My Hole


It’s just like when I went for a gastroscopy, although an aweful lot has been happening since then.

This is my hole. It´s in the form of how I felt then.

I have no idea how all this stuff got here, but that doesn’t actually make any difference now. And it’s not possible to sit on your secrets for ever.

This isn’t exactly my “treasure house”, more a sort of potting shed where my works are created. I´m always slightly embarassed about it, just as I am when I take a quick look into the loo before flushing, but that’s how it is ... whether I have something to be ashamed about or not. But now, at any rate, I have decided to show you what is happening inside me.

Down there, deep inside me, in about the same spot where things find a place for themselves around me without asking to be especially censured.

I sometimes get angry, of course, like everyone else and so now I´ve decided to do something about my hole, but without really planning the outcome.

I also wanted to see what would happen if someone decided to “act like the weather” and let rip. This isn’t domestic violence – I was completely alone when I did this – and no one got hurt in the process.

What you see hre is a reflection: how a person with an Icelandic social security number like me looks in the year of Our Lord 2002.

If you look long enough, it is also possible to see glints of yourself there, but that doesn’t really make any difference now.


This is a cast of my feelings. What you see in here are the things which I still have not succeeded in getting rid of, but which I can’t be bothered to hide any more. I have simply finished rebuilding what happened in my hole the other day. You have to get away. I then brought all the stuff here. A great clear up. This isn’t throwing out or even throwing up though. My stomach feels great now, incidentally, and that’s really important. I hope, all the same, that it doesn’t smell as that wasn’t part of my intention.

I love you all.