into a Familiar Body
2022 - Ongoing
2025 - Ongoing
2025
The painting is divided into two sections by a horizontal line that is broken by the upper section, which is composed of non-figurative shapes resembling smoke and clouds. These forms are painted in grays, warm whites, pale greens, and blues against a puce, burnt-rose–colored background. The brushstrokes are textured and loose, offering a degree of transparency.
A bright sky-cobalt blue line is positioned high in the composition, almost above the clouds and parallel to the horizon.
The lower section is painted in darker tones of brown and green, with elements of gray that loosely suggest a mirroring of the upper section. The brushstrokes here are denser and more layered.
2025 - Ongoing
2025
A composition made with loose, layered lines in red, pink, brown, and gray tones. The drawing contains several stacked oval and cone-like shapes aligned vertically along a central axis. Thin circular rings intersect the forms at different heights. The lines are sketchy and overlapping, with visible marks extending beyond the main structure.
A similar vertically arranged composition rendered with heavier application of dark red, magenta, and burgundy tones. A large bowl- or funnel-shaped form appears at the top, narrowing downward into a central stem. Several oval rings encircle the stem. The lower section contains dense, dark brushstrokes and smudged areas, while lighter sketch marks remain visible around the edges.
A series of drawings that engage with conditions of chronic pain through references to representations of the body found in anatomical atlases. The works portray the sick body as mutable, in motion, and in escape, resisting both verbal description and scientific visual language, as the series emerges from the encounter with the idea that pain often escapes the frameworks given for its description and interpretation.
In response to the depiction of a fixed anatomy, the drawings seek forms that dissolve, repeat, and reorganize, suggesting a body continually renegotiating itself in response to persistent sensation.
Watercolor, pastel, and pencil (21 x 29,7 cm)
2023 - Ongoing
2025
2025
Painting
2023 - Ongoing
Oil crayon, oil, pen on cardboard (15 x 15,5 cm)
The image shows small works arranged in a loose grid against a white background. Each piece I painted on an unfolded piece of cardboard packaging from empty medicine boxes, where fragments of barcodes, drug labeling, and the original box design are visible.
Their surfaces are layered with painterly marks in varied palettes—earthy browns, maroons, reds, deep greens, blacks, and occasional bright blues. Some compositions feature circular or looping gestures, while others are dense and gestural, with smudges, washes, and scribbled lines. In certain pieces, faint drawn elements, such as loose linear sketches or dotted patterns, interact with the painted areas.
2025
Now is Night
2022
@anastasijakiake
My practice engages with the ways social, political, and spiritual conditions are shaped by economies of feeling, ecologies of belonging, and structures of violence. Situated within the context of post-Soviet identity formation, alongside experiences of disability and im/migration in Scandinavia and Western Europe, my work primarily focuses on developing methods for negotiating language and narration.
Last Updated 11.02.2026
Dictionary
2022 - 2025
Over the course of three years, this project has developed through the performance of reading and remaking a dictionary of a forgotten mother tongue. Through asemic handwriting, drawing, and painting performed directly into the book, language is approached as an embodied process. The gestures of writing and mark-making function as forms of thinking, where understanding emerges through repetition, movement, and material interaction.
The work originates in a childhood experience of migration, when I attempted to learn a new language (as part of my integration process) by reading a dictionary in its entirety. Which failed, much like this performance and this recent attempt to recover a forgotten mother tongue. By intervening in the dictionary’s structure, I explore its authority as a site of definition, transforming it into a space where memory, loss, and language are negotiated through the body. This transformation turns the dictionary into an absurd tool for pouring nothing into emptiness, and/or a generative void that shapes the remaining spoken languages around itself.
p.226 and 227 out of 464
Oil crayons, ink (27,5 x 20 cm)
An open book lies on a white surface, photographed from above. Several pages are fanned toward the left, revealing printed text in narrow columns. On the right-hand page, a small painted sheet is clipped onto the book with two large gold paper clips. The inserted page features an abstract composition in muted greens, browns, and pale blue tones, marked by scattered black brushstrokes that resemble organic fragments or cellular forms.
Film (20:00 min) by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich, and Anastasija (Nastija) Kiake
In collaboration with Abood Raz and Sahl Raz
2025
Unfolding in a landscape carved from chalk, Tina Enghoff and Kent Klich follow and repeatedly return to cracks, pebbles, and mountains where an account of the relationships between language, translation, and migration takes shape.
Scenes of the landscape are interwoven with readings of poems originally written in Arabic by Abood Raz and translated into English by Sahl Raz. The poems refer to the tactility and embodiment of language. At the same time, the intimacy of the translation process reveals a silent conversation between father and son, intertwined with fragments of their refugee experience from Aleppo, Syria, to Denmark.
In a parallel process, Anastasija (Nastija) Kiake reads excerpts from their essay on translation and the forgetting of one’s mother tongue in the course of migration, alongside their performance of transcribing chalk rocks split from a mountain.
Cinematography by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich
Poetry by Abood Raz
Translation by Sahl Raz and Muhammad Shehada
Essay fragments by A. (Nastija) Kiake
Sound recording by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich, and A. (Nastija) Kiake
Sound editing by A. (Nastija) Kiake
Performance by A. (Nastija) Kiake
Film editing by A. (Nastija) Kiake
The project is supported by
Statens Kunst Fond
Nordic Culture Point
Nordisk Kultur Fond
A stark, rocky landscape stretches out, its barren terrain broken by uneven ground and scattered loose stones, with a sloping hill rising in the foreground. Above, a blue, cloudless sky fills the view.
Project by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich, in collaboration with Anastasija (Nastija) Kiake
The project is an evolving artistic archive that bears witness to Europe’s 2015–18 refugee quote unquote crisis by documenting eighty-nine former Refugee Asylum and Emergency Aid Centers across Denmark through oral history, photography, photogrammetry, and film. Created in collaboration with people with refugee experience, the project interweaves personal testimonies with architectural documentation and local archival images to form multiple, bending timelines of past and present. By foregrounding memories and sites at risk of erasure amid Denmark’s shift toward restrictive immigration policies, the archive creates space to renegotiate collective memory and retell histories often excluded from official narratives.
The project is initiated and led by Tina Enghoff and Kent Klich, and developed in collaboration with me, Anastasija (Nastija) Kiake.
Fotografisk Center, 2025
The interior of an installation is viewed through semi-transparent, dark purple hanging fabric or curtains in the foreground. Behind the curtains stand several tall columns covered with a patchwork of small rectangular panels or images arranged in a grid-like pattern. The space has high ceilings and an industrial architectural style with exposed beams and large open areas.
In the center foreground, a low wooden display table holds two angled digital screens or tablets glowing softly. In the background to the right, a large projection or screen displays a white, cloud-like or particle-based digital form against a darker wall.
Video Installation (31:50 min) by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich, and Anastasija (Nastija) Kiake
2022–2025
The video installation consists of two projections of photogrammetric models of 89 former refugee, asylum, and emergency aid centers in Denmark that closed in 2018.
Gloslunde Refugee Asylum Center was the first location documented. A chalk mound resembling a mountain defined the form of documentation for the remaining locations. The objective was to observe and capture the tallest point appearing within the surrounding landscape.
The animation of Gloslunde Refugee Asylum Center is projected onto a surface bearing handwritten coordinates, rendered in chalk pigment, of the 89 locations represented in a separate, corresponding projection.
Each photogrammetric model consists of 150–300 photographs taken by Tina Enghoff and Kent Klich as a method of mapping the former asylum and emergency aid centers in Denmark. These photographs were processed into models, animated, and edited into a video by A. (Nastija) Kiake.
The project explores questions of preservation and develops a poetic methodology for collecting, interpreting, and structuring data. Each location, each mountain, holds concrete information about its environment while dissolving into abstraction, opening a space beyond measure.
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Project by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich, and A. (Nastija) Kiake
Photography by Tina Enghoff and Kent Klich
Mapping the former asylum and emergency aid centers - Tina Enghoff and Kent Klich
Photogrammetry and animation by A. (Nastija) Kiake
Film Editing by A. (Nastija) Kiake
Chalk Mural by Tina Enghoff (Havremagasinet, Boden) and A. (Nastija) Kiake (Fotografisk Center, Copenhagen)
Installation by Tina Enghoff, Kent Klich, and A. (Nastija) Kiake
Installation view, Fotografisk Center, Copenhagen, 2025
The video consists of sequences that show detailed grayscale visuals of soil, rocks, roots, grass, and other organic textures that are composed to mimic mountainous terrains. These are rotating on their axis, against a black background. Each image is made of clouds of dots, vaguely resembling star constellations or a pixelated version of the objects depicted.
Below the video thumbnail are two smaller images from an exhibition space.
The left image shows a dark gallery wall covered with projected or printed lines of text and data-like markings, with a rectangular platform placed on the floor in front.
The right image shows a projection of a textured, earth-like surface displayed on a large screen inside an exhibition space with exposed ceiling beams.
Performance (30 min)
2022
A performance consisting of poetry readings and film projections, in which my gestures are guided and supported by a sculpture that resembles a spine. The work is created as part of an ongoing research project on emotional accumulation within sugar, sweet, and honeyed objects that pass through, along, and with the post-Soviet body.
In this part, staying within the frame of sweetness, the poems speak to and through a river that leads to my village and hometown, eventually dissolving into the sea. I approach it as a mode of transportation between different timelines and as a diffusion of the locus of origin, while I speak to the spine as an archive of bending.
And by bending, I mean:
I bend as a working body, inheriting the shape that labour gives across generations.
I bend in language, and in its lack.
Similarly, I bend in citizenship, and in its lack.
I bend in desire and rejection.
In the separation of excess into parts, and in the somatic narrative of this fragmentation.
Sculpture. Polymer clay and rope. (143 x 11 cm)
The three images are divided into two sections.
In the upper section, two photographs are positioned next to each other. Each photograph shows me standing in front of a screen displaying a video of rivers, positioned against frames of red and pink abstract patterns. In each photograph, I am silhouetted against the screen and holding a spine-like object on my shoulders. Other people are visible in the foreground.
Below, there is a close-up image of a sculpture that references a spine: a bone-white, textured object arranged in a circular pattern. The spine is composed of multiple individual pieces, each with a curved, irregular shape.
Performance documentation by Alize Wachto
Performance, essay, and asemic writing
A performance of asemic letter writing. I bend over a blank piece of paper while my bodily posture guides my hands, transcribing movement in ink. I repeat this to a point of exhaustion; after the process concludes as a form of ritual, I turn to attempting to put recurring dreams I dreamt in the spring of 2022 into words.
The asemic letters and the dream transcripts are positioned against each other as a form of dialogue between intense forgetting and the recurrence of fragments, composing a text that seeks to make a fragile sense of them.
In the publication “A Trace, A Break, A Letter Shape” 2022
The image shows a book open to pages 84 and 85.
Page 84 contains text, while 85 features two black-and-white photographs. Both images depict a person, me, with long hair leaning over a large sheet of paper on the floor. The white paper shows asemic writing in black ink. I'm positioned close to the paper, in the act of writing. The photographs are arranged side by side, showing different angles of the same scene.
The publication was written and produced with Johanna Ekenhorst, Rick Geene, Isolde van Gog, Thomas Grommers, Anastasija (Nastija) Kiake, Alec Mateo, Abhaya Mistry, Simoni Stergioula, Monique Todd, Jasper Westhaus, and Weronika Wojda, with support of the Critical Studies department, Sandberg
Performance
2022
A performance that consists of the repetition of the gesture of applying honey to my throat, letting it coat the surface of the skin, following the shape of my throat, and the movement of the honey as it runs towards gravity.
When speaking of vocal fatigue, one refers to the exhaustion of the voice — a condition most common in bodies that resist singing. The sonic properties of the voice become temporarily, partially, or completely lost. The body, once an instrument, is left with the words of its language pronounced within a muted acoustic reality. At times, however, language itself collapses under conditions of acute fatigue. This is a state in which acoustics fail to reach the point of social agreement that forms a word, much like a gesture of the hand that fails to become readable writing.
The performance becomes a ritual of holding and care for exhaustion, in which honey embodies the sweetness and stickiness of desire and disgust, positioned in parallel with the experience of language.
The video shows frames, close-ups of a person, me, from the shoulders to just below the mouth, standing indoors against a softly lit background that contains no elements other than white wooden panels. I'm applying honey to their throat with both hands. Thick streams of golden honey cover the neck and flow downward across the collarbones and chest, soaking into a light-colored sleeveless garment. The hands press gently along the sides of the neck, emphasizing the tactile, viscous feeling of the material as it drips with gravity. I repeat this action throughout the video of the performance.
The composition focuses on texture and bodily gesture: the glossiness of the honey contrasts with the texture of skin and fabric. The framing excludes the eyes and most facial features, directing attention toward the throat, touch, and the material movement of the liquid. A faint overlay of enlarged facial details appears at the edges of the image, suggesting a layered visual effect.
Film (17 min), installation
2023
The film is written as a composition of poems of the soil, shades of blue, and the entangled relationships of different kinds of waves that hold traces the Mare Liberum (Hugo Grotius, 1609), the freedom of the sea as a foundation of international law, written in water and celestial bodies, while endlessly and electromagnetically warping the geographies of the land(s) one walks upon through language, images, and force.
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The film Dutch Landscape is developed from an earlier, shorter version, Kind of Blue, which was created for and presented at the online symposium The War of Tomorrow: How Are Novel Military Technologies Changing Modern Conflicts? (11 February 2021), supported by PAX for Peace and the Open Society Foundations.
Installation, Stroom, Den Haag, 2023
At the top, there is a YouTube video thumbnail titled “Dutch Landscape.” The thumbnail shows a white surface scattered with small clumps of dark soil. Red lines are drawn around and between the soil clusters, forming looping, organic shapes that resemble maps, networks, or biological patterns.
Below that, on the left, there is a close-up of dry, cracked earth with small green plants sprouting sparsely from the surface.
On the right, a person, me, is shown indoors interacting with a theremin. I hold my hand close to the antenna that controls the pitch of the instrument, while the hand that controls the volume is out of sight. A theremin works using radio frequency electromagnetic waves, basically invisible energy fields around its antennas that your hands interfere with to produce sound.
At the bottom, several photos show an exhibition space. Visitors stand and observe large projected visuals on walls. The projections include imagery of a close-up of soil and a rocket launch. The floor has dark soil and a floor painting that references the opening frame of the video.
Installation documentation by Naomi Moonlion
Photograms, slide projection, installation
2021- 2023
The project consists of a series of photograms made from plants collected at locations of companies connected to the Dutch defense industry in my local environment, The Hague.
To map these companies, I followed the Industry Guide of the Netherlands Institute for Defense and Security (NIVD), a publicly accessible resource that allowed me to walk and cycle routes leading to their locations. At each site, I gathered plants — sometimes from lush green areas, and sometimes weeds growing between concrete tiles.
During the making of this project, I focused on questions surrounding the problem of witnessing the defense industry, particularly when parts of its infrastructure are as accessible as any other business operating in the city. By accessibility, I mean that these sites are not difficult to locate and reach: nothing is hidden or classified, and there is no secret to uncover.
I chose to preserve the collected plants in the form of photograms. A photogram is an image made largely through touch rather than vision: an object is placed directly onto a light-sensitive surface, where the areas covered receive little or no light while uncovered areas darken during development. In this way, the process becomes both a literal form of portrayal and an abstraction shaped by the visual decisions involved in arranging the plants.
The project is driven by the desire to know something through touching, and by the dissonance between accessing infrastructures whose impact I can only partially grasp and whose full accountability I struggle to locate as a citizen.
Herbarium is an independent project and a corresponding part of the Dutch Landscape project. What began as a question of witnessing expanded into an inquiry into the ecological impact of warfare. The work also refers to colonial practices of mapping landscapes through the collection of flora, pointing toward a dense and complex relationship between preservation and destruction.
and installation documentation, Stroom, Den Haag, 2023.
The upper section presents a grid of images arranged in rows and columns. Each frame shows photograms of plants: organic forms in soft tones of pink, white, cream, and pale red against light backgrounds. The shapes appear liquid or semi-translucent, resembling spilled substances, aerial photographs, crystallized residues, or microscopic growths. Some forms spread outward in branching or filament-like patterns, while others pool into irregular, rounded shapes with textured edges. The overall effect suggests processes of dissolution, accumulation, or transformation observed at close range.
The lower section shows an exhibition space with a large projection or screen positioned slightly above the floor. Displayed on the screen is a magnified version of one of the organic forms seen above, a glowing, pinkish, spine, or leaf-like shape with soft gradients of light. The room is minimally lit, with white walls and architectural openings that allow daylight to enter, emphasizing the luminous quality of the projected image and its relationship to the surrounding space.