Tiril Hasselknippe, CHEST PIECE, 2014, Bronze, patina, copper wire. 50 x 33 cm
Tiril Hasselknippe FLOOR, 2014 Concrete, dye 386L x 273 x 5 cm
Tiril Hasselknippe, Sophanes, 2015 Installation View
Tiril Hasselknippe, ANCHOR BLACK, 2014, Patina, bronze, steel, brass 99 x 96 x 112cm
Tiril Hasselknippe ANCHOR PURPLE, 2014 Patina, bronze, steel, brass 53W x 71D x 112H cm
Tiril Hasselknippe ANCHOR PRUSSIAN, 2014 Patina, bronze, steel, brass 53 x 71 x 112 cm
Tiril Hasselknippe ANCHOR TURQOUISE, 2014 Patina, bronze, steel, brass 114 x 90 x 74 cm

Accompaning Text



Perils. Your biggest gripes. Tug of war. Initiation. Square this. Brought to the end. Not requiring any more work. Completed. Done. Into the abyss. Age least. The state of the union. So stark.
You scamp.

The sky is soft. Softer around your frame. Riding the creature. Flinching. Filing. Holding. The perfume is reactive. Weighing down the air with alcohol. Breaking out. All of it. Most of it. Stay congruent. Rooted by default. Words fail. Thousand Islands dress up. I was here first.

He didn’t tell me until it was too late. After the fact lores. The two rules of life. Love your best friend and cry. Seal the story. Keep it safe. Sage advice. Don’t remind me.

Movement already. The plates are migrating. This is not a painless flight. Moving and removing. I will not tell. Keep it still. Stay in this bed. Bed peace. Uninstall. Deinstall. Reconfigure. Program this.
Show me the games you made. Demonstrate distortion. Warps. Sound waves like the ocean. Collect all the times I put my head on your shoulder. Forget.

The hands are so small. It is a wonder they can preform at all.

Brace. A brazen landscape. Vapors exit. No truth in these temperatures. The car moves with me. We move alone. The third eye speaks. Providing structure. The old world was cultivated. Define your needs. Standards. Plural. Always.

You go in pieces.

Parts of you stay. Sand digging into the surface. Chafing. Layer protection. Look at the pictures. See the evidence. See them again and quantify. Study the gaze. Suffocate hope. Stare it down until it whimpers. See the truths. See the likes. Winks. Links. Kill it now. Let it die. Die in pieces.

Brace. Brace. Lift off.

I smell acetone. I roll them up. Coiled eyes. The right card at the right time. Place the message. Ready the earth grid and prep the ground. Going the distance. Running to Marathon. Platitudes notwithstanding. Display. Coaxing the sky.

Tell me all the ways to anchor. The release of weight in the right place. I don’t like leaving. Sophanes told me the truth. All the reasons and the secrets of the sun. The sun points to the moon and tells me he is interesting. Things are sweet. He kisses softly at night. Curl. Hone. The moon has a few freckles on his shoulders. And a strong nose. She leaves every morning boarding her flight.

This is what they say about space travel. Amateurs talk about technology. Professionals talk about insurance. The sun pleads with Sophanes to borrow his anchor.
Inland pathways. Command ending. Shorten the distance. Tighten. The whispers leave. The whispers linger. Slipping. Bury this.

Some parts stay. A sum of totals. Chained to my cuirass. Be seated forever.