My pictures are glimpses. Momentary and often partial views into something... different. Many of them are mere estimates of what was supposed to be there. Really, the question may be if any of them are as they should be.

Sometimes it is hard to let go of a paper. I rarely feel that a picture is perfect. There is always lines to follow and shapes to explore into infinity. As long as the paper has some white left on it there may be something missing. Alas. Many happy picture projects have ended in messy scribble and got thrown away. Who decides when it is done? I am not sure it is me.

Some are full and done. Others are going there, but don’t reach through. Some are not whole and fills no purpose unless evovled. Yet others are pure and may not need more work.

They are what you see in them. Everything is something to me. If it becomes something to you is, I believe - up to you.

Also. Click the picutures to really see.

Details. The tiny, cute ones. The shiny nice ones. The interesting, many and most important. What are we without them? Can every last one of them mean something? What would life be without them?

Lines. Which one do you want? Where does it go? Why did you pick it? Where’s your going?

Everything is connected.

Normen: Twentysomething and eager to fulfill what is to be. Calm but breathes heavy over quite a lot. Don’t really know why things come out as they do, but think of it as good. Knows that it has to come out.

I am having a hard time describing my art even to my self. It all starts with a thought. Even if brief or gone. I try to let my thoughts go through my neck to the soulder and fourth to my arm. Ultimately I draw what comes into my hand. Maybe not rare - but different.

I don’t always see what it is I have drawn until it’s done and it hits me. I knew what it was all along.

Most of them are or have something else in them from a distance. Layers of detail sheated over and in each other like dimensions. See mists of shapes or maybe a silent silhouette hurry across the paper or just settling smooth in a corner.

Some pictures even I find frightening, Some I cannot explain where they came from whereas other make me smile and think of amazing memories. They all mean something. If you dare to look close enough might one provoke a memory, or just be pleasing to the eye.

Shapes are like dreams to me. You dont really have to know their relation to your intellect to be able to enjoy a presented one. Real or not in any sense.

Do I know what I am drawing? The short answer is yes. I can exercise excellent pen control. What I don’t have sometimes is thought control, which can be a contributing factor to the sometimes escaping forms created. Along with the thought behind my right hands muscular activity it is on itself aswell as being made on and in itself. Internaly extracted for sincere observation.

I decide what I am drawing as I go. Since the fortunate future very well can contain long - really long lines I feel like we can afford the space of some more.

If decidedly decided, curious or just longing for answers:

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