Line Grön

The corner in a sculpture, the paper as an end to relate to. I examine paper, paint, clay and glue. The material, the word. I weave in clues both to the viewer, and to myself. The characters are present the entire time: the blue clown, the twin snail, the cathedral square. Between the reality and the myth, between the everyday and the saga, is the space in which I exist. An illegible map in which I think I find clues. A map of what I think about, and what is. Also what is not. The viewer walks around among the works and follows a type of history – it is an unformulated history, and perhaps will remain one.

There is a rhythm in the rows. Thing after thing after thing. I line up the boxes, the scraps of paper, the paints, and they come back to me in a new guise. The rows are a repetition and simultaneously the beginning, the end, and the middle.