The Train is Coming

Originaly I'm from Uppsala, but I've been living in Stockholm for 20 years now. Someone quite recently asked me if I ever had a "real" job, and I said yes... but really meant no. Ok, I taught painting courses for a while, and occasionally worked as a teacher, but painting became from the very start - I was 18 I when I began - my sole ambition. The act of painting may be wonderful, but to be a painter and find ways to survive in that occupation is less so. When you are supposed to list your past exhibitions on a formula, (utställningar i urval), I usually write "Lots of them". This of course is a way to avoid the question, but it's also damn true: I've exhibited a lot, trying not to worry too much about what prestige the occasion may or may not have. (How to swallow your pride should be in the curriculum of all art academys...☺) Insofar as I have a career, you can say it's a hilly career. First it goes up (I sell paintings, I get accepted to exhibitions, I win prizes) and then it goes down (place "don't" into all the above). There seems to be no particular reason for this. The feeling of throwing dice has never left me.