Kristoffer Ørum
A teacher who keeps a studio in order to have something to teach from.
Works with machines that are confidently wrong.
Not a joke.
A PhD student. Human-AI Collaboration, Copenhagen University, until 2028.
Comedy.
Made by hand, mostly. Cut, cast, sanded, painted.
Kristoffer Ørum’s contribution imagines Malmö as shaped by the afterlives of its industrial past and alternative forms of civic imagination. Even the City Dreams of Being Another, 2025
Mundane Heroics is a collaborative project by Kristoffer Ørum and Nilas Dumstrei. Mundane Heroics, 2019
I am also tired of so-called critical art being presented through the same visual culture as fashion: the artist in their beautiful home, in front of their impressive bookshelf, or in their picturesque studio. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
The faces produced through this process often appear distorted or uncanny to human eyes, yet they retain a resemblance to mainstream ideals of beauty. Recognised Faces, 2014
While you are reading this text, which has been designed to be unreadable by computers, everything that is said in this room is being recorded. Blind Listening, 2017
Ørum's contribution used algorithmic depth estimation to analyse one of the recovered photographs and generate a three-dimensional interpretation. Depth Estimation, 2019
The museum basement acted as a “rabbit hole,” filled with props, relics, tables, and charts that grounded the fictitious world. Game Continent, 2010
The project includes works such as Detergent (Real Imaginary System) and Auto Navigate My History, which visualize, manipulate, and creatively reimagine the information generated by ordinary activities. Day to Day Data, 2008
I participate in the system myself because it can grant me access to freedom and resources. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
The project originated from a beetroot anecdote that was strange in itself: the moment when, looking at beetroots in a shopping bag, one seemed to resemble the artist's grandmother's nose, or perhaps Putin's nose from a Facebook image. Putins Nose, 2018
The plate facing it is green and reads "I cheer as the pink-green crayfish team score a goal", over a passage about crayfish sending messages to each other across the same wireless networks that carry a live football game. Signal_Crayfish, 2026
Instead, it opens up space for interpretation, uncertainty and collective speculation, asking visitors to consider alternative trajectories for urban development, cultural production, and collective organisation. Aarhus'er #1, 2025
Exhibited in several international contexts, the piece was shown in The Blender’s Orbit (Kingly Court, London), Time Pop 2 (Prince Charles Cinema, London), and Loop Pool (Raum für Projection, Oberhausen). The Perfect Wave, 2004
The screens displayed a new page every few minutes, allowing both visitors to the medieval church and local citizens passing through the square to encounter the rewritten history. Roskilde Parahistory, 2009
Each network name spells out a fragment of a 31-character text, visible only through the device list of available connections. Wireless Walnut, 2018
Interaction is minimal – the poem pauses until the reader touches the screen – creating a rhythm where text, sound, and image progress together. KAOS, 2012
A collective of ten artists, led by Anders Bojen and Kristoffer Ørum, documented these spaces and transformed them into an interconnected web of associations, facts, myths and misunderstandings. Topographies of the Insignificant, 2010
The project aimed to examine new forms of dialogue in contemporary art on different terms than previously known. Everyday Heroes, 2019
The exhibition invited seven artists to examine the expressive and poetic qualities of computer programming, looking at how code affects us beyond the interfaces of software applications. Listening Without Ears, 2019
What looks like a glitch to humans is in fact a trace of the statistical modelling that drives the software. Recognised Faces, 2014
Two folders, with texts by medical historian Adam Bencard and by Kristoffer Ørum, printed inkjet and held in 3D-printed R-PETG holders in both buildings. Leddyrsomsorg / Arthropod Care, 2026
They have been 3d scanned, using the kind of technology one might find in one's smartphone, and subsequently 3d printed in monochrome versions using a variety of materials ranging from terracotta to granite. Brownfield Wonderland, 2022
But there is now a third gaze, one that works through calculation. Speaker 1, 2026
The contrast is not presented as a solution but as a tool of critique—making the invisible conventions of ordinary web interfaces visible by inverting them. Watershed, 2025
The exhibition consisted of stencils painted with beetroot juice, 3D-printed noses and beetroots, inkjet prints, a webcam and screens of various sizes with nose recognition, texts and animation. Putin's Nose, 2019
Spray was presented as both an exhibition and performance at Friisland's Center for Performance Art during Art Matter festival. Mr. Spray, 2024
A central relief on the reconstructed stone, possibly once a hammer, is reimagined here as a spray can, folding historical reference into playful anachronism. The Good, the Lost, and the Beautiful, 2025
They contribute to a narrowing of bodily representations that is far more damaging in the long run than strange AI slippage. None of These Images Are of Me, 2025
Generated with a Chinese variant of the Huyuan algorithm, the images include intentional misreadings of the runic inscriptions, echoing centuries of translation, loss, and projection. The Good, the Lost, and the Beautiful, 2025
From the cover of the newspaper that the greengrocer wrapped the beets in, Russian President Vladimir Putin looked up, his face now covered in beetroot juice splatter. Putin's Nose, 2019
Stasm detects the position of 77 facial landmarks on upright, front-facing human faces with neutral expressions. Recognised Faces, 2014
Across media, the fictional creatures were presented with a mixture of pop cultural humour and the kind of scientific authority familiar from public information campaigns. Mundane Monsters, 2023
On the screen of a phone or tablet, one can arrange a combination of scaffolding, 3d scans from the site and architectural fragments into an unstable and intangible building mass. Brownfield Wonderland, 2022
The machine's interpretation is not just a poor copy of reality; it creates a new representation with its own logic and uncanny aesthetic. Speaker 1, 2026
According to the Nose was a walking protocol that provided opportunities to consider what life would look like if you were a nose. According to the Nose, 2021
Rather than proposing a return to older models, Watershed treats this uncertainty as an opportunity: a chance to experiment with new arrangements of familiar material, to test how different structures shape perception. Watershed, 2025
Seven artists selected local associations they wanted to collaborate with, moving naturally within the same field of interest but from different backgrounds. Everyday Heroes, 2019
There is a creative pleasure in this surrender of control: in letting a system run and being surprised by the strange, poetic, or nonsensical landscapes that result. Watershed, 2025
The title refers to multiple senses of “diffusion”: the technical process of image generation; the social circulation of tools and knowledge; and the physical dispersal of small-scale devices across different environments. Diffused States (Vancouver), 2025
Mundane Monsters was an interactive digital multimedia exhibition that transformed the gallery at Epsilon Spires into a walk-through experience about the modern relationship between nature and culture. Mundane Monsters, 2022