The latest outcome from my research about a recently deceased writer and priest is a two-channel video work that seems to give an insight in the studio with the artist at work. The action performed looks almost like a ritual.

When does a repetitive action become a compulsive one? And if repetition is considered a form of artistic expression (like a musical score), how do you define the tipping point and how do you deal with it? Some consider it a higher way of living, as did the man at the centre of my research. Upon studying his life, you find that he tried to make every day of the week look exactly the same, as an everlasting oscillation, ebb and tide. Presumably this is his attempt to keep things in control.

My artistic practice always revolves around a single protagonist. He or she might be famous or unknown, but is ever obsessed with the issue of how to shape living conditions. The man whose life I’m examining now left behind an enormous wealth of information for me to find out and deal with. Monkish work. Since he gave me no rules on how to interpret his trails, I'm focusing on details that fascinate me most. His story is mine and mine becomes his.

Assuming the man’s habits I empty his bird boxes every fall, when the breeding season of great tits is over. We are both amazed by the formal elements of the nest’s architecture: ever uniform, taking on the only shape and size possible. A 12 by 12 cm square. Built methodically, exactly how we like things to be designed.