Máni Indigo

 

 

 

     Exhibition at Galleri Vasli, Nov 14 - Dec 03 

 

    

 

This is the time for every artist in every genre to do what he or she does loudly and consistently. It doesn't matter what your position is. You've got to keep asserting the complexity and the originality of life, and the multiplicity of it, and the facets of it. This is about being a complex human being in the world, not about finding a villain. This is no time for anything else than the best that you've got.

- Toni Morrison

// my sun and her flowers

   think of those flowers you plant

   in the garden each year

   they will teach you

   that people too

   must wilt

   fall

   root

   rise

   in order to bloom 

- rupi kaur

// awe

// the house in the forest part I

The red house in the forest became our home just when the clouds shifted and summer became autumn. We saw autumn as we've never seen it before. All this beauty. Like a welcoming gift from the forest to us. A reassurance that we were doing just fine moving our whole life out here. And we were. More than just fine.

Kjenne verden rundt meg stoppe opp i det hun legger de små hendene sine rundt broren sin og kysser han på ryggen. 

Hvile i at øyeblilkket som var, alt er over.

Images have their way of dissolving and then abruptly returning, pulling along the joy and pain attached to them like tin cans rattling from the back of an old-fashioned wedding vehicle.

- Patti Smith

When the light is blue, then turns soft and every little sound strikes you as more beautiful than you have ever heard before.

in all its stillness. the winterlight came and alba was there. in it.

Every morning at nine in the morning my grandmother sits in front of this mirror. Getting ready for the day to come she gets dressed, puts on make-up while listening to the radio.

She has a small tray full of perfumes, a silver comb and small boxes with earrings and rings. When I was a child I used to love sitting in front of this mirror, trying on her lipsticks, spraying perfume and feeling like a grown-up. Momme would always be in the room and start combing my hair. When I was about five years old I would complain to her that my hair was too dark, too black, that I wanted to be blonde like my friends. My grand mother would stop combing my hair, telling me my black hair is beautiful.

She still does. I'm soon to be 30 and last week she was combing my hair again. Telling me I'm lucky to have my black, long hair. Nothing has changed, time stands still in front of this mirror. And I like it.

I love photographing in the pink mirror room in my grand mother's house. There is something about the light, the pink curtains softening the whole room and making it warm.