I felt like I was nailing it when I landed a well-paid office job and could afford to rent an apartment instead of living illegally in my moldy studio. I changed my name and kept those two worlds apart: the office landscape and the art world. Like a real-life Clark Kent, I wore glasses at work and contacts when attending gallery openings. My printing press sat next to my bed, and I’d wake at 4:30 a.m. to print before heading to the office.
 After months of this routine, sadness began to creep in. Sitting at my desk, watching the clock, I realized that making art, for me, is an existential condition — one that now felt confined to those half-awake, utterly exhausted hours of the day. Eight hours at my job, followed by the “real” work: an uneven work-work balance. It wasn’t a conscious decision but rather an irrepressible need that led me to take a daily break to search for holed stones on the beach. I explained it as a mindfulness practice, a corporate-friendly translation. But in truth, it was an act of resistance — a way to carve out space for something purposeless in a goal-oriented existence.
 Now, I no longer struggle to maintain appearances. I’m known for having the messiest desk in the office, cluttered with stones and hard drives, sticky notes and grease marks from glasses of raspberry soda. I hold a holed stone to my eye, pointing its lensless focus toward my colleague, and snap a photo.

Eau Pernice is a Copenhagen based artist trying to find meaning and individuality in a world dominated by routines, roles, and societal molds. In the exhibition Near Desk Experience, Pernice presents new works that explore the intersection of work, identity and creativity.