August 26, 2010
Re: Reference letter for Olle Holmberg
I often wonder whether the social fabric of Melbourne harbors a subliminal force that has the ability to corrupt, transform and mutate foreign minds into malfunctioning machines. Since his early beginnings of upstanding civilian-ship with a curious eye for the photographic, Olle has somewhat in the last few years reverted back to a pre-historic self. He has since lost all sense of appropriate dress and partly disabled his facial grooming abilities. He is now more Australian than the most sophisticated ocker Australian male. With his nordic ancestry long forgotten and a pair of track pants on his legs, Olle faces the otherwise sober Melbourne art world with his fierce high pitch naivety and jokes-in-hand approach ready for any image compositional challenge. Demented and slightly autistic, Olle's work is now endeavoring on a (social)-path-ic state of the unknown. That great vast never ending world of pranks and long lost technological mishaps, salvaged trash and could-be/would-be/should-it-be objects, an overpowering smell of beer residue - following a healthy point of mental retardation. Olle makes me feel ashamed that he was able to do a better job at bridging the cultural divide far better in 5 years than I ever managed to do in my 19 years of being an Aussie adoptee. I bow to his adaptability, shake to future boganism, I cin cin and chi-ching to his great success.