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Rye Dag Holmboe
Rye Dag Holmboe is a writer and PhD candidate in History of Art at University College, London. He has recently co-authored and co-edited the book JocJonJosch: Hand in Foot, published by the Sion Art Museum, Switzerland (2013). He has recently edited Jolene, an artist's book which brings together the works of the poet Rachael Allen and the photographer Guy Gormley, which will be published later this year. His writings have appeared in The White Review, Art Licks and in academic journals.

Articles Available Online


Art and its Functions: Recent Work by Luke Hart

Art

June 2016

Rye Dag Holmboe

Art

June 2016

Luke Hart’s Wall, recently on display at London’s William Benington Gallery, is a single, large-scale sculpture composed of a series of steel tubes held...

Art

February 2015

Filthy Lucre

Rye Dag Holmboe

Art

February 2015

White silhouettes sway against softly gradated backgrounds: blues, purples, yellows and pinks. The painted palm trees are tacky and...

I know the tiger is here If I listen carefully, I can sometimes hear it panting on the other side of the door Mr Samuels says I should mind myself and always be quiet so I don’t excite it He says if the tiger gets too excited, it might knock down the door to see what’s on the other side, and then I would be in real trouble He shows me pictures of tigers in a book, and reads out the text to me:    The tiger (Panthera tigris) is the largest member of the cat family (Felidae) Tigers have patterned fur that mimics shadows, so they are able (despite their large size) to be camouflaged when hunting prey   I nod, and think hidden in plain sight   Mr Samuels has been working with the tiger for years He knows all about tigers At least once a day, he says to me:    ‘It’s my job to work with the tiger, and it’s your job to make the bracelets’    But often, I feel sad and don’t want to make bracelets – I miss my sister She left a long time ago Sometimes I ask Mr Samuels how long ago she left But he doesn’t answer me, just shushes me and gives me an energy bar Mr Samuels makes the energy bars himself when he’s up in the lab with the tiger, and it’s funny – they make me feel relaxed, not full of energy Sometimes if I’m really sad he gives me two, and then I’m allowed to lie down for the rest of the day and not work I lie in my hammock and look at the patterns on the wallpaper and remember things I feel fuzzy and floaty   I remember when I was little and I wouldn’t eat my dinner and Mr Samuels put it on my head Smushed it in so the mashed potato and gravy covered my curls I locked myself in the bathroom that day and wouldn’t come out Obstinate That’s what he called me It’s my earliest memory I remember sitting looking at my reflection in

Contributor

August 2014

Rye Dag Holmboe

Contributor

August 2014

Rye Dag Holmboe is a writer and PhD candidate in History of Art at University College, London. He has...

feature

October 2012

Pressed Up Against the Immediate

Rye Dag Holmboe

feature

October 2012

The author Philip Pullman recently criticised the overuse of the present tense in contemporary literature, a criticism he stretched...

Existere: Documenting Performance Art

feature

September 2012

David Gothard

Jo Melvin

John James

Rye Dag Holmboe

feature

September 2012

The following conversation was held at the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London, in May 2012. The event took place almost a year after a...
Gabriel Orozco: Cosmic Matter and Other Leftovers

Art

March 2011

Rye Dag Holmboe

Art

March 2011

‘To live,’ writes Walter Benjamin, ‘means to leave traces’. As one might expect, Benjamin’s observation is not without a certain melancholy. Traces are lost...

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Feature

Issue No. 19

Ill Feelings

Alice Hattrick

Feature

Issue No. 19

My mother recently found some loose diary pages I wrote in my first year of boarding school, aged eleven,...

poetry

June 2013

Belly

Melissa Lee-Houghton

poetry

June 2013

When I was fifteen I took my two little cousins into town and had them wait outside the tattoo...

fiction

August 2013

Foxy

Siân Melangell Dafydd

fiction

August 2013

If you don’t want to lose your eyes, grab them by the veins sticking out of their behinds and...

 

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