jim — Hermit

jim:

Watch the step, beneath it is a work by Henning Hamilton!

I’m curious to see everything that’s here, is there a lot of stuff?

Yes, we have about three storage units.

Art or family things?

Mostly family things actually. I have a really hard time throwing out art and things that are useful. The four of us have very different views on what holds value. As a parent there is a utility mindset that comes on.

being boring is necessary!

But like your daughter Eva told me, you seem like a fun parent.

I also think there has to be a balance, that being boring is necessary! As an artist and all the freedom that entails, gives me a kind of freedom to be boring according to my ability. My friend Alfred (Boman) told me once, when at the time I was struggling with being confined to the frame of the painting, the formalistic. That I could let go of that, that there was enough funky stuff in the painting, that in compromising I wouldn’t lose anything.

And maybe in that friction you also find something?

Yes, allowing yourself to be boring is a privilege for the very funky. I’m not really boring, but I try to be. But if you are boring and try to be fun, that is a greater struggle. ¶ Routines are essential, but when the kids are off to school I often think “what should I do today?”. They have times to keep, but for me and my wife, Elin, it’s more about following the routine that we have created to achieve some kind of normalcy, to not go crazy.

Sounds like something in you likes the freedom, but can it ever be too much?

My freedom is not something that I have actively chosen, but something that has grown organically, therefore I have to work more actively around its structure, how to shape it. There is a balance to it. I have my studio, I need to go there as often as I can, and spend as much time there as possible. ¶ Sometimes when the painting feels static I turn to different crafts, when I am too clear or strong in a specific form, or I find myself in the same place dealing with the same thing. To break things up it’s healthy to do something completely different, change the focus. The other day I made a small wallet (for my son) and it helped me solve the painting I was working on.

nothing really matters in the end.

It became a parallel process!

Exactly, and it has shown me that I can leave painting for a while, turn the energy elsewhere and return to it. Instead of staring myself blind at it. The understanding of painting is something that has been built over time, that the brain seeks familiarity.

Do you ever feel trapped in the language or understanding of painting? When wanting to do something else, something new?

It is pretty intuitive as a language, so I don’t feel trapped in that sense, more so the context that I might find myself in or belonging to. In the western world there is an understanding of what art is. Periodically this can feel more inhibiting than anything else. It can be really nice then to connect with nature and see myself as a being in the universe at a specific time, that nothing really matters in the end.

Big picture, yes. Having exhibited many places, studied many places, and knowing that cultures shapes us, what bubble that you have found in yourself in, has shaped you the most?

The autonomous art scene outside of the museums, which I came across through my parents as a child, the hippies and the dropouts, they had no interest in returning to a context. Primitivism, and a strong desire to not capitalise and not become someone other than who they are in their own lives, to be true to themselves. It has been inherent in me, and having that confidence has made it less of a risk to be boring, to make sacrifices and compromises with the art world, because I know that it is intact within me. It might be idealistic, but if you remove everything else, it will still exist and there is solace in that.

How does it then feel when someone places you in a context?

It feels good when it rings true. It was fun when I had just graduated Valand, Fredrik Svensk wrote in Expressen or Aftonbladet and he grouped me and my friends, Alfred Boman, Duda Bebek, as having a vein of surrealism that bound our work, which I had not considered before. It is really hard to have a perspective on my own work, it can take many years before I can see the value of my worth.

How sensitive is it to look back at your old work? Having recently been in the presence of a bunch of collectors, many of them seemed almost embarrassed by the first thing they purchased.

There is a difference in consumer versus producer, I feel that with, say, a pair of trousers—it can almost be painful. It is not like a diary entry, but more a survival mechanism. To be able to apply the inner workings on an external context, there is a greater compromise. Returning to a diary entry, you can reflect on how unaware you were at one time, but with my work I can see the struggle to understand in the lack of clarity, that is something that is lost the more refined the work becomes. If I can age with painting, something interesting will come with that. ¶ All progress leads me to be able to continue the work. There is only me fuelling the work, so there is no danger of becoming too big, to be able to delegate the work.

With some artists that produce large scale work, they have other people do specific things for them. In your opinion does one buy the art for the concept or the stroke of the hand?

I would say the concept, that is a brand in a way. It is possible to guard against it, the technique can do most things, creativity is not a necessity, but it’s for your own personal development. You can also keep your own language even if someone else formalises it, like AI.

Have you ever had a straight job, like an office job? And what is the strangest job that you’ve had?

My strangest job was probably loading dried fruit in Gothenburg. I also worked at Svenska Mässan with a bunch of characters. That was pretty strange, it was snabba (fast) cash. And before we had kids I worked as a gardener and painter, which was really nice and calm, but not very lucrative. At that time I only worked to cover rent.

i’d like to have a casserole restaurant and only serve things like bouef bourguignon.

What would you like to be when you grow up?

Become a gubbe (an old man)! I’d like to have a workshop, fixing electronics or to have a restaurant would be fun. It has been on my bucket list for a long time. I like soul food and would like to have a casserole restaurant, only serving things like bouef bourguignon. The ideal would be to have a casserole that is always good and sometimes eclipses the spot. I am not for the trend of serving trendy snacks that are simple—it is curated shopping.

How did you find art?

It was mostly through my mom, taking me to museums as a child. There is a big difference of course between art in a museum and living, contemporary art. School was not good for me, luckily I had some teachers that saw me and said that I didn’t have to suffer through it. I was allowed to graduate without a complete diploma if I agreed that I would apply to art school, a kind of social contract. At that time you could still apply with samples of your work, which made it possible for me. I was terrible as an employee, would always argue with the managers, that was not a possibility. Everything was pointing towards it.

Despite that, you have done quite a few courses in art, how was that?

I have done two preparatory classes and one higher education in fine art, and it had exchanges around the world. I just went to the library and chose a random place like Japan to do my exchange, filled out a blanket and got a plane ticket and showed up. The private stipends transferred directly to me and I had to transfer it to the school, a whole other level of trust back then. So I went to Japan for three months, a semester that was very odd. It is fun to be a tourist in Japan, but everyday life is tough. I was 25 and wanted action and things to happen, the everyday poetry was lost on me. But I actually went back with my family last week.

What was it like returning to Japan?

It was painful to leave. Being there as a tourist is really fun. This time every day was just lovely and coming back to Sweden I became aware of how rushed everything is, the lack of attention to details, which forsakes things that we have access to, in this rush to get there.

Not being present in the moment, which comes from paying attention to every step, even the minutia.

Exactly. This time I really noticed that every little thing they do, they do with a kind of devotion, because it is better to live that kind of life, rather than rushing and doing it mindlessly, hoping for the best. That resonates with how my painting has developed this last five years, that I have directed it with the mindset that every painting lives on its own, not a placeholder for something else, not working on a series that is specific for a context. Every painting is singular. Although they can be paired, there is no formal idea on how they are used, they are just supposed to be.

That way you can start and stop the conversation, as you wish.

It has become like a microscope where you change the focus. Whereas before I wanted to capture something, describe it, now I see painting more as turning the wheel.

Being an artist resembles a process of self discovery, a mirroring process in a way aimed at removing the layers to reach a core, something authentic. Is that what painting feels like to you?

There is something compulsive about it, because the habit has been formed over such a long time, that mix between hubris and self-extinction. Sometimes I fluctuate from pure joy and excitement from a discovery, and the next day seeing it as something flat and dead. ¶ Artists are masochists in some ways, needing a great deal of ego to even have the belief and conviction to put something out there, but as soon as a work is finished, the ego falls flat, and the circle is completed. ¶ There is a lot of cognitive dissonance and delusions of grandeur involved, having to convince oneself that what we are doing is important, or seen as something to be shared.

Yes, why else would one do it?

That’s where a lot of the idealism comes in, which is hard to perpetuate, and grow up in a grown up world at the same time, succeeding at that, also points to an element of delusion.

it’s so fun to experience things through my kids.

Idealism, creativity, joy and wonder are all childlike qualities that the artists has managed to keep and others might have lost.

Precisely, it is a privilege to keep that in intact. I don’t think people that wake up as boring people, is a question of survival, it is painful to remain open, so they close off. When I was bumming around in India, I found the people so open and filterless, it was refreshing and honest. As a Swede it was tough not having the personal space that I was used to. Being accessible to all, it took some getting used to, but it was nice to be stimulated that way. It was a formative experience, much like military service, which was painful in other ways. Both were useful experiences to have gone through, and I believe in doing things that way, to do it wholeheartedly, absorbing as much as we can. ¶ For me, I understood early that relations are central and key to oneself, keeping them in a dialogue, rather than objects that I attach my emotions to, the interplay makes everything richer. A lot of things we do keeps us from experiencing that, maybe because it is so intense. I think a lot of times that it’s so fun to experience things through my kids, sharing the experience with them, like going to Japan.

Your daughter said that what she enjoyed most about Japan was that everything talked and had a sound, which is quite a profound observation for any age. What are your kids like?

They are similar to me in some ways, but they are also their own people. We have developed our own languages and things we take part in together. When I think I have them figured out they untangle a new part of their personality. Having studied them since they were born, I am always amazed by their capacity. Their inner beings just are, and being a parent has helped me understand myself better. It has actually made me kinder towards myself, it is easier to see what I like about them in me, realising that I have the same quality has made me like it more.

What is it like to be with another artist?

It has mostly been a good thing. But the financial stress is of course there, sometimes wishing that one of us brought financial stability to the mix, or wondering what that would be like. Both Elin and I talk about art intuitively, the way we see it, rather than referencing it back to the art, a process that has been twenty years in the making. We witness things, without expectations, an openness to what is. But also if it’s not there immediately, then it might not be for us.

How long have you lived here?

Elin: Nine years!

It takes time to build the layers of a lived life, like this.

Elin: It is really lived in. It's a little small. But we actually lived in the building across, in a one bed, but then we left for a year and returned, we like it so much.

Having moved across the courtyard to stay in the same place, what makes Essingen feel like home?

I like places that are a bit unchangeable, and here things have not changed that much, the buildings were also built to last, a bit of utilitarian perfection. Many that live in this house move when it becomes too cramped, because there are no bigger flats.

Tell us more about your art collection!

The Michael Manning piece is interesting, he doesn’t really do art anymore, but he was an artist that we hung out with in L.A. We were supposed to trade our work, but I didn’t want his large-scale pieces. He had done this piece on tin and it was in his garden, with a bit of patina which I liked.

What is the thought behind the pieces that you bring back?

Jim:We don’t really! We even have this piece by John, our son.
John: I have thought a lot about murder mysteries and so on. The face is the face of the killer. It is like a story.

It feels like you have the capacity to tackle what’s in front of you, but do you ever feel challenged? Being that you have such an expansive mindset.

Getting the idea to make sense. How to formulate and clarify that to someone. It feels inhibiting and hard.

Could it be because it is a constant exploration and a search, and defining it, gives the impression that it is clear and definable?

It is a form of dance that I don’t know the steps to. When it really is about gaining a perspective on how to describe it most accurately. But it is interesting how many times it can leave you with the feeling of not mastering it, and the sense that it is easy for everyone else.

i don’t have a process, i just do it.

When do you feel at your most productive?

I don’t have process, I just do it. It is an extension of my everyday, it is like a tool. I have reflected over the fact that I have never experienced a block. I know many that struggle with that.

Do you ever throw out things that you do?

Yes, but mostly things that I archive, that I don’t see the value, but then I always end up regretting it. At times I have thrown out works, because I became paranoid that someone else would adapt and take something that I couldn’t stand by, that it would somehow come back to haunt me. But I do enjoy having control over my archive. And I always like to meet everyone that buy works off me, often seeing how the work hangs. Most people have a lovely space for it.

There are esoteric elements in your work and your everyday seems like a spiritual practice, how does that come across in your work?

In the extension of the self, elevate that from the basal, both in the process and in the final piece. Dare to explore, be dedicated and do my best all the time, and constantly redefine what that means. That way it doesn’t become about polishing a tool, of achieving perfection, but a process of continual exploration.

Where do you get your input?

I get input all the time, too much input. The best is to wake up and feel presence in the moment I have with my kids in the morning. But I also like to do breath work and morning exercise. Building up some kind of resilience in what gets to penetrates. Music is also something that I have to be mindful of, to not effect me too much. I have one go to, which is a music project by the composer that did the soundscape to Akira, a piece of work that consists of drums and Japanese opera. It no longer exists on Apple music, which was soul destroying, even though I own it on vinyl. I have Synesthesia, so music and colour are vivid to me and I have to be mindful of that when I’m painting. When I was younger I would just illustrate what I saw, but it was never clear or centred.

it no longer exists on apple music, which was soul destroying.

Colour is central to your work, how does that translate?

It is intuitive, but I also like to add a limit. I don’t want a complete colour pallet. It should randomised, that it feels a bit wrong, but it is right in that context, in the same way that patina adds to an object, which makes it feel less perfect, but more alive. The mechanical of knowing how to do something correctly is not interesting to me, it is nice to find something by chance, is what adds the humanity.

How do you think around the way you dress?

Jim: Of course I am aware of what I wear, but if something works, why change? That is the advantage of being by your self outside of the home. As long as I look presentable, which is pretty easy. Change my clothes about once a week. There is no one at work that does a fit check and my family don’t notice.
Elin: You dress well, but you tend to like the same things.

Yes, there is an element of a Steve jobs wardrobe!

Absolutely! When I was younger I never thought I could relate to a routine person. But now as an adult, I could really have a Steve Jobs wardrobe, if I only knew where he got his jumpers. He solved something about a formal and casual wardrobe, that can be used in all contexts. I have a business and regular wardrobe.

What is business Jim?

Jim: Wouldn’t you like to know! It is a lot about the seasons, now that Summer Jim is out, Business Jim is toast. At some point I just stop wearing a shirt all together, usually around mid-July, often adding a hat.
Elin: You also stop sleeping indoors.

Then where do you sleep?

In a hammock, at one in nature. November Jim does not know July Jim, they are two different people. He is a much tricker person, smarter, he shaves. Right now I don’t want to go back to him.

now that summer jim is out, business jim is toast.

How do you feel when the hair comes off? I have a theory that it makes us harder somehow.

Elin: I like him to have long hair, it makes him softer. I also don’t like it when you wear boxy jackets, you become affected by what you wear and what you present as. It is almost like a character.
Jim: My understanding of myself is very fluid, so the transformation is quick, all it takes is a hat. It is untenable, my outline becomes blurry. In the morning I have to do things to come into form. When I start painting, I find myself again. But If I have a meeting in the morning, I will dress for that occasion and become a character, and after that meeting I become disillusioned. That is why a Steve Jobs look works! But it took me about 45 years to find.

But you have found some essence, I think of you in terms of khaki and earth tones.

Elin: You always want to appear normal.

I love your interpretation of normal!

It has been a life long battle to just blend in. I have a love for the idea of an H&M jacket in Fall—something completely impersonal. Why can’t I just wear that and be happy? I think about that every year and then Summer comes along. I like to tell myself that Winter is good because I’m really productive. Everything feels tough in Winter. But how can we have more Summertime all year long, the feeling of feet in water, everyday. ✺