East of Childhood: Kanal København kl. 02:37 (Channel Copenhagen at 02:37)
Kanal København kl. 02:37
I never really slept well. The nights were long, the thoughts loud, and then I turned on the TV.
Kanal København. Special films at late hours.
It became my introduction to sex. To desire. To something that made the heart beat hard and shame carry brutal sounds.
I don’t know if porn was bad. But it became a fixation. A secret escape. An electric reality no one ever asked about.
I loved it. But it kept me awake together with Star Trek. Alien planets, naked bodies.
It was wild. Maybe too much. But what else was out there, at 02:37, while the house slept and I still couldn’t close my eyes?
Artist’s Statement
The poem collection East of Childhood is a journey into the hidden hours—the nights of insomnia, the secrets carried in silence, the flickering escapes found in screens and imagination. These poems are not simply about childhood, but about the electric tension between longing, shame, and survival. They ask what happens when the house sleeps, but the body and mind remain awake.
The artwork for Kanal København kl. 02:37 reflects this atmosphere. A glowing rectangle pulses in the center, like a TV screen radiating against a sea of darkness. Neon pinks and cold blues ripple outward, staining the night with a secret light. It is not about what was shown on the screen, but about the restless state of being: awake, searching, alive in a world that could not see you. The piece captures insomnia, escape, and the quiet intensity of being young in the middle of the night, finding worlds no one else spoke about.
Together, the poems and the paintings reveal the fragile beauty of those hidden nights, where shame and wonder lived side by side, and where silence was lit only by the glow of a screen.
