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Several years ago I moved out of Visby where the studio became too small. In Stenkumla, just a mile south of Visby, I found a place with atmosphere. This is where I create my artwork in oil, acrylic and watercolor. The studio is part of my gallery and open during gallery visits.
My work is based on days by the shoreline. The landscape, the light and the rich bird life provides the base to my artworks.
It is morning, and it feels like any other painting day. I don’t dwell much on today’s project as I sip my morning coffee. Afterward, I descend the stairs, traverse the corridor, and unlock the studio door. The scent of oil lingers from yesterday’s painting session. The subject dries against the wall, facing away from me, like all the other completed pieces. It’s a fresh morning with a new subject. There are no distractions, just a blank canvas waiting to be stretched onto the frame before the day’s work can commence. There’s always a direction, but the content remains somewhat elusive. The uncertainty, the unspoken, or rather the unpainted, adds a certain tension that fuels the creation. In a few hours, I hope to find myself in a state of “flow,” transforming today’s effort into yet another painting.
And so it goes, repeating tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.
Theres a scene in which the canvas, pigments, and the brush movements are the actors. My hand and mind tries to be a director that forms a picture that appeals my day.
The pen moves, the impressions changes. Transforms how the pen moves. Lines are formed, blurred to some extent by the pigment that fills the paper’s surface. A paper dries and weaves everything into a picture.
Lying there on the sofa, totally exhausted. I have given everything and what remains of me is drying in the studio in a shimmer of oil.
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