62. Sometimes inspiration just isn't there, sometimes it comes all of a sudden. Strange, isn't it? Just like in real life. This little piece came into being when I heard someone singing - Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye ... that wellknown nursery rhyme, you know.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
61. Many an artist stress the importance of light. And so it is, of utmost importance, of course. Who e.g. would like to paint in a dark coal cellar? On the other hand the light by the sea is very sharp indeed, especially if one is used to indoor life of the city. So in this picture, a detail of a water colour from last week - I call it Cool Waters - the light is very bright. The thin blueish strokes is from a colour called Smalt or Dumont's Blue. That helps, I think, to create a feeling of texture and depth.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
60. South of the picturesque little town Eksjö in the province Småland there is a manor called Kvarnarp, well known from the charming song about its mayor, Lorentz Munthe, who used to ride on his old horse from Kvarnarp into town, in Swedish "borgmästar Munthe, red på sin brunte...". Somewhat of the atmosphere around this 19th century Swedish mansion is still there, I think, in this water colour, which I painted some years ago in a very traditional style. Click on the image and have a look at the entrance to the house and you will see a lady dressed in white - my great grandmother, Hedda Rothlieb - inviting you to her home.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Saturday, May 24, 2008
50. With a bit of water colour and ink on an ordinary copying paper I made a few sketches on the theme Gone with the wind. This one is an interpretation of the Swedish 18th century character Father Movitz, created by by the poet and composer Carl Michael Bellman (1740-1795), entertainer to the court of king Gustaf III as well as to anyone who wished to listen to his songs at the pubs down the streets in the old town of Stockholm. "Early morning pipe" I call this little image, maybe "Early morning drink" would have been a more proper title to this image! Should you wish to listen to some of his melodies, feel free to just pop in to his website www.bellman.net. (only in Swedish though - sorry!)
Sunday, April 20, 2008
49. Well, there it ends, the story about cutting the lawn. Maybe an odd end, but never mind, life is odd at times.Thank you for looking at my pictures so far. I hope you have enjoyed it. They are not for sale, by the way. Well, that could possibly be discussed.
The next image, No 50, is coming within short. It's based on quite a different idea - variations on a theme. So welcome back!
Thursday, February 21, 2008
48. - "I bought some oranges on the market today" she said, "well, have one", she continued, "they're so fresh and juicy!" Although I don't fancy oranges that much I just couldn't resist the offer, so I took one, said "thank you so much" and began to peel it slowly, thinking of something completely irrelevant. (A detail of a water colour I made some time ago) .
Monday, January 21, 2008
46. Whatever opinion one has of that picture, it's anyhow a little piece of traditional rural Sweden, I thought. I shouted Hello! yet another time and went straight on, opened the door to the spacious kitchen. And there she was, sitting by a table looking out through a window, obviously dreaming of something that I didn't have the foggiest. Suddenly she woke up and said: "Oh, you scared me! Can't you say Hello at least! " So I said: "Hello." For a fourth time.

45. There was a narrow path beside the boat houses, through the pine forest and up the hill. There it was, the whiteish mansion that I saw from the seaside. The door was open and I came into an entrance hall. I shouted Hello! a couple of times but nobody answered. Nobody at home, I guessed. There were lots of pictures on the walls, one of them was a colourful photo of a fishermen's village nearby, red wooden houses, built in the traditional Swedish way.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
43. Up early in the morning, long before anybody else, brought my watercolours, went out to the bridge. A thin layer of light in the atmosphere, complete silence, the birds still asleep, not even a fading wave on the water, just like a mirror. Fixed an image on the paper in a minute. That was it. Suddenly a soft wind came sweeping from the sea, dived into the bay, passed the bridge were I was sitting, the little boat yard and the whiteish mansion nearby, raised along the steep cliffs and shook for a second the red pinetops overlooking the islands, scattered all over this part of the Baltic. And with the wind came the waves and the mirror was gone. I jumped into the clear water, swam a little, went up again, lit my pipe and thought: "A new day".
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