When someone visits my studio and stands in front of an original painting — not a photo of it, not a reproduction, but the actual work — their response is almost always different from what they expected. Something shifts. I have watched it happen dozens of times and it still surprises me.
I have been showing work for many years, in Iceland and internationally — in the United States, Germany, Spain, and France. In that time I have also taught painting, and those two things together — exhibiting and teaching — have given me a particular view of how people relate to original work. The encounter is different from what photographs prepare you for.
Surface and light
Oil paint has a physical presence that no reproduction can capture. The surface is built up in layers over weeks or months, and light plays across it differently at different times of day and from different angles. A passage that reads as flat in a photograph reveals its texture and depth in person. The painting is alive in a way a print simply cannot be.
A singular object
Every original painting is made once. When it leaves my studio, that particular combination of colour, mark, and intention exists only in that one object. The person who owns it holds something irreplaceable — not one of a thousand editions, not a file that can be reprinted, but a single work that took months of thought and weeks of painting to bring into being.
Living with art
A painting that hangs in your home changes over time — or rather, you change in relation to it. You notice different things in it on different days. Certain colours come forward in winter light and recede in summer. What caught your attention first becomes background; something quieter moves to the foreground. An original has enough complexity to sustain that kind of long, slow looking.
I think of this often when a painting leaves the studio. I know it will be seen in different light than I painted it in, at different times of day, by someone with their own memory and associations. That is not a loss — it is what the painting is for.
Where to begin
Original art does not have to mean an overwhelming commitment. There are works at many scales and sizes — and the right piece is less about budget than about finding something you want to live with. If you are drawn to a particular work and would like to know more about it, feel free to reach out through the contact page. You can also read more about me and my practice on the About page.