Ane Henriksen

A.H. translated by Patrica Ryan

My pictures are, in a sense, like my skin - an expression of something vulnerable. I try to contain the world around me and transform it to fit my reality - to a new kind of internal logic, a stillness. Repulsive yet appealing - aesthetics on the treshold of pain - searching with a mixture of doubt and conviction.

My humour fills so much, thoughts interrupt my concentration, I am confused and contradictory, which is perhaps why
I need to try to create silence. I spin around and around myself for ages before reaching the essence - or else I stand motionless like an animal on the scent, while countless nuances of sensitivity are filtered. How can I put wings to pain?

With emotion-bearing threads, I want to form a space, and the possibility of escape. I do not try to distract the viewer’s attention, but to call them to attention - and perhaps awaken them to wonder. I would like to sound quiet tones, whilst seeking to understand my world. I dream of embracing the world - not of convincing it. I shout quietly.