Tromsø høsten 2026
Kommer!
November 2025
Endless Cookie
I have recently decided to travel more, for my mental health. Sorry Oslo, but you drive me crazy! I never seem to have enough money, but am fortunate to have friends in different places. And so, I hit up my friend Pauline, who is currently trying to finish her PhD in film studies and was able to go to London for a weekend during the London Film Festival. There, we saw the animation film Endless Cookie and the sadomasochistic drama Pillion. Pauline had also booked me in to a VR-lounge, where four unmotivated volunteers struggled to get me installed, before continuing to talk shit about vegetarians over the entirety of my sitting through the very creepy VR-animation The Dollhouse.
The highlight was Endless Cookie. Though the beginning threw me off, with its whimsical Adventure Time-like style and random humour. The film starts off with a grant-giver, represented as a ruler, informing the film-maker (Seth Scriver) that he has received a grant for his project. The film-maker calls his half-brother (Peter Scriver) in a First Nation community in Northern Manitoba, Canada. They laugh at the absurdity of having come across some money, and begin planning the project. As the film progresses, it turns into a satirical account of everyday life in the region. The animated film mainly consists of first hand accounts and stories, recorded in the family living room up north. The slow tempo of boredom is interrupted by toilet flushes or a radio transmission about the unjust treatment of indigenous people. By the end, the animation has somehow turned into a free-flowing, epic omnipotent illustration of the circle of life. The seemingly irrelevant stories naturally weave together and form the narrative itself, expressing a cosmic spirituality in both mundane and difficult life experiences.
Venice Biennale 2024
On funny moments
and the sad/beautiful spectrum
«This man is visibly hungover,» I thought to myself as I wandered around Venice. It was my first time attending the biennale’s opening weekend, in 2024, and the place was buzzing with people I should probably know about. The visuals of the exhausted man on the lawn chair tickled me, but was it out of schadenfreude or compassion? I still don’t really know. It is, after all, funny to see a man struggle sometimes. He stuck out like a sore thumb.
But then I noticed the butterfly on his hip – how sweet! It made me see the man differently. Are they both taking a break from their shared demanding and hectic surroundings? Why did the butterfly decide to land on him? In a while the man will probably continue the fervorous networking that is expected in this setting. I suddenly felt like the joke was on me. Who am I really to laugh? Let them have a break.
