At an exhibition it is neat to see paintings in series. I manage to stay focused sometimes to actually create some sort of group that can hang together. And then I end up selling one painting in the series and the rest are packed down and stowed away. Like these. Four Expressions. (Oil on canvas.) Showed at an art show here in Stockholm back in 2015. I guess lesson learned is; sell them all at once 😄 or make bigger and more flexible series. Art is all about learning by doing. Or making.
She believes that she has a cat. The cat believes that the lady belongs to him.
I miss our cat, The Intrepid Spaceman Spiff. Spiff for short. He used to hang out in our neighbors stable or sleeping on an old windsurfing sail bag in the garage. When we moved in to the city we didn’t think he would be happy there so we made an agreement with our neighbors that they would look after and feed Spiff and he could roam around his turfs and feel free and happy. We were so wrong. Our neighbor called. “This is not working out. Spiff is not feeling good”.
I went to the barn, called Spii-if! The response was immediate. I have never heard a cat meow that much. He spoke to me all the way back to his new home but old family. Once he dared to come out from under the stairs, he found a new favorite sleeping spot, new friendly neighbors and a new, much smaller backyard to guard. He was home. Whoever owned who. That is of no importance.
I love my friends, I love meeting new people, I love watching people and I love going to new places. And still, I sometimes have to force myself to go out. It always seem to be a better idea to stay at home or rather at my easel. It is just never boring. The paint itself makes me want to stay. The next stroke with the brush or the next combination of colors, by accident or intentionally. I just like to hang out with my paint. That’s as simple as that. Really!
Trusting myself, trusting the process and taking it all the way to the very end. That is a challenge.
There is even a movement called Process Art that is associated with the 1960s. It is the journey or the process that is art. It doesn’t even have to have an object to show as a finished result. I remember reading about an artist who made his own walking into a project of art. Clever.
Nonetheless, even regular classic painting involves a process. It doesn’t even have to be that creative. But one thing I found certain with my own painting, I need the time, the process to let go. To let go of the judging thoughts, the critic inside and the assumptions of what the end result should look like. It is like I have to get the painting into my body, and I get the feel of where to put the paint, where to not put the paint and the painting is finding its own way to an objet d’art. I am just tagging along. That is such a fun feeling. And somewhat time-consuming.
I see being stuck in a corner as a good thing. Having the back turned to the rest of the world while I am being buzzy doing my own thing. Doodling about, painting, drawing or just being stuck with my own thinking. But I have learned. I have learned to turn around, opening up to people and to appreciate talking to complete strangers. I don’t fear getting a blank mind and I don’t hide at social events as much anymore. A have been the perfect bus girl at parties or events. I have sneaked around, dressed to party but instead collected glasses and empty bottles or whatever the quests are leaving around. So what is the difference now. The difference is A R T. The Art of Mingling when there is ART around. My own art, art of others or just art in general. Then there is always something to talk about. And that is why I now really love doing exhibitions. I open up. And then I can go back into my corner again.
There are some flowers that means spring to me more than others. Ranunculus. They are like sweet layered cakes of promise of a brighter more colorful time to come. I greet them with pleasure and I am thankful that days are finally longer, the birds are singing and it is time to get out of the wool socks and step into some sandals. And this year I have shaved my legs and I have some green nail polish on my toenails. All prepared for some new sunny steps.
Ranunculus. Oil on canvas. 30×30 cm.
Painting can be a very intimate process. Ones inner thoughts, dreams, personality and wishes shine through layers of paint. One can always read an artist, maybe not instantly or by a single painting. But after a while, the choices of motifs, the colors or the brushstrokes will tell you something about the artist.
To paint a vagina wouldn’t be my natural choice of motif for me. But when a friend introduced me to the work of Artworks 4 change, I had no hesitation to contribute with my art. In order to raise money against female genital mutilation they have asked artist to submit work to their Vagina Art Exhibition and Auction. The money they raise will go to Plan International and their work of children’s rights and equality for girls.
This is my contribution. Private, oil on canvas. 80×80 cm.
I like my work as an illustrator and I love being a painter. Of course there is a little of me in my illustrations but working as a freelance illustrator means taking your clients needs and demands into consideration.
Painting (and drawing) is something I do whether there is money in the end or not. One might think there is an easy transition going from illustrating to painting. It can be, regarding the material, but the mind needs some time to free itself from “doing-good- getting-paid-state-of-mind”. So what do I do. I paint a face. Again. The same thing I do when I want to use up the left over paint on my palette. And as in the three dimensional world. Faces don’t repeat themselves. There is always a first time for every face.
Session is over. A painting is finished. And as always I have squirted out too much paint on my palette. Cadmium red, yellow ochre, burnt sienna and preussisk bleu. I can’t just leave these little piles of paint and go home and cook dinner. Dinner has to wait. My art teacher at The Colorado Institute of Art once said. “Being a little hungry is good for creativity”. One must assume she was just preparing us for the real world out there.
Anyway. There is always time for another face. Grabbing hold of a scrap piece of canvas. Stapling in corners onto board. Bam, bam, bam, bam. And as always, painting flows easily, no hesitation of which color to use, my hand and paintbrush seem to have a mutual understanding. I am just tagging along for the ride. And maybe, just maybe my art teacher was right. At least I stopped thinking about dinner.