Midnight sun padling and camping with my lovely childhood friend Heidrun at Sandviksletta, Sommarøy, Troms, previously this summer 🌅
Tenker at maleri er små vindu til andre verdener 🎨
Begge disse maleriene var gaver 🎁
Did you know only around 10-20% of the whole sámi population speaks/write one of the sámi languages today? The longlasting banning of the languages caused identity crisis for many, but I am happy it is changing slowly 🐢 I feel proud to be part of the generation that is reviving our own culture, with not only language but art, clothing and music too 💚
Summer has finally arrived in the Arctic, kind of. Still some snow around, but also green and some flowers!🌿🌻 Didn’t realise how much I missed some warm weather, although I absolutely love winter.
Some thoughts of today:
It’s unrealistic and a bit dillusional to think that you will get along with everyone and that everyone will like you. The important thing is that you like you. There can’t be as many versions of you as there are people you meet. There can only be one, and that version of you will always be the realest, most authentic one without fail. Whatever makes you weird and wonderful is your strength. 🌹🛸✨
Some photos and paintings from 2016, when I first got back into painting since a long break 💙💚🧡💛
Photos by Irina Bileanschi.
Poem by Suzanne Bates. I really liked it:
An awesome scene the artist paints, expert and deft his hand.
Brush strokes swift, he draws with ease, a winter wonderland.
Landscape sketched from memory, heavens and land entwine
Rapidly the scene is set, exquisitely divine.
Pine trees reaching tall and proud, like statues standing still.
There is no wind to speak of, more an icy winter chill.
Strong branches dusted with the snow stretch their fingers high
As if welcoming the blanket bequeathed by the darkened sky.
Crisp snowflakes twirl like dancers, pirouetting to and fro,
Waltzing to their silent tune toward the ground below.
Pale moonlight generously showers diamonds all around.
Its treasure glints and sparkles upon the hardened ground.
Snowfall in shades of silver envelops the land below,
Lighting up the darkness with its soothing, gentle glow.
Mellow in its nature, no preference where it lays,
Takes refuge where and when it can, throughout the winter days.
Though bereft of colour is the scene, prevailing grey and white,
Its awe inspiring beauty is apparent day and night.
Who nonchalantly paints this scene, for all on earth to share?
His strokes proficient every time, precise and so aware.
Jack Frost paints wondrous pictures with his palette of frozen dew,
Then stands back when his work is done and proudly admires the view.