October 26, 2014

On Swapping Food and Changing Economy

Food Swapping is coming to Stockholm, Sweden, and this was ordered for a Facebook forum dealing with this endearing subject -- I got very free hands, and made... hands.

Once a surrealist, always a surrealist. If you have grapes to grow and give, it might change into something else, and this is what Food Swapping is All About.

I hope that the group (sadly not official yet) will be successful and large. Sweden needs more like this. But I imagine wider swaps; why not art swaps or work swaps or perhaps even swapping lives? And economy wants swapping dearly. It might change into something that actually looks like a market, tents and stalls and fruit stands and all. We might use money for swapping wares and services easier (this might even become the first reason to have a currency -- I beg your pardon for this unusually wild suggestion) -- that is, if we have to use money at all. Let's swap.

October 19, 2014

Talented Friends and Must-See Dance

A little music composed by Yours Sincerely, marvellously choreographed and performed by friend Anita. (Skymning means Nightfall in Swedish.) There's a children's corner tinge to the orchestration -- due credit goes to the dancer for this idea as the piece (originally for piano only) reminded her of dancing as a child. Voilà:

Speaking of next to angelic things, here's another friend, Karin the Poet (mentioned last week)

who is flying on the poster for my next show where one might see Anita live, hear me on the piano in the company of a good violinist, listen to the gently chocking poetry and see a little artwork of mine in real life. I aim for Gently Chocking too.

October 12, 2014

A Little Decadency

And so I'm done with my little animation + a dollop of music for Karin Lampa, friend and poet -- I'm sorry that her somewhat lecherous poem -- "Ice Cream House" -- is impossible to translate into English or even into its original Swedish. It's an allegory, or so she explained, on seeing a couple -- he and she -- becoming increasingly intimate, and you note with sadness that you are none of them... So deliciously odd things are thrown into into the verse, however, so many tastes and delicious lack of tastes that it might be read and heard any which way anyway.

But no time to rest. The show with the Poet and dancing friend Anita is drawing nearer -- the latter asked for a bit of decadency on the poster for that event, which I am working on right now.

Voilà! And cheers.

(To be continued...)

October 05, 2014

Meowing whilst Waiting for Showtime

The artist (or suchlike) has only had time for light sketching while planning a show + exhibition, which means too much running about and too little sitting still to do art. (This is not art, it's just a sketch.) Perhaps it would be better to be a cat? Cats (I am borrowing one right now) have this wonderful ability to just collapse, let go, fall down into a furry lump and let the rest of the world run itself, we merely keep our vigilant ears up...

Nice but not very exciting. So I made this distillation slightly in the manner of Hieronymus Bosch... Still window. Still something somewhat feline.

September 28, 2014

Swing Magnifique

A little while ago I had the joy of hearing Swing Magnifique again (unfortunately without charming singer Josefin Peters) -- these excellent interpreters of Jam Manouche, or French Jazz à la Django Reinhardt. A pencil made on the spot got a little digital colour afterwards, and here we are:

From left to right --
Terese Lien Evestad; violin
Filip Berglund; contrabass
below Filip we see maestro Åke Jonsson; rhythm guitar
next Daniel Grahn; guesting accordion
and last but not least Tom Buhre, solo guitar.

One point with using digital colouring is that the artist, suffering from a Less Magnificent Cold, can't ruin the original with electric paint no matter how violent the coughs and nasal explosions go.

(The original is not too bad, I guess. But a little colour cheers one up, and looks better on a screen.)

September 21, 2014

Party in Oil, with Angels

This is written in a hurry as I'm going to a party -- partying is more important than blogging. But it might amuse you to see the Angel of Stockholm Central Station finished and drying in the sun ---

--- paint still glittering. Elephants prefer red shoes, by the way. They don't like yellow shoes at all.

Party time! I do need a party.

September 14, 2014

Headless Oil and Soft Violins

I've been able to steal some time for my oil painting. This week: A somewhat headless person among rowanberries (I don't know why. Any suggestions on this head are welcome...)


...the strained hand of the painter in progress. I think that I may thank fellow artist Valeria Montti Colque for the turquoise colour of the scull; I've always found her Mexican art inspiring.

In his attempt to make a living, Yours Sincerely must sometimes put his beloved perpetual oils away and do some quick painting for bread. It is still fun to be given somewhat free hands and spread a little dalírium to the world, such as this soft fiddle.

I did the outline in some kind of red -- nicer than black outlines, I felt.

This is the whole, by the way, used as an invitation for a concert.

- - - May I go back to my oils now?

September 07, 2014

His Excellency Mr. Fredrik Reinfeldt of Sweden as a Penny Pig

Sweden is hopping merrily towards a new election, come next Sunday. Whilst the main purpose of voting is to keep the 'Swedish Democrats' out (half nazis, half idiots, the former capacity half hidden behind the latter) one might still want a change of government. Behold, thus -- oink -- of His Excellency.

While the Swedes are still pouring money in, it's anybody's guess where they go out. I guess for the ear; others might have other suggestions. Nobody knows. Oink.

August 31, 2014

Mini Bluebells served with Hot Ice Cream Poetry

This is all that I had time to do in oil this week; bluebells with a pair of even smaller ballet shoes. (Don't ask me why they're hanging there. I suppose they merely want a rest?) Hereby we're done with the Calm Dept. -- let's go see the wild part...

...which is excerpts from a movie for Karin the Poet, which I am right now trying to finish. (Animation, as I might've told you before, is Hard Work.) I stick to the spirit and words of her poetry, and those words happen to be delightfully sticky in spirit.

The poem is about ice cream. And it is definitely not about ice cream.

-- Don't look below. You didn't even see this...

I and the Poet might soon have a lovely time blaming each other.

August 24, 2014

Subway Train of Thought

This week brings us both oil and digital. As for the former, we have (with the paint still glittering, I'm impatient as usual) a subway train and bluebells still waiting for oily bloom. I prefer sketches. They're promising -- still waiting for blossom -- yet no disappointment or the emptiness that fulfilment would bring, sakura. We have, however, a curious subway train with insect genes dominant, creepy-crawly;

...what happens when subway trains turn into butterflies?

This one is close to cocooning, anyway. The microscopical letters SL stand for Stockholms Lokaltrafik, the institution that brings us these larvae. They're blue nowadays, they were green when I grew up. Sign of ripening?

...and the bluebells are waiting to chime.

It has been an interesting week and we need some fresh O2. But our poor lungs are infected by the beautiful stanzas of my friend Ms. Lampa the Poet, and thus look like this...

...they're holding their increasingly pulmonary breath for some more animation and music; we'll have a little movie eventually. All in good time.

August 17, 2014

Only Art Remains

You are born in a certain way and Life treats you accordingly. This is no sermon for coaches, your self proclaimed saviours or the bestselling author of Control thy Life. But the older you get, the more obvious it is that things happen for little reason at all, paths on the journey were taken quite randomly albeit irrevocably and whatever patterns that you may see are seen in hindsight, invented afterwards. Still we become what we are. (We need not necessarily like it.) And soon we are no more.

As we drag along, we might leave traces, like the slime after a snail. Some leave genes, others good deeds or a name in a book or -- very common -- nothing. I think that, for better and worse, there'll be little left behind me but a few paintings. Some details of this week were painted feeling hope and through some I felt pain -- it already doesn't matter which was when. Only art might remain. And I was born that way.

The biological clock -- or whatever it is -- is finished and funnier with colours on. This week also brings us a dragonfly or damselfly -- and rose painted during perfect distraction, thoughts and petals wandering strange ways -- a dear friend thought that it looked like it wanted to eat her -- nibble, munch and bite -- well, my thoughts were consumed already, and it was thus her turn...

August 10, 2014

Serendipitous Butterfly et al.

Right before my eyes -- a butterfly! At once I had to add it to the surprised canvas. I didn't see it for very long. So this transient, fluttering memory had to become something stylized; I remembered spots -- let us have spots -- why not on the body too -- and this red band on its wings -- let us have a reddish band. Let us make it small, on a par with the real butterfly.

Now, what were we doing...? Ah yes, the angel with the golden orange hair. Now finished at last. I find myself working at snail pace in the heat; hope the next week will see work at all, perhaps more by accident and whim, perhaps even a little beautiful. One should take care of beautiful accidents.

August 03, 2014

Oily Balance

With a lot of other things going on, one has not had too much time for the Oil -- for an Oil follows a different pace than Today does; a technique invented slightly before the Renaissance. It doesn't want to hurry. It wants to lie idling like the angel on the Station Clock, still outlined in ink. (Or perhaps it is a little exhausted too.)

We also have a creepy-crawlie-subway-train going on.

A closer look at the angel. I tried to see that the shadings in the wings somehow corresponded a little to the dark blue sky and the light shining field above it; I often try to let certain hues come back in a kind of rhythm across the painting for the sake of balance.

I also note that angels have orange, just next to golden hair. So now you know that.

July 27, 2014

Angelic Tourism

Waiting outside Stockholm Central Station for a meeting eventually hindered by force majeure, I took to sketching all the funny people that one might see there. Businesspeople hurrying, tourists touristing and people from all corners of the world milling about.

And one of them -- I used to be good at reading lips -- now I'm not -- but I think this lady was Spanish. She now has the unconscious honour of being the central point in an oil, here inked on the gesso coated paper. (Good invention! as for the duration of the medium, we'll live and see and learn. Life is an experiment.)

And then I started on one of the corners, inking and filling apples with oil.

It is anybody's guess what apples have to do with tired tourist angels that rest on top of station clocks. I'll go on throwing details ad hoc in -- some painted live and some painted live from my imagination -- trusting everything to make perfect sense one of those days.

July 20, 2014

Hearty Uncertainty

Perhaps it was this little sketch from earlier this year, something about the blue heart, that led me to draw the "medical poster" below it...

...now finished, give or take a few corrections. The electric shock electrodes (upper left) could sizzle and fizzle better, the English version of this poster could be more on a par with the Swedish one (below) in which the scientific parody is flowing with a greater quirky ease. And so on. I want to leave it behind.

Sadly, Sweden in July is heartbreaking from the perspective of a cultural workaholic. The entire country has shut down for vacations that rage for months, and in this eternal sunshine of the Swedish mind it is impossible to find a reliable printer. The poster exists right now as a digital nightmare, and that's it.

July 13, 2014

Floral Solace

I am still working on the heartbreaking poster of the previous weeks, now and then taking a break for lighter, summerly things, such as this sketch of a purple Foxglove.

As for the poster, we're to read there that "scars (q.v.) and sudden amorous flashbacks can be expected for years after the initial clawings." If old wounds open, metal staples might be an option; replacing one large injury with small friendly stings.

I think that the tone of the background is nice -- ranging as it is from papery yellowing to the smudgy sepia above -- but rather monotonous -- and I am considering a more varied structure, full of surprises. Or something like that.

July 06, 2014

On Glue and other Gently Violent Remedies

Still working on the brokenhearted poster. Yet again Marie (Friend & Muse) came to the rescue -- she suggested that you might use glue for broken hearts.

Perhaps glue is good for loose nerves too? If you add a lot.

I insisted that we need some rope too (for pulling oneself together, at least temporarily).

Yet much remains to do. Shading, refining. The background is still nice and fairly plain -- perhaps a little boring, and I'm pondering whether to make it more varied or not. Perhaps one could do something funny with it, we'll see...

June 29, 2014

On Frying Memories

According to a dear and anonymous friend, electric shocks might be a good idea for a select few of all that suffer severe Downs, why I include it in my educational poster on the Curing/First Aid Mending (haven't decided which is the most apropriate) of Broken Hearts. Problem is, most who ever try might loose the good memories too. And a little of memory on the whole, in what the experienced refer to as "frying". The memories that go, for better and worse, are represented as post-it notes -- what else?

(N.b. Work in progress. Yet far from perfect...)

A curious by-effect is that you get some curious aftertaste of garlic in the mouth -- or something like that. My friend can't remember precisely, which is precisely the thing that speaks against frying in the first place. Thus only the really desperately low try electrified amnesia voluntarily.
"Well, perhaps it helped..." -- my friend says --
"...or not."

June 22, 2014

The Wrong Kind of Bees

I think that it was dear friend Marie who came up with the idea that certain kinds of stinging thoughts might in fact be Bees. Hatching and breeding in the brainhive, they soon find their way out and buzz about; they don't leave a poor heart alone for any time worth mentioning and they have the habit of reappearing, in dozens or swarms, as inconveniently as possible.

These winged heralds of longings uninvited are intended for a large poster -- working name of Methods for Mending Broken Hearts -- an anatomical scheme and overview. As for the heart, I haven't quite got started yet so right now the bees don't have anything to sting. But it'll come. You don't really know that you have a heart before you get the Wrong Kind of Bees buzzing around it.

June 15, 2014

The Untimely Time Clock (Bing!)

Merely a little ink-and-aqua sketch, still conveying my feeling for the weird kind of apparatus known as the Clock Card Machine or Punch Clock for short. It can be seen whenever and wherever truly pointless activities take place -- as soon as you see something really silly going on, keep an eye open for the punch clock -- it might be hidden in the most weird places, behind the corner, under the carpet, but I promise you that it is there.

The actual machine has fallen into disuse -- but as a mental state it's next to incurable. You put in a card and the machine goes bing and you get the stamp of Worthy Member of the Society and you are now free to forget the total pointlessness of your endeavours and may look down loudly upon artists and other free souls that earn doodley-squat but might be suspected of doing something worthwhile. Just look at them. As if Society was made for having Fun...

"Is that a real profession?" Bing!
"Can you make a living out of that?" Bing!
"What is it good for?" Bing!
"Well, I can afford..." Bing!

And so (bing!) on. This perpetual noise might make it difficult for an artist to concentrate. My office is opening when my eyes open, and closing with the eyelids too -- on some days I'm out of office between, say, four and seven a.m. I'm not in any mood to hear any binging then. One has to remember that some victims of Mental Clock Punch can't help it and honestly believe that their way of life is sane -- despite all logical, not to mention ecological evidence on the contrary. In other words: They suffer from mechanical self-esteem. You have to remember, dear artist, or dear anyone who lives and works outside the box and the clock -- the poor fellows who have to criticise your profession are merely to be viewed as a (natural but irksome) part of your profession... Bing!

June 08, 2014

Shows, Posters and Positive Stress

I've decided not to hurry with this one. I'll add colours later. Constant hurry has been something like the theme of the week...

...for instance, there's a jolly fine new little show coming up with Anita, my dancing friend (I'll stay behind the piano) and this wants a poster...

...and practically meanwhile, as I was busy practising & rehearsing for the same, I had this neat little order -- also for a poster, or at least a flyer -- for a "political cabaret" -- all I got to know really was that it was about a cleaning lady. Who cleans train cars. Adding a little theatre to it quite exhausted all that I could come up with on those terms. But working with information doesn't necessarily mean that you're very informed yourself -- you have to go on what you've got while time is madly ticking by -- and they did like the image.

It is being mailed and snailmailed en masse now as I write this. -- As for the first work, I'll try to get it done 'til next week. Tick tock.