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Local fetish: Blut und Boden

When moving out of the small rented cabin in which my son was born, I decided to cut out the very piece of the floor, on which stains of blood had persisted.Despite the absurdity of the act I had found the idea of potentially carrying one’s birthplace around intriguing, have photographically reproduced the two boards numerous times, and have consistently engaged with my son in exploring the meaning-if existent or not- of such a fetish object.

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