Kristoffer Ørum
Mostly it is admin.
Not research. The works were made first and explained afterwards.
This text is generated. He decided what it generates from.
Made by hand, mostly. Cut, cast, sanded, painted.
Research. Somebody is going to have to examine it.
The website keeps itself up to date. He does not.
Especially simulations of destruction are so widespread and credible that one quickly forgets what the original physical phenomena looked like. Melting State, 2020
Strange audio players and distorted timelines hint at other ways things could have turned out, with hip-hop positioned not as a fixed genre or imported form, but as a set of evolving principles. Aarhus'er #1, 2025
While gentrification night favour one imagined future out of all the others that could have come about, the ongoing struggle of whose imaginaries will be realised, and whose will be kept as potential or unrealistic futures, remains. Brownfield Wonderland, 2022
To experience this material, users navigate a digital environment rather than scroll through a linear feed. Watershed, 2025
When I use myself as material, my body and my image become a site for institutional self-critique—where paradoxically critique and complicity overlap. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
As Judith Butler has pointed out, an acknowledgement of our interdependence can be a basis for political communities, while Sara Ahmed highlights the possibility of an “affective solidarity” built on honesty rather than claims of innocence. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
The project was mentioned in reviews for its role in public debates on landscape restoration and climate adaptation. Djurs Øhav, 2020
Exhibition hours: Wednesday, Thursday, Friday 17:00-20:00 and Saturday, Sunday 12:00-17:00. Ebeltoft After The Flood, 2021
Instead, it opens up space for interpretation, uncertainty and collective speculation, asking visitors to consider alternative trajectories for urban development, cultural production, and collective organisation. Aarhus'er #1, 2025
Through web-based platforms, interactive media, and speculative design, the project transforms mundane moments into complex systems of meaning. Day to Day Data, 2008
The Downloadable Augmented Reality App (available here: https://s.oerum.org/BW) allows one to build one's own messy and unregulated digital architectures, both on and off the building site around Spanien 19C. Brownfield Wonderland, 2022
Yet it is also a paradox: even though AI produces many versions of me, they all point back to a recognisable “I.” This double movement—dissolution and reinforcement—is part of what interests me. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
Geometric shapes emerge from the boxes, forming a complex sculptural environment. In a Dark Room/a Storm in a Coffee Cup, 2004
Over the past year, I have created a series of self-portraits using locally run AI. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
It aligns with the idea that technology, even when shaped by exclusionary structures, can be repurposed towards shared imagination, local autonomy, and slower forms of innovation. Diffused States (Vancouver), 2025
Through these monstrous and bizarre creatures, the work addressed our relationship to more familiar creatures and digital systems that we share the modern technological world with. Mundane Monsters, 2023
Coffee Lake is a video installation combining computer-generated video with animated text, created for the group exhibition "Machine sans nom" at Bonamatic. Coffee Lake, 2019
The exhibition was part of SixtyEight Art Institute's two-year programme "Modes and Notes on the Local". Signal_Crayfish, 2020
The exhibition featured wall art contributions by artist Anders Reventlov alongside AI-generated narratives. Mr. Spray, 2024
Leaving the site once again ready to become yet another kind of Brownfield Wonderland, where one might just be able to dream of something new, instead of more of the same. Brownfield Wonderland, 2022
The art world overflows with images of beautiful, smart, and confident artists. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
We are shaped by the grammar of the frame, where composition and colour psychology direct our gaze and mood. Watershed, 2025
The work featured voices of people who inhabit these oysters, taking in post-work society, symbiotic relationships and alternative models of abundance. Affluence without abundance, 2021
The work presented a speculative interface for interacting with locally trained language models on recycled consumer hardware, quietly resisting the scale and speed of mainstream AI deployments. Diffused States (Boston), 2025
Each network name spells out a fragment of a 31-character text, visible only through the device list of available connections. Wireless Walnut, 2018
Works included "When nature looks back at you" (3D print, 2021), "Pearl House" (mixed media, 2020), "Habitation Oyster from Kolidsound" (3D print, 2020), and "WARNING FLOOR FLOODED DURING HIGH TIDE" (hydrographic print on cornstarch, 2021). Ebeltoft After The Flood, 2021
We are used to our own sight, shaped by memory and emotion, and to the camera's lens, with its illusion of objectivity. Speaker 1, 2026
Lesson plans, assessment structures and financial data are translated into dynamic graphics, situating the institution in relation to broader societal forces and its individual members. A Body Has Many Members, 2012
None of us escape this system by pretending we are not part of it. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
Much of what presents itself as representations of reality are computer-created simulations. Melting State, 2020
"It Sings for Us of What We Might Become" is a specially commissioned performative lecture presented as part of the symposium "ScreenShots: Desire and Automated Image" at Kunsthal Aarhus. It Sings for Us of What We Might Become, 2019
It is in this indeterminate time and space the Brownfield Wonderland exists as it attempts to reimagine the post-industrial brownfield. Brownfield Wonderland, 2022
The faces produced through this process often appear distorted or uncanny to human eyes, yet they retain a resemblance to mainstream ideals of beauty. Recognised Faces, 2014
I miss images that are weird, flawed, or personal. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
Additional elements included a video installation where visitors had Putin's face projected over them, making them momentarily become Putin speaking about Russian male superiority and Western decadence. Putin's Nose, 2019
The work contrasts the artificially generated with the seemingly authentic. Monuments of A Fictitious Past, 2024
The presenter introduces himself as Karsten Orth (deliberately mispronouncing his own name), welcomes the audience and discusses the boundary between inside and outside in the Glyptotek's winter garden. Feathered Misconceptions, 2018
A large yellow-green crayfish was positioned in the gallery window. Signal_Crayfish, 2020
The exhibition featured artists working in watercolor and gouache—a medium known for its fluidity and delicate textures—even when their usual practice includes sculptural, video, photographic, or installation-based work. Qua Aqua (Beetroot Texts), 2017
In art and activism, humour has repeatedly functioned as a way of exposing the absurdity of power—from Dadaist performances to contemporary meme cultures. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025