This page contains extracts from work / projects / shows etc dating back to 1998 till 2015
Dirt Filth Man Dank - 4th October - 29th December - 2015
Performance / Theft / Stalking / Self Residence
Text piece l, Berlin, 2015.
Text piece ll, Berlin, 2015. (coming)
Ullet Road (IDIOT) - 2015
Oil on Canvas, wooden stretcher, 20 cm X 30 cm
(Private Collection Copenhagen, Denmark)
I am the flesh colour I did not apply - 2015
La Collection Moderne (Oslo)
My practice uncovers hypocrisy and hidden facts. This is all subjective, of course. I’m not trying to achieve some aesthetically pleasing utopia.
I have no rules regarding material used for my expression. I am on a constant search for information. Gossip, a wonderful material that I force into my aesthetics, so work like “I am the flesh colour I did not apply” (paintings) becomes activated for social viewing.
In Oslo, These paintings are stored in a room under earth level. The Norwegian soil was dug out by my family in the early 50’s so they could create a concrete storage room with a garage over. When young the entrance to this room was very dramatic and at times scary. Non of which matters, not for me, you or the paintings that comes from this place. The content of these images comes from another place. And exactly that, I am forcing this foreign content into action, I am activating their superficial surfaces, colour and form, by giving them, these painless panels, a provenance of existential value. I am trying to justify their existents by becoming their redundant master.
At LCM the work is outside of my control and comfort zone. The work survives with excellence, but do I survive, because I will now be defined as a painter? This social definition plain is part of my work, but the pieces are separated from this contextual way of thinking. My work and I are two different entities. This separation of representation is what I have to accept as my future practice. Therefore I have removed from this text passages like:
Grey speaks a muted language.
Green is a colour that spring from the earth, it is life.
Light blue could be heaven, but it’s not, therefore violated.
Light blue hangs as a reminder, therefore present.
I am the flesh colour I did not apply.
I am a depressed pig.
The art that is traded among artists is the most interesting art collections of today. The work can only be seen in artist’s homes, hanging, leaning or hidden. The work is often naked, raw and without content. The work represents acceptance, a gesture of appreciation or friendship. The work is rarely rooted in capitalism or art production.
I want to be represented in homes where I have forced myself in.The work has a dual purpose. They will be used as capital for trading. Where they become part of someones life. i.e. I am then represented in a domestic environment like a social oil parasite.
Victor Boullet. Liverpool. Berlin. Oslo. 4.5.15
(A Condition of Reoccurring Traditional Initiatives) (Green / Grey) - 2015
Chez Rufus - Oslo, Norway
Privat. Offentlig. Transit. Arv. - 2014
Fotogalleriet Oslo, Norway
Private. Public. Transit. Inheritance. Synnøve Anker Aurdal (1908 - 2000)
I photographed Synnøve Anker Aurdal on numerous occasions in the period 1995 - 96.
I got to know her, I liked her, I still like her, I remember her vividly. She rang me once saying; where is my piece? Come back with it. I had promised to document one of her later, smaller tapestry works, I got delayed, she tracked me down and I was told off. She was sharp and quick.
(I found my photos in the chest of drawers)
Crucial, a thank you to all the people that have made this possible. Below the thank you path to this show, plus a double warm bonus. (Important for future reference, thank the people that think they have been involved, if not, it might be mentioned in conversation later, sulk, sulk - The bigger the names the better - Danke)
#Thank Thank you Per Hovdenakk
#Thank Thank you Siri Anker Aurdal
#Thank Thank you Helen Gulaker Hansen
#Thank Thank you François Piron
#Thank Thank you Mats Stjernstedt
#Thank Thank you Stephanie von Spreter
#Bonus Thank you Svein Kojan
#Bonus Thank you Hege Nyborg
That this material has surfaced and that I can rummage (contemporary conceptual rummage blah blah) and exhibit the content of that chest of drawers, is interesting in itself. This material will disappear into the abyss of a national archive and never be seen complete again. The chest of drawers will be demolished by an aesthetic controller hired and paid by the Norwegian government. Please enjoy what you see.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal’s tapestry piece entitled The Bureaucrats was sold to the Norwegian government - (hahaha) - Synnøve Anker Aurdal never made the work in admiration of a bureaucrat, I do wonder if the bureaucrat that bought the tapestry thought exactly that. (?)
I recall her smile that turned into a laugh when I asked her about that tapestry.
The Tapestry is a trojan horse, it surveys the thoughtless bureaucrats making their daily self- important and bad decisions. (I remember the music I played that day before knocking on her door. AJFA / Track 8)
A conceptual idea not supported. I hoped that Synnøve Anker Aurdal’s private photographs could have been shown on tables from The Norwegian National Museum. Photos on tables, the space from Synnøve Anker Aurdal’s photographs down to the floor could have been a social sculpture.
I sent a text message, no reply, and then called the Norwegian National Museum director Audun Eckhoff, he confirmed that he had received my text. I explained my matter. He answered; please send an email to Sabrina Van der Ley regarding this very odd and unusual request.
Nordenfjeldske has apparently shown sporadic interest in the content of the chest of drawers.
I understand that one cannot archive, store or save everything that is produced by an artist. The paradox; art that is lost or has no home (transit) is imbued with a negation that creates an awareness. In many cases our National heritage is not immediately understood and is quickly manhandled or destroyed. (if lucky it’s stolen, burnt down or taken by a tsunami; that creates the correct public awareness, bingo)
Biographers should show people in their undershirts. Goethe had his weakness, and Calvin was often cruel. Considerations of this kind reveal the true greatness of a man. This way of looking at things is better than false hero worship. C G. Jung 1946
I remember looking at Synnøve Anker Aurdal sitting next to Ludvig Eikass at their kitchen table, I took a picture of them, not sure I have that photo or negative today.
The chest of drawers is a temple of self obsessed material and I recognise that manic need to document work. The mixture of content in the five drawers is just marvellous. It’s very private and it can only belong to Synnøve Anker Aurdal. The photographic material should stay in the chest of drawers, remain as found. Searching through the drawers there is a hidden hope of finding an old snap shot of Ludvig Eikass and his friend Tor Hoff, together.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal descending from a landed plane in Mallorca. Synnøve Anker Aurdal lying on a bed, hot and tanned.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal modelling next to her loom.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal with unknown person.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal eating breakfast.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal out of focus.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal at a table
Synnøve Anker Aurdal walking.
Synnøve Anker Aurdal sitting.
I will read Synnøve’s letter from Per Aabel.
The material and the chest of drawers should stay in the South of Norway, Oslo.
Kjell Askildsen wrote in 1953; Have you ever seen a one day old child with blue marks on it’s neck and eyes wide open, dead eyes.
I visited Carl Nesjar the other day, he took my hand and looked me into the eyes and said; It’s soon over I will die. Carl Nesjar invited me to Paris in 1995, we got food poisoned.
Please do not demolish, touch or move parts of the Y building. (Y Blokka, Oslo)
One thing that comes to mind is a fragment from a poem of the late Norwegian poet Tor Ulven; The fall is falling. (I would add even; even the fall is falling) (Fall as in tumble)
Should a Museum Director speculate in art?
The inside of an empty room, a room that stored something of importance. The content of the room is destroyed, but not missed.
I walk down the basement corridor. I recognise nothing.
Wer nie sein Brot mit Tränen aß,
Wer nie die kummervollen Nächte
Auf seinem Bette weinend saß,
Der kennt euch nicht, ihr himmlischen Mächte.
Ihr führt ins Leben uns hinein,
Ihr laßt den Armen schuldig werden,
Dann überlaßt ihr ihn der Pein:
Denn alle Schuld rächt sich auf Erden.
Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749- 1832)
Tesla Motor Nation? Starting price 641 000 NKR.
EUSales@teslamotors.com / www. teslamotors.com / Tel: + 47 21 06 19 29.
Stange Chicken. Norwegian corruption? - !
Artist on artist
And a blurred photo that might indicate that what was in that room, is of importance?
Any dilatory bureaucrats with his ego blinkers on is always unpunctual
If that empty room is consequential to me and not the content, does that mean that the chest of drawers, empty
A conceptual cavity of irritation.
Oslo, June 2014 Victor
Press Release by Stian Gabrielsen - WELCOME_TO_THE_BATHTUB.pdf
Song by Victor Boullet - TheBureaucratsSong.pdf
Invitation for the show (as seen above) - PRIVATE.PUBLIC.TRANSIT.INHERITANCE.pdf
POTA - Check List - FG_PRIVATOFFENTLIGTRANSITARV_VERKSLISTE_140814_FINAL.pdf
Gagged Archive lII - 2014
Fotogalleriet, Oslo, Norway
" There is a silence around this medium and the archive,
almost as though it has sunk into complete oblivion"
Text - Gagged Archive l ISH, Paris - 2009
Text - Gagged Archive ll Søyle Galleriet, Oslo - 2011
Check list - NorskkunstfraReformasjonentilidag_1955-90_norwegian.pdf
Check list - NorskkunstfraReformasjonentilidag_1955-90.pdf
The Harrow The Sparrow The Sorrow - 2014
Curated by François Piron
Kunstnernes Hus, Oslo, Norway
Email to François Piron, 2013
Dear Dr Piron. Sorry for the few days of absence. Busy. I’m writing this just after reading your proposal, and without thinking, just acting out what my first and initial thought is / was. They are very often the best. I must be 100% honest with myself - My life is only about me, and my work and that is all I can give you, as long as you know. And thank you for thinking of me, I am not a very curator friendly artist. (Working with one now in London, as part of my piece he is not allowed to go to his own vernissage! he accepted)
The Harrow, The Sparrow, The Sorrow is the title for this work. And the digressions are part of my practice. I will not me be moulded into being understood. I reject conformism.
And the art politics that I wade in everyday which are rooted in deep hypocrisy and personal positioning within the art hierarchy, I refuse to collaborate with.
My first encounter with Krauss was through a very good friend of mine, a friend born in 1940, he studied Krauss, among others, in Germany. We used to email each other quotes and other things, like this.
Jealousy is a dog's bark which attracts thieves.
A woman who cannot be ugly is not beautiful.
An idea's birth is legitimate if one has the feeling that one is catching oneself plagiarising oneself.
the last quote, I’ll come back to. This friend is not a dumbhead, he’s got a proper brain, like the one I will buy in 2030 when I am old and selling out. Anyway, every time we email, it always ends up in being rude, he loves to swear in English, French and German. He used to be a big knob in the European Union, like one of the really big ones. So, I would like to start a communication with him, without his knowing where it will end up. As both of us hate academics, just be aware! this might become a very nice piece?
(emails straight onto wall, I guess, I don’t know)
regarding the third quote, and what is below.
‘’Those who have nothing to say because actions are speaking continue to talk. Let him who has something to say come forward and be silent’’ ‘’artworks are sometimes an element of background, a character, a voice-over, a noise...’’
it makes me write this!
I will not go into great detail now, but rather just start here with thoughts and info.
My mother’s mother just died, my grandmother. We, the family Boullet, My dad, my mother and my two brothers in Oslo, have always lived in their house.(my dead Grandfather built it) My Mum has actually lived there for almost all of her 70 years. I was born and raised there and my Dad left us there, because of lack of liberty and so on. So this place bears a heavy history.
At Noplace Oslo, Aug 2012, I started a very quiet approach to my own understanding of where I come from and what it means and what inheritance can do to me / us, my grandmother was alive then. I did this by showing property that carries no meaning to anybody else but me, so I had no press release, no explanation only the release of the book TIME IS THE ASSASSIN. The book contains a story about me and my brothers, that I told to a young hip artist. I talked and walked the streets of my childhood with him. The 14 years between us is also very evident in the book, the artist has no connection with my life and values, it becomes all about him and his needs i.e. I lost my story to him, which was the point.
Some of the content that I showed at Noplace. Table and chairs from Scotland, my father has no space for them so they are left astray, furniture with a legacy, but no home. Childhood kitchen table belonging to a dear friend of mine. He had to throw it away because his girlfriend did not want it. Also he was a student of the artist Tor Hoff, Hoff’s wife Ida has eaten several dinners at the table. The china was from my mother’s collection, the pattern is called stråmønster, she’s been collecting for some 40 years, it all lives in the basement of the house. Never used! I own it all now. The history of the pattern is also important, has been copied by several manufacturers, I own plates from 4 different companies. Bust, made by my mother, milk crates, something I stole one night in 1991, used in my darkroom for photo chemicals. etc etc. No one knew any of this, my mission was to disappoint people that are too quick to judge, people like myself. A well known art critic came, did not even walk into the show. I would like to to reinstall this but on a slightly grander scale! I have much more, and it all gets better and more complicated. This I know will be good!
My point cannot only be made with my inheritance, so here goes.
Here is a text from a performance / lecture that I gave at Henie Onstad Art-center in Oslo October 2012. It was printed in the book MODERNIST MACHINE. (attached)
Tor Hoff (1925 - 1976) by Victor Boullet April 19th 1976, Huitfeldts gate 17, Oslo, the artist Tor Hoff took a hammer and brutally killed his partner. He then sat himself down on a chair at their table and wrote his will, his paintings were the first thing to be mentioned, they must be taken care of. He then signed it, TOR HOFF in large, clear letters, his final pencil marks. Then he climbed onto their window-sill and jumped eight floors down to his death. How should one view paintings, drawings and poetry produced by a man who can also commit murder and suicide? Is our understanding of Tor Hoff’s legacy and his story, influenced by our ethics and morals?
I have invited former director of Henie Onstad Kunstsenter, Per Hovdenakk, to talk about the art and life of Tor Hoff. Victor Boullet Paris 2012
Following Tor Hoff’s death his brother Arve now has to deal with his estate, it’s too XXXXXXX. Arve Hoff is XXXXXXXXX and has XXXXXXX, he is in fact XXXXXXXXX Tor Hoff’s legacy finding a place in Norwegian art history.
I would like to reinstall the HOK performance debris along with my mothers collection that I will have to deal with when she dies. Tor Hoff left over 1000 paintings if not a lot more to his brother and his first wife, Arve Hoff XXXXX. Tor’s first wife IDA, was given a few paintings. My mother is today losing her childhood home, the home she grew up in, the home where my brothers and I were brought up, all because her Mother could not deal with her testament and confrontation. All my grandmothers belongings have been shared among the hyenas and the rest thrown in a container. Tor Hoff’s work is stored in a room somewhere in Oslo for no one to see, because his brother is difficult. Also, Arve Hoff has a son, born in 1965, he is a XXXXXXX, Arve has got XXXXXX, if he XXXX, his son XXXXXXXXX, and that XXXXXX of TOR HOFF’s legacy. From the storage of Hoff’s estate I have video, images.
Password: fitte https://vimeo.com/45320109
Also another very dead and largely forgotten Norwegian artist that I love, is Synnøve Anker Aurdal, she is big, will be big, I knew her, took lots of portraits of her! When she died all her stuff was left to her daughter, she sold the house and apparently all her work is now in cardboard boxes stored at some photographers house, this is unseen work. She does not know what to do with it all. The daughter, Siri, an artist as well, is very tired, like Arve Hoff. She has to deal with everything, reproduction, storage etc. Apparently people are getting interested, so we should move quickly, I will not show her work as such. Her work is also political. But the debris of an artist’s life, the storage, the rawness that only can be seen in a black room, where one tries to forget that is exists.
This is all about a private stage of remnants, the naked place where things have no value. A place we do not hope for. A place we don’t want to be identified with when living. A place where pride is rip into pieces and killed by the loved ones. And this is a silent performance. An action with content that does not shout for attention, but manifests our broken obligations in a muted manner of shame.
Also, All this work is in Oslo, Norway. i.e. very low transport cost. And as part of the work, I would like my inheritance from Oslo to be transported to Paris by them / you, as part of your budget an the work we’re doing together. And install it into C/C as a solo show.
This will need to be agreed on paper, to be hung on the wall or presented as part your exhibition, the transparency is very important to me. Not only exposing my thoughts, emails, art and other peoples family problems, but I need to show how the inside of a Institution works, our communication of how and wheres.
I need space, I need time, I need to feel confident, I need freedom, I need to work.
and, after reading this you might regret that you invited me, I can understand that. But this is a real thought that is not connected with art or trying to be someone - this is love. It’s complicated and undefined and I need all that to survive, and I would like to do this with you.
Victor Boullet, Paris
Self Portrait Laying Down (Green / Grey) l & ll - 2014
Acrylic on canvas, 140 cm X 180 cm
Plough Twats (Green / Grey) - 2014
Acrylic on canvas, 50 cm X 72 cm
Self-portrait (Green / Grey) l & ll - 2014
Acrylic, spray paint on canvas, 36 cm X 46 cm
Public Polemic Practice, Paris 2012 - 2014
By Victor Boullet
the archive is keep here - www.publicpolemicpractice.com
PUBLIC POLEMIC PRACTICE is based in Paris. The .com domain stands for commercial, this is not a commercial practice or is it? I cannot stomach .org .net I think they are pathetic. .com is the mighty ruler of all internet portals. Artist and others with their names hooked to a .org or a .net please wake up and stand down, you are all hypocrites hiding from your own truth, you are all born .coms - please support .biz.
I am becoming .BIZ
This is a pretentious, naff and self-obsessed statement, read and judge it as you like.
PUBLIC POLEMIC PRACTICE
Right in front of my big nose I see traditions die - cultures disappear. Like a local bakery being turned into a boutique for sunglasses or shoes where the mindless punters feed their vain needs. Some converted shops keep intact the old facade, ceiling or floor to show that they do care, hypocrites following an interior blog. Some hard working people are still surviving this economic climate, they are still clinging on after yet another supermarket is pushed into a space where a family has worked for several generations. For me these properties have a value that goes far beyond today's currency. Into these places / spaces / rooms I will integrate my work or rather my disconnected thoughts. These venues will act as my platform for public engagement, but the work will also rub up against the owners and their clients, touch their thoughts or craftsmanship, the latter something redundant in my own practice. For the one week that my work is on display the owner will unknowingly serve as my gallerists. People buying a banana can ask the him / her questions and the answer is not for me to control, and I do think that the answers will not derive from an art network rooted in academia with the correct names dropped into the conversation. The integrated work lacks provenance therefore it has no value. Can a butcher give my work a provenance which adds to its value? How can one decide value? and who decides this value, this so called quality, the correct provenance for our acceptance?
The thoughts regarding this practice will roam with time.(big ass)
PUBLIC POLEMIC WRITING
Simultaneously I am working with Stian Gabrielsen who lives and works in Oslo, Norway on the oxymoron book project MONA. I feed him intimate details from my private life / walks in Paris. This raw material he freely takes control over and turns into his own personal pragmatic and very literal document. Cunningly we mix and change professions and names of real life characters so that we keep on top of this self made polemical hierarchy, we must survive in our negation in order to progress towards the real negative. The collaboration started in August 2012 when Stian Gabrielsen wrote a press release for Saturn The Flamingo which is now the first chapter of the book MONA, featuring Mona Høiness, a flamboyant Norwegian lawyer. (Who at the time was in a legal inherency battle with the family of Synnøve Anker Urdahl. Mona won it all, under very suspect circumstances based on a twenty year friendship) I love and adore Mona for all her social qualities and Stian Gabrielsen controls her every move like a jealous lover, he’s under her skin and with his viper fingers hammering his Samsung keyboard he acts like the master of a puppet, he has become her God. All written material to date has been released online and can be found at various locations. (password is required). Pleased to announce that MONA will be launched in Casablanca 2014.
PUBLIC POLEMIC STALKING
I am guilty of stalking, I am in fact a lazy superficial stalker. The joy of surveilling Mona or a gallerist, a gallery, a shop owner, an artist, a butcher, a baker or an innocent restaurant guest is all part of my practice, or is it a social behaviour that needs medical attention? To give you an naive example, I have followed a very tall strange looking man for about 8 years, I’ve got films and snaps. His name is Monsieur HaXXX(revealing name later). He wears sandals and his feet fascinate me, they are long, strange and a little bit red. I will film them, should really own them, all to come. I like the way his long awkward body can’t fit into my aesthetics of a tranquil daily scene, he annoys me. I have also installed work in the place where he eats every Thursday, so in a way he knows me. And that is the point, this crossing of paths. This human curiosity turned into a stalking practice and then this polemical selfish use of it. London, 2000 till 2004 - I stalked a man without a nose. He walked around with a great big black hole in his face, how fascinating I thought, and how very selfish. That was then and today is now. let’s move on.
Pissant - 2014
2nd Cannons, LA, USA
A Legacy Worth Nothing - 2014
Galerie Joseph Tang / Paris, France
A Legacy Worth Nothing
My name is Victor Boullet. Born 4th of August 1969. Kjelsås. Oslo.
I was brought up in a ground floor flat. Sømveien 23. Phone no 22 15 12 24
My mother and father got married and divorced at the above address.
The flat is small. The house is big. The garden is enormous for an address in a capital city.
The house was built by my grandparents they lived on the 1st floor. Hard workers.
My parents rented the ground floor flat.(bad idea)
My mother was born in Norway. My father was born and bred in Scotland. This is how I present myself: My name is Victor Boullet, I am half Norwegian, half Scottish. My mother has never lived anywhere else but in this house. She would deny that and say: I’ve lived in Scotland. My parents lived for eight months with my grandmother in Scotland. Before my parents got divorced they had only lived as a married couple with their parents.(bad idea)
My mothers mother died April 2013. My mother can no longer live in the house. This for several reasons. Including a very average inheritance dispute. I am not taking part. I live in Paris. This house is in Oslo.
This house is affection. The house is conflict.
The pain of change for the people involved cannot be resolved. Family don’t speak.
Family don’t talk. Family sits, stands, walks, exists only by looking at one another in a constantly muted manner.
Passing over threshold for the last time will be the beginning. I will not miss the house. I will not miss the neighbours. I will not miss my childhood. I will not miss my mother. I will not miss my family. I will not miss myself. I can now live life without that retreating hole that sucks all vision. I will become me and not that shared working class behaviour that has turned into my conscience.
From here on all new thoughts are not attached to what I believed was my manufactured truth. Today I am not anchored in the dreams of others. My mind will store memory that has no communal belonging.
The house was a container.
The house was storage.
I could go on forever and never…
Victor Boullet, paris, 2014
Hail You Nincompoop - 2014
Galerie Joseph Tang, Paris, France
NO SEX NO FACE NO NOSE - 2013
by Victor Boullet
with special guest Stian Gabrielsen
Kurant, Tromsø, Norway
I need a fridge
I need an oven
I need a cast iron frying pan
I need 18 raw chickens (Rema 1000, please check the date)
I need salt / black pepper (not white pepper or mixed pepper)
I need 15 loaves of bread
I need 10 red apples
I need 1 kg butter, good butter.
I need 2 litres of extra virgin olive oil
I need 6 litres of sunflower oil
I need 1 bottle of Heinz ketchup
I need 1 bottle of Hellman’s mayonnaise
I need 30 litres of sparkling water (not Farris)
I need 2 rolls of paper towels
I need 2 beds / mattresses with neutral coloured linen / please borrow from a hospital I need 2 pillows / with neutral coloured linen / please borrow from a hospital
I need 2 duvets / with neutral coloured linen / please borrow from a hospital
I need 4 shower towels / please borrow from a hospital
I need 2 bars of soap
I need 10 tables, sizes may vary
I need 10 plasterboards size 60X240cm
I need 12 meters of wooden batons (lekter)
I need screws and a screw drill
I need a hand saw
I need 5 litres of grey paint / water based
I need 5 litres of green paint / water based
I need one wide paint brush
I need 8 X10 litre water buckets, don’t need to be new, different colours
I need 2 projectors if possible, no sound
I need extension cords X 10
I need a newspaper ad asking for PLATES AND CUTLERY to be donated / lots
I need a mural to be painted on your facade / I need a painter
I need black material to cover your office windows
I need a A4 B/W laser printer
I need internet
We will live at Kurant for 4 days. We will eat chicken for breakfast, lunch and dinner accompanied only by white bread.
Please place everything I need in the exhibition room. No arranging! Buy beers or whatever you do for your openings, but at 23:00 I will close and lock the doors, everybody will have to leave, Stian needs to work on our book while I construct the show. I’ll open the door Tuesday 22nd October, but sadly we can’t stay, so please make sure to order a taxi to pick us up at 09:15. You can have the official opening the 23rd October at 19:30 - keep it open during INSOMNIA and close the show at 17:00 on 27th October.
(I hate the wooden bridge thing in your space, can I tear it down / or cover, if so, I need a crowbar or tarpaulin to cover it. btw. I guess you have coffee there? need that as well!)
The Problem with Victor Boullet is his Goody Goody two shoes Attitudeand Stoopied Art Mannerisms - 2013
NICC, Brussel, Belgium
ME ME ME PRETENTIOUS NONSENSE.COM - 2013
Performance / Lecture / (Social Digression series)
NICC, Brussel, Belgium
Cock The Hammer - 2012
Performance / Lecture / (Social Digression series)
KUNSTHALLE EXNERGASSE WUK, Wien, Austria
Tor Hoff (1925 - 1976) - 2012
Performance / Lecture / (Social Digression series)
Henie Onstad Kunstsenter, Oslo, Norway
April 19th 1976, Huitfeldts gate 17, Oslo, the artist Tor Hoff took a hammer and brutally killed his partner.
He then sat himself down on a chair at their table and wrote his will, his paintings were the first thing to be mentioned, they must be taken care of.
He then signed it, TOR HOFF in large, clear letters, his final pencil marks.
Then he climbed onto their window-sill and jumped eight floors down to his death.
How should one view paintings, drawings and poetry produced by a man who can also commit murder and suicide?
Is our understanding of Tor Hoff’s legacy and his story, influenced by our ethics and morals?
Eet Exploerer - 2012
Wax tablecloth on Stretcher, 90 cm X 120
Fujichrome, 21 cm X 30 cm / 13 cm X 18, Ed. 2
Saturn The Flamingo - 2012
NoPlace, Oslo, Norway
Noplace project page
Ai Wei Wei is in China - 2012
curated by Cedric Aurelle / Louis Scoufaras
HIB Poster, 70 cm X 100 cm (2011)
Fichtebunker, Berlin, Germany
Yellow Pong Monger - 2012
Galerie Joseph Tang, Paris, France
Title to come, forgotten - 2012
Mixed media, Size, To come.
Thou Adidas Monger - 2012
Galerie Joseph Tang, Torino, Italy
Thou Adidas Monger
Chapter 1 (1 - 11)
Notions of fuck entering the lower part of my body, fuck travels through my pale and rotting corps at the speed of light. Inside my blue face, I need nothing and then I eat everything that moves in front the self, the great big I.
This is where I was not born.
This is where I will not die.
This is just a geographical root clogging up my view. Seek.
Pride has always been in the way of excellent work, if excellent work even exists in my part of the universe.
I will approach work with my dead hands, I will present work made with a lifeless brain and no eyes.
I am a man with with a brut mahogany neck. The neck snapped, the intense smell of dark self was the only hint that harvest time was entering my I.
Closing in on it’s next weak mud pray I discover the harrow leaning against my history.
Then lowering the iron plough into the conceptual sorrow. Ripping the soil to pieces, folding it over onto it self.
Soil to soil.
My head falls back, no longer connected with my body, only the flesh between the two machines holds us together.
At last I am the column that has nothing to bear.
I stand still, but only for a few liberating seconds.
Fall that failing body.
The feeling of defeat is a burden of the heaviest metal known to mankind, it pushes you deep down into the soil. Your own soil. And you might not recover its emends totalitarian pressure of hate. Your pride is torn a part, crushed to smithereens.
I am defeated, I can’t breathe, suffocating. I need air, I try desperately to open my wedged windpipe to suck some needed air down into my lungs so my brain and I will not to fade to black. The question is not the beautiful air that is so needed it is how the hell did I get here, again, into this position of self rape and discomfort.
That fist pushes into that life.
My hand digs further into the soil, with great joy I can touch what I dug for.
I pull, I tug, I rip with great force.
I feel the shape leaving it’s birth place, my spine being pulled out.
The human column
Covered with flesh, meat that I own.
I suck, I lick the spine clean in hope of a vague taste of heritage.
Myself I eat.
Cynical Sunday - 2011
Oil on Canvas, 38 cm X 46 cm
Series of 60 Paintings
Anstruther Scotland - 2012
Galerie Joseph Tang, Paris, France
Poster Invitation Download here
AM I SCOTLAND - 2011
Galerie Joseph Tang, Paris, France
Bonus - 2011
Shaynaynay, Paris, France
Bonus pressrelease here
This Spectacle Steinway Only - 2011
Sommer & Kohl Gallery, Berlin, Germany
I am a Social Slut - 2010 / 2011
Graphite on Paper, 50 cm X 70 cm, Framed
Dear Dr Jacobsen - 2011
2nd Cannons LA, USA
The Rise and The Fall of The Institute of Social Hypocrisy - 2011
Performance / Lecture (Social Digression series)
Open night, Art Academy, Oslo, Norway
Circles of Bureaucratic Repetition - 2011
Oslo Art Academy, Norway
The Elgin Collection - 2010 - 2011
Oslo Art Academy, Norway
The Institute of Social Hypocrisy: Sound of Downloading Makes Me Want to Upload - 2010
Edited by Victor Boullet
Publisher: The Institute of Social Hypocrisy (2010)
Size: 14 x 21 cm
Weight: 500 g
The Ectoparasite Hymn - 2010
Le Commissariat, Paris, France
Brooding Parasite Feeding Week, Day 2, 18:00, 2nd November - 2010
The Institute of Social Hypocrisy, Paris, France
I Pretend to Like Harold Pinter - 2010
Patriothall Gallery, Edinburgh, Scotland
John and Morton 1967 - 2010
Performance (Social Digression series)
9 min, Mp3 to CD 2010 (mixed by Fred Ball)
Patriothall Gallery, Edinburgh, Scotland
Screw The Ethics? (2001) - 2010
The Institute of Social Hypocrisy, Paris, France
Note for the Thief, keep it Untitled I - II - 2009
Printed A4 paper, Tape (C-type)
Two Faced Column - 2009
Mixed media, dimensions variable.
Bureaucratic Column - 2009
10 000 sheet of A4 ISH Headed paper
The Institute of Social Hypocrisy
16th May 2009 to 16th May 2011
by Victor Boullet
– Mission Statement
The Institute of Social Hypocrisy is the Paris based artificial organisation that fronts an ongoing collaborative work by the artist Victor Boullet.
The Institute of Social Hypocrisy is conducted in the form of a protracted performance piece and its very existence is brought about by inviting participation with others.
Each player and event contributes vital information and connections that allow the Institute to progress.
The ISH provides a perception of authority and thus acts as a Trojan horse; it permits the contributors to covertly infiltrate organisations and to gain access people that they might not normally be able to approach.
The accepted paraphernalia that symbolise an official structure also represent The Institute. Door plaques, headed paper, business cards and a flag combine to present an authoritative façade that conceals the true internal activity.
The fundamental theme recurring in Victor Boullet’s work is that of alienation and acceptance. He highlights the aspects of intrinsically hypocritical social behaviour used to ingratiate oneself with others.
This sense of exclusion, and the subsequent desire to put up an illusion of conformity, functions as the point of departure for the activities taking place within the The Institute of Social Hypocrisy
The Institute combines these two connected aspects, of simulated bureaucracy and hypocrisy to form a conceptual umbrella under which a programme of related events can take place. It provides a structure
for artists to take control of the programming and direction of their work and to be responsible for the events, installations and publications that occur.
Note - For the The Institute of Social Hypocrisy archive or if you would like to research the ISH program website from 2009 till 2011.
Please send an email as we do opened the webpage only on request. The archive is accessible from 2009 to 2019.
Plaster Saint - 2009
Fujichrome, mounted on aluminium, framed, 90 cm X 120 cm.
I am a dying Photographer 2008
C-type, 90 cm X 110 cm, Framed
Very Bored - 2007 / 2008
Ink jet, 30 cm X 40 cm
Portrait of a Workingman III - 2007
Mini DV to DVD, Looped.
Reversing The Direction of Hope - 2007
Gallery Sara Guedj, Paris, France
Social Digression - 2007
Victor Boullet - Performance / Lecture / (Social Digression series)
Nordic Light, Norway
Screw The Ethics? - 2006
Henie Onstad Art-center, Norway
Social Hypocrite - 2004
i8 Gallery, Iceland
(i8 galley project page)
Gepetto - 2003
Series of photographs from performance in London NW 10
C -type, 13 cm X 18 cm
Kate 2002 - 2003
C-type, 100 cm X 100 cm, mounted, Framed, Ed. 2
Inkjet, 30 cm X 40, Ed. 2
Shadow Seeker - 2001
Mini DV to DVD, Looped
Iron - 2000
Mini DV to DVD 100 min (image from Gallery i8)
Lion Monkey - 1999 - 2000
Hot Rod Mag Gallery, Coffee House, Oslo, Norway
Damage - 1998
Penthouse and Pavement, curated by Torbjørn Rødland.
Photographers Gallery, Oslo, Norway