January 21, 2018

The Great Marriage Lottery Machine


For the little book of mine, an echo of a former project:


You can see how the words (sorry for the blur, the actual words are in Swedish and moreover reserved for the buyers-to-be of this book) are folding around this side-adventure with The Great Marriage Lottery Machine, a bitter parody of forced marriage is still going on around the world. In such cases the Swedes (who carry such an abundance ethics aboard that they happily export it) feel great moral indignation -- provided there's some good safety distance. So I put a temple in the midst of Stockholm, devoted to the Great God of Electricity -- and right now (in my story) they're having their Annual Wedding Lottery, assisted by a huge complex tombola with a wheel of fortune and all sorts of fancy, fizzing arbitrariness (I can't pronounce that).

I suppose that the Swedes would graciously accept this process as a part of Electric Religion and call for humble understanding (if it happened so close) and respect for Ethics of Another Voltage, etc. I myself had a little brush with forced marriage some two decades ago. And I wrote a little something that was duly ignored (but those frightened publishers were interesting to see) and after turning to other media and receiving the wrong sort of attention I put the whole thing down. (My relationship spent quite some years going downhill and one happy but belated day I put that one down too.)

Oh, let's get technical instead. The fittings were bred from one single design that I made variations upon...


...and then turned into copper (contrasting nicely with the PVC'ish tubes). Then I had the lottery balls flowing merrily through it all.


Last but not least, the Joyous Wheel of Fortune! I'm afraid that the design won't be seen as clearly on the paper prints (if I ever get done someday) but here you see it now; fine little boys and girls awaiting their very decided destiny when 14 or 16 or so.

Memories of the painful kind have a tendency to, if untreated, seep out of the brains and slowly poison the body. The aforesaid awful practice will remain in my consciousness but with this I want some of it washed out of my very fibres. Cheers.


January 14, 2018

Nuclear Reactors on Saturn

For the Perpetual Book Project; and as the title says.


Once upon a time I worked for a sort of community centre; they had culture there. And I did their posters, there were concerts (some of which were mine) they hosted lectures and whatnot. And anyhow this plethora of things to do meant that my phone could go off anytime, just anytime. So I had this recurring little nightmare, where the phone rang and sometimes quite impossible things were demanded -- like, for instance, helping to build nuclear reactors on Saturn. I remember that one, as I was saved by the bell -- or phone -- ringing and demanding other things, less surreal but likewise impossible. So I sort of had to include it. And there we go.

Things that I like about it -- it looks like a nuclear Castle now. It is just as ta-daa as the demands of certain people. Ironically, I overslept. And now I publish this a little late -- I fear that the text, overseen by my weary eyes, is more surreal than the image... so what: Publish and be damned.

January 07, 2018

Neverland Tobacco, or A Licorice Cigar Prank

The Artist/Designer/etc. had quite fun a few nights before New Year's Eve. I had candy, Polkagris (hard Swedish stick candy) and a Certain Someone who couldn't be expected to swear off smoking on the Eve, nohow. So let's at least have some fun. Here's the candy.


And underneath is the paper...


...which I used to...


...turn the candy into cigars!


The box had to be camouflaged too, there was some printing on the top that was quite a giveaway. So I made a sort of girdle on fine paper.


This candy box now contained -- Sweetheart doesn't know much Spanish --


"Six Special Cigars, 100% Licorice, Product of Neverland Ranch, Bolivia" and so on in my pidgin Español. Mohahaha.


The most difficult thing was to imitate one of the bleak, harmless but commercial styles that many illustrators use for things like this (I call this variety Common Faux Vector Engraving) together with the fonts that one might see on such a package (the cigar wrappings then had to be made in style). So partly, this little prank was to some little extent made for my little, somewhat ironic-bitter amusement.

The surprise and the tasty Neverland Tobacco was very well received, however. Sweetheart loves licorice.

--------

Edit: Corrected a few grammar errors, January 8:th. Perfectionism, oh perfectionism... Still there must others, undetected, lurching about down there... and others to come... *Growl.*

December 31, 2017

On Leather Masks and Honesty to Oneself

A leather mask, covering half the face, as a thought for 2018…


A possible explanation (insert yours here) is that I’ve been constantly annoyed by people who clandestinely tries to change one into something beautiful that one isn’t. To the best of my knowledge, unicorns don’t have foul manners, never swear and only drink water. But I’m not a unicorn… One also happens to be an artist, and as such we work with All emotions, All aspects of being a human being, even the less appetizing ones. I know an excellent actor, a good soul but an annoying fussbudget too – she’s utterly perfect for characters that demand a certain hypocrisy, shallowness and so forth. Because she is the one that she is. Light can’t exist without darkness.

When you truly Accept a person, you accept the whole works, the entire Gonzo – thinking of Hunter S. Thompson now, who was a truly difficult person, with endless faults, and thus the only one who could’ve written the works of Hunter S. Thompson. There’s a notion that I’ve often heard:
“I like X’s plays/movies/books/etc. but not this or that part of X.”
It is a notion for cowards, who refuse to see the complex thing that a human is; to be a Self is to be a self-contradiction.
“I am large, I contain multitudes.”

There are of course limits. You might not have to be a murderer in order to write Crime Fiction (even if some poor works in that genre – there are so many – would’ve been improved by it) but perhaps you, at least for a moment, have to Want to kill?

So, now when you sit wondering what lofty promises that you’re to make for this year, be careful of what you wish. Above all, don’t wish to become a Better person. Lord knows what’ll happen on the dark, masked side of your soul then. You should rather wish to know thyself. Have a whole face.

---***---


A glimpse behind the curtain: this is the tinting before I added the details on top…


…and this is the original pencil drawing.


Happy New Year 2018, Happy Same Old You!

December 24, 2017

Trontelont Creature, and Merry Xmas

Merry Xmas unto all that are Xmasing -- and I wish you a fine day to you who aren't too -- this is what Yours Sincerely has been doing on the side of complaining and whining in general. It might not look too well in our prolonged November gloom. The grain of canvases have always deterred... and so on. To stop whining, here it is: Åsa-lo (good friend!) calls this a Trontelont -- what would you say that it is? Mini-Mimi-Mastodon?



December 17, 2017

Shutterstock etc.

Pictures in magazines have never been so pro, so snazzy, so irrelevant. With a few golden exceptions (National Geographic etc.) they are all brought from Shutterstock and their ilk. They fit, but just barely, whatever the column, editorial or whatever was ever about.

How do you explain this 'for whom it might concern'?
That instead of something embarrassingly generic (it grows all the worse when the reader soon sees this photobait in some entirely different context somewhere else) ...they may get something on-the-spot, crafted by hand, -- yes, something locally produced instead of this McEyecandy they've been addicted to?


Now, does this matter? Our little worries, with this world being as it is?

Partly, it does. This Unnecessary Comfort.

"Iceberg ahead!"
Ah, nah, this is a modern ship, just go ahead.

"This beef is produced ecologically, and --"
Pollution schmollution, let's do McDonalds.

And so on.

I could mention various Titanics of the modern mind, but by now I think that you got the point.
Even if you're a lazy Art Director, and an addicted one too.


December 10, 2017

Fly Away!

This is another one for the book that I might finish before being caught up by Death or Flies: In my surreal little tale, the Flies are pestersome creatures that try to see and control everything, have opinions about everything in general and especially how you and me live. Sounds familiar? (I just hate flies, so the choice was obvious.)



The compound eyes was made possible thanks to my dear model, who patiently let me take pictures from a dozen different angles. Using one eye (or worse, stealing imagery) just wouldn't yield the same result.
Some kind of fungi (that I can't place) made the basis for some of the yuckier textures. The wings are warped from weeds (inverted).


The older I get, the less patience I have for people that buzz about and can't live and let live. I want a swatter!

December 03, 2017

Elephantasy

Dear readers -- here's an elephant.


Now, elephants are generally not perceived as very sexy. So their chances of getting into the art market via bed are rather slim.
Here I wanted to add a few notes about #metoo and how this debate has spread to the cultural world -- with a notable exception, the spheres of Fine Art, where everything immoral and possibly illegal is part of how this dimly lit world works. But I can't. Merely thinking about it is draining my soul. The best that I can do is to go on writing my little book of mine: I've done that for seven years, so don't expect any release soon. But it will contain artistic elephants...


...Despair not, little elephant! You might not have a chance to enter the World of Art, um, bedwise. But if you have but mediocre talent in your snout there's still a good chance. You might know the good Art Writer, who writes in the fancy Art Columns. Hmmm, very expressive! Wide strokes. An emotional talent... -- The Writer knows the Gallerist who knows the Collector, and together they'll make your art very wanted and praised and costy all of sudden. Tooot! I know -- this is Insider Business and that normally lands you in jail. But art business is a strange thing, with plenty of space for the elephant in the room. Or an entire herd, give or take the recent one.

------

Technical notes for the easily entertained:
The elephant texture is a leather pattern (it was brown before and part of a handbag) while the canvas, apron and cap was made out of the same image (but very different resolutions): It was part of my sweater. The floor is made out of ... a floor. So enfin a little electric hokus-pokus, and there you are.

November 26, 2017

Pianola

Yours sincerely has, as the observant reader has already noticed, been going downhill as of late. Last Saturday-soon-to-be-Sunday was spent in Total Exhaustment lying down staring at the roof, for reasons mentioned earlier, and Paintstakingly skipped a heartbeat. Yours sinc. renders status quo with this sketch:


I feel like a pianola: Yes, the old self-playing piano with stripes cut in the paper that makes the song, in my case a very pointless one, paint, try to sell, repeat. This basso continuo is affecting my art more than I want to and is something that I also hear echoing throughout the rest of society. Produce so that you may consume, lose the hours of life so that you stay alive. Live long and... despair.

Let us see:
Chandelier, check.
Piano playing The Merry Anthem of Productivity |:repeat ad infinitum:|
The Woodenheads marching. They uphold Our Values and Standards. Unlike me, they never miss a beat as aforesaid Anthem is echoing xylophonically through their heads. Check.
Below, the used and discarded biomass of humanity. Check.

Or whatever interpretation that you want.

November 11, 2017

Candle in the Dark



November! -- If my dismay for summers that are too hot and hay-feverish wins my bottom ten, Novembers are a good second. Dark, rainy, soggy, disheartening -- did I say dark? -- and dismal on the whole. Even your soul goes damp. So I had no idea for this week until my friendly Muse suggested a candle in the darkness. So here goes.

You see that the light is sort of cogwheeling, and has company -- I'm sort of not done with my thoughts of the previous week yet (if I'll ever be) so a bit of the symbolism there spilled over to this week.



November 05, 2017

Dove with Arrow, Angel and Operative Surrealism



Pins and needles rust and bend, rust and bend... unless they are nice titanium screws, guaranteed to last for a lifetime. The angel in the background (or if it's merely a small one that can dance on the head of a pin, rusty or not -- your choice) bears resemblance to the great Frida Kahlo -- I've had considerably less surgery than her after all (although I believe that Life spared her face, if not the rest -- here, it's the other way around) -- and The Broken Column particularly. It has made a profound impression.


As for the now flightless messenger pigeon (poor dove) yours sinc. suffers from some kind of Sales Fatigue now again (a lot of e-mailing in vain) the main symptoms being Decreased Will to Live as expressed by the body in general (you'll be spared the details). And I try to pull myself together, but mental pins and needles rust and bend.

October 29, 2017

Cartoonish Ambulance

I do appreciate 30'sh cartoons for their certain sogginess, being contemporary with the Dalí watches and all. Less talk and more imagery!


The fenders just had to be 30's green for all that. So why did I create an ambulance? the reason is of no importance now, I could not use it there. I had better give it to you, dearies.


There's a bitter afterthought. (You don't have to read on.) There are countries where one mustn't get ill at all. And this is Sweden, where some people think that all people may get ill, recuperate and then whee hey we're on the track again.

This is not so.

If you're rich you may. And if you're a member of the Union, this diminishing Other Upper Ten, you might too.
And the Other Upper Ten long ago said -- shove the rest! -- but on this day of solidarity, May 1:st.
And that's why May 1:st is but one day out of 365.

October 22, 2017

A Bit of This and That


...a bit of tick and tock for a little book that I'm working on. (I'm down with a cold yet again and we run a bizzle late.) It's my own project that has been going on forever, the advantage being that I might show you a little now and then.


The clockwork (or -works?) suffer from heavy Dalírium. Perhaps not melting, but everything close to it.

Oh, before I go -- I thought that you might fancy seeing the little clockwork guardian up close:


An improvised thing. Looks rather stern. But well, I suppose that guarding melting watches is important work.

October 15, 2017

Butterfish, Ink and Digital

I like fish. I actually like them too much, and don't like eating them really -- if they're not Sushi, which I might simply gobble until my gills are full. I suppose that it has something to do with the tiny pieces? Whole fish look rather reproachful, lying on their iced beds:
"Now Look what they've done to me?!"


The physical original was ink on green paper -- you may still see that hue on the body of the creature. It was changed into blue and pink on other parts, keeping the original texture. Details are digital.


I've had some fun with the patterns on the wings. They remind me of a microchip circuit gone wild and natural; like a light bulb with moss on it (would be fun to draw someday).



October 08, 2017

"Draw me An Airplane, Please!"



...a Certain Someone said. And I did! Well, one has to be careful asking a surrealist for anything at all. I've done my Very Best to make a realistic airplane, down to the last feather and slimy scale. And I haven't forgot that airplanes, although majestic in the sky, smoke too goddamn much -- not good for Mother Earth, nohow.


And being down with good company and a nasty cold, this is about what I can do this Inktober weekend.

October 01, 2017

An Unconfy Meeting; for a Book That Might Be Done just Someday

...if this book is to be printed, I sadly won't use Georgia. Now I am not thinking of Georgia, the wonderful Jazz standard, but Georgia, the Typeface which you might see now (or not, Internet being what it is.) (And in the manner of dear Nobel Prize winner Imre Kertész -- do look up his magnificenct A kudar in a language near you, the "foreword" or, story before the story is worth more than most books. (And Imre, this one I understand, loved to add a second in parenthesis after the first one or thirty-eleventh, so here goes.) It looks well on screens, but not necessarily on paper.


- It is very, just very Uncomfy. Our protagonist was Young and Green and actually Tried to Sell a Real Painting to a Real Gallerist. Oh Boohey. Imre knew this feeling, and he described this totally power-unbalanced kind of meetings better than I can ever do.

September 24, 2017

Maple Leaf and Something Else


I started on an oil a few days ago, painting these sparkling things. Apart from maple leaves, the work might contain just anything that comes to my mind. The weather has been quite moist and grey. It doesn't encourage painting outdoors, so I think that I'll keep bringing small sparkling pieces of Autumn in as long as they're out there, one leaf at a time. And see what happens.

One might not believe that the same person made this too:


It belongs to the same project as last week, the Restless Eggs (q.v.). I've done a lot of other things too but those were for money and can't be shown to you, at least not yet (sadly, some of it was good).

What do you think it is? I rest my case.

September 17, 2017

Restless Eggs

For a work that I just Might finish, if I feel like it, drawing on free associations, old and new.


We're going to have an entire omelet of these. (This time, as you see (far right) I do some rough outlines which I then smear with electric paint. We're cloning the eggs.)


Hens that may roam outdoors lay brown eggs, or so I am told, so I suppose they're happy.

September 10, 2017

Lady of the Castle Ruins



I admit, I confess -- this might remind one very much of certain work by Dalí, Ma femme, nue... (link) etc. etc, a very long title. My take, however, is also inspired by the Castle Ruins of Borgholm, Öland, Sweden -- where the nature is rather wild and harsh, yet mild and green... some of which you may hint here. At least I've made some Blue Chicory, which this narrow island has quite a lot of.


Sadly. Dalí never got around to try drawing with a digital pen, especially not in combination with colouring with some collage made up of (heavily distorted) footage from the spot. I wonder what Maestro had done with it. Or perhaps he would've gone into developing surreal games too? One never knows. I'd love one with melting watches.


September 03, 2017

Pianosaur

I'll go on with the thingy of previous week some other day. My back still hurts from carrying a piano yesterday, portal but barely so.


And here's the sweet songbird. Being a dino is risky, one might go extinct at any time and then it's good to carry a trusty songbird.



August 27, 2017

Box Sales, Work in Progress



I've got as far as adding some watercolour to the ink. Might be cherry tomatoes. Another colour would yield another taste. Sadly, we only see in a small spectrum of light; ah for the sweet taste of ultraviolet, mellow gamma or peppery infrared! -- but this is what I use...


Carefully labelled and sorted, as you see. Still much to do. The original Ink:


Some greenery. The plant simply happened to be in the garden where I happened to be. And as for the meaning of it all...


...I won't refuse to tell you this week. I might refuse to tell you next week, when I hope to be finished. See you!