Hospital Unhospitality

This little study of abuse and neglect, complete with this warm and humane nurse and her happy patient, can be bought from Saatchi and Saatchi Online. It is explained more thoroughly there. Let it suffice to say that it is based on a true story, as told to me by a chocked medical student: This is what happens when nurses get too tecnnical.
(It all somehow reminded me of Chaplin's "feeding machine" in Modern Times.)

A closer look!

I've packed this thing with all sorts of loving medical details for the viewers' enjoyment, and I hope that it will be regarded as a carefully crafted piece of dark humour, full of the cheerful attitude that you find among pills and syringes:
"It won't hurt, I promise."
"It won't have any side effects, I swear."
Etc.

Furry Doesn't Get Any Rest

Poor thing. Forever strained, forever involuntarily vigilant, third eye always open.

Nor do I. And since I drew this, things have got worse. We'll see about March.

The Swedish Corona Dance (and how we learned the steps)

(Digital work, anno horribilis 2020 -- click to enlarge. Note the virus flowing, a small price to pay for the factories that make our owners rich...
Tap to enlarge. Details below.)

I want to thank two souls from Spain and one American who, without knowing it, forced me into writing this essay at last. The expats fervently wondered why the Swedish government (lead on by “State Epidemologist” A. Tegnell) doesn’t care to keep the people safe from the Corona Virus. How, they wonder, can a democracy care so little about its people? Dissuade from masking up, avoiding every true precaution in the name of Herd Immunity, as if we wanted to say,
“Perhaps the virus gets tired when it has killed enough of us?” ...but that's insanity! One question led to another, and I’ve taken the liberty to collect my attempts at answering them here.

One of them wondered how such a murderous regime could have such popular support.
Why doesn’t anybody say anything, for God's sake?
What fresh Hell of a place is this?

I finally answered that we might very well have a unique thing here.
We have the only totalitarian state without the usual “strong leader”. A fascistic democracy; bravo Sweden! Groupthink takes care of all the oppression. I could tell about the “Law of Jante”, satirist Aksel Sandemose’s famous “rules” that Scandinavian societies obey:
“Thou shalt not think that you are something special!” --- goes §1, and the rest of them are just as humiliating and belittling. Everything is forbidden, everything that might make you stand out also makes you an outcast.

I also suggested looking on Sweden like a bucketful of crabs:
The concept of “Crab Mentality” stems from the fact that you may safely keep all the crabs that you can catch in a bucket, and they’ll stay there. For every time that one of them makes a dash for freedom, the others will invariably pull it down back to the others. And soon they all become dinner! How much for equality.

Yet, if we weren’t dying in the Corona Bucket there would be something else. It disturbs me to no end that people react to Sweden now. But well, why earlier? If you’re a square on 9-5, Sweden coddles you 24/7 with welfare and unbelievable benefits. But try to make a living on unsolicited culture or other outside stuff! --- and you lose all this and all security. So unlike those who play it safe, I am very used to the thought of a country that’s wholly indifferent to your death.
(Sudden loss of welfare might actually happen to anyone with a bit of bad luck, but it’s one of those things that “happens to others” until you’re there and realise what a caring country this really is. And then it’s too late.)

This can’t be true, said one of our Spanish friends. How can a culture become like this?
“We avoid conflict”, they say, “we like the silence...” --- such trite answers won’t do. For now I had to explain how we still can remain so silent and passive even in matters of life and death.

It’s impossible, so let us try!

So, how did this mortally apathic mentality come about? I believe that it’s a real “vicious circle”, that kind of f.u.b.a.r. situation where things get worse because they get worse: The government, which slithers and sneaks away from all kinds of responsibility, is after all chosen from the people. They don’t have different genes, they’re Swedes too. So --- how did people become like this? What have we suffered from these slithery overlords so that we had to become like them, and vice versa ad infinitum? And happily, I’m not only a fretting, bitterly fuming dissident but also a humble BA of History, so that one I could answer.

Once upon a time there was a wild species known as Vikings. They were quite good tradesmen and their swift ships went everywhere from Constantinople to Iceland. But at times they also liked looting, burning houses, capturing thralls and listening to the sweet sound of heads flying freely. So to this cold country of hot people they sent Christian preachers to tame them. And during the rest of the Middle Ages they went berserk at home instead, which was an improvement, but not quite enough.

Enter Early Modern Times and King Gustav I. He brought the Reformation and the beginning of a system that would be refined --- I would say sharpened --- endlessly over the years. The church was soon but a tool for the Power. And what power!
Every aspect of your life was controlled from cradle to grave:
Where you lived, every time you moved (if allowed to), income, status (general, legal, and juridical), health, mental abilities and education i.e. how well you knew your catechesis (you had to, or else you weren’t allowed to get married) if you came to church on Sundays (strictly mandatory) suitability for conscription, or anything at all
--- in short, thanks to notorious clergymen there were papers on everyone and everything, and if you’re Swedish and into genealogy you’re in a very happy position. My family has been traced back to 1750 or so, and those who did it weren’t any professionals either. I suppose that with my training I could go further back to the 1600’s when they begun to record all this systematically.

It goes without saying that such an inquisitive rule also made the most out of its prisoners, imposing social control strict as a straightjacket. (We were thus also experts at cramming cannon fodder out of the people, far beyond what Sweden’s enemies thought were possible. Surprise on them.) So now you can guess: How does a people become after four hundred years of this?

I make a short little break in my story for now it’s c. 1880, and quite a few people quite didn’t cope anymore. And on the other side of the vast Atlantic, there was a wonderful land known as America, and for whatever hardships it might offer, it Was Not Sweden. Sweden lost more than population in numbers. For every remaining instinct of liberty, independence, everything intelligent and thus everything that gives a soul the wish and the reason to be reliable went away with them. The effects were soon to be seen.
Why a few of my ancestors went back to Sweden again (how could you?) while their cousins stayed is a long story, but I blame them for growing up as the most un-Swedish Swede there is.

So, we’re there! In 1920-30 the “Social Democrats” inherited a heavily regulated country of meek, slow-minded and tamed citizens. They never do revolutions. They are bred not to bark loudly. But therefore, just therefore, they’re sure to bite anybody else who might. --- And so the baton was passed on. The successors, the capitalists of the 1990’s, never cared to do anything about this (why would they? Human robots are practical) and here the modern Swede stands in all her spineless glory.

- - - *** - - -

(In paranthesis: Space doesn't allow me to go fully into the economical side of our servitude. But for instance --- there's no minimum wage in Sweden. (Not to mention Basic Income!) The State prefers you to be addicted to alms instead. So not very much has happened since the State Church and its ecclesial prison guards: Labour unions, a myriad of goverment agencies and Capitalism Almighty all help out in keeping the Swede under constant control; silent and dependent.)

- - - *** - - -

As I write this, scared teachers are being sent out to teach live in schools while being actually forbidden to mask up despite the risks that come with crowds of pupils in enclosed areas (as if young pupils were the cleanliest things even in normal circumstances). And said Mr. Tegnell’s dream of herd immunity obviously lives on, now ushered in through the backdoors of those schools to infect our young. (We’ve done our share with the old already.) The government cheats, it sneaks and it slithers. It will take no actual responsibility for the outcome. And people sneak, cheat and slither too, naturally feeling equally responsible, avoiding Tegnell’s (intentionally) feeble “recommendations” and go on as usual --- just like their ancestors did when priestly watchdogs (and those Swedes that might tell on you) weren’t there. So it goes:

Power wanted a herd instead of adult, independent individuals.
They got rid of Vikings.
But now they’ll have to herd cats.

I'd rather end there. As I write this, I am listening to sweeter tones from the past: Corelli’s Twelve Trio Sonatas (Op.1) the boquet of a dozen beautiful pieces dedicated to Queen Christina --- that intelligent person who put her precious Swedish crown down so that she could go abroad and be a soul.
The saying goes that someone asked her:
“Your Majesty, why have you surrendered your kingdom?”
The answer came like a flash:
“Because they are Stupid!”
And perhaps the answer it still as simple as that. If not simpler, after all those years.

A Heartless Year

2020! Corona pandemic, a mad president sitting (and s****ing) on the top of the world and enviromental doomsday bells. It has been very heartless. December brings us...

...this heartless little balloon-heart-factory; I called it ”Industrial Ego Boost, or Why We Are So Clever”
Backstory: Sweden runs on lots of subsidies; whether it's the housing of Real Workers or directly to the factories where they're stored 9-5, presumably (but not necessarily) doing Real Work. All is paid for by timber from stolen forests and reindeer feeding grounds rich in ore – both taken from the indigenous Sámi people.
(One of those days, the balloon will get pricked by a giant needle.)

We also made a brokenhearted little ballpoint thingy.

This year had many people masking up...

And even S:t Lucia celebrations in Sweden were a little exhausted.

Whew! Cheers to a new year. As different as possible. We need it.

Whatever I Wanted

I've been busy this November. But I can show you "Whatever I Wanted". (Yes, it's for sale.)

The details don't make any more sense.

Not at all.

October Varia

October. I've been making studies like this one, as the autumnal chill allowed. I've also made some decidedly silly things. I call the one below "Sudden Pointless Insight". It's very open for your interpretation.

And this is a cat staring at something across the universe, as cats are prone to do. Ink and a little pastel on paper, inverted.

Edit: I might as well add this butterfy that I made on the spur the other night. And the leaves are falling, mists are rolling in from where our longings go to drown themselves and October is drawing towards an end.

A Cheerful Balloon

Trigger warning: Cheerful dark humour ahead!

Well, this cheers me up. Sorry (not sorry) if it doesn't do that for you. The balloon is happy!

The hair is a mess. The owner of the scalp might not care so much anymore, but I've put a bit of work into it. Also note that the rope/string is in a cheery glittery pink, making the occassion all the merrier.

It's September! The very last of it, even. Here, leaves are falling, skies are hazy and mushrooms are popping up from the ground with a loud corky sound. *Bop!* So the spikes/nails that keep us aeronauts gently attached to dear terra firma take on a certain fungal character.

It might amuse you to know that the gloom in the background was made out of nice photos really. In real life, the red leaves were yellow... (It didn't go with the rest of the picture! Red definitly did)

...and that the autumn day with its cool, crisp air was as cheerful as the balloon. Here's some sweet maples. Now calm down.

Mental August Weeds

August has been a mostly lonely but productive month in these viral times. We have, for instance, harvested a giant pear...

...which is part of O Holy Telephone, a ballpoint pen with digital enhancements now available on Saatchi Online.

We have also built the weirdest little temple -- or ex-temple -- I fail to find a name for it.

Detail: Balloon.

And last but not least, these weeds have grown in the backyard of my mind. No name yet either.

Which Side Are You On?

This gentle Bumble Bee is on the Nice side of my little digital work. (Yes, it borrowed the title from the old protest song.)

The other side is Not so Very Nice; that's if we keep ignoring the warnings of Mother Nature and repeat sayinng what we want to hear like an old record stuck in a track.
"I want you to panic", said young miss Greta. But I'm sorry to say that this is how grownups actually do behave when they panic. It's an coming of age thing; one among other things about grownups that aren't funny to realize if you happen to become one.

But that's not the point. My point was that if grownups don't take care of pollinators, there soon won't be any. 3/4 of the food that we eat is dependent of something usually buzzing or fluttering to take care of their pollen. If they starve, we will starve. There are endless things to do: Keeping to indigenous plants (bees and c:o prefer local cuisine) stopping unnecessary mowing, cutting pesticides out, etc. etc. I know, most of us don't have a garden. Our roots are growing in concrete. But things like pollution has to go down (buzzing things hate it too) and awareness has to rise -- I think that the point is to begin somewhere and do something.

(Also for sale as a poster on Saatchi & Saatchi.)

I'm Here Too!

--- General links and resources ---

Contact Write to oj.ceder@gmail.com for general enquiries, commissions etc. Traditional snail mail: Joakim Ceder Solhagavägen 97 16347 Spånga SWEDEN.

Posters for sale! Displate. Your very own artworks printed on shiny metal, super easy hanging by magnet! (Etsy. Presently not active.)

Movies: My YouTube Channel has everything from Art videos and Music to a few of my Songs in Swedish.

Portfolios Instagram. Everything between light sketches and heavy oils. Some music too. This blog, starting page. Once published weekly (we've got a few hundred posts here in the archives!) but I now try to do monthly. It's tough to be omnipresent.

Other music: Dalírium, my very experimental album (Spotify).

Sad Salad

Mathilda: You love your plant, don't you?
Léon: It's my best friend. Always happy, no questions [...]

---

I actually believe that plants are more happy than people. (They are vastly more happy than me, that's for sure.) But this green specimen became sad; perhaps a matter of art reflecting the artist. I must've told the poor thing that existence is pointless; vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas. Perhaps I wasn't in my best mood or something. But lettuce is generally good talking company. It doesn't mind if you're a little brusque, they don't "snowflake" (as some people do) and above all it won't give you preposterous, presumptuous lectures if you fail showing off the full amount of cheerful photosynthesis that day (there are actually people that might do that. I've decided to avoid them, lest I become Sad Salad myself). Cheers for lettuce. Hooray for plants.

The computer had fun. My original looked something closer to this:

Older stock photo (also by me) was used for the boards and the background.

Meet Mässie, the Sea Monster

Loch Ness has Nessie, Chesapeake Bay has Chessie and Lake Champlain wouldn't be the same without Champy, who prowls these waters between New York State, Vermont and Quebec, Canada. While Sweden has an old creature in Storsjön (Storsjöodjuret), great Lake Mälaren has hitherto been sadly neglected. So this month we see, for the first time, the probing proboscises, or mouth-eye tentacles, of Mässie, Hässie (as I saw it off Hässelby) and Lammie (as this particular part of the lake is named Lambarfjärden. Said glacial depression (filled with water) is also the deepest part of the entire enclosed archipelago (some 200 ft. deep) making the presence of lurching sea monsters and aquatic dragons all the more likely).

As there are eyes in their mouths, they're able to constantly glare judgingly at you and nag in the same time, and I can't possibly imagine anything more horrible. I who went a-rowing to evade such creatures!

It might perhaps amuse you to know that I only had time to draw a quickie sketch before the presence of Mässie & Friends got too overwhelming. (The colour was added later.) Ballpoint pen is good practice, though. There's no erasing or changing anything. You have to plan forward, save certain spaces and keep things in your head. Yes, you need to concentrate when you live near sea monsters!

(Not to mention, however, the odd things that you might encounter when you're ashore. Most of them have two legs.)

The Rites of Spring

Well, it's springtime here and the poor thing needed a name, right? Made quite ad hoc without wanting to paint anything really. And the piece by Stravinsky (my favourite rendering is the one by Bernstein, who had a feeling for its exquisite rawness) was the perfect thing to have in my ears while painting it; "Rites" is sort of my Angry Music. One prefers to paint out of happiness and joy, I suppose; sugar spice and all things nice. If one can't, one has to paint rather like greeting cards from the Dark Side. We have no choice.

Aforesaid unwillingness might have caused the bloodied scalpel in the top of the "flower" (here as seen during work, you can see that the rest was only planned in coarse outlines):

The leaves were, in the midst of this painter's anhedonia, allowed to take on whatever weird shape that they wanted, as long as they were there.

Further down, one might also note that the ash-brown leaf doesn't bother to go all the way down into the glass really. It still worked with the image (the glass turned out rather well, don't you think?) and honestly, would you notice this if I had not told you so? There you are.

Finally, I made that little ground reflection from the glass that you see in the first picture (overview, top). I could not be bothered with a background, so that would have to do to save the object from floating in space. Voilà, yet another painting from Mr. Ceder...

Calming Corona Mask

Dear readers; I advise you very strongly: Don't have a personal crisis while there's a pandemic going on. You'll get no help at all. I presently am suffering from some sort of occupational burnout and seem unable to draw on commission. This one I did before the burnout truly hit me; a Calming Mask for these troubled Corona times. Cheers!

February Harvest

I'm still more active on Instagram these days. On the upside, you get more feedback. On the downside, "Insta" is quite jealous, it really doesn't want you to link anywhere else. (It grudgingly allows you one link, but that's it, Buster!)

So, what do we have for this mostly grey and windy month?

My Soul is Rainy

Digital work with my photos -- and my shoes :)

"Stop!"

I also reworked an old image, from 2015 or so (might be found on this blog, look in the archives!).
Those blood red hues do something to your instincts and feelings, don't they? Look at the original:

But I did draw the original with all colours inside me, that's for sure.