Benedikte Bjerre: Who delivers

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Open: Tue-Fri noon-6pm, Sat 11am-5pm

Limmatstrasse 214, CH-8005, Zürich, Switzerland
Open: Tue-Fri noon-6pm, Sat 11am-5pm


Benedikte Bjerre: Who delivers

to Sat 16 Jul 2022

Limmatstrasse 214, CH-8005 Benedikte Bjerre: Who delivers

Tue-Fri noon-6pm, Sat 11am-5pm


Labor, 2022

Welded aluminum, in 7 parts
each 16 x 16 x 98 cm (6 1/4 x 6 1/4 x 38 1/2 in.)

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Nocturnal, 2022

Welded aluminum
40 x 55 x 17 cm (15 3/4 x 21 5/8 x 6 5/8 in.)

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Starry Night, 2022

Direct bronze cast of bread in 24 parts
each approx. 1 x 10 x 13 cm (3/8 x 4 x 5 1/8 in.)
4 additional bread slices are available as individual works

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Fresh Window, 2022

Pigment print on Carson Baryta paper
each 24 x 30 cm (9 1/2 x 11 3/4 in.)
Ed. 5, plus 2 artist’s proofs

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Done Thing, 2022

Direct bronze cast of new born baby diapers mounted on airtight Pelicase
37 x 62 x 53 cm (14 1/2 x 24 3/8 x 20 7/8 in.)

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Reproduction, 2022

Welded aluminum
107 x 20 x 20 cm (42 x 7 7/8 x 7 7/8 in.)

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Added to list



Delivery is a service. Often a luxury. In the jaded logic of the pandemic-exhausted middle class family-and-career-balancing struggledom maybe even: a right. To sustain a family/career is to deliver, so it seems. And rather promotions and prosperous dollar results than food and babies, so it seems. A wealthy day condensed: Getting things done before eating something that arrives from far away.

A productive life cycle condensed: human delivered from human, food delivered to human, shit delivered from human, sperm delivered to human, next human delivered. Some bodies maintain this circle of labor and while those bodies work for collective existence other bodies work for collective extinction.

If you desire some warfare you can get yourself some weapons. Brought directly to your front line in certified delivery armor peaced down by its innocently bird-esque name. Pelicase: This marvel security option for the kill-ware of coming life takers. Nurse your gun, nurse your infant and keep enjoying the fact that you, too, were born to shop.

Precious jewelry is usually a gift, bread usually isn’t, these two ends could outline an axis of shopping. In the bottom: elementary life supply until wheat becomes extravagant and the loaf becomes this axis’ top jewel. So easy to add a tinge of romance to your monotonous mornings if bread is a sparkling gesture, so demanding to keep your flock satiated if harvests cease.

After hungry dawns followed by the stretches of self-realization or self-upkeeping that workdays tend to be, starry nights always arrive. As predictable as household chores they reappear – or indeed, neither actually ever leave. Glittering stains of serenade-friendly sky jizz to remind us of our total insignificance, trillions of cute astral pearls to illuminate love and death. Most invasions are nocturnal business.

And truly possessed are the bodies able to carry the goods so crucial for our global survival/eradication. These bodies destined to carry offspring born and unborn, heavy luggage up the hobby-climbed mountains, viciously grown produce or convenient family dinners. A condensed prospect: No star-spangled heaven to gleam over obsolete feasts or the snow-clad peaks of poetry when crops surrender to increasing sun and mouths. Is damage also delivered.

Nanna Friis

Courtesy of the artist and Lullin + Ferrari, Zürich

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