Paintings 2019

The answer to the question you never realised you asked is right behind the wall. Confucius said it best: "He who knows all the answers has not been asked all the questions".

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They say that all an artist can paint is self-portraits and all a writer can write is autobiographies. This was my first ever self-portrait, it is simple and it came to me in its solemn colours the day after a long night out. The night itself deserves a separate story, and it had left its mark on my neck, which coincidentally the paint managed to capture. It is these coincidences and small accidents that can happen during painting which really solidifies it as a powerful expression, not only by means of direct consciousness but also the subconsciousness. I like to paint with this in mind, that an accidental stroke of the brush may reveal something deeper than the skin. When it comes to these happenings they are deeply personal to the artist, in any artistic expression these incidents will only be known by the artist themselves. It is a gold which the soul stumbles upon, a synchronicity which brings deeper meaning to the work, and it reveals destiny and how it is rather a thing which happens to us than something we control.

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Lifeless eyes trying to find light in a despondent lifestyle. Living for the here and now, but hates to be present. Caught in a rat-race trying to survive and find more meaning than outrunning themselves. Whatever makes you feel good must be pursued, because the terror of being left alone is worse than death itself.

People of the city, wanderers of grey streets these passer-by's have their own story, their own way of being, yet they all come together to live together in a giant human anthill, trampling over each other and with a blindness to the people around them they move about like rats.

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One of my earlier pieces. I had recently moved to Gothenburg to pursue academia and widen my experience and knowledge. I had and would continue to experience a lot of unrequited love, and as my young and lost people I gave my energy and attention to the wrong people. I was a person who had tricked themselves into believing they're a bee, pursuing people who pretended to be flowers. Truth is I was not a bee and they were not flowers. The painting is simple, naïve and gloomy.

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Some people are more sensitive to worlds beyond ours, to images hidden behind cryptic words. These people communicate more freely with their own being and understand a language few even hear. These are all abilities which can be trained and cultivated, and practitioners know of the benefits and potential dangers of such practices. Some seem to have such a natural inclination for it you can't help but wonder if it isn't destiny. Some people use this to connect, others to disconnect - each practice is unique for each initiate, how they practice is also unique. There are about as many ways to communicate as there are stars in the universe. Yet when these people disregard the cultural aesthetics which they've draped themselves in - they find a common language which is spoken by all souls.

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