Tag Archives: Thomas Frisk

Ascension art

I remembered the rock. It was enormous, and just by artist Rosa Ekelund’s front door. That’s how I knew we’d gone to the ‘wrong’ artist’s house. We had followed the other cars up the hill, and ended up at Kätie Nilsson’s instead. She had the most marvellous view from her windows, which isn’t surprising considering we’d gone some way up from the coast. And she was an interesting artist too. Main problem was too many people and me too close to the paintings (I’m old, so don’t see too well if the distance is wrong). I liked the way she’d displayed some of her smaller pictures. I’ll copy that at home.

Ascension weekend is just coming to a close, and in my part of Sweden Ascension means art for four days. Artists open their studios and people come and look. And buy, if they feel inclined. We don’t often manage to be here at the right time, so it was a bonus to discover we’d picked the right week.

After Kätie we did find Rosa Ekelund, and her enormous rock. I’d like a rock like that, even if it is inconvenient to have one in the middle of your drive. Rosa does colourful women, mostly, and also paints on slate and driftwood. We could easily have bought a slate with thrift on. Or the Madonna and child, on Rosa’s garage wall. Or the large oyster-catchers. If we had enough money and walls, which we don’t.

On to Eva Norrgren at the apple farm, where I had a narrow escape. She had a lovely – and small and not too expensive – picture I liked. Luckily it had already been sold. Nice looking farm building, which was at least as much fun to see as the art.

We finished the day at Helmut Witt’s ceramics workshop. Daughter and I both eyed up the large mugs. We have the ‘smaller’ ones already, but clearly felt thirsty enough to want a larger version.

So we went to Göstas for afternoon tea with a sea view, in the sunshine. It’s not always nice, but this time it was perfect. Good tea and nice cake, and everyone got what they wanted. We wouldn’t have minded taking the furniture home with us, but resisted the urge.

The next day we looked at the art at Särdals Kvarn, even though it wasn’t part of the weekend event. We had more tea, in more nice surroundings. And then we went to see Thomas and Ulla Frisk and their art, which is always a highlight for me. Thomas paints large oils, and we don’t have room for more, even though I’d happily build a wall down the middle of a room just to hang one of his grey, industrial oil paintings. Or maybe a wash basin. I already have the toilet.

Thomas Frisk

Once we’d got this far we found we’d overdosed on the art and the teas. There were plenty more places to go, but we had no energy left for anything. Not even for Mjellby Konstmuseum. Even though it was free entry, and it had a great looking exhibition on.

Another year, another Ascension.

Frisk-ier than ever

When Daughter saw the prices asked for Thomas Frisk’s art today, she came to the conclusion that ‘she could do that too’. I was less surprised, because Thomas is good, and he has to have money to live. Unfortunately, so do we, so no buying.

We needed to entertain GP Cousin and Swiss Lady, which is why I suggested the new Thomas Frisk exhibition in Halmstad, at Galleri Art-On. I’m only ever a ‘little girl’ to GP Cousin, so he might well have had his doubts about my suggestion, but I think he was won over. It’s an excellent exhibition, and I’d struggle to pick a single piece I wouldn’t want to own.

There were ones that I absolutely loved, but all were good.

Between us, Daughter and I and Swiss Lady, as well as the other visitor there, fell for the same picture. Despite Swiss Lady claiming to have a wall waiting for something large, she too loved the washbasin picture, which also happened to be a more ‘normal’ size.

Ever the sexist, GP Cousin explained away our fondness for it by saying its colours were girly. Hah. OK, there was pink and purple, but mostly not. Mostly it’s the same grey and monochrome industrial grunginess as usual with Thomas. In other words, perfectly wonderful.

I have blogged previously about Thomas, and I feel the washbasin would complement my earlier toilet print very nicely. But I’m not fussy. Any of the other paintings would be quite acceptable. However, some of them would need to come with a new wall to hang them on. The wayward shopping trolley was good.

So were the ceramic industrial ‘details’ Thomas had made, to match what’s at the exhibition venue. All I can say is that before my electrician removed them for something modern and bland and white, I too had light switches like Thomas’s. I could have killed him. The electrician, I mean.

I’m going to need to send Daughter to study for Thomas, and then she can – maybe – produce industrial grunge directly for me. Free of charge. She did study with Thomas once before, because he’s a very kind man, and at about age 10 she angled for lessons when we met him. She was too young. Now she’d be more than ready for some knowhow on ceramic light switches, and how to best portray a WC.

Living art

Can someone please tell me what’s wrong with saying ‘I know what I like’? As it refers to art, anyway. To me it’s perfectly logical. I do know what I like, and also what I don’t. A piece of art becomes no more pleasant to look at because it’s reckoned by experts to be ‘good’. Likewise, I can enjoy a ‘poor’ amateur painting.

I recently came across the idea that one should buy art by living artists, and I can sort of see the argument in that. Though I have to admit to having my walls covered in paintings by the amateur, and now sadly dead, Mother-of-witch. I love her paintings because they mean something to me.

Other paintings on our walls are favourites inherited from relatives. It feels good to be surrounded by stuff I always used to like. Again, most of it is not especially valuable.

One ‘proper’ artist whose pictures I love is Thomas Frisk. He is still working and even his name suggests good health. Visiting his studio can be dangerous to the bank balance however, and I have succumbed several times.

Thomas Frisk

Around 35 years ago I saw a large oil painting of his at an art gallery near where I lived, and I still remember it. It was a painting of a toilet. I mentioned this to Thomas more recently at another exhibition, and he told me how his mother had made some less complimentary comment about having a son who thought toilets were art. Then he hunted out what he thought was the offending article, except his fondness for toilets appears to mean he has painted lots of them. It wasn’t the same, but I liked this one too. So I bought it.

Most of Thomas’s paintings are so large that they could never enter our house. It’s not because our walls are full. (They are though.) It’s because Thomas often does oils so large that they won’t fit on a domestic wall. Doesn’t stop me from wanting them, however. And the day I find myself living in a palace I will know where to go for pictures.

Thomas Frisk

This little grey number is quite small, and I’m not sure why I like it. But I do. It’s a picture of a desk, which hangs close to our desks. Desks hanging together, so to speak.

The blue picture is an unusual mix of oil and ceramics. It was the first one I noticed when entering Thomas’s studio, and the one I kept coming back to after looking at everything else. Love at first sight?

Thomas Frisk

(Sorry about the leaf!)

Lee Miller

The budding photographer had to be educated. The Lee Miller exhibition at Mjellby Konstmuseum seemed a good choice, so we took ourselves off to admire Lee Miller’s famous photos. We’ve been to Mjellby numerous times, but never ‘on foot’, which is sort of interesting seeing as it’s in the middle of fields out in the country. The bus stop isn’t too far away, so we walked along the side of the field.

I got a little annoyed with staff happily trying to charge me double what I should pay to get in. If I can read the sign with ticket prices, then surely so can they?


Lee Miller was interesting, but I should possibly have come equipped with reading glasses to see the photos properly. As usual we arrived just as a guided talk had begun, so as usual we skirted round the large group. They had an interesting looking film on in a side room, but as Daughter pointed out, it lasted 55 minutes, so we only watched for maybe fifteen.

On our way out we came across local artist Thomas Frisk and Mrs Frisk on their way in. It’s always good to know that we go where the professionals go, too. And as I said to Daughter; had we known they were coming we could have hitched a lift. Maybe.

We decided against cups of tea in their very attractive looking café, on the basis that it’s not been good before. Cowardly, I know. Our very first time I was tremendously impressed by asking for a soft drink for Offspring, and being greeted by a blank look of ‘Oh, children. Don’t they drink coffee? Oops, we don’t seem to have anything soft. And no milk.’ To give them their due, someone in the staff sacrificed their own bottle of something fizzy.

Other than special exhibitions Mjellby has a great collection of paintings by Halmstadgruppen. This group of Halmstad artists from mainly the first half of the twentieth century, counts among my more favourite painters, and their work is always worth seeing.