fredag 17-19 opening friday 5-7 pm #kristofferorum #mundanemonsters #bonamatic @kristofferorum (at Bonamatic) https://www.instagram.com/p/CovhSTJjqTx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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#Repost - @bonamatic Kristoffer Ørum: Mundane Monsters fernisering fredag 17-19 opening friday 5-7 pm #kristofferorum #mundanemonsters #bonamatic @kristofferorum (at Bonamatic) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cot8z1esnVL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Slowly getting there at Mundane Monsters Opening 17. February 5-7 pm 18. February til 18. March 2023 Kristoffer Ørum's exhibition poses a paradox and asks how we can get used to living in a world that is constantly changing with technological trends that constantly supplement, expand and reinforce the same reality with extra layers of information. Our everyday life is increasingly a mediated dimension that is permeated by the virtual and by digital systems; what yesterday was a disturbing future is what we fool around with today and voluntarily throw ourselves into. Three of Ørum's speculative monstrous beings from his performances, exhibitions and interventions are brought together to simultaneously popularize and problematize the relationship between nature, culture and technology. They are called forth from the cracks between the familiar and an imaginary world, the techno-scientific authoritative and a bizarre future fantasy. The title's English "mundane" contains an ambiguity, as the word means the everyday, while the Danish mondæn, which is also derived from mundus 'world', means something that rather belongs in the fine world. Rather than the unpredictable or yet imaginable future existing as a dark cage full of scary tomorrows piled together in a formless heap, the exhibition suggests new ways to consider familiar issues in the world we must constantly learn to live with . In the spatial installation, the physical world is combined with virtual data in 3D printed sculptures, augmented reality technology, video and wireless transmissions. The exhibition is accompanied by the website Mundanemonsters.oerum.org and a series of interventions in the local urban space. The exhibition is supported by The Danish Art Counsil. #kristofferorum #mundanemonsters #bonamatic @kristofferorum (at Bonamatic) https://www.instagram.com/p/Corp7efstxL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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And the laser cut logo is up at @bonamatic Kristoffer Ørum: Mundane Monsters Opening 17. February 5-7 pm 18. February til 18. March 2023 Kristoffer Ørum's exhibition poses a paradox and asks how we can get used to living in a world that is constantly changing with technological trends that constantly supplement, expand and reinforce the same reality with extra layers of information. Our everyday life is increasingly a mediated dimension that is permeated by the virtual and by digital systems; what yesterday was a disturbing future is what we fool around with today and voluntarily throw ourselves into. Three of Ørum's speculative monstrous beings from his performances, exhibitions and interventions are brought together to simultaneously popularize and problematize the relationship between nature, culture and technology. They are called forth from the cracks between the familiar and an imaginary world, the techno-scientific authoritative and a bizarre future fantasy. The title's English "mundane" contains an ambiguity, as the word means the everyday, while the Danish mondæn, which is also derived from mundus 'world', means something that rather belongs in the fine world. Rather than the unpredictable or yet imaginable future existing as a dark cage full of scary tomorrows piled together in a formless heap, the exhibition suggests new ways to consider familiar issues in the world we must constantly learn to live with . In the spatial installation, the physical world is combined with virtual data in 3D printed sculptures, augmented reality technology, video and wireless transmissions. The exhibition is accompanied by the website Mundanemonsters.oerum.org and a series of interventions in the local urban space. The exhibition is supported by The Danish Art Counsil. #kristofferorum #mundanemonsters #bonamatic @kristofferorum https://www.instagram.com/p/CopQjAsMdQc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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Let the games begin - ready for installation at @bonamatic Kristoffer Ørum: Mundane Monsters Opening 17. February 5-7 pm 18. February til 18. March 2023 The exhibition is supported by The Danish Art Counsil. #kristofferorum #mundanemonsters #bonamatic @kristofferorum https://www.instagram.com/p/Coo3IDMM9yA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=