Gulsvart

Älskar Djinn Dilo, en konstnär som jag råkade på i Paris en gång. Allt hon gör är typ - jättegult, och svartsmutsigt, melankoliskt, emotionellt och mycket snyggt.

Jag köpte tre små målningar av henne. Det var svårt att välja. Jag vill egentligen ha alltihop. De här, har jag tex. inte:

Jag gillar verkligen det där med gult och skitigt 

 svart och ensamhet:

Åtta björnar

Jag håller ju på med ett par böcker som säkert aldrig kommer att bli klara. Jag ritar och grejar och ändrar och scannar och trixar, och det tar jättemycket tid och kommer aldrig nånstans. Blir inte ens jättebra utan bara typ hyfsat bra. Inte alls proportioneligt snyggt mot tiden jag lägger ner, tyvärr.

Desto gladare blir man när man plötsligt får i uppdrag att rita åtta illustrationer som måste vara klara dagen därpå. Ingen tid att tänka, bara köra så det ryker, och vips har man faktiskt åstadkommit något och inte bara suttit och pillat en hel dag.

Keeping myself entertained

Admiring my new, teeny tiny, borderline functional Lavazza coffee maker!

And my teeny tiny, borderline functional scissors

A little peeking girl next to me loudly identified my scribbling:
"Schau mal, Opa, Sie machen Katzentanz!"

Toxic Jeans - remake instead

Big headlines in Sweden about allergens in jeans. As if we didn't know it, right? We just keep on forgetting it... at least I always need to be reminded of how bad the textile industry is.

It is just yet another good reason for re-making your old, washed out cozy pants into new, small pants. It's fun, they become one of a kind, all chemicals are washed out and you feel SO clever! And it's not even difficult - all the cool seams and pockets are already there for you to reuse.



(These are not done yet. Mainly because my male friends were very skeptical. I think they're kind of cool though.)

My book

I have a couple of books in my pipeline. Two of them are books for children. Two are the kind of books you would buy at some kind of artsy bookstore - you know, pointless but witty. I once also figured out an entire crime novel. I remember it was quite good but I've forgotten the plot. Anyway, my hope is that I'll get at least one of these books down on paper and out of my system before I get tired of them. So I'm painting...slowly...slowly...and hoping that soon all the pieces will be there, I'll get it finished, I'll get it published (No worries there - it's good, so they'll publish it right away)and before I know it I'll be polishing my August Award. And they all lived happily ever after.

But not today. We're heading off to gaze at the Fortress of Boden. Secret tunnels excite me more than anything else!

Tape drawing

Japanese masking tape, reused book cover

Leaving work

"I had it", thought Hare. "Seriously, no point in going back there anymore."
His knuckles were whitening from the firm grip around the handle of the leather briefcase. He walked very fast, very angry, without turning around.

"Can't believe I went there everyday for so long", he whispered between his long teeth. "Stupid."

He walked past the half empty parking lot, out through the gates. The sun was setting and the asphalt felt warm under his feet. The blackbirds were nesting, singing warnings and promises to each other. The air smelled strong of grass.

"But not anymore," he thought, crossing the lawn. "I have better things on my agenda."
He briefly looked at both sides before he crossed the bike path, jumped over the ditch that went along the track, to finally plow his way through the knee high grass into the forest.