Believing that good stories start where simple answers fall short, Albert Rask has questioned his surroundings since he first encountered conflicting truths. Inspired by the absurdity of everyday behaviour and longing to break beyond the simplicity of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, ‘good’ and ‘evil’, Albert’s works let questions breath, interact, and unfold as sculptures, films, and scenographies. Originally from Copenhagen and based in Amsterdam, he graduated from the Moving Images department of The Gerrit Rietveld Academie in 2023 with recognition from Rietveld Review(ed). He has exhibited at institutions as Stedelijk, Loods 6, and Eye Film Museum, received multiple awards for his short films, and remains curious as a toddler with a lust for unsatisfying answers.

– How would you describe your artistic practice today? What are the primary themes and questions driving your current work?

My artistic practice today is an ongoing cross-media experiment in expressing thoughts and feelings without words. They take shape as films, sculptures, performances, and scenographies. Estrangement, absurdity, animism, magical realism, retro sci-fi, and nonverbal communication are topics, spaces, and aesthetics I keep returning to.

– You have spoken about your desire to move beyond dichotomies such as “right” and “wrong” or “good” and “evil.” Yet we live in a political climate that often demands clear positions and encourages increasingly polarized views. How do you reconcile these two impulses in your work and in your life?

I make my works out of curiosity, and the only reason I am curious about making them is that they contain something I don’t yet understand. In research, there is always the question of whether you want the long or the short answer, and the deeper I dig into things, the more questions arise. The satisfactory feeling of “ah, the world is simple, and I understand it perfectly well” vanishes. It is frustrating and beautiful, because complex worlds you can enter, while simple worlds you can at best box away and forget about. So, when I have a clear opinion on something, and I know my stand, I don’t make a work from it. That would feel as empty to me as when a drunk stranger unfolds their political theories in a bar late at night.

– Across much of your work, one can trace a recurring motif of resistance to society’s entrenched norms and conventions. Your practice often challenges established rules and one-dimensional notions of what is considered “right” or “normal.” When did you first develop this perspective, and what led you to question these structures?

I guess my parents would say it’s always been like this. Since I realised that humans can lie to one another as well as themselves, the question of what’s behind has haunted me. I’m afraid it made me a rather annoying child.

– Your recent exhibition at Loods 6 presented a constantly evolving ecosystem in which objects, technologies, and humans appeared to exist on the same plane. The work echoes contemporary theories that decenter the human and challenge the idea that the world exists primarily through our perception of it. Do you find this perspective liberating or unsettling? And ultimately, is the world you are constructing a utopia, a dystopia, or something in between?

I find it very liberating!.. But also unsettling. It depends on who is the protagonist in my thoughts. When I look at human infrastructure, I admire it, and simultaneously, I’m disgusted. When I look at streets, railways, houses, harbours, roads, fields, stairs, lifts, cafés, doors, windows, highways, and other man-made structures, all empty or filled with humans, I admire the design, the engineering, the craft, and the care for differences in human physiology and psyche, and all the ideologies merging in the local and global society. It almost makes me proud and gives me hope for our species as a whole. And every once in a blink I think of all the organic infrastructure that would coexist if it wasn’t kept aside by all our concrete, asphalt, mining, slaughtering, and ever impatient moving of soil, minerals, trees, plants, air, and water so that all habitats rhyme on human. Human nature. Fear and control. So in an ambivalent manner, I see us as an invasive species, and I wish us gone, while simultaneously I pray our societies would improve to the extent that horrors such as poverty and starvation would only exist as words. These thoughts and feelings culminated at my exhibition Steep Stairs Slippery Slope Slow Down at Loods 6, where I brought sculptures made from rescue and safety materials to life in a coexisting ecosystem, so airbags from driver seats were breathing among talking geiger müller counters, illuminated by fragmented safety signs and other sculptural installations.

– Can you tell us more about how a new work begins for you? How do you develop and shape your ideas?

Some days I get a thousand silly ideas. Way too many to write them down, so I forget most of them, but the ones that puzzle me keep coming back in different shapes. Sometimes they are based on a mechanical principle I find magical. Other times, they live as poetic images. The conception of a work happens when some of these ideas get linked to a feeling I can’t explain. And then I spend several months writing, testing materials, light, mechanics, and sound to match the idea with the feeling, and at some point it starts to have a language of its own. When the work can finally “speak”, we engage in a conversation about what the work needs. Some works are very demanding in their needs, so I’m usually busy with multiple projects simultaneously, so I can let needy works rest rather than get stuck in fixing something thats better of marinating.

– You work across a wide range of media—sculpture, installation, sound, film, and performance. Do you see this multidisciplinary approach as a natural extension of your curiosity and artistic needs? Has versatility become less of a choice and more of a professional necessity for artists trying to establish themselves today?

I often wish I could just stick to one medium, but that’s impossible. It would be like somebody telling me, I’m not allowed to look out of the windows in my house. And it helps me to be in different mindsets. Filming has a lot of planning. Sculptures are more hands-on. Some say you improve your Italian by learning Spanish. I definitely don’t think it is a necessity to be multidisciplinary to establish yourself; quite the opposite. I often find the “art world” to prefer you doing just one thing so they know what to expect from you.

– You graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie. Could you tell us about your experience there? How did it influence your development as an artist?

I had a fantastic time at the Rietveld Academie. I love the idea of bringing so many different disciplines together and to make teachers and students equal conversation partners that mutually can guide each other, rather than receiving directions from a ‘superior’ professor. The structure of the Rietveld Academie just suited me very well. Except for the closing hours. I’m unfortunately pretty nocturnal, so when I have the chance to do my things in the middle of the night, I beg that I don’t have an early appointment the day after.

– Can you tell us about your current projects? What are you working on at the moment, and what new directions are you exploring?

I am in the editing and sound design process of a new film, and I am developing further on my breathing airbags. The goal is to give them a hearing and a voice so they can talk with each other and visitors in the exhibition. I am also experimenting with implementing heart rate sensors in the airbags, so when you hold them, they sync their breathing with your pulse. I hope one day to perform with them, where the audience will hold an airbag each. In this way, it will be a 42-channel surround sound performance with biometric feedback from all audience member to influence the composition as it unfolds.

– What are your thoughts on the Amsterdam art scene today? How has being part of WOW Lieven influenced your artistic perspective and professional network?

As I know the Amsterdam art scene, there is quite some space for young upcoming artists and cross-disciplinary experiments.

It has been fantastic to move into WOW Lieven. We are a mixed group of young creatives, and temporary collaborations start from a chat about the weather over the balcony or on the staircase. I currently can’t imagine a more generous way of living. The affordable rent and stability have also left me with a new capacity gained from not being in a constant hunt for housing.

– Financial sustainability remains a major challenge for many independent artists. How do you navigate this reality while staying true to your artistic and political values?

I like to work for others as well as doing my own work. Craftsmanship and collaboration is important part of my practice, so working on projects of colleagues next to my own stuff helps me develop my skills in directions I would’t have come across if I did everything my own way. I even find it necessary to have a couple of days a month, where it is somebody else’s ideas that are in focus. So, I perceive taking small jobs more like a post study than working for money, and I see no difference in paying my bills with money from an exhibition, residency, funding, or from filming, sculpting, or editing for a friend or colleague.

– What five elements do you consider essential for building a sustainable long-term artistic practice, both creatively and practically?

• Time off,
• (not work-related) relations,
• curiosity about close and broad surroundings,
• a combination of short and long projects to keep excitement without big fluctuating ups and downs,
• a sense of when to say yes to new projects, and when to say no/respecting my own time

– Where do you see yourself, both artistically and personally, over the next few years? Do you work according to a clear plan, or do you prefer to let intuition guide your path?

Of course, I have a clear plan! Unfortunately, I don’t have enough super villain inside of me to spill it out publicly, so let’s just say I will let my intuition guide me. [Evil laughter]. There is actually something funny about clear plans. As much as they can push your ambitions and keep you on track, they can let you miss the best moments and opportunities. Until now, I’ve been happy with my balancing act in this discipline, so I see myself doing much more of what I already do. Sometimes I feel like a wheel that has come to speed, and now, when we’re really rolling, I see no reason to ever stop.

– How do you recharge creatively and emotionally?

When everything is on the floor, I cook a huge pot of ramen or a stew while I do my laundry. That feels like an almost total reset. When I need to recharge emotionally, I play music, basket, or football. When I need to recharge creatively, I read a book and listen to an abusive amount of podcasts, sometimes while I clean the house. For some weird reason, I also have an obsession with building furniture when I feel stuck in an artistic process. Don’t ask me why, cause it’s way too exhausting and time consuming to be considered recharging.

– If you could be reincarnated as a plant or an animal, what would you choose—and why?

A swallow. It is my favourite animal. I love to watch them fly around in the summer, making loops and swirls. They look so playful, and I wish I could fly.

Photos by Roman Ermolaev