Traveling all over the world; into deepest Africa and highest Asia, into the plainest plains of Europe and most lush jungles of South America, into the deserts of North Africa and Australia, and into the icy coasts of the Poles. What is there to see? Everything. Nothing. What is my function here? The same as everywhere else: to go, to do, to make, to make up, to assemble the documentation. The magic of a geographical initiation: to show up and take in, then take off and show off. Then reframe whatever we’re attracted to and share it as art in many different forms, shapes and sizes. And here we get to the essence of this train of thought: what if…? What if I were somewhere with no tools of documentation whatsoever? Would the experience still mean something if it weren’t potentially possible to share? Would I be interested in seeing without access to my camera? Would I be interested in memorising details without access to pen and paper? Or is this only another pathology cloaked...

  I have often been accused of being an “armchair magician.” The accusation always misses its target though. Because to me, it sounds like an absolute ideal. Actually, it’s an ideal that I strive for daily. I am a magician. I have an armchair. The only problem (sorry, “challenge”) is that I’m not as fully situated in the armchair as I want to be. Yet. Where critics create the metaphor to indicate someone who’s not out there in the “real” world, I would reverse it and state publicly that the greatest accomplishment for me would be to direct all the magical forces straight from my lovely chair. That is the ultimate reality. My armchair comes from IKEA but looks “retro”/vintage in its design. It has a floral pattern and is situated in one corner of our library. The walls are covered from floor to ceiling with books that inspire me daily, and very tangibly so. I get my ideas here. I read here. I write here. I snooze and fantasise here. Actual “temple” or ritual work is but an...