Ansigterne

The sculpture consists of a polycarbonate box covered with reflective film. Inside, fireworks are installed and when they explode, the mirror effect stops, rendering the box transparent.

Photo: Morten K Jacobsen

by Nina Schack Kock and Kirstine Aarkrog

Do you recognise anything?

Yes, what goes on inside. The oppositions. The interior appearing in the exterior. Feeling secluded and transparent, the possibility for both feelings to exist simultaneously.

In relation to what?

Your surroundings. Reflecting the outside and being exposed to it. Either there is something that sees through you, or there is something to reflect and shield yourself from. Not in a secretive way, but very directly.

An openness?

It’s a relationship to an exterior gaze. There’s a border that disappears, something that disintegrates. It’s the feeling of distance seeking dissolution. I can long for dissolution to get closer, but I also fear it, because it means I fall apart. The border both protects and separates.

What are you thinking of when you say that?

I’m thinking of the reflection. It disintegrates, because something within takes over. But then it returns. Inside you, something remains, and you’re changed within.

What do you recognise?

There are limits to what you can reveal. If you were to reveal everything, you would cease to exist, you wouldn’t have those explosions within you. If the reflection didn’t return, there would be nothing to hold you, you’d be entirely transparent. You give away everything, and then you retreat into yourself. Something has happened within you. It can’t be seen, but it’s there. It isn’t a secret, and it hasn’t been destroyed.