Psychonaut
01-25-2009, 04:54 AM
I first encountered Tor Lundvall's art when I purchased the album In the Rain by Sol Invictus, and Lundvall's work graced the cover and booklet. I'm normally not a fan of impressionism, but something about his work strikes a chord with me. Here's his statement from his website (http://www.torlundvall.com/ps.asp):
I've been painting professionally since graduating from art school in the spring of 1991. I studied at The American University in Washington D.C. and although it had a smaller art program than most universities, the teachers were outstanding. What I learned there has been invaluable to me ever since. Until that point, I had been drawing and painting strictly from my imagination. My four years at art school taught me the importance of working from life, or as they call it, "seeing". Through this challenging and sometimes frustrating process, I learned how to utilize light, color, composition and countless other ageless aspects of painting. Although I found myself resenting the rigidness and close-mindedness of the academic world for several years afterwards, I eventually gained a profound respect and appreciation for what I had been taught. My imagination now had the backbone and foundation it needed to run wild.
To this day, my paintings are centered around three basic elements - the landscape, memory, and imagination. I almost always start a painting from some event in nature. Once a basic surface is established, my creative instincts kick in and a new direction is taken. Nothing is ever planned in advance. Once the paint hits the canvas, figures and landscapes are gradually pulled out of the crude mess until there is eventually a sense of resolution. I never paint from photographs which I consider to be a pointless and obvious method. One might as well just hang the photograph on the wall.
I exhibited my work at various galleries for 13 years and found the entire experience to be emotionally, creatively and spiritually draining. Unfortunately, most of the gallery owners I've dealt with had little insight into art, innovation or the creative spirit. Instead, they followed their own agendas and used stockbroker tactics to make as much money as possible at the artist's expense. Little effort was devoted to promoting the work, and the obligatory framing costs were never shared. This "gallery vs. artist" conflict is nothing new, however. Most galleries throughout history have been afraid of supporting genuine artists, and are still content settling for mediocre commercialism. These tedious experiences have given me little incentive to formally exhibit my work in the future. I'm more content selling my paintings privately to people who genuinely appreciate them, and are not just looking for something to match their furniture.
My artwork has naturally grown and transformed over the years, although the atmosphere of my work remains relatively constant. I view each of my canvases as part of an unfolding story, although the story often takes unexpected twists and turns. It's difficult describing my work to others, and I have little patience for those who attempt to intellectually dissect art in general. I'm much more comfortable discussing the technical aspects of my work.
I paint exclusively in oils. There's something about the feel of it and the smell of it that I love. I never paint with acrylics, in spite of their faster drying speed. Although I occasionally use acrylics for drawing, I feel that oils ultimately have more life on a canvas. Between 1991 and 1995, I utilized larger plains of color in my paintings, with ambiguous figures drifting in and out of hazy landscapes. In late 1996, my canvases became increasingly more detailed and animated. The stark planes of the past were reintroduced a few years later, merging with the more fluid and detailed line of the present. The imagery as well is constantly changing and evolving, with the earlier, isolated figures giving way to more outlandish beings. Regardless of what I'm painting, the imagery will always remain secondary to the timeless laws of painting. The figures are merely passing through the mystery and silence of the landscape.
Tor Lundvall, November 2007
Here is a sampling of some of my favorite pieces of his:
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-fading_west.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-grey_life.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-approaching_storm_2.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-through_the_woods.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-spring_gathering.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-cornfield.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/gallery.asp?start=156
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-the_falling_snow.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-november_field.jpg
I've been painting professionally since graduating from art school in the spring of 1991. I studied at The American University in Washington D.C. and although it had a smaller art program than most universities, the teachers were outstanding. What I learned there has been invaluable to me ever since. Until that point, I had been drawing and painting strictly from my imagination. My four years at art school taught me the importance of working from life, or as they call it, "seeing". Through this challenging and sometimes frustrating process, I learned how to utilize light, color, composition and countless other ageless aspects of painting. Although I found myself resenting the rigidness and close-mindedness of the academic world for several years afterwards, I eventually gained a profound respect and appreciation for what I had been taught. My imagination now had the backbone and foundation it needed to run wild.
To this day, my paintings are centered around three basic elements - the landscape, memory, and imagination. I almost always start a painting from some event in nature. Once a basic surface is established, my creative instincts kick in and a new direction is taken. Nothing is ever planned in advance. Once the paint hits the canvas, figures and landscapes are gradually pulled out of the crude mess until there is eventually a sense of resolution. I never paint from photographs which I consider to be a pointless and obvious method. One might as well just hang the photograph on the wall.
I exhibited my work at various galleries for 13 years and found the entire experience to be emotionally, creatively and spiritually draining. Unfortunately, most of the gallery owners I've dealt with had little insight into art, innovation or the creative spirit. Instead, they followed their own agendas and used stockbroker tactics to make as much money as possible at the artist's expense. Little effort was devoted to promoting the work, and the obligatory framing costs were never shared. This "gallery vs. artist" conflict is nothing new, however. Most galleries throughout history have been afraid of supporting genuine artists, and are still content settling for mediocre commercialism. These tedious experiences have given me little incentive to formally exhibit my work in the future. I'm more content selling my paintings privately to people who genuinely appreciate them, and are not just looking for something to match their furniture.
My artwork has naturally grown and transformed over the years, although the atmosphere of my work remains relatively constant. I view each of my canvases as part of an unfolding story, although the story often takes unexpected twists and turns. It's difficult describing my work to others, and I have little patience for those who attempt to intellectually dissect art in general. I'm much more comfortable discussing the technical aspects of my work.
I paint exclusively in oils. There's something about the feel of it and the smell of it that I love. I never paint with acrylics, in spite of their faster drying speed. Although I occasionally use acrylics for drawing, I feel that oils ultimately have more life on a canvas. Between 1991 and 1995, I utilized larger plains of color in my paintings, with ambiguous figures drifting in and out of hazy landscapes. In late 1996, my canvases became increasingly more detailed and animated. The stark planes of the past were reintroduced a few years later, merging with the more fluid and detailed line of the present. The imagery as well is constantly changing and evolving, with the earlier, isolated figures giving way to more outlandish beings. Regardless of what I'm painting, the imagery will always remain secondary to the timeless laws of painting. The figures are merely passing through the mystery and silence of the landscape.
Tor Lundvall, November 2007
Here is a sampling of some of my favorite pieces of his:
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-fading_west.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-grey_life.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-approaching_storm_2.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-through_the_woods.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-spring_gathering.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-cornfield.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/gallery.asp?start=156
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-the_falling_snow.jpg
http://www.torlundvall.com/images/paintings/tl-november_field.jpg