November! How can we make this collage of collected gloom somewhat merrier? Just a sketch on recent footage for a change, but I tried...
Concerning the rich measure of angels in my works as of late, I encountered some mild emotional blackmail in the form of a nice, beautiful but sadly Christian christian during my latest exhibition. She wanted to convince me that Jesus tries to reach me through these angelic visions, and that He should be believed in because He loves me etc. etc. which isn't proof really. (It wasn't even my worst case of emotional blackmail -- it was actually quite lame.) I told her that I'm baptized already, and passed Confirmation too, and don't suffer any lasting scars from either, and that all my attempts at communication with the Eternal Spheres have ground to a perfect standstill and cease-fire. She was gentle about it, however (no threats of sulphur). But now we may begin with a little sympathy for the devil...
...and add other things from below (no attempts at realism, merely trying to cheer up) such as fish...
...and other creatures of pure sub-surface improvisation.
If I believed in angels I would probably not paint them. Angels are, for me, Longings Unfulfilled, heralds of the kind of paradise that must vanish if you come too close, bursting like a soap bubble when pricked by the mortal needle edge of reality. Angels very rarely come down to pose in the studio that I do not have (that would be something. Spread your wings a little, please?) Instead we have this creature, whatever it is:
And with that, I thought, we'll call it a day. It's just a sketch, and descanzar es salud -- to rest is healthy.
This little scene is an illustration for my article in good ol' Slynglar, a fanzine in Swedish for those who studied to become Something Useful but got infected with Culture instead. Some of us who write it got so infected that we made culture a living -- or keep trying to -- and when you do that you encounter various blokes who try to have you working for free. These cadgers appear in all disciplines -- this particular sermon I croak for emerging musicians submerged in the Swamp of Unpaid Music.
Those who absolutely want to might see some familiar characteristics, even reminding of Yours Sinc. in the frog/toad. Ribbit.
Voilà, Coffee Nymphs in full colours. Served without further ado, as Yours Sinc. is suffering from Exhibition Fatigue in the middle of a Midissage... So as for a description of what these nervy beings are and how they came about, please see the previous week.
The whole little work...
I had to add just one happy cup. We need some hope.
So the vernissage+concert was finished at last, and especially the latter went well but demanded a huge lot of planning and logistics (one dancer, one singer, one poet, one violinist -- wonderful people -- and little me on the piano) so Yours Sinc. is now very tired. They tell me that I played well (we did get a fair little audience after all) and I might actually believe that, but I'm a little too exhausted to enjoy the success...
And here, I've just begun on a couple of Coffee Nymphs. They look frightened, somehow, a little scared that a little mug and a little company just might turn into something warmer than Latte, hesitating in front of a cup of Unplanned Luck. Having met too many pairs of these unromantically cold feet, I just had to start on this study from Singleholm City. There you go. Just try a sip.
Sorry about the poor lighting. November -- the worst month in the Swedish year -- is here in its full disheartening unglory. So the footage of the finished-at-last painting Nipponiana had to be shot in a parody on daytime looking like this:
Here it is anyway: Nipponiana, drying and trying and dying to be seen...
On the peaceful side there's a pair of iconic Japanese schoolgirls.
And on the less peaceful side there's a never-ending swordfight going on.
We have a few soothing flowers too, might be cherry blossom.
The weary artist is now considering a nap. When I wake up I'd like there to be snow, bright and angel white. Or I'd fancy waking up in April.
