With Fadime in Mind

While clearing the debris from my old life and past address and very past love I found this cardboard that I made some years ago. It is a portrait of Fadime Şahindal, a young lady who refused to be given away in marriage. She fought back, privately as well as publicly for her love, herself and the rights of all; a quest that finally had her invited to speak in our Parliament. (You may read the speech here.) Less than three months later, she was dead -- shot straight in her head at point-blank range by her own father. This resulting tragedy was back in 2002; I remember seeing the headlines on my birthday. But I also remember...

...I saw her once, very briefly, but she was the kind of person you remember; much shorter than you'd think but a large cloud of hair and something intense, sort of piercing way deep down in her eyes. So to a small but important extent I could work from this flash of a memory, but it was mostly newspaper clips for the proportions -- I remembered the hair as rather reddish but the clips were black and white, so I let the ink dance its dance of sorrow, soon adding thin strokes of bitter red.

The portrait was intended for something vaguely autobiographical with a widened scope. For I was stuck in something far less murderous, but otherwise similar -- there was me, a girlfriend, her family etc. etc. and thus our little circus played a part in this huge, nationally neglected mess of dishonourable honour -- a good and personal reason to write a book.

And I wrote it.

It turned out that no publisher in Sweden dared to touch it. The manuscript (rewritten to pieces between the refusals) is gone now and my little story untold; it doesn't quite matter today when new scandals in the same vein surface every now and then.

Ink, aqua and extra thick colour for the sad glint in her eye. It took time to make water pigments this muddy and opaque but it was well worth it. Nowadays, I would've used ready-made gouache. And would never have tried to write a book, now when there are so many digital options. Rest in peace, brave soul. This humble blog post is for you.

Mayo illustration

This little thing is for a recipe in old good Slynglar, the Fanzine; existential ramblings on how to make mayonnaise (in Swedish).

Digital; would be ugly if one didn't smooth the contours "by hand". I'm also happy that there's a bit of texture and a good bit, as usual, of don't-know-what. (And If I know, as usual I won't tell you. It's funnier if you tell me.)

As for Nipponiana, Life -- and all its uncertainties (including very hearty ones) has done its best to hamper the progress and you may see the result below:

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One can endure anything but uncertainty. However, we'll see next week.

Lost in Communication

There's such a lot of things that the Web can't convey. When we're past the point of skypeing, twittering, typing texting chatting webbing there ought to be the point where we actually meet; sit still together, dancing without moving; now finally we can say the most important things and mean them, and say those that can only be said without words.

Those moments when we actually meet are becoming sadly scarce. With lonely souls in mind, the Artist (who does have a heart too, believe it or not) made this little piece above, Lost in Communication. The resulting vision -- albeit originating from private depths -- seemed universal somehow in these webbed days...

...and is thus for sale: One might have it vastly above mini here -- or even buy the original. The latter might want a little cutting and matting (down to seven by seven inches or so) freshly baked as it is. The usual tech; here you see pencilling and inking.

Quite as usual, too, I gave the perpetual canvas Nipponiana a new dash of je ne sais quoi -- Hiragana, Kanji and the beautiful lot. I don't really know what they say, but perhaps they are lost too, and want to know what Real Life might hold beyond words and emoji.

All in Good Time (if Polly doesn't get Too Tired)

Everything that is good does not only take time, it takes too much time. I believe that the entire value of something is decided by how much Too Much Time it took (not mentioning the eternal values created by exceeding a budget with the loudest bang possible). Nevertheless, illustration is a craft that demands Speed, and thus the Illustrator has been experimenting with more pencil+digital lately, as in this late 18:th Century dress. (Resized detail from a perpetual book project; I think that I've mentioned it; good mainly for trying out this kind of stuff.) In theory, you find the pencil dancing hurriedly over the paper, immediately followed by scanning, Swosh!, and guaranteedly smudgeless yet quick sploshes of digital paint. But if you want it to splosh nicely...

...you have to spend quite some time with it anyway; letting the highlight play its part, allowing the shadows to form the dress into nice flows and creases.

The same goes for the equally perpetual oil painting that I've spent some time with now; scales and all. I believe that I could finish it off fairly quickly, but I'm told it's no hurry, and I believe that the time between painting the details makes the details better. (I think this concept is called Ma in Japanese.)

You can see that the underpainting of green, black and white is shaped into scales with light overpainting, wet on wet. Oily, all but smudgeless. (There is also a pagoda or something in being.)

This is not to say that everything that you spend Too Much Time with automatically becomes valuable. You might, for instance, spend Too Much of the oily ma-time doing Cold Calling -- the bane of every freelancer -- and too much writing about it instead of merely doodling this feeling; something like this:

And now Polly is very tired. (Polly is thus drawn in very sloppy Digital.) See you in February.

Wanted: Salesperson/Agent

This seasoned artist is looking for an extremely upbeat, socially gifted and terminally persistent Salesperson/Agent for selling his skills dearly to any place where illustrations, commercial or even finer arts might be needed.
Terms: Straight and generous commission, set by mutual agreement.
Payment in advance: Not at all. (Non-selling salespersons need not bother.)
Please send your résumé, i.e. experience + personal qualifications, to

oj.ceder[squiggle]gmail.com

(It might be of interest that Yours Sincerely is a member of the The association of Swedish illustrators and graphic designers and runs his business through his very well-registered sole proprietorship; Firma Joakim Ceder based in Stockholm, Sweden.)



And now for something completely different. You'll be very happy to know that Whale and Mission Impossible is still for sale as a poster. Here you may see the work on the original (if there's such a thing as a digital original) -- Look! :)




Last and perhaps least, the Dragon Painting is still in (slow) progress. This week: a foot, or claw.

The right side of Nipponiana will become more peaceful, I think. At least I hope so.

Things That Go Swoosh...

...seems to be the theme for this week. For instance, a katana, or Samurai sword, might go Swoosh fabulously well. (The bright spots that you see are wet paint, still glittering; the Beauty of True Work.)



Other Swooshers might, for instance, be bats. Their heads were clandestinely pencilled at "Vetekatten", a popular café in downtown Stockholm, and I turned them into flapping beings of the Night on the spot. They are receiving some electric colouring right now, and someday, they might swoosh around in a book of mine. (One of those perpetual projects.)



Part of the charm is that they'll have no idea about this.

Slow Progress w. Mt. Fuji and the Battle of Life

This week has been beyond description privately -- and it's still only Monday since a few hours back -- so I haven't got much done on the oval dragon painting. But I am planning a swordfight near Mt. Fuji (is that Hokusai enough?)...



...and add little details, so don't say Die.



I might get the opportunity to add a visual comment to this aforesaid private chaos some glad day when this chaos is over; but thus one can't describe chaos, for then it isn't chaos anymore. -- Q. E. D.

On the Effects of Christmas Delirium and the Nice Manners of Japanese Dragons

The dragon (which I started on last week, see below) is taking shape nicely, but slowly. I finally got around to giving the poor thing a head. The Japanese dragon is a good and friendly creature, they say it brings luck and prosperity and suchlike and it will only set fire to things when it's in a very bad mood, so don't you worry.

For lagniappe, here's a little thing that dear Ms. Linda came up with the other day. In her nightly photograph of a hydro plant (or a similar thingamajig) she distinctly saw Santa Claus; the lit parts being the eyes and the water was the beard, etc. -- and frustratingly, she was the only one who saw this. ("A clear case of Christmas Delirium", as she said.) So she hinted that I might do something surreal on this and well, it's worth a sketch at least, which follows:

Dear readers, Happy New Year!
See you in 2014.
-- Joakim.

Season's Greetings with Dragons in Progress

I have started on a new painting in oil. I can't say too much, but the result is supposed to hang above someone's very real samurai sword. The commissioner wanted a Japanese dragon and the rest is up to me.

So I decided to fill the poor thing with Nipponiana. I've never been to Japan, but a good deal of naïvité, blissful ignorance and a little wholly thinking might help. All is to be encompassed by said creature, scales and all. The rest is just let loose; and all of sudden there's a little airplane (a Mitsubishi Zero, I think) and some kind of cherry blossom...

We'll see what happens next -- after a short holiday break, that is.

Fine Fish Don't have to Answer Phones

Being an Operator who has to answer phones all day long is no fun, not fun at all, or so my friend told me. The endless plethora of voices cease to be human, they fade into some kind of nagging grey mould inside your eardrums and the bitterness of having to deal with them all the livelong day must soon reach toxic levels. Incidentally, I had just -- but did not think of it right then -- drawn this fish for a book that I might complete someday. The fish is a Northern Pike, and they are Fine Fish, yesssir. And Fine Fish do not have to answer phones. Ever.



The cell phone is modelled on one that I once had -- just a few years ago really. Nothing wrong with it, but outdated. It's thus a little Retro already, and will be very much so when I'm done with the book, if ever. Then, If I'm still on the track, the Grey Mould might want me to buy yet another cell phone.

Whale and Mission Impossible

And every once in a while one comes to the point when one must draw a line, deadline the whole thing. It won't get any better. It is probably both better and worse than I think myself, and now it's time to put up Whale and Mission Impossible for sale on Saatchi and Saatchi, come and get it while it's hot... Heartfelt kudos to Anita for being my muse and forest. The whole thing looks like this

I did the background last: The reflections of the sad dinghy as it is mirroring its sorrow gently in the lake, how the grass is shining as it reflects the glow from the Anita Maples, etc.

And now (id est, next week) for something completely different.

Beauty and Mystery

A forest of Dancing Anita Maples (see previous week) is taking shape nicely, or at least the finest grove you saw. (Which is easy as I work with such good raw materials; her inner and outer beauty. It is somehow satisfying to use Photoshop, normally used in the service of distorting natural beauty, to re-create real, albeit surreal beauty from scratch.)

And this is a little detail that only I and a Certain Other might decipher. But as a gentle hint you may note that this sad dinghy (with a heart well pierced) has but one oar. I think that we would row all the happier if there were two -- preferably two matching ones, preferably of the same length and kind. Otherwise we'll merely row 'round and 'round and never really get anywhere.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Now I've had both Vernissage and Finissage, and meanwhile the Whale painting is becoming "curiouser and curiouser", as Alice said. It has also become vastly more beautiful, as it is now inhabited by my dear friend Anita the Dancer. She is a glowing, flaming Maple.



She didn't mind being turned into a tree (she has been Anita in Wonderland before and knows that these things happen) but wondered a little why. Told her I didn't know. Had her in mind. And she does like maple leaves. Add to this a dancer, shining with a beautiful soul, and the result is settled with deep roots.



 

Come Down to Larry's

There's one week left on the exhibition at Larry's Corner (Street address: 35 Grindsgatan) -- Embassy of the United States of Diaspora in Stockholm. Wonderful Americans and Weird ones, a charming Canadian lady and some perfect extraterrestrials etc. etc. -- humanoids too odd and lovely and human for the New World or the Old all wash up here; and Swedes weird enough join them. I sort of fit in.

I add a bit more on my sad whale (see one fortnight below) while waiting for the week to pass, and now there's some character with it that -- I don't know what this fellow is supposed to do; rub and brush probably, but I'm sure it's impossible. An overwhaleing task.

At Larry's you find everything from, say, Japanese Psychedelic Jazz to hard to-find LP's and DVD's; or next-to-banished magazines and fanzines, fabulously quirky books on any odd subject and... things you just got to have because you never could imagine that such odd stuff existed. And there's coffee too, and hot toast. (Dumb Stockholmians serve them lukewarm. You have to go here, where sandwiches know how to Steam.) My paintings are fine here. One week more to go.



(Detail from Book Tree -- (c) Joakim Ceder 2011 -- Light summerly strokes of oil on gesso'ed paper, ink and a few aquarelle colours. Now for sale on the exhibition.)

Vernissage Fun

Poetry-music-and-dance-mischmasch with my friends, Peter Palm the Poet and Anita Emthén, this excellent dancer; apart from the stanzas this was all quite improvised on my Vernissage. First a little fun while we're waiting for poetry...

Hors d’Oeuvres

Just a little snack while you wait; the upcoming exhibition will hold more small works than large ones, but this one is a little extreme. With a little luck, this miniature will be shown now in true size; 3.5 x 2.5 inches; oil on gesso'ed paper.

It is now framed in the cutest little frame you can imagine, and still won't demand much space. Let's have a close look. Eyeballs, anyone?

Or perhaps you'd like a little whale? You'd better have it now, I see that the poor thing is crying coffee already. Digital pen --- No dearie, I don't know why it does. I'll have to finish the whole work. Then you may tell me. Otherwise, I still won't know, shan't know. This late greying Autumn is taking a gentle turn from Sad to Sadder, or so I feel, and all things that stall thinking are blessings.

Framing Insanity

As my Dance-and-Poetry-Vernissage is drawing nearer, I am practising unusually hard on the piano, wild reveries that are interspersed with frantic framing and cutting and matting, see image below...
 

Anyway, this is how it feels. Electric pen on electric paper. And, happily, no need for either framing nor matting. 

Autumnal Pencil

Autumn is falling down and away, becoming and going in the same time; everything is gently but completely broken and fragmented as those beautiful transient forms known as maple leaves, leaving an increasingly melancholic bittersweetness behind as colours and light fade.
(Continued below)

(Pencil drawing, with discrete Photoshop tinting.)

In this vein I wrote a little paraphrasis on a Poem attributed to Emperor Hadrian:

And now ye sail away
the breeze is good and raw,
the river running one way down
and no change of course is needed.
Is there another shore out there?
Or is it sweet just to go?
Soon we have lost you in the fog
and for you we're but mist
and dampness.

The best translation of Hadrian's original is, in my opinion, this one by Reverend James Ford (early 19th c.)

Say, fleeting Spirit, gentle, dear,
The body’s guest and comrade here,
Whither, Oh whither, now away?
Into what regions wilt thou stray?
Pale, numb, and desolate; no more
To jest and trifle, as before.

It is flowing, yet as I understand true to the original. Nothing can match, though, its melody and rhythm; falling gently as maple leaves:

Animula vagula blandula

hospes comesque corporis

Quae nunc abibis in loca

pallidula, rigida, nudula?

Nec ut soles dabos iocos.

-- Now, are we sad enough to enjoy Autumn properly? Cheers.

Geese and Gouache

Fall time. Painting outdoors, your fingers go numb and soon the rest of the body too, but it's worth it -- the colours, the colours! It was a grey and bitter day, so I brought a piece of grey cardboard, some ink and white gouache. Next, I let a little autumnal watercolour seep into the thick paper mass.   

Voilà. By the way; the birds, my cackling company while freezing and painting, were Barnacle Geese. We have plenty.

Poster for My Next Show...

Again, we celebrate the Simultaneous Week; a week so stuffed with Everything in the Same Time that it is strictly impossible to blog about. I am planning for my November exhibition (Larry's corner, Grindsgatan 35, Stockholm, Sweden, November 9:th!) -- Vernissage at 1'o Clock, while the poetry-music-and-dance-mischmasch with Poet P. Palm and Prima Ballerina A. Emthén begins at two. (Piano: Myself.) The latter spectacle will be played and danced quite ad hoc around the stanzas, all improvised, and might end in just any fashion. Exciting! -- The poster will look something like this:

I am also trying to paint a few new things to replace all the goodies sold in September. There's beautiful fall colours out there, right now.