“WEIRD VILLE, AKERSHUS.
Wrong move / Heaven and earth / Super States.
Tore Lyngseth / Unni Svaboe / Alex Bunn.
Transformer Art Hall, Asker.
Stands to 18 December.
A comfortable acceptance of his own oddity.
May I repeat what I have already repeated when I now seize what binds these three artists together to such an extent that I become directly uncomfortable to think of them as separate entities. For I have an annoying feeling that I noted the same phenomenon last time I was on Transformer art hall, and the question is whether it is a prediction this. Because if it is, it will be an interesting experience to see whether all the work ends up being colored by the institution as they come across the threshold, or whether the venue per se manages to generate a continuous undercurrent of poetic abundance by dividing up the premises in Artist a, b and c.
Thus, I do not know how it works, although I have spent most of my time to brood over it, but the lowest common denominator in this case seems to lie in a reclining and comfortable acceptance of that one simply is incredibly weird.
Tore Lyngseths severed finger the size of a femur, Unni Svabø’s obsession with mechanical toys and airships, and the extremely strange things of Alex Bunn (I’ve never seen anything like this, and neither have you) have this one commonality: a kind non-offensive, bordering psychotic integrity. It’s easy to like, while providing some distinct manifestations of discomfort. In the latter case, it is about huge photographs of material compositions that sets the conceptual framework deadlocked. Shapes and colors that are recognized, but nevertheless cannot be placed. Organic materials combined with silikonavstøpninger of – I’m guessing – inside the foam packaging around your newly purchased cassette player, or what’s left after you poked out parts for model airplane. That kind of thing.
Sometimes resembling the final score a slice of cake you would consider not eat, other times an undefined part of something much bigger, you have no idea what is. Nestled between Svabø intensely personal paintings and Lyngseths even more personalized pop art gone wrong, it also helps to reinforce what is already impossible to protect against. There are seriously weird stuff, that is.