|
||
 1 2 3 Next Ylva Ogland Indikator 1997-98 oil on canvas 16,2 x 16,2 cm |
||
| Love. It was here I understood who I love. I start to feel like a fraud Who am I? I am in darkness and the light is so strong When I was a young art student I was studying originals at the National Museum. I focused on “The oath of faith by the Batavs” by Rembrandt. The painting was hanging on the top floor in the big room to the left of the stairs. It was huge. The contrast between light and dark was strong in the painting. The light was created by candle lights, which were placed on the table, around which the Batavs were sitting - the pirates, who were included in the oath. The ones in the foreground were blocking the source of light itself, they became dark silhouettes in counter light. On the other side of the table sat the figures with an ecstatic light in their faces. The ones who were sitting on the shorter sides of the table had glowing profiles. A bench was placed in front of the painting, I was sitting and drawing on it, hour after hour. I made drawing after drawing to understand the light, the soul, and the composition in the painting. Different variations of the same painting. Is life worth living? All worlds all people And me Do I exist? I decided to become an artist at the age of twelve. My childhood home was very artistic. When I was younger I thought that I would never meet anyone, with whom I could share my life. My motto: life is hard and cold. I thought I would walk alone through it all. And art was my zone of freedom, my air to breathe. My craziness makes me manic and creative I remember the first time I saw my husband to be. I was sixteen and it was the first day in art school. I entered a big room where all students were waiting to be called. He entered with some friends, everyone were older, they were laughing and were very self-assured. I thought he was erotic. During schooltime we hardly ever spoke and we hung out in different circles. I took up large space although I was one of the youngest students. I started to get on the nerves of my husband to be. People were talking about how talented I was, I agreed, which irritated him. It reached its climax during the last weeks at school, when we were both appointed representatives in the hanging group. The headmaster was hanging the paintings Russian salon style. I constantly proposed paintings I thought worked well together, often my own. I saw the paintings by my husband to be, a painting by a standing model against a sharp green-yellow background touched me. I had painted the same model, but with a black background. Both paintings were hung next to each other in the same room. Can I stand being alive? Next year we progressed into the next school. Both he and I worked very late. One night he came up to me and we started to discuss the book I was reading on Matisse and Picasso. From this day on we were friends, if not intimate. Or in a way intimate, but still distanced. We almost had a competition during lunch breaks, we often sat next to each other and dominated the conversation with different stories. He often stood watching after me in the corridor. Who would want me? My sexuality is stronger than I understand and can take the consequences of It is constantly expressed During lectures we were sitting in the same armchair. We were talking a lot. I saw him as yet another of my male friends. He was very excentric. He had an enamel sign on his locker which said: “Artista” in blue and read. He threw his sculptures against the wall, they broke. I was afraid because he felt so exposed. Hope We started to go to the Nationalmuseum together. We had found out that they had one of the worlds largest drawing collections. We entered through the left galleries on the ground floor, all the way to the end where there was a large unnoticeable mirror door. Behind was the drawing department. We looked through the catalogs, ordered the ones we likes, copied them and analyzed them. It was Watteau who made the biggest impression, a drawing of a female in profile, a portrait in three quarter profile. The woman depicted felt like powder and was in balance with the ideals of the time and Watteau’s ambition to catch the real human. The drawing was leaning against a table easel. We were sitting next to each other on heavy dark wooden chairs by the heavy dark wooden table. The short side of our table was facing a window and a tiny park. We sat very close together to get as perfect a view of the drawing as possible. Our underarms were touching each other as we were drawing. I got goose pimples. It was vibrating. This is when I understood that this is the man I love. The touch was calm and erotic at the same time, it was reverential. I felt trust, and that we had all the time, without being calculated or even think about a possibility of us becoming a couple. In love I am completely passive until he takes initiative. Desire Need Self-assured on the surface A doll I cannot even understand that I exist and if I do I am not sure if I can Feeling like Marilyn Monroe It was various art school parties, I was eighteen and started to go to them. Me and he were dancing. It was deep and synchronized, we followed each other, we continued dance after dance. Oblivious of time. In life I am edgy In painting soft and nuanced I unfold everything without proving anything One day before Christmas we were working late and left school together, my husband to be, a friend and me. The friend was interested in me, I knew that. We went to my house, I showed them my home. I lived Spartan. My husband to be suggested that we should go to the cinema. The friend wanted to join. My husband to be wanted to sit next to me, but the friend sat down in between us. We saw The Hairdresser’s Husband in the smallest theatre in Victoria. Throughout the film, I heard the breathing of my husband to be. I noticed the pace in which he was breathing and when he was breathing slightly faster I was affected. After the movie he asked if I and our friend wanted to return to school to work, it was night. I said yes, the friend said no. We returned. We worked and after a while we took a break. We went down into the kitchen, which was located in the basement. We sat and spoke and drank tea. Finally we went to sleep on a couch respectively, we turned out the light. In the darkness I said I was friezing. He said “Come”. I came over to him and was lent his woolen sweater. We lied down head to foot in the same couch. I had almost fallen asleep as he once again said “Come”. I sat up. I didn’t understand what he meant. He started to kiss me and caressed me through the woolen sweater. I felt that this was changing my life. I hope I will have the time to survive myself so that I will have the time to create The next day he moved in with me. Half a year later we got married. The longer I live the harder it gets It is an active choice and death is an alternative In my own process in the depth of my soul I stand alone After we got married we traveled to London. We went to the National Gallery. We were walking through the big rooms, where different epochs are represented. I had been there before and showed the way to the piece which has meant the most to me; “The Madonna in the Cave” by Leonardo da Vinci. My practice is to a large extent constructed from this painting. In particular the angel looking far into the distance. The face has it’s inner light, it is like a landscape in itself. From when I was twelve I have tried to catch this angel. The painting is built up with a layered technique which turns even shadows into light, chiaro scuro (light-dusk). The slow strength of the light made eternal in painting is downloaded by light years and time, a density occurs which feels more real than reality. The shadow is not a contradiction but part of light. A more dense light. The face of the angel is surrounded by the curly hair, where each strand is painted individually, and reflects light, shadow and chiaro scuro. One sees the angel in three quarter profile, turned so that the eyes are placed on a diagonal axis of the shoulder section. The angel is sitting on its knees by Mary and the Jesus infant in a cave against the light. The angel is showing the way and the direction of the future through it’s gaze. I am in the light and the darkness is so strong Balance Ylva Ogland 2008 translated by Fia Backsrtröm and me for Poetry Club by Fia Backstöm, White Columns, New York, Love by Ylva Ogland Re-Enacted by Carly Busta |
||
