Hans Berg

About the artist Nathalie Djurberg and the musician Hans Berg and their clay animation films.

Mothers are a stock character in stories and myths - chastising and tender, carting and deadly. The mother figure in this work, herself involved in a painful struggle, is unreachable.

Various characters take us along into the world of the illusory community and simultaneously harsh pecking order of club culture. What is it really about, beyond the bling? Perhaps it is the primary urge to devote oneself to something greater: a feeling, belief, or pure lust for life.

Pulsating music accompanies our journey through winding passages where characters appear - a portrayal of dissolving memory, space and time.

A girl sucking her thumb into a threshold between sleep and wake, the silk-robed elephant who tucks her in; the pile of ribboned presents, a toreador preparing for cursory duels, his huge bulge spelling out the objective and feeling out the mind’s recesses in Nathalie Djurberg and Hans Berg’s teen bedroom Bacchanal. The girl moves according to the distended time of dreams procuring pastel pal after another. It suggests that the subconscious craves the kind of chaos that apparently only barbotine sex can provide. In these Delights of an Undirected Mind (2016,) a giraffe soon sits atop a petrified fox like a Hag or succubus making haunted advances, whilst dearest My Little Pony is groomed with an increasingly lewd touch. As a Wolf in Grandma’s clothing feeds the troupe milk from a nippled bottle—think Little Red Riding Ho’—both the film and the milk condense the quiet purity of babyish slumber into an eddying fantasy. Credit: Sabrina Tarasoff

Set in a clearing in a forest, where the desires of the characters revolve around a mysterious cabin, into which only a chosen few are allowed. Temptation becomes a central theme in this fairy-tale setting.

To catch your prey you have to become the prey.