I was going to visit my sister. This was perhaps 10 years ago, when she was living in London. I was excited to see her, and excited to be on a plane, going somewhere. Since I have family in England, I had been to London before, but it had been more than ten years since the last time. As I landed I started seeing everything in a different way. The airport with the landing strips, so grey and boring appeared to me like some sort of pattern. The yellow and white stripes bending, the rows of glass windows, the rectangles of concrete, the metal boxes with blue and white lights. Like pictures from a glossy design magazine, trying to enhance the grey glory of industrial grounds and creating fashion. I pictured dresses made out of these patterns – airport fashion. Had I been a clothes designer, something cool might have emerged from that. But I’m not. I can’t sow a straight line even with the best ever intentions.
I had my eyes opened for another way of looking at things though. And an awakened interest for patterns. I don't often see beautiful or interesting patterns in the city or everyday things so much, but I like the thought that if we look close enough at things, there will be a beautiful pattern at the structur level. Two obvious examples are to look in a microscope at snowflakes or at the structure of water affected by sound: the most enchanting shapes emerge. For quite a while I have wanted to incorporate patterns and shapes into my art, but haven't quite figured out how. When I started drawing, I added shapes made of small dots. Like shadows or clouds. And then I experimented with larger and smaller dots. So many dots. So many dots that at one point they drove me crazy! And that crazy had me challenge the all black and white strike I'd been on for long and enter the world of colour!
Monsterfish. Markers. 2013 Robin Knight
Detail of Beetle's whisper. Pen and markers. 2014 Robin Knight
And I love it! I wont abandon the black and white illustrations. I love their straight forward ways. And I love making them. But I will never again think colour is "not my thing", because it totally also is!
I have always loved tracing my hand. Since I was a child. I love the sensation of the pen moving along the sides of my palm and fingers, slightly tickling. And looking at the beautiful shape that is somehow me, turned into a work of art. The first time was in daycare and I remember feeling proud and happy that such a pretty shape had been made from a part of my body.
Maybe that is why I also love the marks from outlined hands in the Pech-Merle Caves. Somebody put their hand against the wall of the cave and blew colour onto it 25.000 years ago and perhaps took pride in looking at it. Perhaps felt happy sensing the paint spray over the skin of the back of the hand. I like picturing the face of that stone age woman, smiling, wiping the paint off and thinking about how others will look at her mark and wonder who she is. It is a statement – I was here, I can create something, I want to be remembered. It is a link between that woman and me who looks at it so many years later and feels a connection somehow. It looks like she waves hello, to me, 25.000 years later. And I feel the urge to respond.
After trying and failing four times, I am beginning to wonder how she did it. So messy...
Maybe because I am thinking about the hand as an identity mark and a way to connect with the world, I have the urge to fill it with things that I like and that intrigue me.
To catch a star.
Hand. Insects. Pen on paper (white, despite the colour of this image - don't know what is going on with my program, have to fix!) 2015. Robin Knight
Robin Knight. From my sketchbook. Thoughts by the ocean. Watercolour.
The ocean makes me feel like I ought to be inspired. But I am not.
I become still. Empty out inside. Maybe because it is, in itself, so infinately beautiful, and the sound it makes so perfect.
All I can do is watch and watch and watch. This origin of all life. Untouchable and yet so vulnerable. It flows through all of us. 70 % of us is water. 70 % of me is in direct kinship with this ocean in front of me.
We are family.
I long to immerse myself in it. Let it envelop my naked body. Swimming towards the horizon, if only for a few strokes, evokes in me a feeling of adventure and strength. A strand of wilderness still in me. A brief inner uproar against my domestication.
(I ended up being a bit inspired after all, at the thought of swimming:)
Robin Knight. From my sketchbook. Swimming naked in the Ocean. Markers.
I wanted to capture how the waters of the ocean is everchanging, and the feeling of flow and silk against the body. ( I noticed when done that also, it looks like I'm farting :).)
I have always loved sketchbooks. Looking into someone's sketchbook, is like sharing something of an artist's daily life. Just like peeking into their studio (which I also love).
Lately, I have been working more in my sketchbook than with anything else. Maybe a symptom of my growing need to turn inwards, away from others and the hurriedness of everyday life. Inwards to try and find my core essence again. I just thought I should share a bit of what I have been up to.
I went to pick up the remaining illustrations and settle the business with the café/gallery today. Now I am filled with both a wee bit of sadness (as always when a project ends) and relief. It is the first larger art project I handle all by myself from beginning til end, and I have made a couple of mistakes and learnt a lot. I did a couple of things right too :).
As I walked home I breathed in the crisp autumn air, watched the yellow and red leaves dancing in the wind and felt elated and free and full of possibility. I love the feeling of having achieved something. And I love, love, love the feeling of starting anew. One door closes. Another opens.
Last Saturday I had my opening. I can not believe how many thoughts and emotions that stirred up as I faced putting a price on my work, inviting people to come look at it and also buy it. Pride of having managed to create so much in an everyday life with kids, work, household chores etcetera. Shame of thinking what I create could be valuable to someone other than me. Guilt of charging money from people I know and care about. Joy in talking a small step in living my dream. I recognize all these emotions from when I have performed in plays and such, so I just took deep breaths and focused on my tasks and let go of the rest to the universe/higher power/something that thing bigger incomprehensible stuff.
The first challenge was getting there at all... No drivers licence, and even if I had one, we don't have a car. So I was glad to have two kids = dubble trolley. All the drawings tucked up in protective paper and towels :).
Next challenge was the hanging. Everything looked nice and right as in the photo. Until five minutes (for real) before the doors were opening three pictures fell straight off the wall onto the floor and the frames and glass were shattered and all over the floor. No problem. Sweep sweep. Throw away frames. Put up the pictures without frames with scotch. Classy.
Everything else went right as Ray. People came, had a good time, loved some of my stuff (it is a good feeling to have people charging across the room going "Noooooooo! That one has been sold already!" Well, sort of anyway), and gave me plenty of well needed support and love. Kajsa Svensson played and sang as magically as ever her interpretations of poems by Edith Södergran and swept us all away on a stream of softness and nostalgia. I had a great time. So great I forgot to take pictures. I have heard rumours other people did, so I may post more later. Anyways, I am filled with gratitude toward those who came and made my day a brighter one. I will cherish it forever!
So it is finally almost time. Next saturday is opening night (vernissage), and my Beautiful friend Kajsa is going to play the piano and sing. If you happen to be in Stockholm, drop by and say hi! I would love to see you there.
Fish and birds seem to be part of the images that appear in me more often than not. They usually look about the same. But yesterday I met a new fish. A fish of different colour. Because usually they don't have any colour. This one does.
As a kid I was fascinated by the fact that you could do something that so obviously made you deteriorate inside and out. Voluntarily. As an adult I know smoking is just a very concrete version of this behaviour. Many of us do it everyday in different ways. Negative self talk so as to seem humble and/or worthy of praise. Unhealthy eating. Watching TV shows that make us feel bad. Allowing ourselves to be swallowed up by work that doesn't fill us up. The list goes on.
I am on a journey to quit doing these things. Starting with negative self talk and negative interpretation of past, present and future events. And of course actually going for my dream even though I watch a fair amount of TV when I could be creating.