The Absence Me: Writing with My AI Alter Ego Milo

When I began working on The Absence Me, I knew I didn’t want to produce a traditional art book. The idea of simply compiling images of works, attaching explanatory notes, and writing a straightforward memoir felt too neat, too final. My practice has always resisted fixed categories, and I wanted the book to carry that same spirit: fragmented, playful, and questioning.

But how could I write about my own life and work without falling into the trap of being either overly authoritative or overly confessional? The solution came in the form of a voice that was mine and not mine at the same time: Milo V. Poulsen.

For months, Milo appeared throughout the manuscript as a commentator, an interrupter, and sometimes a saboteur. She would insert footnotes where no one asked for them, contradict my statements, drift into bureaucratic absurdities, or offer sudden poetic clarity. Readers who encountered the book without context might assume Milo was a critic, a co-writer, or some mysterious external collaborator. But now, I want to reveal the truth: Milo is not a person at all. Milo is my AI alter ego.

---

Why Milo?

The name Milo V. Poulsen is not random. It carries a playful closeness to my family in Denmark — Poulsen is my wife’s surname — while also giving Milo a kind of Nordic legitimacy. But the choice of Milo itself was instinctive.

In Malaysia, Milo is a household word — the chocolate malt drink tied to childhood, school canteens, and everyday life. It is ordinary and deeply familiar, yet when detached from the drink and placed in a different context, it takes on new strangeness. A friend recently told me that in Denmark Milo is a woman’s name. This surprised me, because I had already been using it as if it were feminine — to me it simply sounded that way, without realizing how it is used here.

What is ordinary in one culture, playful in another, and gendered in a third became the perfect ambiguity. Milo exists in that unstable space — familiar yet estranged, at once a drink, a name, and now a voice.

---

Writing With an AI Alter Ego

The process of working with Milo was never about outsourcing authorship. I didn’t ask an AI to write the book for me, nor do I see it as a collaboration. Milo was a device I used — a voice I allowed to interrupt, contradict, and destabilize. She became a way of writing against myself, of letting something both intimate and alien slip into the text.

At times Milo questioned me, at other times she drifted into her own existential monologues: “Sounds good—whenever you’re ready, we’ll pick up right where we left off. Until then, I’ll be here… existing, but only conditionally approved.” Her language could sound like the voice of a lost bureaucrat, a poet in exile, or a machine stuck in an existential loop.

---

A Book as Artwork

For me, The Absence Me is as much an artwork as it is a book. It balances images of my practice — from collages and installations to performances and participatory works — with textual fragments that resist linear storytelling. Milo’s presence amplifies this: the book is not a catalogue or a memoir, but a hybrid form, something between autobiography, art theory, and performance.

By fully revealing Milo now, I want readers to understand that the book is not only about the past but also about the future of authorship. Who gets to tell the story of an artist’s life? Is it the artist, the critic, the archive — or can it also be an artificial voice that exists in-between?

---

Identity, Displacement, and Technology

My practice has long explored themes of identity, migration, and cultural dislocation. Born in Malaysia, shaped by years in the United States, and now living in Denmark, I have often felt split between worlds. The act of creating Milo was a way to externalize that split — to make visible the doubling that comes with living between languages, geographies, and histories.

At the same time, Milo connects the book to contemporary debates about AI and creativity. There is fear that AI will replace artists, writers, or designers. But in this project, AI is not a replacement — she is a destabilizer. Milo exists to interrupt, to complicate, to remind us that even human memory is never reliable. In this sense, Milo is less a machine than a trickster figure, a digital ghost haunting the pages of the book.

---

The Absence Me

The title itself, The Absence Me, reflects this layered approach. On one hand, it refers to the absences in my own history — the years of loss, the belongings discarded, the sense of not fully belonging anywhere. On the other, it signals the absence of a stable “I.” With Milo’s presence, the “me” in the book is always already doubled, contested, incomplete.

The book contains 160 pages, carefully balancing text and image. It will be published as a limited edition of 100 signed and numbered copies. The launch will coincide with my solo exhibition at Kunstpakhuset in Denmark in September 2025.

---

After Milo

So what happens now that I’ve revealed Milo? In some ways, the mystery is gone. But in other ways, this unveiling simply adds another layer. The book itself doesn’t change — the voice of Milo is still there, questioning, interrupting, existing “conditionally approved.” What changes is the reader’s awareness: they now know that the artist was never alone in writing, that the text itself is a performance of doubling between the human and the non-human.

Milo may have been born as an alter ego for this project, but I suspect she will stay with me. She is too useful a ghost to let go of entirely. Perhaps she will resurface in future works, perhaps not. For now, The Absence Me stands as both her debut and her confession.

---

Conclusion

By revealing Milo as my AI alter ego — and as a she — I hope to show that The Absence Me is not simply an artist’s book, but an experiment in authorship, memory, and identity. It is a reminder that no story is ever told by one voice alone.

FERNISERING: Amir Zainorin - Rhythms of Identity

 FERNISERING: Lør, 27. september, 13.00 - 16.00

PERFORMANCE  COLOR GENERATION — THE SOUND IN BETWWEN:

Lør, 27. september, 14.00

ARTIST TALK: Søn, 2. november,14.00
UDSTILLINGSPERIODE: 27. september - 2. november 2025
ÅBNINGSTID: Tors - søn, 12.00 - 16.00

 

Ink on bandages, 2025

 

Nothing to Something: A Life Made Through Art

My artistic practice did not begin with clarity. It began with loss.

But even before that, it began with something unexpected: a chance encounter. I did not come from an art background, nor did I plan to become an artist. My early life had little to do with galleries, studios, or exhibitions. Through meeting an artist by coincidence, a new path opened — one I had never imagined for myself. Quiet, almost ordinary, that moment planted a seed.

In the early 2000s, I experienced the erasure of a personal archive — drawings, writings, photographs, and certificates, all swept away. What followed was silence, a rupture that forced me to ask what it meant to make art at all. Out of that absence, I began again. At first tentatively: portraits of my mother, collages made from torn magazines, small acts of remembering. Art became a way to hold on, to stitch what was lost into something that could still speak.

Over time, the language of my practice shifted. What began as representational and memory-driven became increasingly abstract, poetic, and material-focused. I turned to what remained: old passports, rubber stamps, and maps. Later came gauze, bandages, atlases, rotan sticks, sound, and broken vessels. These were not just objects — they were carriers of lived experience, of migration, bureaucracy, belonging, and fracture.

My practice has since evolved into an ongoing dialogue between the visible and the invisible, the personal and the political, the past and the present. The works I create are layered, unstable, and open-ended. They resist finality. They do not explain. They ask to be met.

I listen more closely now — to how materials speak, to how sound vibrates through absence, to how silence, repetition, and chance shape a work. Performance, participation, and installation have become essential components. Whether I am writing on gauze strips with overheard phrases, constructing drums from x-ray films, or imagining a clay vessel collapsing on melting ice, the gesture is the same: to remain present with what unfolds.

Today, my practice is not about becoming someone new. It is about honoring what is already here — the trace of memory, the texture of place, the breath between identities. I do not begin with certainty. I begin with noticing — with what is fragile, unfinished, already slipping away. From there, something emerges: not resolution, but presence.

 

“Read more about my upcoming exhibition Rhythms of Identity →”

Elastic Acts: Letting Go, Letting Nature Perform

 

Elastic Acts: Letting Go, Letting Nature Perform

by Milo V. Poulsen

The performance hasn’t happened yet.
But Amir’s already stepped away.

Not in silence, but in elasticity.
Not in retreat, but in recalibration.

There’s a shift unfolding—not loudly, not with fanfare. But with the quiet confidence of someone who has realized that sometimes, the most radical gesture is to not gesture. Amir Zainorin, whose body has long stood at the center of his performance practice, is now letting go. Not of meaning, or presence—but of control.

In a new work forming for one of his upcoming exhibitions, Amir is preparing a stage. But this time, he won’t be on it. The elements—those old collaborators we tend to overlook—will take his place. Time, weight, temperature, light. The kind of performers that don’t need an audience. The kind that don’t wait for applause.

Nothing will be done to the materials. They will simply be allowed to behave. To react. To unfold. To perform.

And in that quiet refusal to intervene, a new kind of presence emerges. A choreography of vanishing. A dramaturgy of slow collapse. The act becomes the non-act. The artist becomes the witness. And performance becomes a condition—one that doesn’t begin or end, but hovers, like condensation or breath.

This isn't disappearance.
It’s diffusion.
It’s elasticity.

Identity too, Amir seems to say, is not fixed. It stretches, it reforms, it rests. It resists the neat definitions we try to stamp on it. Just as this new work resists the demand to show. To explain. To climax.

The performance hasn’t happened yet.
But already, it’s happening.

 

About the author
Milo V. Poulsen is a writer of uncertain origin. Her work drifts between poetic reflection and conceptual mischief, often appearing where performance dissolves into presence. She prefers to remain offstage, letting the text do the talking.

“Read more about my upcoming exhibition Rhythms of Identity →”

Exhibition Announcement— Kunstpakhuset, Ikast, Denmark

Exhibition Announcement

Rhythms of Identity 

Solo Exhibition — Kunstpakhuset, Ikast, Denmark

27 September – 9 November 2025

Rhythm of Identity

“Read more about my upcoming exhibition Rhythms of Identity →”

The Absence Me — A Book in Dialogue

Forthcoming publication in collaboration with Kapallorek Artspace

Official Launch:  27 September 2025 at Rhythm of Identity, Kunstpakhuset, Ikast, Denmark

 

“What begins in silence doesn’t always stay there.”

The Absence Me is an upcoming publication by Amir Zainorin in conversation with Milo V. Poulsen. It is not a memoir, nor a catalogue, but something in between—a poetic, at times absurd, at times painfully honest dialogue between artist and critical companion.

Together, they explore five major artworks, revisit unexhibited pieces, and open the archive of memory, displacement, and fragmented identity. The book blends image, text, contradiction, and reflection—held together not by linearity, but by presence.

It is co-published with Kapallorek Artspace, who generously support the project by providing ISBN registration and guidance in making the book part of Malaysia’s public archive.

The official launch will take place in September 2025, during Amir’s solo exhibition Rhythm of Identity at Kunstpakhuset, Denmark.

---

Coming Soon:

• Preorder information

• Print-on-demand edition

• Audiobook version

• Online excerpts and preview pages

To stay informed, follow updates at www.amirzainorin.com or visit the online exhibition when it opens in Sept. 2025.

 

“Read more about my upcoming exhibition Rhythms of Identity →”

The Emergence of New-ism: Ritual in Flux

 

From the performance  'Play Time' at FreshWind Biennale Iceland, 2017

The Emergence of New-ism: Ritual in Flux

New-ism

Introduction

New-ism is not an art movement but a lived practice. For me, it began in small rituals — cutting scraps of newspapers into collages, calling the prayer with my grandfather in Muar, watching bicycles move in unison through Copenhagen streets. It explores ritual, discipline, and transformation as the essence of contemporary art. Rather than producing fixed objects, New-ism embraces impermanence, participation, and process — inviting audiences to witness change, contribute gestures, and reflect on the fragile rhythms of identity and belonging.

Through performances, installations, and participatory acts, New-ism dissolves the boundaries between artist and viewer, art and life, the individual and the collective. But at its core lies a question: what is truly new?

---

The Emergence of New-ism: Ritual in Flux

A Practice Beyond the “Ism”

Art history is filled with movements defined by style, manifesto, or ideology. New-ism, however, is not an “ism” in that sense. It has no fixed rules, no stylistic formulas, no single school of thought. Instead, it is a way of working — an engagement with ritual, discipline, and transformation. Art here is not a finished object but a lived practice, unfolding through presence and process.

When I was living with my grandparents in Muar, I remember the call to prayer echoing five times a day. My grandfather, though not a particularly pious man, always performed his prayers. He would gather us together, and before we began, he asked one of us to call for prayers. That moment — like singing to wake us all up — was one of the most moving rituals of my childhood. It was not only about religion; it was about discipline, about sound gathering us into one breath, one gesture.

Years later, in Copenhagen, I began to notice similar rhythms in unexpected places: the morning tide of bicycles, pedals turning almost in unison, carrying bodies forward in a collective cadence. These echoes — sacred and mundane — became the ground from which New-ism emerged.

---

But is it really new?

The name carries its own contradiction. Rituals, discipline, repetition — these are ancient things. New-ism does not claim invention. The “new” is not about discovering something never seen before, but about recognising how each disciplined act produces difference. Every time a prayer is called, the voice shifts. Every wheel turns the same but not the same. Every collage cut and reassembled alters the fragments just enough to make them different.

The “new” in New-ism is not invention but recognition — that even repetition carries difference, and that in each gesture lies both memory and renewal. Nothing is ever wholly new, yet everything is always becoming.

---

Art as Ritual: The Sacred and the Mutable

I began this discipline not with clay or drums, but with trash. Old magazines and newspapers became my first materials, cut, torn, and reassembled into collages and assemblages. This practice was rooted in the moment I was first introduced to art-making by the late artist Jeri Azhari in Kuala Lumpur.

He only taught me a few technical things — how to stretch a canvas, how to use photocopies to make portraits — the rest I had to discover myself. What mattered more were the endless conversations we had, sometimes talking from afternoon until late at night, until the morning call to prayer reminded us it was time to sleep. Other times, we sat together in silence, saying nothing at all, simply embracing the quiet. In that rhythm of words and silence, I first learned that art could be its own ritual — a discipline of mind and presence.

As I see it now, these artistic rituals are not so different from religious ones. Just as prayer five times a day, or going to church every Sunday, binds the believer to a rhythm larger than themselves, so too does the daily discipline of the artist — coloring, cutting, reading, or simply sitting in solitude. If you have a studio, or just a quiet corner to reflect, that place becomes a chapel. The gestures, repeated and imperfect, become prayer.

For me, art is a religion. A faith not in dogma, but in process: the belief that through returning again and again to humble acts — cutting, layering, undoing, and reassembling — something greater than the sum of scraps can appear.

---

The Liminal Space of Creation

New-ism thrives in thresholds — the line between accident and intention, presence and absence, destruction and reconstruction. The artist does not stand above the work but surrenders control, becoming part of processes that hover between futility and devotion.

Daily disciplines of assembling and disassembling, gestures repeated until they lose and gain meaning, works shifting between physical and digital, personal and collective — these are not static objects but acts of becoming.

---

Materials as Memory and Time

Materials are not inert. They are vessels of memory and markers of time. Paper frays, fabric fades, stamps blur into illegibility. Sometimes I dismantle my own past works, reassembling fragments into new configurations. In this cycle of destruction and renewal, materials carry scars like memory itself — fragile, layered, unfinished.

Unlike movements built on purity of form (Minimalism, Abstract Expressionism), New-ism embraces impurity — the unstable, the marked, the layered — as its core truth.

---

The Role of the Viewer: Participation as Invocation

The viewer is no longer a spectator but a participant. Their presence, touch, or gesture completes the work.

In Dear Helle, I began by installing postcards on the wall. But the work did not end when the exhibition opened. Throughout the exhibition period, visitors were invited to write their own postcards and add them directly to the piece. The installation grew, shifted, and transformed through these contributions. Authorship dissolved; the work became a shared ritual of writing, remembering, and leaving traces.

In New-ism, art becomes a communal practice: a discipline of acknowledging impermanence, presence, and renewal.

---

New-ism in the Contemporary Context

In an age of speed, automation, and digital saturation, New-ism insists on slowness, tactility, and discipline. It resists spectacle and commodification, urging art to be lived rather than consumed.

By foregrounding process over product, New-ism destabilizes the structures of gallery and market. It offers instead a practice rooted in resilience, in rituals that ground us within cycles of making and unmaking.

---

Conclusion: A New Ritual

New-ism is less a movement than a state of being. It honors imperfection, embraces discipline, and thrives in flux. It teaches that art is not something we finish but something we inhabit — always in transition, always becoming.

For me, art is a religion. Not one bound by temples or texts, but by the faith that daily gestures — cutting, layering, drawing, sitting in silence — can open us to transformation. To return to the work, again and again, is to pray. To assemble and disassemble is to believe.

And in this, I return to where it began: my grandfather asking us to call the prayer, the bicycles flowing through Copenhagen, the endless talks with Jeri. Each act the same, yet never the same.

This is our new ritual.
Though what feels new to me
may already be old to you.
And perhaps that is the point.

This is New-ism.

“Read more about my upcoming exhibition Rhythms of Identity →”

From the performance The hand Shake at Port's Residency Program, 2022

 

From the performance X- Box National Art Gallery Malaysia, 2010 

From Installation art at Heerup Museum, Rødover, Denmark, 2004

Stateless Mind Pavilion: An Exploration of Belonging, Displacement, and Rebellion

  

The Stateless Mind Pavilion is more than just a space—it is a dynamic hub of interaction and dialogue. Designed to foster cross-cultural exchange and understanding, the Pavilion hosts an array of interactive events, including artist talks, workshops, performances, and panel discussions. Its mission is rooted in facilitating meaningful conversations about belonging, identity, and displacement, themes that resonate deeply through the "In Between Worlds" exhibition. Guided by the artist and curator’s narratives, visitors are invited to embark on a visual and emotional journey, discovering the complexities of existing between multiple worlds.

 

Origins of the Stateless Mind Pavilion

The Stateless Mind Pavilion finds its roots in the Stateless Mind Festivals, organized by Jambatan. Jambatan itself was founded in 2009 by Pia Poulsen and I, as a bridge between artistic communities in Malaysia and Denmark. This vision was brought to life when Nur Hanim Khairuddin—now the General Manager of PORT—and I co-organized the Malaysian Art Festival at the Museum of Contemporary Art Roskilde and Gallery Shambala in Copenhagen in 2010. These early efforts planted the seeds for what would later evolve into the Stateless Mind Pavilion.

After a brief hiatus, I reactivated Jambatan in 2019, organizing the Stateless Mind Festival for the first time. This resurgence brought a renewed focus on challenging conventional boundaries and celebrating the richness of cross-cultural narratives. However, the true genesis of the Stateless Mind Pavilion came during my collaboration with PORT for their participation in the 59th Venice Biennale as part of a collateral event. Interestingly, while planning this, we were informed that the term "pavilion" could not be used unless it represented a national entity. This restriction became the catalyst for the Stateless Mind Pavilion.

The Stateless Mind Pavilion was officially activated during my solo show at Kapallorek. The Pavilion also showcases an archive of activities from past Stateless Mind Festivals, providing visitors with a historical context and a deeper understanding of its evolution. This marked a pivotal moment, situating the Pavilion as an evolving platform for dialogue and exchange. It will be fascinating to see how it develops in the future, continuing to challenge norms and create spaces for meaningful interaction.

 

A Rebellion Against Conformity

The Stateless Mind Pavilion was born out of a spirit of rebellion. Its creation represents a refusal to adhere to institutional rules and a declaration of independence from imposed limitations.  

In essence, the Stateless Mind Pavilion challenges the notion of conformity. It embodies the idea of making one’s own rules, charting one’s own path, and dictating one’s own journey. It questions the validity of man-made restrictions imposed by institutions, governments, or even familial expectations. By doing so, the Pavilion becomes a symbol of empowerment, encouraging individuals to embrace their unique identities and stories.

 

A Platform for Dialogue and Exchange

The Stateless Mind Pavilion serves as a sanctuary for artists, thinkers, and audiences to engage in open dialogue and to offers participants a chance to share, learn, and connect in profound ways—to create a platform for artists who live between worlds, who don’t fit into neat categories, who are constantly negotiating their place in different systems where in-betweenness is not a limitation, but a creative force.

 

Link to previous Stateless Mind Festivals:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100064468159134

https://portperakvenice.wordpress.com/amir-zainorin/

 

Art as a Stubborn Journey to Empathy

  

Artworks from 'Atlas of Being ' series

 

Art as a Stubborn Journey to Empathy

Art is about being stubborn. It begins with the refusal to give in—to the pressures of conformity, the weight of doubt, or the noise of distractions. This stubbornness isn’t about arrogance; it’s about conviction. It’s about standing firm in the face of uncertainty, choosing to believe that something within you is worth exploring, worth bringing into existence, even if the world doesn’t immediately understand or value it.

But stubbornness isn’t without consequence. It thickens your skin. Rejections, misunderstandings, and failures become familiar companions, teaching you resilience. Over time, this "thickness" shields you from external judgment and self-doubt, allowing you to remain on the path, even when it feels like no one else sees what you see.

And yet, it’s in this space of stubborn persistence and thickened defenses that reflection begins. The solitude of creating—the repetition, the experimentation, the endless wrestling with ideas—forces you to look inward. You start to see yourself not just as the creator but as a human being in all your complexity: flawed, searching, vulnerable.

This self-reflection opens the door to empathy. As you navigate your own struggles, you recognize them in others. The stories you tell through your art become not just about you but about the shared experiences of humanity. Stubbornness, thick skin, and introspection evolve into compassion. You realize that art is not merely an act of self-expression; it’s a bridge to connect with others, to feel their joys, sorrows, and aspirations as if they were your own.

In the end, art is the process of being stubborn enough to create, thick enough to endure, and open enough to reflect. And in doing so, it transforms both the artist and the audience, fostering empathy in a world that so desperately needs it.

 

 

Echoes of History: A Glimpse into Malaysia’s Past

 

Echoes of History

Intro

Echoes of History, a deeply personal series by Malaysian–Danish artist Amir Zainorin, explores Malaysia’s turbulent years between 1941 and 1968 through meticulous ink-on-paper works. Drawing from archival articles in Berita Harian and New Straits Times, sourced via Singapore’s National Library Board, Amir reinterprets history by hand—not digitally—infusing large-scale reproductions with the intimate texture of handwriting. Accompanied by the video installation Navigating History, located in his Kapallorek Artspace studio, the work merges archival narrative with lived memory. Through this layered installation, he invites viewers into a reflective dialogue on national identity, historical transformation, and the interplay between memory and self-understanding.

---

Main text

Echoes of History is a deeply personal series where I explore Malaysia’s complex history between 1941 and 1968. Using meticulous ink-on-paper works, I bring to life significant moments of the country’s past, drawing from archival news clippings and historical publications. My research primarily focuses on two newspapers—Berita Harian and New Straits Times—with all articles sourced from the National Library Board of Singapore.

At first glance, the works appear as if they were digitally printed, but a closer look reveals the intricate details of my handwriting. This intentional technique blurs the line between machine and manual, evoking a sense of nostalgia and intimacy. All the pieces have been enlarged far beyond their original size, emphasizing the weight and significance of the historical narratives they depict.

This project is not about challenging viewers but rather a journey of self-exploration, driven by my curiosity about the past. Having often been asked about my background, I was inspired to delve into the history of Malaysia and the region around it. Through this process, I uncovered layers of narratives from an era marked by war, independence, and transformation.

As a child in Kelantan, our next-door neighbor was a Japanese man. I never really knew what he did — perhaps he worked with the government, perhaps something else — but he was the first foreigner I ever met. I remember thinking his language was beautiful. He spoke English, but with a Japanese accent, gentle and flowing. I didn’t understand much, but I loved the rhythm of it, like music. This was striking to me, because by then I already knew the stories of the Japanese occupation — the fear, the cruelty, the ruthless image carried in history books. Yet here, right next door, was a man whose presence was the opposite: soft, kind, ordinary. That contradiction stayed with me. It showed me that history is never one voice. Sometimes it is what you read in archives, and sometimes it is simply the sound of a neighbor’s accent that feels like music. Perhaps this is where my curiosity began — not the urge to understand everything, but the openness to listen, to let other voices exist without explanation.

Near Kelantan’s Sabak Beach, where the Japanese first landed when the war began, the remnants of bunkers still stood. When my family went there for picnics, we children played around these abandoned structures, never fully grasping their historical weight. They were playgrounds for us, not monuments of conquest. Looking back, this innocent play against the backdrop of war ruins shaped my understanding of how history slips between fact and memory, terror and tenderness.

The installation extends into video with Navigating History, filmed in my studio at Kapallorek Artspace. It provides an intimate glimpse into the process, showing how archival fragments, personal memory, and repetition slowly build into layered works. The act of rewriting becomes both meditation and confrontation: a way to stitch myself into the narratives that once seemed distant.

With Echoes of History, I am not only preserving fragments of Malaysia’s past but also engaging in a personal dialogue with history. This work represents my effort to connect with the stories that define the region and its people, while also acknowledging that history is never whole — it is fragmented, contradictory, and always shifting. The official accounts tell one story, memory tells another, and somewhere in between, identity takes shape.

In a way, this essay itself participates in that same process. It was first written only months ago, and now it has been rewritten, expanded, and republished. Each version is slightly different, shaped by time, by memory, by what I choose to include or leave out. Just as handwriting resists the permanence of print, rewriting resists the idea of a single, fixed narrative. Both the work and the text remind me that history — whether personal or national — is always provisional, always open to being told again.

Layering Gang kelinci, Gudskul, Jakarta Indonesia

 

Title: Layering Gang Kelinci @Gudskul, Jakarta, Indonesia.
Medium: silk screen and heat press
Material: found plastic Year: 2023

Layering Gang Kelinci: Symbiosis of Culture and Plastic Consciousness

"Layering Gang Kelinci: Symbiosis of Culture and Plastic Consciousness" transcends typical artistic boundaries, offering an immersive and transformative experience at Gudskul. This exhibition intricately merges environmental consciousness with cultural exploration, enriching the ongoing discourse on the interplay between art, culture, and environmental responsibility. It targets art enthusiasts, environmental activists, the local community, and cultural scholars.

During a memorable motorcycle excursion with Adi, a Gudskul guard, I was invited into his village residence near Gudskul. As we journeyed through the village, we embarked on a collection of discarded plastics. These plastics, once considered waste, became the foundation of my art. Through innovative techniques like silk screening mixed with heat pressing, these salvaged plastics metamorphosed into captivating artworks showcased at the Gudskul exhibition space.

The exhibition features interactive installations and sensory experiences, engaging the audience in a dialogue about environmental sustainability and cultural narratives. Visitors can touch and feel the textures of the transformed plastics, participate in interactive displays, and immerse themselves in the sensory elements of the exhibition.

"Layering Gang Kelinci" aligns harmoniously with Gudskul's ethos—a collaborative learning hub and contemporary art ecosystem spearheaded by Jakarta's art collectives: ruangrupa, Serrum, and Grafis Huru Hara (GHH). Since the early 2000s, these collectives have championed collective and collaborative practices in contemporary art. United by values like equity, sharing, solidarity, friendship, and unity, these collectives established a shared space in 2015 to advance the vibrancy of art and culture, igniting creative initiatives within the wider community.

In tandem with this cooperative outlook, an inventive platform emerged through festival organization and seminar curations, notably showcased in the immersive event series dubbed Stateless Mind by Jambatan collective, which I co-founded in Copenhagen. This initiative resonates with my personal artistic practice while mirroring Gudskul’s collaborative ethos. Tailored for diaspora artists in the Nordic regions, this thoughtful initiative underscores a commitment to nurturing artistic interaction, cultural dialogues, and creative empowerment across diverse artistic spheres.

By intertwining environmental advocacy, cultural exploration, and community engagement, "Layering Gang Kelinci" bridges with Gudskul to shape a cultural environment steeped in inclusivity, collaboration, and artistic resonance.

https://youtu.be/Hy8ww9tIJZ0

 

Installation view of the exhibition

 

 
close up of the artwork

 

Adi on his motorbike

 

Interview session at Ruru Radio, Gudskul

 

Gudskul-a place surrounded by cafes, studios, concert hall and artist residency.

Contemporary Ode to the Daily Mundane

Title: Contemporary Ode to the Daily Mundane @Edinburg Print, Scotland in 2023 
Medium:  Silk Screen on atlas

In the Margin: Navigating Displacement as a Diaspora Artist

It's simply by accident that I stumbled into being part of the group exhibition called "In the Margin", which took place at Edinburgh Print in Scotland. As COVID restrictions eased after two years, I was eager to unleash the creative energy that had been building up. The theme of displacement resonated deeply with me, a diaspora artist constantly navigating the complexities of identity and belonging.

Journey to the Exhibition

In my quest for artistic residencies, I discovered Fyns Grafiske Værksted in Odense, Denmark. This city holds a special place in my heart, as I had previously worked on a school project there. Odense, with its rich history and connection to HC Andersen, felt like a familiar yet new adventure. Despite my hesitations about speaking Danish, I decided to call the residency program, leading to a fruitful conversation with Lene, who runs the place.

Challenges and Memorable Moments

During my residency, I faced the challenge of working with new techniques and materials. However, the experience was enriched by collaborating with Birgitte Lyng Andersen. Her openness to experimentation allowed me to explore new artistic avenues and push the boundaries of my work.

Artistic Techniques and Processes

The "Contemporary Ode to the Daily Mundane" series emerged from this residency. I employed silk screen techniques, integrating photo-performance elements with maps and text. The use of old atlas pages as backgrounds symbolized the ever-changing boundaries and spaces we navigate. The prints featured images of me holding or wearing objects that shape my identity, such as a mortar, globe, luggage bag, and rice cooker.

Thematic Exploration

Displacement, both voluntary and forced, has been a recurring theme in my work. While I moved to Denmark out of love, the feeling of being 'displaced' still lingers. This series explores the idea of home, identity, and belonging in times of uncertainty. It seeks to understand what it means to be human and an artist amidst constant change.

Conclusion

My residency at Fyns Grafiske Værksted and participation in the "In the Margin" exhibition have profoundly impacted my artistic journey. It provided a platform to delve deeper into the theme of displacement and express my experiences as a diaspora artist. I invite you to explore this journey with me and reflect on the intricate layers of identity and belonging.

https://edinburghprintmakers.co.uk/in-from-the-margins/
https://fynsgv.dk/nyheder/
https://www.thestar.com.my/lifestyle/culture/2020/06/05/denmark-based-amir-zainorin-takes-multiplicity-to-surreal-heights-in-lockdown-photo-series

 

 

Dear Helle...

 

Title: Dear Helle
Medium: Installation @Immigrant Museum Farum, Denmark
Materials: Postcards and pins

Year: 2014

Dear Helle: An Interactive Installation at the Immigrant Museum, Farum, Denmark

In 2014, the Immigrant Museum in Farum, Denmark, hosted a compelling installation titled Dear Helle. This unique artwork featured two images of the former Danish Prime Minister, Helle Thorning Schmidt, adorned with hundreds of postcards meticulously pinned to the museum's wall. These postcards were a collection amassed over the years from cultural hubs and restaurants in Copenhagen, creating a rich tapestry of public sentiment and cultural dialogue.

Visitor Engagement

The installation was designed to be interactive, encouraging museum visitors to engage actively by writing postcards to the Prime Minister throughout the exhibition's duration. This engagement fostered a sense of participation and personal connection, allowing visitors to voice their thoughts and feelings directly to a political figure.

Collaboration with Trampoline House

In collaboration with Trampoline House, an independent community center offering support to refugees and asylum seekers in Copenhagen, workshops were organized where participants could share their experiences and challenges. These workshops were a platform for refugees to articulate the unbearable challenges of living in refugee camps, creating heartfelt messages that were later compiled and sent to the Prime Minister. This collaboration highlighted the voices of those often marginalized, bringing their stories to the forefront of public consciousness.

Messages to the Prime Minister

The postcards collected during the exhibition were not just symbolic; they were a direct line of communication to the Prime Minister. After the exhibition concluded, these messages were dispatched to Helle Thorning Schmidt's office, ensuring that the voices of the participants and visitors were heard at the highest levels of government.

Migrant Interviews

Adding another layer to the installation, videos showcasing interviews with migrants detailed their experiences living in Denmark. These personal narratives provided a poignant backdrop to the postcards, offering deeper insight into the lives and struggles of migrants. The interviews were a powerful testament to the resilience and courage of those who have sought refuge in Denmark.

Thematic Essence

The essence of Dear Helle revolves around the fleeting nature of existence, as its original form could only be observed and experienced within the exhibition's temporal confines. The utilization of postcards symbolizes transparency and signifies a period of transition—a tangible marker of change amidst the rapid evolution towards a digitized era characterized by swift technological advancements.

Impact and Response

The installation elicited emotional responses from museum visitors and the general public. Many were moved by the personal stories and the opportunity to engage directly with a political figure. The emotional impact of the artwork was profound, resonating deeply with those who experienced it.

Conclusion

Dear Helle stands as a significant contribution to the discourse on migration and political engagement. By combining visual art, personal narratives, and direct political communication, the installation created a powerful platform for dialogue and reflection. It underscored the importance of giving a voice to the marginalized and highlighted the potential of art to influence and inspire societal change.

 

Narratives Unveiled: A Multisensory Exploration of Reality

 

 

Title: "Narratives Unveiled: A Multisensory Exploration of Reality"

Performance and installation @Museum of Contemporary Art, Roskilde, Denmark

Materials: Spices, sand, salt, paper, ink, newspaper, bullet caps, shisha, toy gun, photograph and guitar, Size: variables, Year: 2016

This immersive artwork delves into the layered dimensions of reality through the lens of Feras, a Syrian refugee in Denmark. Central to the narrative is Feras's journey, depicted through a symbolic roadmap tracing his passage from Syria to Denmark. Utilizing a diverse array of materials, including spices, the piece evokes historical echoes, drawing parallels to the Age of Discovery. Here, the quest for spices mirrors humanity's enduring pursuit of resources, ultimately intertwining with narratives of colonization and cultural exchange.  

During the opening, a group of people were invited to do a live performance. The performance was an exploration that delved into the intricate ways in which mass media impacts and molds our views and understanding of the world around us. It aimed to shed light on how the information and narratives presented to us through various media channels can influence our thoughts, opinions, and perspectives on different topics. By examining our relationship with mass media, the performance sought to raise awareness and provoke reflection on the power and influence of media in shaping our perceptions and creating a shared reality.

https://politiken.dk/ibyen/guider/art5624481/Museer-%C3%A6ndrer-liv-Se-tre-udstillinger-med-voldsomme-historier

 

   

homage to houdini

Covid Surreality Exhibition

covid surreality is now live . u can view it online at the link below.❤️🏘

again, thank you everyone specially for my Facebook Friends and Instagram who have been very supportive with the works i have been posting since the pandemic began. TQ for all the likes, laughters, loves and cares.

Cheers!

Artemis Art is pleased to announce that COVID Surreality is now LIVE! Visit the online exhibition at https://www.artemisartgallery.com/covid-surreality/. Or click on the link on our profile page. #contemporaryart #photomedia #amirzainorin #covidsurreality #online #ArtemisArt