The sky and sky and sky

A documentation of the sky. This is my new diary, a documentation of different skies – although it’s the same sky, I suppose, like Monet’s water lilies. Painted in different seasons and different light.


I want to put them in a little case because they’re becoming too many, carry them with me. Maybe put them in a journal, one on each page.

(We’ll see)



To the writer who won’t start writing (so, me)

Stop looking for the perfect story and choose a real one. (Your heroine doesn’t need freckles or a specific hair colour and your love interest doesn’t need his eyes described in detail. It would be more interesting hearing your story from the point of a view of a baby. It would be more interesting if everyone wasn’t so morally good. It would be more interesting if you didn’t care so much that you ruined it.) 


Problem of The Artist (The Ability – Ambition Gap)

There are two sides to any sort of creating:
  1. What you want to express, say, do.
  2. Your ability to do it.
The first one, many people have, the second one, not so many. Because the first one is instinctual. Natural. Inspired by the outside world, but also everything you are, letting it out. The second one means fighting for the first one. Because it all comes down to communication, making other people see what you see, whether it’s through a text or a video or a picture or something completely different. And this is where it’s easy to give up, because a lot of time the gap between the first and the second point will seem impossible to get over. For a great part of my life, I’ve never even thought about the fact that maybe one day I will be able to paint down what I see in my head and be happy with it. But I believe that day will come. I hope it will, because I have to. That’s how you continue. Because everything you create and become unhappy with is a part of what you will create and be happy with, later. It’s the warm up. You’re building up to it. Do it publicly or secretly, just know that one day you will see your soul in a creation. And if the first thing, your want to express something, is strong enough to get you through the ups and downs of the second step, then I suppose you’re an artist.

Artists dream

I just want to create stuff and get enough sleep. I want the contrasts, the darkness of the world and the brightest soul humanly possible. I want the world and I want to get out of it, be more than it to be able to look down at what it really is. I want late swedish summer evenings, when the sun doesn’t set and I can sit next to my big window painting in the light from it. I want to travel the world and I do not want to own my own heart. I want to be no one and I want to be the person everyone dreams to become. Freedoms lies in the traces of my decisions, rests in the way my heart could never be locked in a city to long, and belongs in the wilderness of nature and the love that makes me run.

The curse of the artist

Conversation with myself

“I’m an artist, I am never really here.”
“So where are you then?”
“Constantly outside of it, right next to everything, witnessing it. In a picture of a laughing crowd, where do you think the artist is? A few steps away, taking the picture.”
“So you do actually want to be with them, in the centre of all things, laughing with the crowd.”
“Why would I want that?”
“How could you not want that, when you’re the one who sees everything as so beautiful?”
“I suppose. The curse of the artist. That by the sight of beauty being torn between participating in it and taking a step back to be able to correctly document it.”