The nature of a paper cut is unexpected, shocking. It’s an intervention. It interrupts us in what we are doing. How did that happen? we are wondering inevitably. We look for the source and take care of the wound, that hurts more than we would expect from paper, a profane material we use on a daily basis. Inevitably.

Paper, in its origin, is a natural material. It is not made to cut. The sharp edges it develops by being sliced. Only cut paper cuts. When it’s not in its complete state, paper becomes a blade. In order to make it fit into our purposes, we unintentionally sharpen it. Still, we don’t see paper as something dangerous. Therefore a cut feels like a betrayal, from a material we see as somewhat tender and innocent.

The experience of a paper cut reminds me of our human interaction. Don’t we - unintentionally - ‘cut’ each other as well? Aren’t we all - from our perception - innocent in our intentions? And we all get cut ..

Inspired by this thought, I followed this path within myself and found paper cuts of the past. These tiny slashes, unseen, once they’re healed. But I still recall the shock and pain vividly. 

How did it happen? With my artwork, I looked at it, re-experienced it, observed it, and listened to it. I wrote it down. The ink, bleeding through my pen, was cleansing. This process was and is well-doing for me. Healing? Yes, too, in some way. But the traces remain. And once I dedicate attention to them, they are being honored and integrated. 

Meet me from September 8th-28th at my spot at Atelier Mitte. With my artwork and space for interaction, I’m there to accompany you along the way to revisit paper cuts on our inner map. I invite you to meet this place within yourself, too. A place, where a paper cut happened to you. You pick which one. Let’s give it some attention. And finding ourselves not alone - rather than united in this experience, as human beings.