Installation of mixed materials: latex, metal, tubes, air. 2001.

Henie-Onstad art center, Bærum 2001
Vigeland museum, Oslo 2003
European Space, Riga, Latvia 2004
Slettnes Light house, Gamvik 2012

Double me, steel. 2012

Metaforer 1
I woke up beneath the snow, bronze. 2012

Breath, mixed materials. 2001

206.3 Pulmoneus

The initial meeting with Hanne Tyrmi´s Pulmomeus 206.3 in the Vigeland Museum gives an immediate sense of disorientation. One might be tempted to create a distance to this disorientation by, as Mr. Palomar in the Italian writer Italo Calvinos story The World Looks at the World, taking a step back and look at Tyrmi’s installation from the outside. But as Mr. Palomar, one is soon to realise the problems determining which of the objects that form the background and which form the foreground, in the creation of the meaning. And just as one realise this, one will soon find it difficult to not project the self into the installation. One will realise that the self always is somehow mysteriously. Intertwined with the body, and that the body is never a pure physiological mass, but always intertwined with ones conscious.

But is it possible to look at something without being coloured by the self? To who belong the eyes that are looking? The normal perception of this question is that the self is looking through ones eyes, just as a person that is standing by the window and looking at the world unfolding outside. In other words, the eyes are the windows to the world. So, if the world is outside, what is on the inside? Naturally, one might say, it is still the world. What else can it be? Mr. Palomar succeeded in moving the world from the outside to the inside of the window. And what was then left on the outside? That is too a world, but a world that has divided itself into a world that looks and a world that is being looked at.

Then, what about him, the self, or with other words Mr. Palomar? Is he not too a part of the world observing another part of the world? Or maybe, since the world exists on both sides of the window, the self is merely the window through which the world is looking at the world. It seems like the world needs Mr. Palomar’s eyes to look at itself.

If we imagine that the artist has borrowed Mr. Palomar’s eyes, and that she has lent her body and her work to the world, could it be that this itself, in phenomenological sense of the word, unveils a different world? In that case, would the world that appears in Tyrmi’s installation, exclusively be a fragmented and clinically physical world? Even if it is possible to look at oneself from the outside of the body belonging to certain theories of perception, there is , according to the French phenomenolog Merleau-Ponty, a grey area that is difficult to reach with linguistics. And it is this grey area that the artist is exploring, with her mechanised almost programmed perception of the bodily existence, completed with an irrational, almost staccato breath from the foetus-like object lying on the floor. The work embodies a contradiction, existing in the grey area between us and the world, where the body makes new experiences, finds its footing and makes the world visible and meaningful.

Dorthe Abildgaard, 2003