A fine art, film, history and literature site oriented to, but not exclusively for, the gay community. Please be aware that there is mature content on this blog. Information on images and links to sources will be provided if known. Enjoy your visit and please subscribe.
Photographer Unknown, (The Clarity of Water)
“It is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance that is in this Earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.”
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Simon Dahlgren Strååt, Unknown Title, (The High Board)
Simon Dahlgren Strååt, born in 1984, is a Swedish figurative painter, living and working in Stockholm. His narrative paintings provide a sombre and surreal window into the mind of the artist.
Dahlgren Strååt’s work is centered on the idea of time: more explicitly, the slowing down of it. He creates scenes that incorporate images from fiction, history or indeed everyday life. The work is his way of processing the things he sees and manipulating them into his own unique vision. The paintings become like narratives, where the viewer is invited in as a voyeuristic spectator and allowed to explore questions regarding their own self-image.
Dahlgren Strååt had achieved national success in his native Sweden, having presented his work in both group and solo exhibitions in Stockholm. During his time as a creative consultant, he received a number of prizes including, the D&AD White Pencil award in London and the One Show prize in New York.
Abandoned Art Deco Pool in France: Photography by Brian
Photographer Unknown, (Poolside)
“Perhaps swimming was dancing under the water, he thought. To swim under lily pads seeing their green slender stalks wavering as you passed, to swim under upraised logs past schools of sunfish and bluegills, to swim through reed beds past wriggling water snakes and miniature turtles, to swim in small lakes, big lakes, Lake Michigan, to swim in small farm ponds, creeks, rivers, giant rivers where one was swept along easefully by the current, to swim naked alone at night when you were nineteen and so alone you felt like you were choking every waking moment, having left home for reasons more hormonal than rational; reasons having to do with the abstraction of the future and one’s questionable place in the world of the future, an absurdity not the less harsh for being so widespread.”
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