My childhood home - although located in a city - had a sizable amont of greenery around it. One side had an abandoned factory situated on a plot strewn with wild grass and trees; while another neighbored a luxury mansion with a lush garden to match. Being surrounded by this natural haven (which today is no more) meant that I saw pheasants regularly throughout my childhood. The memory of these lovely birds came to me as I completed the piece below. Please enjoy.

Mechanisms of a Wind-Up Pheasant (60x60 cm)

There are several things in this piece - "The Migrating Bonsai" - I'm very satisfied with. Some of the details probably won't be noticable until you click to enlarge but in a general way, I think the painting has a pleasant, happy quality to it. My brother's wife recently asked me if the darkness in my later works represent something internal. My response was that I certainly never intended my paintings to come across as somber - ideally people should associate the dimness of colors with cosmic expansiveness and deep sea mystery. My main reason for using black tones is simply that it magnifies the lighter ones. To my mind, few things are as captivating as the brilliant stars in the night skies, the luminescent snow poured from inky clouds, or the incandescent creatures of the abyss.

The Migrating Bonsai (60x60 cm)

Here are a few pictures taken by my wife before the opening reception at Gallery Yádá yesterday evening. I had not personally participated in putting up the pieces so I was able to see the show with fresh eyes and must admit that I'm more than satisfied. In terms of scope, it's certainly my largest exhibition so far with a total of 35 paintings, spanning nearly four years of work. As mentioned previously, the show runs until the end of June at Gallery Yádá, Noerregade 28, 6960 Hvide Sande.

Anyone who's interested is hereby cordially invited for the opening reception of my upcoming exhibition in Gallery Yádá (run by a lovely couple, Chris and Susanne) here in Hvide Sande. The show, which is a combination of my works and those of fellow artist, Mogens Jessing, will run through the month of June, but if you would like a chat and a liquid refreshment, please feel free to join us at the reception on Friday May 29 at 17:00. Normal opening hours are: Thursdays and Fridays 17:00-20:00, Saturdays 10:00-15:00. The address is Gallery Yádá, Noerregade 28, 6960 Hvide Sande. Hope to see you there!

One of the things I artistically struggle with the most is resisting the urge to make everything neat and clean. My natural aesthetics and preferences in terms of living spaces and design is generally to seek the most simple, subdued and sterile solutions. Alas, such penchants do not interesting paintings make. In the world of abstract art, it's the semi-accidental smears, fuzzy edges, boo-boos and drips of paint from the lifting of a wet brush across a canvas (I always paint on a flat surface) which creates an overall sense of depth and richness. The trick is to decide which of these flukes need to be removed, altered or simply left alone. When the human eye perceives an environment, our mind is the lens that sharpens the focus - our interest level in a particular object decides how strongly it appears to us. As a painter, however, one needs to make those decisions on behalf of the viewer - in the artificial space of an artwork some parts have to be emphasized over others. So naturally, the question always remains: did I make the right choices? Well, I guess that's up to you. What do you think of this acrylic piece completed yesterday?

Gentle Waves of Embryogenesis (60x60 cm)

This acrylic piece called "Electric Grasshopper in a Magnetic Field" was completed just a couple of days ago. In naming the work I borrowed a cue from one of my favorite science fiction creators, author Philip K. Dick, who wrote the novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?"

Electric Grasshopper in a Magnetic Field (60x60 cm)

Isn't it curious how a creature which technically weighs the same as a car can at the same time be as cute as a button? This acrylic painting - finished recently - is my tribute to one of our most lovable friends of the animal kingdom. The title is "An Interstellar Hippopotamus Briefly Appears in the Froth of a Supernova."

An Interstellar Hippopotamus Briefly Appears in the Froth of a Supernova (60x60 cm)

My ongoing fascination with all things tentacular led me to making this new acrylic piece called "One Head, Three Hearts and Eight Arms Through a Wormhole." The inspiration for this is simply the fact that an octopus, which generally has no internal or external skeleton, can easily squeeze through amazingly narrow spaces. Anyone with basic counting talents will of course be able to spot a whole lot more than eight arms on this particular space-octopus. My only explanation is that a physical form is probably temporarily altered as it enters a wormhole (also, I just like painting lots of tentacles). And yes, an octopus does indeed have three hearts. Incredible, isn't it?

One Head, Three Hearts and Eight Arms Through a Wormhole (60x60 cm)

I was just notified today that three of my recent 100x100 cm paintings have been accepted into the juried KP09 exhibition (Kunstnernes Paaskeudstilling) in Aarhus, Denmark. My sincerest gratitude goes out to the most capable jury members!
The group show will take place in the bright and beautiful halls of the Aarhus Kunstbygning, J.M. Moerksgade 13, 8000 Aarhus C. It's open from April 5 until May 3, Tuesdays to Sundays at 10:00-17:00.

After a brief series of somewhat larger pieces, I felt like working smaller again. Hence this new acrylic painting at 60x60 cm. Departing from my general tendency to prefer really clean strokes and edges, I purposely did not fix small mistakes and accidents this time. I guess I finally realized that the minor flaws bring an interesting vibe to the finished work. What do you think?

Synchronized Swimming for One (60x60 cm)

As promised, here are a couple of photos from my current show at Priorgaarden in Ringkoebing (Denmark). Hopefully the pictures capture the old-fashioned charm of the building and the surrounding area. The blank signs will soon feature some brief biographical information. If you live in the vicinity, by all means come by and see the paintings!

Since my work got included in the Gawker Artists galleries, this little blog has been visited by people from literally all over the world. Apart from being more than a bit overwhelmed, I'm deeply grateful for this sincere interest in my paintings, and especially touched by the kind emails I have received. Thank you so much!
Fortunately, I have a new painting to share with you all. I completed this acrylic piece yesterday, and the cold, dark winter finally gave way to a few rays of sun this afternoon, enabling me to photograph it. The title is "Drops of Light Falling From the Molecular Cloud."
Lastly, I have a small announcement. For the whole month of February, my paintings will be exhibited in a place called Priorgaarden in Ringkoebing, Denmark (huge thanks to Henrik Olesen at Ringkjoebing Landbobank). It's a compact but highly noticeable space. I'll post a photo or two after I put up the pieces next weekend.

Drops of Light Falling From the Molecular Cloud (100x100 cm)

Here's a new acrylics painting (finished today) in which I used nothing but dot-shapes. For a while I have been scattering dots and dot-structures in my pieces but this time I wanted to take this method to its natural conclusion and fill the whole canvas with stars, particles, specks and light.

Periods, Planets, Points, Pixels and Protons (100x100 cm)

The people over at Gawker Artists have been so kind as to feature me in their online galleries (huge thanks goes out to curator Liz Dimmitt). I can't recommend their pages enough. There's really a lot of excellent talent waiting to be appreciated.

We are all standing on the shoulders of others. I have at various times in my life been gratefully influenced by the works of Moebius, H.R. Giger, Joan Miró, Saul Bass, Hayao Miyazaki, Gary Larson, and Michelangelo (his "Pietà" is in my opinion the greatest work of art ever accomplished by man) - just as I am constantly finding conceptual encouragement in the patterns on fruit, the fleeting forms of waterdrops, the majesty of whales, the colors of wood, the silliness of small birds, and the deep serenity of the universe wrapped around our little rock in space.
My most recent acrylic painting is this 100x100 cm canvas: "In Outer Space Every Day is Christmas." Below that is a detail shot.

In Outer Space Every Day is Christmas (100x100 cm) · sold ·

For a while I really struggled with this painting but then it all came together rather suddenly, in a matter of days.

The Cosmic Vacuum Cleaner on a Carpet of Stardust (100x100 cm)

To get a closer look at some details, click below.

Today, my brother, my wife and I went on a small daytrip to watch the "Inside 08" exhibition. As you can see from the photos below (taken with a cell phone camera - hence the lack of definition) the space is rustic, airy and bright - and we all agreed that the show had several quality pieces. My contribution is the first on the left in the picture on the right: "Superworm Saves a Baby Beetle from the Canary."

This morning I got some wonderful news: I got accepted into that juried exhibition I mentioned a few posts ago. It's called "Inside 08" and features the work of 33 artists (congratulations to my fellow participants!). If you are in the area and curious about the show, it is held at Kunstpakhuset, Lille Torv 5, 7430 Ikast, Denmark (the gallery is a renovated railway warehouse - quite lovely). The opening reception is on October 25 at 13:00 and the exhibit runs until November 16. Please check kunstpakhuset.dk for opening hours - their site is in both Danish and English.

I must say I'm liking these new canvases (100x100 cm) which I've worked with lately. The geometric perfection is undeniably a winning factor. This acrylic piece (completed yesterday) is called "In a Midnight Pond Tadpoles are Larger Than the Moon."

In a Midnight Pond Tadpoles are Larger Than the Moon (100x100 cm)

One of the unusual things about the art profession is that you get to experience exam-like setups several times a year, all through your life - essentially whenever you try to enter a juried exhibition. This can be exciting or frustrating, yet always interesting in that it brings about an inevitable reflective mood in the days and weeks leading up to the jurying and subsequent show. Why am I painting? What am I trying to convey? Who do I hope to reach with my images? Did I absolutely try my best? How important is the opinion of critics compared to the opinion of patrons? In a few weeks, I'll be entering four pieces into a juried exhibition (I'll let you know how it goes) and it got me thinking about the origins of my visual inclinations.
The defining moment that changed my life permanently - and has in some way or another shaped all my later artistic choices - happened in 1996, when I became a vegetarian overnight (in 1999 I turned vegan). I watched a short documentary clip on TV, depicting a cow being pushed into a crammed enclosure. Here, it was swiftly killed by a slaughterhouse worker. Nothing in all the nasty scary movies I saw as a teenager could have prepared me for those unforgettable seconds. The horror was not even in the murder - it was the fact that the cow knew it was going to die. It cried and screamed as it was being brutally shoved into the execution room. The cow had awareness. Maybe not of God, the universe and beach towels, but awareness of its own existence. From that day, I promised myself never to touch meat again. For me, the logic behind becoming a plant-eater wasn’t so much the excessive waste of resources or the heightened risk of diseases which comes with a meat-based diet, but simply the irrevocable fact that animals are living beings, too. Just like us, every tuna fish has a mother, every pig has a dad, every chicken has a brain and every lamb has a heart.

Finally I completed the previously mentioned 100x100 cm acrylic piece. It's titled "The Monkey Goes Missing During the Coral Reef Safari." There is some debate as to whether or not the monkey is actually lost - I see it but my wife doesn't. Do you?

The Monkey Goes Missing During the Coral Reef Safari (100x100 cm)

Here's a photo of a detail.

Water is both scary and charming, awe-inspiring and relaxing. It's useful whether wet, hard or vaporized. The most extraordinary lifeforms exist in it. All humans spend the first nine months in liquid and even as big, sturdy adults our bodies are mostly made of soggy stuff. In cooking, cleaning and living, we depend on it. And it's still the best beverage no company has ever manufactured.
My personal relationship with water is full of contradictions, to say the least. As a teenager with an unrestrained shark-obsession I seriously planned on becoming a marine biologist, yet I was so scared of water that no instructor was ever able to teach me how to swim. Today I live on a narrow peninsula surrounded by the ocean on one side and a fjord on the other, allowing me to be as close to water as possible without getting my toes wet. My paintings are brimming with oceanic creatures which can be watched from the comfort of a dry sofa. In many ways you could say their situation is similar to mine as none of them could ever survive outside the safety of my imagination.
Earlier today I was looking at some pictures on the BBC site depicting Australian marine species and was - as always - wonderstruck by the magnetic beauty and otherworldly evanescence of comb jellies (ctenophore). When gazing at these glimmering, gentle forms you almost feel like you're peaking into a higher, spiritual realm of light and color.
I don't have any new paintings to show just yet as I'm currently working on this 100x100 cm piece. As soon as it's done, I'll share it.

I finished this painting last night and had the title long before the last strokes were added: "Octopus Writing Haiku on a Scroll of Water." Please click to enlarge.

Octopus Writing Haiku on a Scroll of Water (60x80 cm)

Here's "Superworm Saves a Baby Beetle from the Canary." When I named the protagonist of this piece, I had no idea that such a creature actually exists (the less heroically spelled "superworm" is the larvae form of darkling beetles). To avoid confusion I should therefore mention that Superworm is already at his most evolved state: a champion of the earthy kingdom where he fights for justice and equal soil rights for all.

Superworm Saves a Baby Beetle from the Canary (60x80 cm)

Below are a few detail shots from the painting.

This morning I was browsing through an interior design magazine and while admiring the lovely aesthetics of the featured homes, I was pondering the difference between hanging a painting completely flat on the wall or resting it on a wire causing it to tilt outwards. If I could decide how people choose to hang my pieces, I would definitely go for the flat-look as this appears more secure and confident. Also, the way I see it, paintings, prints, posters, photos and drawings are portable windows offering vistas to imaginary landscapes - a feel one cannot achieve if the artwork is heavily slanted.
Below is a painting completed a few days ago named "The Whale Brings a Balloon to the Party." It's 30x40 cm, done with acrylics (on top of an earlier mixed media piece). There's something impossibly funny about the combination of one of our greatest animals with one of our flimsiest objects. But why wouldn't a majestic creature of the ocean be fascinated with colorful balloon animals? It certainly makes sense to me. The painting is, by the way, loosely inspired by the wonderful Winnie-the-Pooh story about the balloon and the honey jar (notice how I hyphenated Winnie-the-Pooh the original way to ensure that no one thinks I'm talking about that other, completely different bear which later appeared as cartoons and merchandise. To me, there will only ever be one Pooh - the one brought to life by Milne and Shepard.)

The Whale Brings a Balloon to the Party (30x40 cm)

This canvas is made with acrylics and a few paper cutouts (which are however mostly hidden underneath the paint). The title is: "The Duck Sees an Opportunity to Get a Free Ride on the Ferris Wheel."

The Duck Sees an Opportunity to Get a Free Ride on the Ferris Wheel (40x40 cm)

To challenge myself, I decided to make a piece with very little going on in the way of formations and movement. I basically wanted to see how simple I could get without losing the sensibility of my style. What I particularly like here is the soft definition of the center element and the friendliness of that calorie-rich pink line!

Bubblegum String (70x60 cm)

My childhood bathroom had one of those tile floors you could get lost in and hypnotically stare at for extended periods of time. Out of the natural randomness of the stone patterns, a tapestry of silly faces and imaginary organisms practically begged to be recognized and categorized in my mind. I'm sure everyone has had a similar floor, wall, tabletop or other surface at some point in their lives which lent itself to fanciful thinking - this is obviously a healthy part of our mental development. In many ways, you could say I have applied this bathroom floor philosophy to my paintings. For me, the slightly abstracticated (yes, that's a new word) versions of people, fish, birds, insects, dinosaurs and robots are intriguing because they feel more secret and special. By keeping a shape somewhat open to interpretation, the viewing experience is individualized. So ideally, when you look at one of my paintings, you should see something which no one else in the world sees.
What do you make out of this piece? Click to zoom.

Searching for Seeds (60x70 cm)

Below are some photos from parts of my previously mentioned exhibition in Ringkoebing. The show will continue through the next two weeks at Ringkoebing City Hall/Library, Ved Fjorden 6, 6950 Ringkoebing, Denmark.

From tomorrow afternoon and the following three weeks I will be exhibiting 17 of my paintings in the lovely atrium connecting the city hall and library in Ringkoebing, Denmark. The building is situated just a few meters from Ringkoebing Fjord and offers serene views over the water. Hopefully, within the next few days, I'll be able to post a photograph or two to give you an idea of the space. If you happen to be in the area and are curious, you are most welcome to come by. It's free, naturally.
Here's a painting which will not be in the show (I finished it earlier today).

Butterflies of the Abyss (60x70 cm)