Platonic non solids

Today I want to show the basic numbers of nature - lining up in fibonacci sequences - artistically understood by human observers.

In the dance of life there are degrees of freedom - correlated to natural forms - like the Platonic solids in physics and chemistry - and the Platonic non solids in metaphysics and imagination.

Tomas Brusell

SUMMER HAS GONE (ENGLISH)

I do not know what language I should write in, but since we are in a neo-Copernican era, I do this; I write in Swedish and have Google Translate in the back of my mind. It's like starting the chainsaw when helping Johan Gottlob Brusell, 1760, in his furniture carpentry. One might get the same surprising effect if one started the jet engine and showed the clergy and the stargazers in Göbleki Tepe how to travel among the warriors in 12 thousand years. They would probably raise their eyebrows if they saw a Harrier land and lift down the flat parts of the Potbelly hills. That's probably how it should feel to utilize Google Translate, but not at all; I write further, I am aware that I am sitting here writing. I am listening to the Kaya project and the summer has passed.

It is September 11, 2020 and my painting is about Fårö's nature and it is about our (us humans) culture, in that I have gone into the Niaux caves and seen cave paintings in Salon Noir, I have trained myself for this observation on Bohuslän's rocks, where I followed the rock carvers on their travels in the landscape, with a message to tell, which they chopped, beat and carved into the stone slab - art - culture - the people live and the artists tell about their lives, to those who are interested. I have learned to see the signs of the Bronze Age artists - their message - their way of looking at their world and portraying it - based on these studies throughout my adult life I have moved on to the petroglyphs in the other continents - the young in Hawaii to the oldest in Europe - over all areas of the world where there have been flat slabs - a suitable background - where the rock carvings and paintings have the best and most obvious sharpness and clarity.

There they resemble the starry sky and in the depths of the caves the cave art was drawn, the one I am fascinated by and tempted to reflect on in the depths of Niaux. There are bison, ibex and horse - perfect portraits of bison - the hooves hang, the bodies are still. These are pictures of killed animals. However, the horses look alive, as if they were liberated, free, no bridles, long-haired ice age horses. The ibex is still, the horns are down, where a few moments ago it took ten meters long leaps, over the hunter, who tumbled backwards with the spear, but was finally hit, it now lies still, forever, with the spear in its body. It is a spiritual image, it is a tragic image, it is an image of reverence for the animal, all these images of animals are images where reverence for the prey is combined with magical hunting happiness, death and life - it is an image of insight, of deep knowledge of the animals' anatomy, its essence - as much spirit as the artist, the seeing eyes, the hanging tails - otherwise the signal itself - with the tails they tell about their feelings - describe their feelings - communicate their feelings - now it hangs still - the buffalo is dead. The spear is humanly painted / carved on the animal's body, which is painted with the cave wall itself as co-creator. Both as a three-dimensional relief background and as the cave walls' angled and angled surfaces change the perspective all the time, where the movement is the viewer's thing - the images are still - the animals stand, hang or lie. It is a chapel for the report of the reality of death - as every church is - with the crucifix at the high altar. There I am in Salon Noir, in Niaux, and Spotify gives me Kaya Project - Electric Pan - that is how it feels to understand the artists in Niaux - Pan blows an electrombone and the world is absolutely new.

As amazing as the jet engine or chainsaw for pre-electric civilization is, it is to breathe digital air on Fårö and create cave paintings and/or the moor at Lauters. Where the pines and junipers rule. Where the language of the Baltic winter storms is spoken by the treetops and the relentless dialects of the dry years. There I sit these days in the changing weather and paint the sky and heath - at autumn yellow, with an unusually abundant and water-rich summer thistles and king candles, wedding flowers and grasses, and vomit-like reddish-rusty stands in the yellowing grass. It is a dead richness - but still not dead - under the ground there is life - these dry brown plants are like my dandruff - they soon blow away and disappear - and I let my awareness of Fårö's nature come to me in this nature's stories.

Earlier this summer I painted the sea. At Dämba and at Bjerget - Digerhuvud and Tungshuvud. The sky has been blue during long warm July days - and I have mixed my cerulean blue sky water - and painted its grandeur - its depth - its clouds - Ymer's thoughts - thin cirrus - bulging thick cumulus, figures have emerged as hallucinogenic creatures - animals, horses with roosters heads, rode by birdmen, there are all kinds of animals - whole and in parts - there are human bodies - round and feminine straight and masculine - there are hedonistic rituals - where life is worshiped - where art is life-affirming - the sky is warm, harmonious and happy - its meteorological message gets all mouth wrinkles up - the cheekbones are bulging - the nomad, nojd and juliman - the man of July - is happy and warm. Horny, one would say, from a body-hostile camp, but sensual from a more body-friendly and liberal side.

The sky is blue and the clouds move in - where all the joy sits - just enough rain, just the right warm, mostly sunny blue sky - a happy and Nordic summer sky, as it should be. Harmony and balance - the ecology benign, on the path of improvement, where the figures in the clouds tell of moisture and temperature - there is a neo-Copernican will to understand how water droplets condense, how the different aggregations of water rise from the sea towards these clouds - in these clouds - and the horizon cuts a cut straight into the sky - and the artist imagines the earth bend, and how the sea bends away from the point of the viewer, and Fårö's horizons often meet headlands - Lauterhorn, Norsholmen and Norsta Aurens sand cape - sharp encounters with the sea's blue-black surface.

I have painted the sea in the calm weather of the summer - slightly southerly or westerly breeze - the wave breaks moderate - almost no breakes in Strandåkersvik and at Hammars, facing south towards the sun. There I have painted the sea - I have painted down into the water by the beach - I have tried to recreate the eternal movements of the seabed, changing rhythms and light. The sun walks its course and the colors of the seafloors have changed during the day - also depending on the direction of the offshore wind, the light has been refracted differently and my brush has sought its way into the watercolor box like an insect in search of food. The brush has been sharp - a new and flexible Cotman no. 12.

I have painted the pines of the beach forest, I have painted the outermost juniper bushes where the barren foundation of the beach castle makes it possible only for the toughest one to survive. However, I have left nature as a darwinian fighting arena to others, I myself see the symbiosis - where the seabirds come with guano and the plants' seeds are served their habitat - one gives habitat to the other - the species collaborate on common resources - in good years everyone expands and rejoice - in foul years they are all reduced - there is the law of nature - unwritten - there is the beauty - unexplained - there is the natural harmony and balance - which does not preserve anything that is sick, or unsuitable for life - there I am - the artist - the gaze directed towards the whole, towards water, air and land - and then the green fire of life - the fire of life - the life of the ocher-yellow heath, the yellow fire of life of lichen on the rauks - the white and black fire of life on rock and rauk - I painted Fårö's nature and sought contact with it.

I have let it tell on my white watercolor paper about it´s spirituality - the soul of the tree, the soul of the animals, that which lives and wants to live - that which is aware that it lives - we humans - we are also nature - we have a language and it differs us from other life, especially that we have a written language and that we have art - the imagery - it makes us able to describe our consciousness - but we share this with the animals and to some extent also with the plants - even if we do not usually talk about the plants soul - but all living things are part of the world of souls - the metaphysical - the spiritual - that which deals with trying to understand death and consciousness - the great questions of what and where - the old questions - who are we - where are we going? Where did we come from? I have time to consider these questions while I paint in the moor. I let the brush run freely according to my rules (which I a long time ago coined vibrationism), and there the watercolor painting occurs, with all the shapes of these thoughts in clouds, on the water surface and the rich morphologies of the beach forest.

In the branches and canopy the faces appear - princes and prelates - there are pirates and gods - there are animals and monsters - there are extinct and now living species - there she is, and there he is.

This is how the summer fares. I have chosen some pictures from the production and are hanging them these days in gallery Brusa.

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You are welcome to look further.

See you, and thanks for today.

Tomas Brusell

Summer has gone.

Jag vet inte vilket språk jag skall skriva på, men eftersom vi är inne i en nykopernikansk tid gör jag så här; jag skriver på svenska och har i bakhuvudet google translate. Det är som att ta fram motorsågen hos Johan Gottlob Brusell i hans möbelsnickeri. Man skulle kanske göra samma överraskande verkan om man startade jetmotorn och visade prästerskapet och sjärnskådarna i Göbleke Tepe hur man färdas bland krigarna om 12 tusen år. De skulle nog lyfta på ögonbrynen om de såg en Harrier landa och lyfta nedåt Potbelly hills flata partier. Det är antagligen så det borde kännas att ta till Google translate, men det känns inte alls; jag skriver vidare, jag är medveten om att jag sitter här och skriver, jag lyssnar på Kaya project och sommaren har gått.

Det är den 11 september 2020 och mitt måleri handlar om Fårös natur och det handlar om vår (vi människors) kultur, i och med att jag har gått in i Niaux grottorna och synat grottmålningar i Salon Noir, jag har skolat mig för detta betraktande på Bohusläns hällar, där jag följt hällristarna på deras resor i landskapet, med ett budskap att förtälja, som de hackade, slog och ristade ner i stenhällen - konst - kultur - människorna lever och konstnärerna berättar om deras liv, för dem som är intresserade. Så har jag lärt att se bronsålderskonstnärernas tecken - deras budskap - deras sätt att se på sin värld och skrildra den - utifrån dessa studier under hela min vuxna levnad har jag gått vidare till petroglyferna i de övriga världsdelarna - de unga på Hawaii til de äldsta i Europa - över alla områden i världen där det funnits flata hällar - en passande bakgrund - där hällristningarna och målningarna har bäst och mest självklara skärpa, tydlighet och klarhet. Där liknar de stjärnhimlen och i grottornas djup tecknades grottkonsten, den jag fascineras av och lockas att betänka i Niauxs djup. Där är bison, ibex och häst - perfekta porträtt av bison - hovarna hänger, kropparna är stilla. Det är bilder av dödade djur. Hästarna ser dock levande ut, som vore de befriade, fria, inga betsel, långhåriga istidshästar. Ibexen är stilla, hornen är nedlgda, där den för några ögonblick sedan tog tio meter långa språng, över jägaren, som tumlade baklänges med spjutet, men till sist träffades, ligger den nu stilla, för evigt, med spjuten i sin kropp. Det är en andlig bild, det är en tragisk bild, det är en bild av vördnad för djuret, alla dessa bilder av djur är bilder där vördnaden för bytesdjuret är kombinerad med magisk jaktlycka, död och liv - det är en bild av insikt, av djup kännedom om djurens anatomi, dess väsende - lika mycket ande som konstnären, de seende ögonen, de hängande svansarna - annars själva signalen - med svansarna berättar de om sina känslor - beskriver sina känslor - kommunicerar sina känslor - nu hänger den stilla - buffeln är död. Spjutet är mänskligt målat/ristat på djurets kropp, som målats med själva grottväggen som medskapare. Både som tredimensionell reliefbakgrund och som grottväggarnas skålade och vinkelvridna ytor ändrar perspektivet hela tiden, där rörelsen är betraktarens sak - bilderna är stilla - djuren står, hänger eller ligger. Det är ett kapell för betänkandet av dödens realitet - så som varje kyrka är det - med krusifixet vid högaltaret. Där är jag i Salon Noir, i Niaux och Spotify ger mig Kayas Project - Electric Pan - det är så det känns att förstå konstnärerna i Niaux - Pan blåser en elktrombon och världen är absolut ny.

Lika häpnadsväckande som jetmotorn eller motorsågen för den preelektiska civilisationen är, är det att andas digital air på Fårö. Grottmålningar eller heden på Lauters. Där furorna och enbuskarna härskar. Där de baltiska vinterstormarnas språk talas av trädkronorna och torrårens obarmhärtiga dialekter. Där sitter jag dessa dagar i den växlande väderleken och målar himmel och hed - vid höstgulnad, med en ovanligt ymnig och vattenrik sommars tistlar och kungsljus, brudflor och gräsarter, och bräkenliknade rödrostiga stånd i det gulnande gräset. Det är en död rikedom - men ändå inte död - under marken är det liv - dessa torra bruna växter är som mina mjäll - de blåser snart bort och försvinner - och jag låter mitt medvetande om Fårös natur komma till mig i denna naturens berättelser ute på heden.

Tidigare i sommar har jag målat havet. Vid Dämba och vid Bjerget - Digerhuvud och Tungshuvud. Himlen har varit blå under långa varma julidagar - och tidigt har jag blandat mitt ceruleanblå himlavatten - och målat dess storhet - dess djup - dess moln - Ymers tankar - tunna cirrus - bulnande tjocka cumulus, gestalter har uppstått som hallucinogena varelser - djur, hästar med tuppskallar ridna av fågelmän, där är allehanda djurarter - hela och i delar - där är människokroppar - runda och feminina raka och maskulina - där är hedonistiska ritualer - där dyrkas livet - där är konsten livsbejakande - himlen är varm, harmonisk och glad - dess meteriologiska budakap får alla mungipor uppåt - kindknotorna lyfter - nomaden, nojden och julimannen är glad och varm. Liderlig skulle man ur kroppsfientligt läger säga, men sensuell från mer kroppsvänligt och liberalt håll. Himlen därefter, och molnen - där hela glädjen sitter - lagom regn, lagom varmt - mest sol - blå himmel - en glad och nordisk sommarhimmel, som det skall vara. Harmoni och balans - ekologin benign, på bättringsvägen, där berättar gestalterna i molnen om fukt och temperatur - där är en nykopernikansk vilja att förstå hur vattendroppar kondenseras, hur vattnets olika aggregationer stiger upp från havet mot dessa skyar - i dessa skyar - och horisonten skär ett snitt rakt in i himlen - och konstnären föreställer sig jordkupningen och hur havet böjer bort ur synfältet och Fårös horisonter möter ofta uddar - Lauterhorn, Norsholmen och Norsta Aurens sandudde - skarpa möten med havets blåsvarta yta.

Jag har målat havet i sommarens stilla väder - lätt sydlig eller västlig bris - vågbrotten moderata - nästang inga i Strandåkersvik och vid Hammars, med söderläge och solvärme. Där har jag målat havet - jag har målat ner i vattnet vid stranden - jag har försökt återskapa bottnarnas eviga rörelser och föränderliga rytmer och ljus. Solen går sin ban och där har bottnarnas färger skiftat - också beroende på frånlansvindens riktning har ljuset brytits olika och min pensel har sökt sig fram i akvarellådan som en insekt på jakt efter föda. Penseln har varit skarp - ny och flexibel Cotman no. 12.
Jag har målat strandskogens furor - jag har målat de yttersta enbuskarna där strandburgens karga grund gör det möljligt endast för den segaste en att överleva. Naturen som en darwinstiska kamparena har jag dock överlåtit åt andra, själv ser jag symbiosen - där sjöfåglarna kommer med guanon och växternas frön får sin växtplats serverad - det ena ger livsrum åt det andra - arterna samverkar om gemensamma resurser - i goda år expanderar alla och fröjdas - i onda år reduceras de alla - där är naturens lag - oskriven - där är skönheten - oförklarad - där är den naturliga harmonin och balansen - som inte bevarar något som är sjukt, eller oägnat för tillvaron - där är jag - konstnären - blicken riktas mot helheten, mot vatten, luft och land - och så livets gröna eld - livselden - den ockragula hedens liveld, den gula livselden av lav på raukarna - den vita och svarta livselden på tun och rauk - Fårös natur har jag målat och sökt kontakt med. Jag har låtit den berätta på mitt vita akvarellpapper om naturens andlighet - trädets själ, djurens själ, det som lever och vill leva - det som är medvetet om att det lever - vi människor - vi är också natur - vi har ett språk och det skiljer oss från annat liv, särskilt att vi har ett skriftspråk och att vi har konst - bildspråket - det gör oss förmögna att beskriva vårt medvetande - men vi delar detta med djuren och till viss del också med växterna - även om vi inte vanligen talar om växterna själ - men allt levande ingår i själarnas värld - det metafysiska - det andliga - det som ägnar sig åt att försöka förstå döden och medvetandet - de stora frågorna om vadan och varthän - de gamla frågorna - vilka är vi - vart skall vi? Var kom vi ifrån? Dessa frågor har jag tid att betänka samtidigt som jag målar ute på heden. Jag låter penseln löpa fritt enligt mina regler (som jag kallat vibrationismen) och där uppstår akvarellmålningen. med alla dessa tankars former i moln, vattenyta och strandskogens rika formvärld.

I trädens grenar och kronor visar sig anleten - furstar och prelater - där är sjörövare och gudar - där är djur och monster - där är utöda och nu levande arter - där är hon och där är han.

Så går sommaren och jag har valt några bilder ur produktionen och hänger dem dessa dagar i galleri Brusa.

Välkomna skall ni vara att titta vidare.

Hej och tack för idag.

Tomas Brusell

Art in lockdown.

As an artist you respond to to changes in the environment in a non cause-effect manner - your feelings and intuitions are as important as facts and information.

Your feelings are hurt when untruth and unfairness litter the narratives of the leading informants both in Media and in Academia.

The artistic perspective is holistic - and it’ s not distubed by economical biases, unconcious racist preferences or general preconditioned uninformation, which is both the republican and democratic condition - let others determine, the byraucracy that is, the fate of the politics and maintainance of the material infrastructure of the community and the country you belong to.

As an artist you don´t take part in those socialstic robotic exercises but is rising as a Hermes, to loftier hights - looking out over the landscape, the Thalassocracy and the Heartland, with all geopolitical metaphores awailable - you look at Dr Fauchi standing on both sides, denying that the covid-19 is CCP hybrid war move and at the same time creating a huge market for Big Pharma - in its startblocks when the outbreak came, exercised in Event 201, and immedatly ready for doing one years job in one week, due to AI, Big Data and quantum computing abilties - Microsoft/Apple vs Huawei.

The future is here - not as a third World War, but a hybrid war between USA and China, one inner voice exclaims and points at Israel as the only benefactor of all down side - in alliance with Vulture Capitalists and Casino Capitalists. The Artist has wings, and can fly by, stright to Sirte and see how their result looks like, or over the bauxit deserts in the Amazon basin, where nothing can grow, ever, down to defaulted Argentina and se the vultures gather over the herds of the Pampas and back again over Libanon, also defaulted and destroyed by the vultures.

Like Icaros the artist is feeling the heat of the sun, and descends, closing in on home, the Jungian home, where he has his studio and can alternate beween the screens; CNBC, Euronews, Zero Hedge, Mintpress and ICH, where he interactivly participates in the Internet Flow Of Information - IFOI - and asks himself; does an Artist, innocent, without debt, has any duties?

He answers himself; yes, listen to your inner Socrates, listen to your inner Choir of Thinkers and extrapolate from there to the most probable extension and position of reality, remembering that what was a truth yesterday is false today.

Thats the moment when the Artist realizes that he lives in a quantum mecanical universe. and the exclusion principle haunts him - it’s not possible to know the real totality, but only the personal detail in it. At the same time the Artist takes a provocative stance and utters; I´m operating in a multireality, the technique is multirealistic and in a fractal miniatyrisation the big landscape dissapears in a rift and opens up, magnified, in the Eye of the Beholder, as a new coastline, wild or inhabited, disapearing itself in a minute rift, like a wormhole into the painting.

As a multirealist I will enter my seventies, full of artistic optimism, knowing that no “lockdown” can ever trample down my estetic quest for truth or my simple proclamation: fairness first and hedonism then.

Salve

Tomas Brusell

Covid-19 times and Art

 

Almost everyone is in Lock Down, at home - Eastern skies are blue and nobody in the alpine pists - nobody on the streets of the cities of Viken, Norway - nobody to be seen on the football fiields - no activity in the tourist industry -.all dental clinics closed - but there is light in the tunnel - which hopefully not is the train - return to normal Life is a possibility - says the pundits on the screens.

Four screens have I -

1.

the small one - always close to my body -

2.

the next one also portable - slightely bigger screen - the laptop PC I use in bed.

3.

Then comes the stationary PC - where the videos are made and art is managed -

4.

and the fourth screen - the large one for satellite television - Nature, Discovery, BBC and CNBC, live from Wall Street.

I´m always connected to the news machine - both on the level of friends and the level of globaal actions.
In addition to art - in combination with art - art videos - there are these four screens - bothering you when you want peace - boring you when you want action - but providing you with material enough to keep the depression away - news, happenings, what’s happening on the South front?- always something to think about - the migrant crisis, the war against covid-19 - gender neutrality - the battles on distant battlefields - and there is Sabaton - there is Death Metal - there are war drums - Wardruna - older war chants - there are World Music - anti war - and in between, the artist is trying to find his aristic inspiration - his inner comfort, the right mood for creation - the digital mood - the urge to express conciousness - and artisticly study it - as the cloth of the young king Philip IV in the oeuvre of Velasquez is saying something about the conciousness of the painter. The reflexions of light in the fabric of the textiles of the proud king - the Habsburg chieftain - the utmost powerhouse - finishing the most splended mausoleum on the planet, for himself and all his predesecessors - a master horseman - a royal force of real energy - inheriting the wealth of Ptosi - the biggest silver mine in the world - making Velasquez his painter, outsourced to pope Inocentus 10 in Rome - where his portrait of the Pope became famous, said to transmit the power of the mighty God himself.

In his craftmanship Velasquez was likened to the highest creative power in the universe and reached a mytical fame in his own time - able to formulate his conciousness in oil painting - eternalizing his slave Juan de Pareja, a Moore, in a sublime painting and then gives him free.

He raised to the uppermost echelon in the colonial Power of Spain, and thus the World - knighted one year before he died - reaching the class of noblemen and the summit of worldly power, which had been his aim through all of his Life - but he changed position with his Moore, who could go, as a free man, whilst he himself became a slave of ushury and colonial super power.

The saga of the painter of king Philip IV is a saga of colonial times - now its covid-19 times - but the Feng Shui is as important as ever - to find the art for the bubble of home, the cocoon, the nest, to tune the walls right - in competition with the four screens.

Salve

Tomas Brusell

 
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Launch of website.

Today I’m proud to launch my new website, with a Little help from my sons, my best friends.

At the same time i´m launching my Youtube channel where I step out on the stage, in my studio and I declare myself cured from stage fright, at Theatrum Mundi.

In Flow of conciousness 4 I tell the story of how Thor Heyerdahl overcame his hydro phobia, “vattuskrekk”, which he contracted, falling into a pool of water, as a young boy in Larvik.. He slipped on the rock and was trapped there. He screamed for help until he was exhusted with a hypothermia, but nobody heard him. When he was on the verge of drowning, a vanderer observed his last faint moves in the water and saved his life..

As a consequence of the NDE, near death experience, Thor Heyerdahl developed a full blown phobia for water - as a young man he hated water, a shower was utter hell, even to wash his hands was painful. As a student he was ashamed of himself, and thought he would become a crank, and decided to change, and confronted the phobia. He went to the Frogner bath i Oslo and jumped from 10 meter, he went to Bygdøy and made some tricks, he went to Geiranger. He joined the resistance forces out in the North Sea and as a culmination, long after the war, he found himself on a slowly sinking balsa raft in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, tied to his bed, in the middle of a storm, calmly and with full concetration, writing about his forefathers and foremothers, who navigated in the currents between the continents already during the bronce age. In Peace and in love with his phobia he explored the water ways of the early civilisations.

In a similar way I have overcome my stage fright in Webcam Paradise and can come free, as my idols from Laurel Canyon came free, Mothers of Invention, Love and Doors, as jazzartists have come free on their stages, I saw it with my own eyes and could hear it too - they came free there, in perfect time out on the stage - I wanted to do that too.

But I have had that phobia, and I have fought it with the intensity of war and peace, love and hate.

My stage fright was initiated in “Hemvärnsgården” in Lekvattnet, where my mother directed the Christmas play, as my school teacher in first grade, and I did not remember what to say, and bursts of inferiority feelings fired in my nervous system and it was aggravated when my father directed me, and his other pupils, in sixth grade and I did not remember what to exclame as a sheperd finding the humble manger of Jesus, under the blazing star. The soufflé voice of the director whipped me as a whip and I wished I just could vanish - evaporate, but I was firmly situated in front of the public - the laughing parents of my classmates. Since then I hated the stage, at University I couldn´t make a speech, never tried, made a fool of my self, lit to the gills, entering the stage at the seventh semester at Karolinska as an actor in the farcicalness Jesus Christ Superstar - total disaster.

But my subcounciousness and its mystical forces made me open and manage a music hall in Visby, Bingers Kvarn, and later at Roslagshus in Östhammar, where the touring Swedish musicians came to play, while I myself stayed in the shadows behind the scene taking care of the artists bodily needs.

But I newer stopped playing the Music and secretly dreaming of entering the stage. At my art exibitions I played my songs, old Swedish folk Music and own compositions but not until I entered the webcam stage I felt at ease.

Miracles happen. Freedom is real. I was reborn in perfect time.

Today I am free on stage - in “jazzociations”, to take off in perfect time and like Thor Heyerdahl I have come to love my phobia - to be on stage - and in addition to that I’m ready to exhibit my artwork from the different periods of my life. Water Color, Spray Can Brush, Acrylics and Ink - collected by myself, as a dentist and presentated here, in my web gallery.

Inspired by the younger generation I will embark on a public journey - into the world of Art - my sole income, my survival - my fortune - the sparks from the tarot-battle of the Magus and the 7-th Sword - in the new world order - where the digital stage opens up - in all its might´- we are all digitalized.

Unafraid, and free - here I come.

Hope you´ll find my artwork worthwhile.

Salve

Tomas Brusell

 
 
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