Since moving to the country, I've been getting really into compost. The shapes and the colors, the quickly changing compositions and the radiating heat. Old and new are combined and recombined until they are suddenly something else entirely. Something rich, moist and monochromatic. The alchemy of soil.

Soil emerges from egg shells, garden weeds, stale bread, moldy crusts of cheese, fish bones, avocado pits, wood chips, wilting flowers, my children's half eaten plates of food, soggy black banana peels, and sad forgotten leftovers.

Artists' books, at their best, are a medium like no other. Piles of paper are transformed through repurposed obsolete office technology and the human hand into artworks in and of themselves. The container and content are one: accessible to both the creator and consumer. From seemingly nothing special emerges an affordable, intimate and tactile object that you can hold in your hands, stow away in your pocket or under an arm, and consume equally well in public or in utmost secrecy. What else is so portable and free, full of determination and vision, and mutable enough to both embrace and break conventions? Free of targeted advertisements and mindless scrolling, artists' books are a physical reminder of the vast, complex and sensual world from which they derive.

This artist book is a collection of new notes and images along with re-printed and re-mixed posters, texts, collages, printer spreads and images only previously available in small (out of print) editions. A chaotic compilation that is an open window, a reflection pool, and a bittersweet love letter to the passing of time.



pile was made with support from Nasjonalmuseet, Grafill and Fritt Ord.