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Sugar Packets (Akvarell Gadnell 1985)
As a young artist, painting photorealistically was my ultimate goal. Everything had to look exactly like the photo—water, metallic reflections, flowers, anything. Then came the demand to have my own style, just like my idols did. I remember Philip von Schantz and his lingonberries on a plank, viewed from the side. I tried something similar, but painted everyday groceries like sugar packets and plastic-wrapped tomatoes instead. It was a fun idea—and, as usual, I quickly grew tired of it.
I don’t believe you should force yourself to develop a personal style. If you decide too early that “this is my style,” there’s a risk that your growth as an artist will stagnate. And it’s not fun to paint the same thing over and over again.
Eventually, I grew weary of painting, especially after we had children. But the real reason was probably the rise of computers. Creating video games was exciting, and work and family took up all my remaining time. Painting disappeared from my life for many years.
But something happened 20 years ago. My wife and I moved to Malta. Our children had moved out, and our parents had passed away. We bought a townhouse outside Valletta and renovated it into a guesthouse. We needed guests, and my wife said, “Why don’t you run some watercolor courses? Participants can stay here, and you can teach.” A great idea—so out came the palette, which I had, of course, brought with me.
It went wonderfully, and I also held courses in photography and drawing. Around this time, my wife showed me a DVD featuring John Hoar, a British watercolor artist in tweed and hat. I was fascinated by his way of painting—light, effortless dabs of the brush that brought his work to life. Stunning watercolors.
I discovered more artists with a similar approach: Castagnet, Zbukvic, Pekel. I bought all their DVDs. I painted and watched, because that was how I wanted to paint. But… it was much harder than I thought.
Painting loosely and freely requires thought, planning, and practice. When you copy a photo, you have the answers right in front of you. It demands a certain skill, but no difficult decisions. But painting loosely and freely—you have to make choices constantly. Simplify, remove, decide what to include and what to leave out. And you can’t overwork it, because then the watercolor somehow “dies” in a strange way. It was a much bigger challenge than I had imagined.
But I didn’t give up. Thousands of watercolors later, it started to come together. I showed my paintings to a few galleries in Stockholm and Uppsala, and they were interested right away. Today, I can call myself an artist with my own exhibitions and a style that has evolved naturally. And I’m still developing. Every new painting is a challenge, even if they might look similar to the viewer.
Paint what you feel. Don’t try to force a style—otherwise, you might paint yourself into a corner. |